White Azaleas

Margery Harkness Casares

© copyright November 1999 Margery Harkness Casares
Cover art by Judith Huey
New Concepts Publishing
http://www.newconceptspublishing.com

PROLOGUE:

"Please Maura, don’t cry any more." Sue Ann gathered her friend in her arms and swiped at the tears in her own eyes. "Why didn’t you tell me your mother was so sick. You know Uncle Harold would have taken her to a hospital."

Maura pulled away slightly, clutching Teddy, the stuffed bear she always clung to when distressed, and wiped her tears on the handkerchief Sue Ann handed her. She stuck the handkerchief in a pocket and smoothed the hem of the dress borrowed from Sue Ann’s crowded closet.

"She wouldn’t let me," Maura sobbed. "She seemed to think being poor was like being a disease carrier. She said people didn’t want to be reminded that there are poor among them. She refused any kind of help. It was the way she was brought up, never to accept what she called ‘charity’. I won’t be poor any more, Sue Ann! I swear I won’t be poor ever again!"

Sue Ann placed her arm protectively around Maura’s shoulders and the two girls stood in the now empty cemetery staring at the fresh turned dirt under which Maura’s mother lay buried--the plot paid for by Sue Ann’s uncle. The wind swept a crumpled cigarette package onto the fresh earth and Maura rushed over and slapped it away.

This added outrage brought forth a deluge of angry tears. "She wasn’t even thirty years old, Sue Ann. I’m only twelve and I’m alone, because of her . . . pride!"

"You are not alone. You’ll come and live with me and Uncle Harold. He’s going to adopt you. You can be my sister."

A man drove up and got out of the car. "Girls! What are you doing here after everyone has gone? I thought you two were following me home with Mrs. Patterson."

"Uncle Harold, I’m glad you came to get us. Maura didn’t want to leave so I stayed with her."

"Maura, come sweetheart. You belong to us now. You’re part of our family, just as you have been for the last four years. The only difference is, you will now live with us. Instead of being Sue Ann’s best friend, you’ll be a real member of our family."

CHAPTER 1

NORWICH, GEORGIA - MAY.

Maura Sinclair glanced at the tower clock as she jogged onto the university campus toward the science lab parking area. It was five till seven. If she hoped to have time to shower, change, and be at her desk by eight, she’d better hurry. Skylar wanted her at SkyBarr an hour early. She had no idea why, but it didn’t matter because she always did what Skylar wanted her to do.

The odor of sun-heated cement assaulted her nose. Maura sucked in a deep breath and blew at tendrils of sweat-dampened hair that escaped her headband into her eyes. Without breaking stride she caught the hem of her T-shirt and dabbed at her damp face.

An explosion shattered the early morning silence. A man jogging ahead of her twisted awkwardly and crumpled to the ground. Frozen in horror, she watched his blood ooze onto the walkway, filling cracks and staining the grass a dark red.

A second burst of gunfire jerked her back to life and her brain registered the chaotic disorder that followed: screams, shouts, more gunshots. The few people on campus scattered in erratic flight.

She thought she screamed, but didn’t recognize her own voice in the hysterical cries that pierced her ears. Her shocked mind locked itself on the muggy humidity that snatched at her breath and imprisoned it in her throat.

Maura looked up instinctively at the university tower and saw the man with the rifle. The image fixed itself indelibly in the darkness behind her eyes. Bullets thudded into the ground at her feet. She fled from the tower, running so hard a needle of pain stabbed her side. The sensation she moved in slow motion made it all seem like a dream. This couldn’t be happening. She had waited too long for tomorrow--the most important day of her life. She couldn’t die today, not like this.

The campus area quickly cleared except for the wounded, and an unnatural silence hovered in the air. A car pulled into a parking slot. Maura raced toward it. A man focusing his attention on papers he held got out of the car and stepped up on the curb. He walked onto the sunlit grass

of the campus.

Maura hurdled a low bush and tackled him. He exhaled his breath in a loud gasp and fell back under fragrant white-blossomed azalea bushes. Maura sprawled on top of him. Startled brown eyes behind gold-framed glasses reflected his surprise. He rubbed the shoulder that had taken most of the impact of the fall.

"Lie still," she pleaded. "Don't move." She quickly rolled off him, her embarrassment struggling with her fear.

Bullets whined through the hot air. Sharply alert now, he asked in an astonished voice, "Are those gunshots?"

Maura nodded. "A sniper."

"Sniper?" He repeated the word slowly, as though he must test the sound of it before his brain could assimilate it. His mouth grim, his eyes bright, he lay beside her under the covering foliage. A muscle in his jaw tightened.

He lay so near her his lips inadvertently brushed her cheek and his arm went about her protectively. She clung to him, comforted by his strength, afraid she might splinter into fragments if he suddenly removed his arm.

Sirens split the air, screaming in from all directions. Police, ambulances, firefighters, rescue equipment, and media vehicles converged on the scene.

"Where is the sniper?" he asked.

"He's on the tower. I ran . . . " she paused to catch her breath. "I was looking for a place to hide when I saw you get out of your car. I knew you had no idea what was happening."

"You might have made it to a safer spot, if you hadn't--"

"No. I ran for the nearest cover."

He lifted his head. His gaze searched the tower. A hail of bullets slammed into the ground near them.

"Stay down," she pleaded. "Don't give him a target."

He ducked beneath the bush again. With his body wedged against hers, she felt less distressed, though her legs, bent in an awkward position, began to grow numb. "Why don’t the police do something?"

"I’m sure they will as soon as they get a fix on his exact location and determine the range of his weapon."

She parted the leaves of a bush. In her line of vision, a patrol car door opened and an officer got out. Bullets sprayed the area. The awful sound of metal striking metal sent shivers through her. She stared at the officer who clutched at his neck and fell against the side of the vehicle, then out of sight. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Someone screamed.

Maura's stunned gaze followed the long line of official vehicles as they moved farther down the street. Medics, reporters, and photographers filled the area exposed to her view. A police helicopter, marked SWAT hovered overhead, joined by a second one carrying a television station logo.

"Are you okay?" the man lying beside her asked.

"My hands won’t stop shaking," she whispered. "Other than that, I guess so. What about you?"

"I'm as well as can be expected."

She pressed her fingertips to her mouth to still their trembling. "Can we make it to your car, do you think?"

"I don't want to try. See those medics? They've come for the injured officer behind a shield. We’d have no protection once we left the azalea garden."

Maura parted the green branches and watched the ambulance attendants rescue the downed policeman. Bullets ping-pinged into the emergency vehicle as it pulled away from the curb. Sirens wailed and throbbed and left her ears ringing.

Her breath escaped in a spasm of little shudders. The scent of the blossoms had become too cloyingly sweet, and her stomach churned. His hand pressed hers. She noticed beads of sweat dampening his brow. She wiped her own wet face on her sleeve, and asked, "How long do you think we'll have to stay here like this?"

"Shouldn't be too long. You probably saved my life. Thanks."

Her quick nervous laughter startled her. She ran her tongue over dry lips and confessed, "It was mostly reflex action, I’m afraid."

He chuckled. "Okay. Thanks for the reflex action."

Her faint smile melted into a frown. "My legs are numb. I can't stay in this position much longer. What are they doing? Can you see?"

"Not very well. I see the SWAT Team swarming over the roof of the lab. It won’t take long for them to get inside the tower. I also see armed men on top of the administration building. If the sniper shows himself, he's dead."

A sudden burst of bullets ripped through the azaleas. A loud thud, and a hiss like air rushing from a balloon, ended with a whispered, "Oh". Maura clutched at the fire in her left shoulder and stared at the blood-stained white blossoms.

A quick protest burst from his lips in a harsh whisper, "No. You can't be hit."

Maura was aware of his shock and outrage and anger in the set of his mouth, and in his narrowed eyes. She gazed at him in confusion, feeling no pain, not sure what had happened. Everything had turned misty, as if the sun unexpectedly hid itself behind a cloud.

He lifted her shirt away from the wound to inspect the damage.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Don’t be alarmed. You’ve been shot, but the bullet passed through the shoulder. I need to stop the bleeding. I’m a doctor and I know how to do this. I’ll try not to hurt you."

She nodded and attempted a smile.

He folded his handkerchief into a pad and pressed it to the wound. Holding it in place, he lifted her into his arms, his body shielding hers. Running in a crouch, he headed toward the end of the row of bushes near the curb, where ambulance attendants could get to them with a minimum of danger to themselves..

Bullets slammed into the ground around them and dirt clods leapt into the air. Leaves and blossoms exploded from the hedges, showering the ground. He laid Maura under the covering foliage and shouted to get attention. "We need help! Over here in the azalea garden."

An ambulance pulled to the curb beside them. Paramedics arrived behind the protective shield.

He got into the ambulance with her. His voice quietly reassuring, he whispered in her ear, Don’t be afraid. You'll be okay."

* * *

Carter Boyd removed his bloody shirt, washed up and pulled on a clean but faded med shirt provided by the hospital. He walked to the emergency room and leaned against the wall in the hallway outside. Folding his arms, he waited, aware of the familiar sounds, the lights, the buzz of activity around him, and the strong odor of disinfectant that permeated everything.

He had never regretted giving up his practice to go into research, but at one time this hospital had been a second home to him. The double doors opened. He straightened up. Two green-clad attendants wheeled Maura into the hall from the emergency room. Carter fell in behind them and followed. A tightness constricted his chest. She looked small and helpless.

He waited outside her private room until she was settled in, then he entered. She wore a blue and white cotton hospital gown and lay pale and quiet in the narrow bed. For a moment he couldn't speak. Her beautiful green eyes, the color of meadow grass moistened with dew, appeared a little too bright--her cheeks, a little too pale. Her hair formed a soft burnt-umber halo against the white linen. A row of freckles on her cheeks and across her nose made him want to follow their path with his fingertips.

He didn't try to analyze the new and rather fierce feelings aroused in him by their traumatic meeting, nor could he dismiss his remorse for having been unable to protect her.

Carter took her hand in his and asked, "How do you feel?"

Emotion flamed her face with a hue that shamed her sunburn. "Woozy, right now. I hope I never have a more frightening experience than that."

"You're very lucky. We're both very lucky."

"I seem to recall you told me you’re a doctor."

"Dr. Carter Boyd, professor and research biochemist at the Institute."

She pressed his hand briefly. "I’m Anna Maura Sinclair. Call me Maura. I’m a marketing consultant for SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals."

"I occasionally test drugs for SkyBarr," he said.

"I didn’t know that. Thanks for getting help for me so fast."

"You did as much for me when you shoved me under the azaleas."

Maura laughed, then drew in her breath and touched her bandaged shoulder. "Oh. That does hurt." She released her breath and settled her gaze on him. "Did they stop him? The sniper?"

"I spoke with the ambulance attendant who brought in the last victim. He told me a SWAT cop killed the sniper, but he hasn’t been identified yet. Is there anyone you'd like me to call?"

Maura sighed and tugged at the neck of her hospital gown. "Not now. When I'm up to it, I'll call . . ." Skylar’s image came unbidden to her. She could see his grim mouth and flashing cobalt eyes as clearly as if he were in the room with her.

Carter moved closer to the bed and drew Maura's attention back to him. She realized her mind had wandered. Lately, her mind wandered a lot.

She cleared her dry throat. "When I think I can face the man I'm engaged to marry, I'll call him. We're supposed to leave tomorrow for London so I can meet his parents." She wrinkled her nose and reached for a tissue. "I'm not looking forward to his reaction to this. Not only will he be upset about my injury, he won't be pleased if he has to change his plans."

"I'm not pleased to learn you're engaged. I’d hoped I might get to know you better. I think you should tell him, whoever he is, that you have lain in the bushes with Dr. Carter Boyd and no longer find it necessary to meet his parents."

She giggled. "I don’t think I want to tell him that. He doesn’t enjoy being teased."

"No? Tell me about him."

"He's owner and president of SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals. My boss, Skylar Barrett."

"Skylar Barrett? A well-known name."

"Yes."

"So you're going to marry the boss? Once a boss, always a boss."

She reached for a glass of water. Carter handed it to her and she took a sip. For a moment her concentration centered on his tanned face. She liked the tawny sun-streaked color of his hair. She noticed his soft and appealing brown eyes and the smile that curved his well-shaped lips in a most beguiling way.

He spoke again, and she shook those errant thoughts from her mind.

"What about you?" he asked. "Tell me something about yourself."

"Not much to tell. I never knew my father. He died when I was a baby. My mother died when I was twelve and my best friend’s uncle took me in."

Maura saw no point in mentioning that her father died in a barroom brawl, or that her mother suffered an unnecessary death, from an infected wound, because she had no insurance, or money for medical attention. Touching her eyes in an effort to hide the pain of those memories, she said, "Life goes on, doesn’t it?"

Carter looked beyond her. "I was about that age when. . . never mind. I asked about you."

"When what? You were about that age when what? Don't start something with me you can't finish."

His eyebrows lifted slightly and his gaze held hers. "I'll try to remember that." His voice betrayed his reluctance to talk about himself. "I was twelve when I lost my father." He took the glass she held out to him and placed it on the small bedside table. "Tell me about the man who took you in?"

She leaned forward and adjusted the pillows. "Actually he’s the only dad I’ve ever known. We're very close. He and his niece Sue Ann are my only family now. I love them both very much."

"What about Skylar Barrett?"

"I'm not sure I know what you're asking. I caught his attention and we began dating. He . . . Well. . . he’s a wonderful man. I’m very lucky. Skylar’s done so much for me. I was a drab little moth, and he turned me into a butterfly."

"You could never have been a drab little moth."

"Oh, but I was. I didn’t know anything. Really. I didn’t know how to dress, or walk, or speak properly. I didn’t know how to wear my hair, or use makeup, or anything. He taught me everything I needed to know in order to fit into his world. You can’t possibly imagine how grateful I am to him."

"And that’s what you wanted, to fit into his world?"

"Yes. What girl wouldn’t?"

"How long have you. . . been in this relationship with him?"

"Three years next month. Now that he's finally serious enough to take me home to meet his parents, I've managed to foul that up pretty good."

"Do you think you could’ve prevented this?"

She sighed. "No, but he’s so busy it'll probably take another three years for him to make these arrangements again. Enough about me, Dr. Boyd. What deep dark secrets are you hiding in that lab of yours?"

He chuckled. "Secrets are just that, not to be discussed."

A nurse entered the room with a small flowering azalea bush. The white blossoms, stark against the glossy dark-green leaves and brick-red clay of the pot, sent forth a delightful scent that hovered in the air around it. Maura frowned, and quick tears welled in her eyes. "Need I ask where that came from."

"No. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking when I ordered it. I hope it won’t be a source of unpleasant memories for you. I’ll never be able to look at an azalea again without thinking of you."

The nurse, a large woman wearing her cap like a badge, moved a tray-table in place and asked, "Dr. Boyd, would you like a tray brought in so you can join our patient for lunch?"

"No thanks. No one eats hospital food voluntarily."

Maura giggled. He leaned over and gently touched her cheek with his fingertips. "I have to go. Hurry and get better. See you later."

She nodded, a little breathless, aware of the faint masculine scent of his aftershave that mingled with that of the azaleas.

* * *

The following morning, anxious to see Maura again, Carter turned his Cherokee Laredo toward Good Shepherd Hospital. He’d take a few minutes to check on her before getting involved with his work. To avoid the parking lots that took up too much time with tickets and attendants, he parked a half block down the street.

Hurrying into the enormous brick complex, Carter went up to Maura's ward. He saw her in a wheelchair being propelled down the wide corridor by a nurse. A handsome middle-aged man in an expensive, well-tailored suit accompanied them. Carter knew the man was Skylar Barrett.

He tried to shrug off the sudden painful disappointment that hit him like a blow, and he felt a little foolish at the strong sense of loss he experienced. Walking back to the nurse's station, he indicated the retreating wheelchair.

A nurse answered his unasked question. "She's been released, Dr. Boyd."

He couldn’t help the touch of anger that bit him as he turned, retraced his steps, and hurried out of the hospital. Walking briskly down the street to his Jeep, Carter refused to allow himself to think of Maura, the sniper, or anything not directly involved with the lab. He concentrated his thoughts once again on his work, and the excitement returned full force, relegating Maura to a place in the back of his mind.

He drove the roundabout way to the Institute, along the sun-swept, flower-splashed boulevard that turned into State Medical University Drive. His thoughts raced ahead to the lab and his research there. It now seemed quite absurd that anything could have overshadowed, even for a moment, his vital experiment. If what he suspected was true, he would have reason to be more than a little excited.

* * *

Skylar gazed at Maura, the set of his shoulders clearly indicating his displeasure. "Anna Maura, we must go as planned. The jet is fueled. The crew has been alerted and are waiting to be called. I don’t wish to cancel our flight a second time."

She noticed how smooth and cultured his voice sounded, even when he was irritated, and she never failed to appreciate his strong British accent. "I'm really sorry, Skylar."

"What is the problem? You’ve been home from the hospital for several days. The doctor assured me you are well enough to make the trip."

"I don't feel well enough. I'm sorry about spoiling your plans again, but it can't be helped. Perhaps, in a few days . . ."

Skylar didn't move. He seemed to be studying the bedroom suite of the posh high-rise apartment he provided for her and her maid. He remained poised and charismatic. Even his determined, unyielding lips and openly accusing eyes did not detract from his polished demeanor.

Maura lay back against a stack of pillows and gazed at him. His aristocratic face and bearing, his dark hair, graying at the temples, his perfect white teeth and dominating blue eyes fascinated her. He was an extremely handsome man, but his good looks came from features too symmetrical, too perfect, giving him a cold, detached look. His eyes revealed his impatience and anger at times, but he kept himself in check, in control, and Maura was aware of the effort he made to do so now.

"You don’t understand the importance of this visit, dear," he said, his voice a disciplined whisper. "My father insists we be married by the time he retires this fall. He plans to turn over the European holdings to me. You know very well my parents expect to meet you before we’re married. This is the only time convenient for them and for me. We simply must leave without further delay."

Maura sighed and gazed at the azalea plant. Her rebellious thoughts shut Skylar out and she found herself thinking of Carter Boyd. She thought of him often but dismissed it as nothing more than gratitude that he’d risked his life to shield her from further attack by the sniper, tended her wound, and quickly got an ambulance for her.

Annoyed that she had allowed her thoughts to wander again, Maura willed Carter out of her mind. Skylar considered this a crucial trip, and she must not disappoint him or alienate him. She needed him, needed the security he represented, and she loved him. She knew what she wanted.

"Skylar, I’m sure I'll feel better after a good soaking in a hot bath. Will you ask Freda to fill the tub for me, please?"

Skylar’s charming smile lit his face. He nodded and left the room. Moments later he returned accompanied by Freda.

The maid came into the room pulling a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her hazel eyes flashing, and marched across the cloud of rose carpeting. Her full mouth set in a firm line, she eyed Maura. "You know the doctor said you must not soak in the tub because of the danger of infection."

Already on the telephone giving instructions to the pilot, Skylar faced Freda. Although he did not raise his voice, his words lashed the air like a whip. "Freda, help Maura at once. The plane will be ready to leave in an hour."

The maid glared at Skylar. Turning to Maura, she said softly, "Mein Liebling, come, I'll help you freshen up and get dressed."

* * *

Carter sat back in his chair and rubbed his aching head. Nothing had gone right the past week. His culture had somehow come into contact with a contaminant, and he’d been forced to dispose of it and begin again.

This catastrophe could turn out to be a disguised blessing, he realized, because he was now more knowledgeable about how to protect the culture. Yet the weeks of work which had gone into the experiment must be repeated, and he couldn't help feeling dejected about that. He went back to his notes, knowing he’d overlooked something significant. His theory, confirmed in the experiment before the accident, had gone beyond a mere hypothesis. He was hovering on the verge of a startling breakthrough, but something not quite right with his analysis troubled him.

Too tired and restless to continue, Carter got up and checked another of his experiments. Finding it to be satisfactory, he switched off the lights and left the building. He greeted the night security guard, Thomas Jackson, as Jackson turned into a side entrance and continued his rounds. Carter backed his Cherokee out, dismayed to find his thoughts on Maura. Refusing to look at the azaleas nearby, he headed for home and what he hoped would be a good night's sleep.

* * *

The end of May caught Carter by surprise. Almost two weeks had passed since Maura had left the hospital. He entered his condo, walked straight to the telephone, called Barrett Industries and got Maura's number at the Pharmaceutical Company. Sitting on the edge of his bed he dialed and in the same movement replaced the receiver.

He wanted to talk to her but the vague nagging doubt that she might not welcome his call made him hesitate. After picking up the phone and replacing it several times, he said aloud,

"To hell with it. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, she can hang up." Carter dialed her office

number.

Her secretary informed him Maura was out of the country and not expected to return for another week. He wore his disappointment like a scar, refusing to acknowledge his resentment that their unusual meeting did not have the impact on her that it had on him. He couldn't get her out of his thoughts. Knowing she was with Skylar Barrett didn’t help his temper. Nor did it help to know she intended to marry Skylar.

He got the sudden urge to call Cynthia Warren, warm, beautiful Cynthia. She was a smiling ray of sunshine on his darkest days, always happy. He often wondered if she knew something no one else knew. Nothing seemed to bother her. Pale sun-streaked hair, eyes the color of a deep blue sky and skin as smooth as ivory, made her a rare beauty.

He appreciated her and felt a surge of pride, knowing he was the envy of every man he met when he appeared with her on his arm. But never had she caused him to feel the tightness in his throat and the flutter in his chest he’d felt as he’d lain pressed against Maura Sinclair under the covering azaleas.

Of course, Cynthia had never tackled him either, or shared with him a time of grave danger. Yet she was always there for him when he needed her. And she’d assured him she was not interested in a permanent relationship.

Until he met Maura, Carter had no desire for other female company. He was satisfied, even happy, with Cynthia. He saw no reason to feel otherwise now. His intellect told him what he felt for Maura was only a brief emotional bonding as a result of shared danger, but his heart didn't believe it.

Carter emptied his pockets into a tray on a night stand, and stripped. Tossing his clothes onto the smooth bedspread of his antique bed, he went into the bathroom. He ached with fatigue, felt tension in every inch of his six-foot-two frame. He turned on the water, adjusted the temperature and stepped into the shower, wishing he could wash Maura out of his system as easily as he washed away his fatigue.

He dismissed second thoughts about calling Cynthia. He felt better after the hot relaxing shower. Carter wrapped a towel about him and went into the bedroom. He stood at his desk and dialed Cynthia's number.

She answered, a little breathless as always. "Hello."

"Cynthia, it's Carter."

"Sugar!" she exclaimed, her low, throaty voice soft and familiar. "Talk about being on the

same wave length. I've been hoping you'd call, hexed the phone and everything. Every cell in my body is screaming for you tonight. Something tells me yours are screaming too."

"So loud I can't hear myself think."

"How's your ‘save the world’ experiment?"

"It isn't. It got contaminated. I had to trash it."

"Oh-h, I am sorry to hear that, Sugar."

He could visualize her frown, a whisper of tiny ridges that appeared between her eyes, leaving

her brow smooth as silk.

"I’m really sorry, Carter. You need a little Cyn in your life and everything will work out."

"I'll bet you're right about that. What time shall I pick you up?"

"I'll come to you. Ice the wine, light the candles, and put on that great Mystic Moods music I love. I'll show you the mystic mood I'm in. I'll be staying the night."

"Can you handle it?" he asked.

"Mercy. I hope not, Sugar."

He could still hear her laughter after he’d hung up the phone.

CHAPTER 2

The insistent ringing of the telephone finally roused Carter. He pulled his pillow over his head to shut out the sound.

Cynthia rolled over and shook him. The phone continued to ring. She shook him again and moaned, "Answer that or smother it, Carter."

He sat up, grappled in the dark for the receiver, lifted it from the hook, yawned, and mumbled something that sounded vaguely like the word ‘hello’.

Maura's voice, bright and warn, invaded his sleep-drugged senses, and he became instantly alert.

"Sorry, Dr. Boyd, I hope I didn't wake you. This is the first opportunity I've had for real privacy. I'm supposed to be shopping. You called my office. Was it something important?"

Carter’s surprise at hearing her voice left him speechless.

When he didn't reply at once, she asked, "Are you there? I do apologize for waking you."

"No. I mean, yes, I'm here. And no, it wasn't important. I just wanted to talk to you, ask if you were having any ill effects of . . . you didn't wake me."

"Are you sure? I keep forgetting how much time difference there is."

"No, I'm really glad you called. How are you?"

"Miserable. You should see the place these people call home. It's a castle. Literally. They don't like me very much, I'm afraid. I don't know why I'm telling you this--"

"Hold on a minute," he said into the phone.

Cynthia had snuggled up to him. She bit his ear and kissed his lips. He pulled away from her. Holding his hand over the receiver, he whispered "Cynthia behave. Go to the bathroom or something."

She stifled a yawn. "Don't want to go to the bathroom. You know what I want."

"Sh-h."

"Carter," Maura said, "if this isn't a good time, I'll call later."

"No, this is a good--" He transferred the phone to his left hand and switched on a table lamp, as if the pale glow of light could steady his rapid pulse. He dropped the phone and swore softly as he retrieved it. What was it about this woman that sucked at his composure like quicksand?

Cynthia pulled him to her and kissed his neck. She traced a path with her fingers through the hair on his chest and tickled his stomach. He gasped, took hold of her hands and held them, balancing the phone between his chin and shoulder.

"Someone is there with you," Maura declared, as if that were a most extraordinary thing.

The click as she hung up broke the silence and left Carter listening to the dial tone loud in the predawn darkness. His disappointment lay heavy on his chest. He got up, went into the kitchen, made a pot of coffee and tried to control his sudden temper.

When he returned to the bedroom with his cup, Cynthia was asleep again, and he slapped her smartly on her naked rear.

* * *

Maura handed the telephone to the attendant. "Please ask LeRoi to see me as soon as he's free?"

The attendant bowed and disappeared through a door which led into a private showroom of the exclusive shop. Almost at once, LeRoi appeared.

"Miss Sinclair," he gushed, coming toward her. "Is anything amiss? I assure you your selections will be ready and delivered to Barrett Manor before you depart for home. I'm truly thrilled you like my new line. This year's creations are some of my best."

"I agree, and I've decided I want to add the cranberry silk two-piece to my purchases after all."

"Excellent. Excellent. I’ll hurry and add that to your order."

"Oh, Anna, there you are!" exclaimed Julia, Skylar's sister.

Maura clenched her teeth and sighed. How many times had she asked Julia not to call her Anna? Julia disliked her and made no effort to hide her animosity. It was clear to Maura that Julia did not want her brother to marry an American. The Barrett family had an emotional attachment to an English girl with whom Skylar had once been romantically involved--a countess, or something.

"I think we should return home without further delay," Julia said with a hint of annoyance.

Her vain, patronizing attitude caused Maura to bite her tongue to smother an angry retort. Julia’s thinly disguised venom spilled onto her lips in a tight smile. "Mother did say she expected us home by tea time. I'm sure you concluded your call satisfactorily and our shopping is done."

How had she known about the phone call? Was Julia spying on her? Thank goodness Skylar's family lived across an ocean from them. Skylar didn't see them often, so she would try to get through this visit without losing her composure.

Maura permitted herself to be led to the Bentley and delivered back to the intimidating structure known as Barrett Manor. She had always believed she would be enchanted by such a mansion, but it was a cold, impersonal, museum-like dwelling. The huge, dark, heavily-draped rooms that seemed to deliberately shut out the light depressed her and gave her a slight sense of uneasiness, reminding her of the setting in a Gothic novel she’d once read.

She giggled as she envisioned the gaunt, aging butler hiding some dreadful family secret, and the haughty tense-mouthed house-keeper who moved without making a sound, nurturing family ghosts and skeletons in the dismal closets.

Perhaps a dungeon lay hidden beneath the floors where enemies had once found themselves

captive torture victims. She shivered, and her imagination ran pell-mell with fantasy scenes so engrossingly real she could almost feel the invisible cobwebs and smell the dank and damp and musty darkness of a dungeon.

Maura made a special effort to keep her mind on the Barrett family, the ancient estate, its vast lands and many retainers, because she didn't want to think about Carter Boyd and the woman she’d heard over the phone.

Why did it distress her to discover he had a life, a lover? And why had the discovery caused her wound to throb and ache anew? It must be the wound. Carter meant nothing to her. She would soon be married, for God’s sake!

Her heart skipped a beat when she thought of the azalea plant in the red clay pot he’d bought for her. What if Freda forgot to tend it, to water it? A vague feeling of anxiety nicked her, a feeling that if the plant died, something precious would be lost.

She shook her head and silently scolded herself. The plant was nothing special and it wouldn't be a catastrophe if it died. She could always get another one.

"What?" Julia asked. "Did you say something, Anna?"

"No." She was certain she’d not spoken aloud.

The chauffeur stopped the car at the front of the mansion, got out, and opened the door for them.

Stepping into the vast entrance hall, Maura turned to Julia. "Would you please ask Skylar to come to my room? I'd like to speak to him before tea, if possible. I'm going to freshen up a bit."

"If he's here and I see him, I shall be happy to give him your message. I heard him say earlier he planned to have his horse, Nipper, saddled and ride over to see the Major."

"The Major?"

"An old friend from Skylar's military days, Dr. Geoffery Taylor-Hickham."

Maura nodded and ascended the dark, wide stairway. It was just like Skylar to abandon her to these people with whom even he didn't want to spend a great deal of time.

As she acknowledged her irritation with Skylar, Maura knew her frustration had nothing to do with him. Unforeseen circumstances thrust upon her perfect world had pushed it off-balance. Not once had she doubted the course of her destiny since becoming involved with Skylar.

She’d been convinced from her first meeting with him that he was the man she wanted in her life. Never had she met a man so handsome and educated and courteous and wealthy, and he’d made no secret that he found her attractive and desirable. She didn’t even mind that he seemed to need to control her. She’d lived most of her life as undisciplined and insecure as a twig caught in a torrent, and she welcomed his control. Everything he did was done for her benefit, to improve her.

Nothing had changed. Yet she suddenly began to doubt his affection for her. She wondered if he’d chosen her to be his wife because of her completely different background, thinking he could mold her into whatever he wanted her to be. Or maybe, he'd chosen her because, unlike women from his own social environment, she would demand little and expect little other than a safe and secure future.

Not all her doubts, though, concerned her relationship with Skylar. She truly believed no other man could interest her, but Carter Boyd refused to be pushed away entirely. Damn him and his white azaleas. She hoped the plant would die. Then maybe her memory of him would die, and she would be content planning her wedding and her future.

Carter Boyd had known what he was doing when he gave her that plant. It tied them together in a subtle way. How could she care for it, look at it, tend it, without thinking of him? She threw a pillow across the room.

"Maura," she said aloud, "listen to what you're thinking. That plant is halfway across the world, and you want to blame Carter Boyd for your misgivings because of it."

Skylar did not return in time for tea. Maura suffered through the entire ritual, painfully self-conscious, daunted by these women who should have attempted to make her feel more comfortable.

She’d met Anthony Baxter Barrett, Skylar's father, only briefly. A charming, friendly man, he openly approved of her. A business trip he could not reschedule took him out of England, and he didn’t expect to return before she and Skylar would have to leave for home. Baxter Barrett was the only member of Skylar's family Maura felt she could genuinely like.

After tea, Andrea Helene Barrett, Skylar's mother, having studiously ignored Maura’s existence, smiled sweetly at her daughter and excused herself. In formal elegance, she retreated to the conservatory to see to her rare blossoms. Maura wondered if she would care to add a small

white azalea bush to her botanical treasures.

Julia continued to sit across from Maura, wearing her insulting little half-smile. Maura arose, nodded, and left the room. She fled as if from some pursuer, furious with herself for being such a gutless wonder. Why did she allow these Barrett women to make her feel so insecure? They weren't going to devour her, for God’s sake!

She went outside and strolled about the beautifully manicured grounds. Drawn to a cool retreat near a shaded pool, she decided to linger there. A stone satyr in the midst of the pool fascinated her, and she watched the water cascade over its erotic form.

She would not remain a silent victim. She simply would not allow herself to continue to be passive in the company of these fine-mannered piranhas. If they didn't care that they offended her, why should she care if she offended them?

She couldn’t lose Skylar, that was obviously what they wanted. She could, and would, bear their sugar-coated animosity a while longer.

* * *

A message for Carter to meet with the Funding Chairman sent tremors of apprehension through him, and he hurried to the university. Hoping his funding had not been suspended, or his grant reduced, he knocked on Dr. Hartmann’s door.

"Come in Carter," the elderly man invited.

Simon thought the old man looked like a Benedictine monk with his bald pate surrounded by thin wisps of white hair, his bright button eyes, and humble demeanor.

"Be seated, Carter. I'll not keep you in suspense. Your money has been released. The committee would like to see you publish a paper on this work you're doing, and soon." Dr. Hartmann rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I explained the necessity for caution and secrecy, citing the controversy between France and the United States over which country first discovered and named the HIV virus. They agreed that we do want you to be the first scientist involved in this research to reach a successful conclusion."

"Professor, I've had a temporary setback. Nothing serious, but still a disappointment. I was unable to stabilize the culture because of a contaminant accidentally introduced into it. I need someone to handle time-consuming tasks, check the cultures regularly, and keep the equipment clean.

"With these funds, I can hire two assistants. I'd like to have the positions posted so that qualified students can apply. I'll interview applicants at ten o’clock Monday morning."

"The positions will be posted, Carter. You do have your notes? You can isolate the enzyme again?"

"Yes, and I've learned more about protecting the culture."

"It’s my understanding that Dr. Epstein, the German scientist, hasn't yet been able to isolate the enzyme."

"No, but he's identified it, and I doubt it will take him long to isolate it. I've isolated it and begun a project which I hope will shed some light on how to destroy or control infected cells without destroying healthy tissue. But I badly need funds."

"Well, you now have funds for this year. We here at the university are very proud of you, Carter. You'll have the world at your feet if you are first to accomplish this, but you know that."

He took Carter's arm affectionately and walked him to the door. "I hope the pressure to be first won’t cause you any undue stress, my boy. We fully appreciate your tremendous efforts on behalf of humanity, regardless of whether you’re first. I hope you understand that."

Carter shook hands with Dr. Hartmann and left the building. He knew the board was anxiously hoping, waiting, and praying he would be first in this endeavor. It would mean added fame for The Norwich Institute of Biomedical Research and Technology, an already famous institution. It would also mean huge grants to further the work done there. First meant everything, and he would be first. He must be first.

* * *

On his way home from work, Carter stopped at a traffic light. Caught by the word sniper in

the headlines of the latest edition of The Banner, he pulled into a parking space at the kiosk and bought a newspaper.

The gunman had been identified. Carter wanted to know about the sniper, not only his name, but any other pertinent information that had been uncovered.

He drove home, his mind still focused on his research, pleased it was progressing as expected. It would take at least another couple of weeks before it matured to the point of his previous culture, prior to its contamination, and he could do nothing but wait. He was confident he would eventually defeat the cancer-causing enzyme, but the time wasted by the accident had stretched his patience to the limit.

A new drug, recently developed by SkyBarr, showed great promise in destroying defective cells in a number of viral induced illnesses. The FDA was testing it. Carter had already tested it and was impressed by its effect on cancer cells, but he knew the dangerous side effects made the drug a questionable panacea. His obsession to develop a treatment just as effective on diseased cells, but with negligible adverse effect on healthy cells, became a goal that drove him relentlessly.

Carter parked his Jeep in his designated parking place, got out and entered his condo. He took a cold beer from the refrigerator, unbuttoned his shirt, went into the living room and collapsed on the comfortable overstuffed sofa. He inhaled the pleasant scent of leather, Old Gold furniture polish and apples. Mrs. Malcolm had made a new potpourri that had an apple base. He liked it.

He never tired of the colors he had selected for the living room: the dark mulberry leather of the sofa, the oyster gray walls, the Brussels carpet with deep purple, forest green, royal blue, and yellow tints on a black background. He glowed with pride each time he consciously noticed his Impressionist paintings on the walls, the forms and colors so alive he could almost feel them. Carter liked intense colors and strong textures and had spent entirely too much money decorating his condo, but he didn’t regret it.

Taking large gulps of beer, he switched on a table lamp, reached for his reading glasses and opened the newspaper. The sniper was identified as fifty-eight-year-old Harold Lyons, an official of SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals. Carter read in part:

UNIVERSITY SNIPER IDENTIFIED

The Norwich sniper has been identified as Harold Lyons, a recently fired

SkyBarr executive. SkyBarr spokesman Jeff Henderson gave the following

statement to the press: "SkyBarr recently terminated Harold Lyons twenty-year

employment because of his problem with alcohol, as well as his disruptive,

trouble-making offenses, too numerous to be overlooked by the company."

Mr. Henderson also stated that company officials were shocked to learn that

Lyons was capable of such an attack and expressed sympathy for the victims

and their families. The authorities told this reporter they believe Lyons’

termination was the spark that ignited his violent assault on an innocent,

unsuspecting public. Three people were shot to death. Two were wounded.

Carter finished reading the article, then sat for some time immersed in thought. Something was odd about the whole thing. Was it a coincidence the sniper, and at least one of his victims, were employees of SkyBarr? Did Maura know Harold Lyons? Had she returned from London?

He went to his desk. The slip of paper with Maura's telephone number was not where he’d left it. Mrs. Malcolm had straightened his office again. He had cautioned her about his desk. She kept his home neat and clean, and he appreciated her efforts, but why couldn't she understand he wanted her to leave his desk as she found it? He would have to speak to her again.

Rummaging through drawers without success, he eventually found the number in his file cabinet under ‘T’. It wouldn’t do any good to face Mrs. Malcolm with this type of inept filing, she’d just say, "Well, it was a telephone number, wasn’t it? And that’s a T, right?"

His telephone rang, and as if they had some line of communication between them, he picked it up to hear Maura's voice.

"Dr. Boyd?"

"Not Dr. Boyd, please. Call me Carter. When did you get home?"

"Yesterday. I've been trying to recuperate from that visit. It was an ordeal I wouldn't want to repeat, however it worked out okay. The esteemed Barrett family grudgingly gave the nod to

the marriage--"

"That is good news." His sarcasm lay heavy on his lips.

"--but I called to ask if you've seen today's Banner."

"Just finished reading it. Did you know Harold Lyons?" He heard a long sigh. For a moment, he thought she’d hung up on him again.

"Yes," she answered, "and there's not a word of truth in that news report. I had a clear view of the sniper, and I can recognize him if I ever see him again."

"Maura! The sniper was shot and killed on the tower. Lyons’ body was recovered from the tower. How can you say he wasn't the sniper?"

"I know he wasn't, that's all."

"That doesn’t sound reasonable. You're upset because the sniper was someone you knew."

"Not just someone I knew. Harold Lyons was my foster dad. The sniper shot me, Carter. Uncle Harold would never have shot me. He not only knew my routine, that I jogged every morning at the same time around the campus, but he knew I always cut through the lab parking lot. He frequently jogged with me."

"That sounds suspiciously as though you were an intended victim."

"Don't you dare say that to me. You don't know what you're saying."

Carter heard the catch in her throat and knew she was fighting tears.

"He was buried while I was in England," she sniffled. "I didn't even get to go to the funeral. All this has just torn my heart out. I can't believe it happened."

"Maura, listen. Can we meet somewhere this afternoon? I need to talk to you about this."

She paused, then said, "No. Not until I get some answers to all these questions I have. I don't want you to get involved. I have a feeling there's something ugly about it."

"You don't consider I'm already involved?"

"No?"

"One of those bullets could’ve hit me. Killed me. I'm involved, and I insist we meet. Say when and where." He heard another long sigh, and he tightened his hold on the phone. "When and where, Maura?"

"All right," she said at last. "I'll meet you in the parking lot where all this began. You can leave your car there and drive out into the countryside with me where we can talk in private. Is six-thirty okay with you?"

"Six-thirty is fine. Why did you hang up on me?"

"What?"

"Why did you hang up on me when you called from England?"

"You know why," she retorted and hung up.

* * *

Carter sat in the Cherokee waiting for Maura. She drove her red BMW into the parking lot beside him, leaned over and opened the passenger door. He got out of the Cherokee and slid in beside her.

"This is the first time I've seen you dressed," he said.

"What did you say?"

"Well, you know, I mean really dressed. I've only seen you in jogging shorts and a hospital gown. You look great, Maura."

"Thanks. I didn't take time to go home and change after work."

"You didn’t? That’s mighty elegant office wear."

"Skylar selects and buys most of my clothes. He has very good taste and limitless funds."

"Obviously. The diamond you’re sporting on your third finger, left hand, could blind a guy like me. Doesn't Skylar know how dangerous it is these days for a woman to wear such valuable jewelry?"

"I'd worry about it, I guess, if there weren't so many fabulous fakes being worn today."

"Maura, I doubt that diamond could be mistaken for anything other than the real thing. And that applies also to the gold Rolex."

"Skylar buys expensive jewelry for me, glittery stones, set in gold or platinum. I'm really just a jade, coral, and ivory girl, but Skylar doesn't know that, or doesn't want to know that."

"Well, if you can manage to live your life without coming into contact with a crazed drug addict who needs money for a fix, maybe no one will cut off your finger or your hand for that jewelry, or kill you for it."

"Well, thanks a lot, Carter. Now I'll worry about wearing my jewelry. And there's no way I'd let Skylar see me without my engagement ring on my finger or my watch on my wrist."

He straightened his shoulders and turned his attention to a car that whipped out and around them.

After several miles on the freeway, Maura turned the BMW onto a road toward a lake outside the city. She glanced at Carter who was deep in thought. Why did the very sight of him excite her so? It wasn't just his exceptional good looks; he had a magnetic quality that was thunderous in its intensity, and he was completely unaware of it.

Sitting very still beside her, Carter said, "Maura, your insistence that Harold was not the sniper makes no sense. If he wasn't the sniper, what was he doing on the tower? Do you think he was up there, against his will, while someone else did the shooting? I know it’s hard for you to acknowledge that the sniper was a man you loved and admired, a man who had been a father to you, but --"

"None of this makes sense to me, and it hurts so much. All I know is, Uncle Harold couldn’t have killed anyone. I have no idea why he was on the tower that morning, but I’m going to find out." She swerved to miss a hole in the road. "I went by Uncle Harold's house on my way to work this morning. It’s sealed off with yellow tape just as if a murder had taken place there."

"I suppose the authorities hope to find evidence that will provide answers." He leaned back in the seat and gazed intently at the passing scenery. "This looks like the back road to the lake."

"It is. I know a place where we can be alone."

"Are you sure you want to take this BMW down that so-called road? It's not much more than a couple of ruts and so overgrown you're bound to scratch the paint."

"It's just a car."

"Just a car? Is that attitude the result of Skylar Barrett giving you too many costly toys?"

She looked at him and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "That was a stupid thing to say," she admitted. "I love my car. I just don't want to worry about scratched paint right now. I have too many other worries."

The bumpy, rutted road led deeply into a heavily wooded area to the water's edge. A brilliant low hanging sun reflected its glow in the water, turning it to quicksilver. Maura stopped the car. A rotting pier sloped downward. Its gray broken boards and railings dipped into the lake. It was quiet except for the murmuring, rustling, and skittering of small hidden things, a cool and inviting spot.

Maura lifted an ice chest and a blanket from the back seat. She smiled at him. "I came prepared."

Carter stepped out of the car. Maura turned to see him standing, legs slightly apart, studying her. "Maybe you came a little too prepared," he said. "I’m not sure you can trust me in the woods on a blanket with you."

She laughed. "I'm an engaged woman."

"I hope we both remember that."

For a moment, she stared at him, feeling a little awkward, self-consciously aware of a bird song from a nearby tree and a slight breeze that ruffled the leaves. "Are you really concerned about being here with me? If you are, we can go somewhere else."

"No. I meant to be joking, but I do think you should keep in mind that I'm a man, cursed with the male ego, lusts, and limitations."

She drew back and stared at him. "What do you mean by that? Are you saying you can't be trusted?"

"Maura, I’ve never made any secret I'm attracted to you. You're to be married to another man, and I've accepted that. I can be trusted to the extent of my ability to resist what I feel for you. I can also be trusted not to allow you to tempt me beyond that ability. This is a situation that could get out of control without either of us wanting that to happen."

Feeling like a naughty child who had just been reprimanded, Maura turned away from him. She snatched the blanket from the ground, took it and the ice chest to the car, and hurled them into the trunk.

She was already backing the car around when Carter jumped in and closed the door.

"So. It has come to this, has it?" he said with mock indignation, a shadow of a smile touching his lips. "You would make me walk all the way home because you couldn't have your way with me."

She cut her eyes at him, angry tears rimming them. Involuntarily, her mouth curved up at the corners and she heard herself laughing. "My God! You acted as though you thought I was trying to seduce you."

"No, I didn't think that for a moment. Remember when you saved me from being hurt because you knew I was unaware of the danger? I just did the same for you."

She frowned, adjusted her sun visor and drove onto the interstate. Glancing at Carter, she asked, "What did you want to talk about?"

"The sniper, of course. Was it a coincidence that the sniper was connected to SkyBarr, and at least one of his victims was also?"

"Uncle Harold was not the sniper. So until I find out who was, I won't know if there is a connection to SkyBarr."

"Talk to me about Harold."

"He practically raised me, used to take me and his niece, my best friend, Sue Ann, to the lake where we picnicked and swam. The place I took you was where I learned to swim. Uncle Harold helped us with our school work, treated us to movies, took us skating. You know. He was a father to us. Sue Ann came to live with him when she was three years old, after her dad--Uncle Harold's only brother--died. When my mother died, he took me in, too, just like he did Sue Ann."

A lump came into her throat, and she swallowed hard. "When I graduated from high school, he sent me to college. I worked, but I wouldn't have graduated without his financial support. He was responsible for getting me my job at SkyBarr."

Her eyes stung and she blinked rapidly. "Carter, no one is going to tell me Uncle Harold was a drinker, because I know better. He wasn't a troublemaker, either. He was one of SkyBarr's most valuable employees." Her mouth set in a stubborn line. "I'll never believe he shot me!"

"What was his job at SkyBarr?"

"I’m not sure. He had degrees in chemistry, computer technology, economics and was working on what he called a CVI, which had something to do with preventing viruses from infecting our computers. But his real work at SkyBarr was top secret. He was a brilliant technical genius, a top man in his field. I’ve heard Skylar say Uncle Harold was the only indispensable man in his employ."

"Well, that’s something to think about. He was fired, so apparently Skylar decided he wasn’t so indispensable after all. What did Skylar think about your relationship with Harold?"

"He didn't know anything about it. If he had, he wouldn't have hired me. Company policy forbids hiring friends or family."

"Do you know where his niece lives?"

"Of course. We're like sisters."

"Did Harold ever mention having a problem with SkyBarr?"

"Once he started to tell me about some trouble in ARC, but thought better of it, I guess." She frowned. "Why didn't I find out more about it? He hinted there was something questionable going on there."

"What is ARC?"

"An off-limits, very secret, research lab. I’m not sure what the letters stand for, Alternative Research Chemoreception lab, or something like that."

"Could that have gotten him fired?"

"I don't know."

"Hmmm. What did you mean about finding some answers?"

"I thought I might learn something by--"

"Maura, don't do anything foolish that might endanger you. If SkyBarr does have some dirty little secrets, they won't take kindly to your snooping around."

"I wish you could get a look at the morgue photos of Uncle Harold."

"That's no problem. I often do specialized work for the coroner, DNA analysis, identifying drugs, chemicals, and so forth, and testifying for the D.A. when necessary. I'll get the morgue shots. Do you seriously think the body they buried was not Harold Lyons?"

"I don't know what I think at this point, except it was not Uncle Harold who shot me."

"What do you want me to look for in the morgue shots?"

"I can’t believe he’s dead, identified as the sniper who shot me and murdered several people. I want you to look for a large V-shaped scar on the right shoulder of the body they claim is Uncle Harold’s."

Maura parked next to Carter's car. He looked at her and grinned. "Don't take me to the woods again. I might not be able to resist a second time."

She sat back against the seat and met his gaze. "I thought you scientists always had your minds on scientific stuff like viruses, and experiments, and such."

"At the moment I can't think of a virus that could infect me any more thoroughly than you have. And only you have the antidote."

"Get out, doctor. Go home and take a cold shower, and call me tomorrow if it isn't better."

CHAPTER 3

At the knock on the door, Skylar swivelled his leather-covered executive chair away from the window and said, "Come in, James."

James Watson, Comptroller, entered the room and approached Skylar’s desk. "Mr. Barrett, we’ve received the latest figures on Barrett Industries in London. The transfer--"

"Hold up on the transfer. I’m sure my father will have his own papers drawn up. Maura damaged the BMW. Get somebody on that. See that an insurance claim is filed and the car is repaired and repainted."

"I'll take care of it. The new FDA releases are in. They need your attention and your signature. We’re holding the bar-coded return envelopes from Pakistan that require your signed authorization before we can get those shipments ready."

"Send Henderson to me. I'll stop by your office after lunch and attend to those things." Watson nodded and left.

Skylar sat back, drummed his fingers on his desk and gazed at a photograph. Maura stood beside him in the silver frame. He touched her image. How did she fit into all this? He regretted she’d been on the campus that day, at that particular time, and had been wounded. Why was she seeing Dr. Boyd? Was there more to it than just the fact they had shared an unpleasant experience? Studying her smiling face, he decided he must keep an even closer watch on her if she and Boyd continued to meet. His lips tightened. Maura belonged to him. She would always belong to him.

A second knock sounded at the door. Jeff Henderson entered the room, pulling at the fabric of his expensive suit and growling, "Damn clothes look like I slept in them."

"Henderson, did you make an inventory of everything you found in Lyons’ offices?"

"Everything, Mr. Barrett. We didn't find what we’d hoped to find."

"Find it." Skylar watched his bodyguard take a breath mint from his shirt pocket, open it with his thumbnail, and pop it into his mouth.

"Yes sir. If Lyons had anything incriminating, we’ll find it." Henderson rolled the mint wrapper into a ball and flicked it toward a small crystal tray on Skylar’s desk. He seemed to think better of it even before it landed on the polished, sparkling surface. A deep frown creased Skylar’s brow and narrowed his eyes. Henderson retrieved the offensive wad of paper immediately. He flushed and mumbled, "Sorry."

"Go through everything again. Search his house again. Do whatever you have to do, but find it!" Skylar’s tone of voice left no room for excuses.

Henderson opened his mouth to speak, but Skylar abruptly dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The big man backed away quickly toward the door, red-faced, stuffing the wadded paper into his wrinkled pocket.

The door closed behind Henderson, and Skylar silently opened and closed his slender fingers, examining his immaculately manicured nails. He clenched his teeth. A trusted employee had breached the security of his powerful empire, and now an ominous threat loomed over it. Harold Lyons had discovered some of ARC's secrets. Had he found any real evidence?

Skylar was again drawn to the large windows that provided a view of the river. He watched a sailboat on the water and dismissed his doubts. He was in control. He would always be in control.

* * *

Maura marked her place on the document she was studying and reached for the phone that

suddenly flashed. She removed her earring, pushed the line button, and answered, "Hello."

Carter's voice came over the line. "Maura?"

"Yes, Carter."

"I got the morgue photos."

She drew in her breath and answered quickly, "Well?."

He replied, "Yes, the scar’s there."

After a pause, she said softly, "Thanks, I had to be sure."

"Are you satisfied now Harold was the sniper?"

"No. I'm satisfied Uncle Harold was shot to death on the tower, and the authorities claim he was the sniper. Listen, Carter. I got caught in his office by security. I was going through files still there. Most of them had been boxed and taken to a holding room where everything is to go. That seems odd to me. What do you think?"

"They obviously thought he had something they didn’t want him to have."

"His office was locked, but Uncle Harold had given me a key to save him a trip, in case he needed me to bring him a file when he was out of the office. I did take a file to him, and that

was the last time I saw him. I remember he was upset about something. I wish I’d paid more attention to what was going on with him, but I was caught up in my own life."

"Did you get in trouble about the key?"

"No. No one knows about it. I told the security people the office door was unlocked. They seemed to believe me. They probably thought the movers left the door unlocked when they took a load of boxes from the office. Carter, what do you suppose is going on?"

"Harold must have come into possession of information he wasn't supposed to have."

"What kind of information?"

"Didn't you tell me he hinted there was something questionable going on in ARC?"

"Yes, but I assumed he meant something that had to do with one or more of the employees. Not something involving the company and certainly not something personally involving Skylar. The activities going on in ARC are secret, but that has to do with formulas that must not be allowed to fall into the possession of competitive companies."

"Suppose something illegal is going on there and Harold discovered it?"

"No. That couldn't happen. Skylar would never tolerate anything illicit at SkyBarr. You don't know him."

"Nothing else makes sense, though, does it? Even if what I suggested is true, what would that have to do with Harold being the sniper?"

"I simply don't know."

"You were lucky this time, apparently. Stop nosing around. Please. I have a bad feeling about this. If you truly think Harold was the victim of some kind of conspiracy, I'll help you find out. But don't go off on your own again. Promise me you won't."

"I'm in a position to get some answers. I'll be careful."

"No. You'll probably be watched, especially since you were caught in Harold's office. Until they're confident you know nothing, they'll keep an eye on you."

"Carter. That's ridiculous. Whatever happened to Uncle Harold, I'll never believe Skylar was mixed up in it, or anything else illegal. And I won't get in trouble for snooping. I'm going to marry Skylar Barrett."

He sighed, and his anger sharpened his voice, "That won't make any difference if the company does have something to hide. Until you are his wife, you're just an employee. You hide behind that shield a lot, don't you, deluding yourself it’ll keep you safe from all harm? You might find it a paper shield, easily pierced. I intend to rip it to shreds."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, a promise."

"Well, it isn't funny. Why are you so quick to assume Skylar's guilty of something?"

"Because I think he is. Maura, I want you to promise you won't do any more sleuthing alone."

"Will you help me, as you said?" she asked, a tinge of impatience firing her words.

"In every way I can."

"Then I promise."

"I'd like to see you tonight."

"Why, Carter? To discuss a plan of action or to pierce my shield?"

"How about a little of both?"

"I need to feel comfortable with you," she answered. "You scare me."

"If I scare you, it's not because you think I'll force myself on you. That won't happen. You have my word on that. Could it be you're afraid you don't feel as strongly about Skylar Barrett as you should? Afraid you might discover you do feel something for me?"

"Stop trying to brainwash me. I'm on to your methods. You put an idea into my head and I'm supposed to dwell on it until I think it was my idea."

The soft, sensual sound of his laughter stirred her with excitement. "Is it working?" he asked.

A wistful smile formed on her lips. She knew if he could look into her eyes at that moment, he would know the answer to that question. She thought of him too much, and denied she felt something for him, telling herself she loved Skylar and would marry him no matter what.

"Carter," she whispered. "I see Skylar. I thought he’d gone home. I have to hang up now."

Carter looked at the dead phone in his hand, shook his head, and replaced the receiver.

He sat at the computer and compiled a profile of Harold Lyons, starting with the few facts he knew.

Name: Harold Lyons

Age: 58 yrs.

Profession: Computer Expert (Programmer,

Software designer, etc.)

Dependents: Foster father of two.

Employer: SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals

Term of Employment: 20 yrs.

Stated reasons for termination: Drinking

problem, delusions, blackouts.

(Note: Find out when the company claims these symptoms

appeared and became a problem for SkyBarr. How long,

afterward, was he terminated?

What job, or jobs, had he performed for SkyBarr just prior

to his dismissal?)

Carter stared at the words on the screen a moment, then switched off the computer, pushed

his chair back, and got up. He was bone tired and could do little more without Maura's help.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to get more involved. His work was too important to let himself get sidetracked into investing time and attention away from his research.

The phone rang. Dr. Hartmann asked Carter to come to his office. Carter walked down the tiled corridor, knocked on the professor’s door, opened it, and entered.

"Come in, Carter."

"I hope you haven't asked me here to tell me there's been a mistake in my funding."

"Not at all," the professor smiled. "I have news for you. I wanted to be sure it was good news before I told you. I know I've handled this in an unorthodox manner, but I did so to prevent your full concentration from being diverted from your present project."

"You have my attention, Professor."

"Doctor, last February, I recommended you to the Nobel Assembly at the Karolinska Institute in Stockholm. I've just received word they are considering you for the Nobel Prize in Medicine this year for your past impressive work on oncogenes. I presented your biography to the special committee, and you will be notified of the board's decision in October or November. So mark your calendar for December 10, and plan a trip to Sweden."

Carter stood very still a moment, stunned. When he found his voice, he said quietly, "I'm overwhelmed."

"You more than deserve it."

Brushing his hand through his hair, Carter replied. "I don't think I'll pack my bags just yet."

"Everyone here at the Institute is excited about your acceptance. I have no doubt you'll be one of the recipients."

Carter took his mentor's hand and pressed it. "I’ll never be able to thank you enough for all you've done for me since I came here, Professor Hartmann. I'll always be grateful."

"Never has one been more worthy, my boy. I couldn't be more proud of you."

"How did you feel when you won the Nobel?"

"I was thrilled, of course, but I suspect every Nobel winner believes he deserves the recognition."

"Thanks, again, for your support."

"You’re most welcome." Dr. Hartmann opened the door for him.

On his way back to the laboratory, Carter suddenly decided to take the afternoon off. He checked his work, then left his assistants to finish their assignments and close the lab. Not

much could be done for the next week except wait and hope. He would scan into the computer, the eternal notes and papers on the results of an experiment he’d conducted with white cells, taken from patient cancers, which he had forced to reproduce rapidly into large numbers. He hoped to replace them in the cancerous tissue and overwhelm the infected malignant cells. He firmly believed the body’s own immune system could control and destroy cancer cells, if the diseased cells didn’t grow so rapidly, that the body’s white cells could not form quickly and numerously enough to overcome them.

He wanted to see Maura, and he could not deny his interest in Harold Lyons. Carter parked in his parking space at the complex and went inside. He checked his answering machine. Cynthia's voice caught him off-guard and he realized he had not so much as thought of her lately. Guilt flooded him. Her words, soft and honey-dripping, brought her image to him now.

"Hi, Sugar. How have you been? I missed you and hoped you'd call, but since you didn't I decided to break one of my own rules and call you. I've taken extra work this summer. Tutoring, of all things. I need the money, and I won't have any more free time to speak of. Could we get together tonight? I sure could use a little doctoring. Call me if you can see me tonight. If not, I'll understand. Miss you."

Mrs. Malcolm emerged from the kitchen. "Oh, good, you're home early."

"Yes."

"Shall I start dinner, then?"

"No, thanks. I have to go out so I'll grab a bite somewhere, or bring something back with me to eat later. Take the afternoon off and make that new guy you're seeing happy."

"What new guy? You're the only man in my life and you know it. Lucky for you, I'm sixty-seven, and just a tad too old for you."

Carter pulled her hair gently and took her face in his hands. "Give me a kiss, then, and vamoose." He kissed her wrinkled cheek.

She pursed her lips and frowned, her fingers worrying a strand of silver hair back in place. "Now, look what you did! You made me forget where I put my keys! Why don't you do something constructive in that lab of yours, like find out why we get old and wrinkled and disgusting, while inside we stay young and eager? I get a jolt every time I look in a mirror and see that old woman staring back at me. I tell you, it's disheartening."

"Mrs. Malcolm, you know the saying: ‘A woman, like fine wine, just gets better with age’. Lock the door on your way out, sweetheart." He spoke out of the side of his mouth, imitating Bogart. He’d used the endearment ever since he had discovered her love for the raspy-throated actor. Bogart was her favorite. She watched his films over and over, especially Key Largo. She had confessed to Carter that when Humphrey Bogart said ‘sweetheart’, her heart turned a flip-flop. He couldn't resist teasing her.

Mrs. Malcolm chuckled and went to get her purse. She blew him a kiss and left. When the door closed behind her, Carter picked up the phone and dialed Cynthia’s number, disappointed it hadn’t been Maura who called. She didn’t answer. He hung up before her answering machine clicked in. He would try again later.

He settled down on the sofa and switched on the TV to get the news channel. The telephone rang. By the time he crossed the room to answer, whoever had dialed disconnected and didn’t leave a message.

Carter dressed and dialed Maura's office number. He asked to speak to her.

Her secretary answered. "One moment, I'll see if she can take your call."

Maura's voice came on the line and sent a tremor of excitement through him. Carter, he told himself, you have to do something about this. You're behaving like an adolescent schoolboy hoping to get his first date.

"What time do you want to meet?" she asked. Before he could reply, she said strangely, "I have that spec you asked for. I'll fax it to you immediately."

Realizing someone must have come in, someone she did not want to know about his call, Carter hung up and waited for her to call back. He paced the floor. Just as he decided she wouldn't call again, the phone rang, and he grabbed it. "Hello."

"Carter, make a note of this number, 555-7271. That's my private number and will bypass my secretary and get you straight through to me. Always call me at that number when you call me at work. And thanks for being alert enough to go along with what must have been a confusing change in the conversation."

"We can meet at seven this evening, same place, if that's convenient for you," he said, answering her earlier question.

"Fine, see you later."

"No woods this time, Maura?"

"Absolutely not. If I ravish you, it will have to be in public, doctor."

"That's comforting. Now I can relax."

"Wait," she said. "Take down my home number also. It's 555-8830. Bye."

He stood holding the phone a moment, then replaced it. It rang again so unexpectedly it startled him. Picking it up, he heard Dr. Hartmann's anxious voice. "Carter, someone broke into Dr. Epstein's lab in Germany and destroyed his experiment. Such terrible news." His voice broke and panic hit Carter with the intensity of a fist to his stomach.

His immediate thought was his own work. "I’ll be right there, Dr. Hartmann." He slammed the phone down and rushed to the Cherokee, mentally rebuking himself for being so disturbed. What had happened in Germany had no connection to him and his work. Amid all his silent protests, he knew that wasn’t exactly true. There were those who did not want to see a cure for cancer, or for any other devastating disease that brought billions of dollars of research money into the hands of organizations formed to distribute those funds. The trickle down effect had made many millionaires, and greed ruled supreme in such areas. The work he and Dr. Epstein were doing could ultimately mean billions of dollars of lost profits to drug manufacturers as well as to the medical community.

He got in the Jeep and rested his face in his hands, dizzy with shock. He couldn't think clearly. Ignoring all traffic laws, he sped down State Medical University Drive. Before he got to the parking area at the science lab, he saw the flashing lights and the crowd. He expelled his breath and his hope, and his eyes burned with anxiety.

Dr. Hartmann rushed to meet him as he exited the Jeep. "Carter!" he called. "Jackson caught someone trying to get into the lab building and called the police. They're checking now to see if there’s any damage."

"Thanks," Carter answered. He ran to the building, produced his key and opened the front entrance. Hurrying to his lab, he pushed his ID card into the slot. The double doors slid open.

Police followed him into the building. He saw nothing amiss.

He checked the door of his containment chamber, found it securely locked, and sighed a huge sigh. Carter closed and locked the door.

"Nothing seems to be out of order in there," he said to the officers. "You apparently chased them off when you arrived. This was a scare, though, especially since my work was recently contaminated and had to be destroyed. I considered that an accident, but now I'm not sure."

To Dr. Hartmann, Carter said, "In light of what happened to Dr. Epstein, I believe we have a real threat here. We should have . . . no, we must have twenty-four-hour security around the lab."

Dr. Hartmann rescued Carter from the police and accompanied him back inside the lab. "They didn’t get inside?"

Carter shook his head and inhaled deeply. "No, thank God!"

"The university will see that you have around-the-clock security, Carter. We'll not have another scare like this one. Lock up. Go home and try to calm down. Jackson has to sign some forms, and I want to be with him when the police question him. I'll let you know what he says about the men he saw."

Carter could only nod. He didn't trust himself to speak again. Overcome with helpless fury, he secured the lab, went to the Cherokee, got in, and leaned his head on his arms. He had no idea how long he sat there. The night hemmed him in with darkness and silence. Everyone had left the area.

The click of the passenger door jerked his head up. Maura slid in beside him and moved over against him. "I heard about the attempted break-in on the news. I’m sorry. That must’ve been a bad scare for you. I’m so glad no harm was done."

His throat closed and his eyes stung with the threat of tears. Then her lips pressed his, warm and alive, and his spirit flowed back into him. He clung to her, without words, sitting quietly in the dark, absorbing the wonder of being close, touching, sharing the rightness of it.

Carter wanted this moment to last. He didn’t want to worry about the lab, and he didn’t want to have to deal with the idea that he and Maura were caught up in something better left alone. She held him and comforted him, and he got the feeling he should be comforting her, protecting her.

* * *

Carter and Maura finished dinner in the romantic, dimly lit lounge of the Rendezvous Club. Enjoying an after-dinner drink, they listened to the beautiful but sad melody, So Near Yet So Far’.

He clasped her hand, raised it to his lips, and said quietly, "Maura, I hope I don’t have to continue to say ‘you’re so near yet so far away’."

Maura’s soft, damp lips parted slightly. She touched her glass to them to still their trembling. Carter moved the glass with his finger and kissed her with an urgency that burned into her like a tongue of flame. "Let's dance," he said. He stood and drew her into his arms.

His muscles flexed as he held her to him, so close she feared he would hear the throbbing of her heart. He whispered in her ear, "I think I’m falling in love with you. I’ve never said those words before, not even in the heat of passion, because I’ve never felt this way about a woman before. I hesitated to tell you. I feel as though I’m stripping myself naked, and you’ve not really given me any indication that my confession might hit a responsive chord."

Maura refused to allow the image of Carter stripping himself naked to take hold in her consciousness. She whispered desperately, "Carter--"

"What?"

"You sound like a professor giving a lecture."

"What we need, then, is less talk and more action."

Her laughter trilled out and blended with the dreamy dance music. "Plenty of time for action. You did strike a responsive chord, so be satisfied with that for now." Gazing into his unforgettable, powerfully expressive eyes, a stirring deep within her caught at her breath. She wanted to tell him how she felt, but her throat closed and the words wouldn’t come. She was committed to Skylar, and she had said those words before. She realized now, she hadn’t meant them. Everything had become painfully complicated.

"Let’s sit down," she whispered.

He released her and accompanied her back to their table. Carter ordered a second round of drinks.

Maura asked, "Do you still want to pursue this thing about Uncle Harold?"

"Yes. It’s even more important to me after tonight. I don’t like the preposterous and nagging thoughts that flit around in my head."

"I’ve learned something," she said. "Uncle Harold’s clearance into ARC was withdrawn

after he designed and installed a new computer system for the lab, a system to control chemical formulas for certain drugs and collect data on the effects of the drugs on various groups of people. Apparently a highly secret designer drug is being made in ARC that is mixed up in all of Uncle Harold’s troubles with SkyBarr. I learned this from his notes I took before I got caught in his offices."

What did you do with the notes?"

"I hid them in a box of cereal."

He laughed. "That should be a good place. I'd like to see those notes."

"You will. We need to get the file name and password for the program Uncle Harold installed and check it out on one of the ARC computers. Our office machines can’t access those computers, so getting that information won't be easy, maybe not even possible."

"Don't do anything foolish, Maura. I asked you to wait until we can look into this together."

"Okay. Can we meet Monday after work? I want to go to Uncle Harold's house and poke around. I spoke to Sue Ann on the phone earlier, and she wants us to come by her house, too."

"Yes, that should probably be our next move."

Maura finished her drink. "I have to get home. I'm never out this late and I don't want to take the chance Skylar might call. I can't face his questions right now. I need time to think."

"I want to take you home with me."

She shook her head and mouthed the word ‘no’.

"I hope you realize the longer we’re forced to remain apart, the more explosive our coming together will be." He kissed her, his mouth insistent, until she took a deep breath and pushed him away. "You're scaring me again, Carter."

"Well, you scare me, too."

* * *

Parking the Cherokee, Carter saw and recognized Cynthia's white Honda at the far end of his drive. He got out and walked to it. She leaned into the wheel, asleep. He gently shook her.

She jerked upright and gasped. "Oh, Carter, you scared the stuffing out of me!"

"Not all of it, I see," he grinned.

"I heard the broadcast about the attempted break-in at the lab. I was worried about you, and even more so when I got here around ten and you weren't home." She looked at her watch.

He laughed at her expression. "Sometimes, even I keep late hours."

"I was worried."

"I'm fine. For a while I came completely unglued. I'm okay, now. However, I'm afraid all I can handle tonight is a shower and a good night's rest." God! How was he going to tell her he had finally fallen in love and wanted to end their relationship, without causing her pain? He didn't want to hurt her, but he could never again take her to his bed.

She smiled at him, making him feel even more like a heel. "I understand, but please invite me in. I need to be near you tonight."

He couldn't turn her away, not if she had a problem and needed his help. She got out of her car and followed him inside.

"Okay," he said, "tell me what's bothering you while I get ready to shower."

"I probably won't see you again the entire summer. I left a message."

"I got it. I tried to return your call. You didn't answer. Then I got the call that scared me about the lab, and every other thought in my brain disintegrated. Why should a tutoring job keep you so tied up?"

"The job is back home. Five hundred miles is a little far to commute. I'm going home for the summer. My dad offered to help me buy the new car I so badly need but insists I come home and earn some of the money. I wanted to work on my Masters this summer." Her lips pursed in a pout. "And that's not all I wanted, Sugar."

He shook his head and smiled at her. "Cyn, everything will work out for you. I’m going to be too busy to know you're gone. Sorry, I don't mean ‘out of sight, out of mind’. I do mean

there are only so many hours in a day. . .and a night. I'm being considered for the Nobel Prize, and that puts extra pressure on me." Now he was hiding behind his work. He must have a serious talk with her about Maura. And very soon.

"Oh, Carter!" Cynthia's jubilant cry brought back to him the honor of being considered for the Nobel Award. "How wonderful! I'm so proud of you!" She threw herself into his arms and kissed him fervently.

He held her a moment, then released her.

She sighed. "Go take your shower."

He went into the bathroom. Why did she have to show up tonight? The scent of Maura’s perfume was still on him. His heart was still full of her. His hands still tingled with the touch of her, and his conscience was beating him to death. He couldn’t make Cynthia disappear any more than Maura could make Skylar disappear. Someone was going to be hurt and nothing could be done about that.

CHAPTER 4

Maura lay on top of the cotton and lace coverlet and listened to the captivating voice of Pavarotti. She couldn't sleep. All she could think of was the touch of Carter's lips on hers, the sensation that the world had departed and nothing mattered but the two of them. Never had she felt such a need to possess and be possessed. Was this love? If it was, she certainly was not in love with Skylar, nor had she ever been.

"I need Carter, Teddy," she said to her little bear. "I need him. Why didn't I go with him? I wanted to, more than I've ever wanted anything." She frowned into the bear’s big bright eyes, Gazing at it, sadness rolled over her. Uncle Harold had found it in a closet after she’d moved to the high-rise and brought it to her. She’d been very upset when she couldn’t find the little bear. Losing it was like losing a part of her childhood. Maura had always confided her most intimate secrets to Teddy when there was no one to talk to. Maybe she would feel better if she turned it on and let it sing its lullaby for her. No. She wanted to hear Carter’s voice. She placed the bear on a pillow beside her, rolled over, picked up the phone and dialed Carter’s number.

A woman's low, soft voice said, "Hello."

With trembling hands Maura hung up. She must have dialed the wrong number. Yes, that’s what happened. Please, let that be what happened.

She lifted the receiver and managed to dial again, being very careful to push the correct numbers. The same sexy voice answered. Maura dropped the phone into its cradle and fell back on the bed, still and rigid, a breathtaking hurt devouring her.

* * *

The next morning Cynthia kissed Carter goodbye and left. Carter began trying to reach Maura. He made his first call a little after six. No one answered. He went into the kitchen and hurriedly made a pot of coffee, knowing he'd have to leave before seven or Mrs. Malcolm would bully him into eating a large breakfast. He didn't want to take the time.

Carter walked out of his door at five minutes before seven, unsuccessful in his attempts to reach Maura. She must have gone to work early--very early. He made a mental note to call her from his office at the university.

As the hours passed, his concern grew. Maura's secretary told him: "She’s in conference and can’t be disturbed." "She's out of the office. No, I don't know when she will return." And, finally, "She's gone for the day." He knew something was wrong. Okay, he would meet with her soon at the parking lot, and she would tell him what was going on.

Carter hadn’t eaten all day. He decided to wait for Maura and take her to dinner before they went to check Harold's house. He closed the lab, went directly to his Jeep, got in and waited. An hour passed. Then, two, and he realized she would not show up. He imagined all sorts of things. Had something happened at work to alarm her, or make her have second thoughts about checking things out? Had the dawn brought her a new perspective to their blossoming relationship? Had she decided to take the course of least resistance and stay with Skylar, after all?

Thoroughly alarmed, Carter went into his office and called Maura's home number. Her maid answered. He expelled his breath in harsh relief, gave his name, and asked to speak to Maura. He heard Maura's voice in the background. "I don't want to talk to him."

Shocked, he dropped the phone. Quickly recovering it, he insisted, "I must speak to her. Please, tell her it’s important."

Maura came on the line. She sounded different. Her voice was clipped, harsh. "Important to whom? Not to me. I don’t want to talk to you. Don't call me again. Leave me alone."

"Maura! What the hell's going on? Maura?" But she had already hung up and he held a dead phone. He slammed it down and slumped in his chair. He sat, his head in his hands, dumbfounded.

Hot pain stabbed him. Then anger rose in him, and he felt as though she had slapped his face. He could not imagine what had caused this reaction from her, this total rejection. Frustration and confusion overwhelmed him.

Eventually his pride took over and he became stonily indignant. He would not call her again. She could be sure of that. Whatever the problem, it was now her problem. She would have to be the one to make the next move. He wasn't guilty of second thoughts, as she must be. He had done nothing to bring about this transformation in her. If they were to have any further contact, she would have to come to him.

Carter threw himself into his work. He isolated the enzyme a second time and had begun working on a formula he hoped would successfully protect healthy cells from being invaded and overcome by diseased cells. A week passed.

In addition to his other work, he finally completed his paper outlining and explaining his procedures that opened up a whole spectrum of new possibilities in the study of cancer. He submitted it to the American Scientific Review, which had asked for it, and it was accepted for publication.

Two weeks passed. He refused to allow himself to think of Maura. He no longer counted the days.

JUNE:

The university held a party in Carter’s honor. Cynthia came for the weekend to attend with him. He had not asked her to come but was guiltily happy to see her. Maura had caused him such suffering and doubt he felt the need to excise her memory. The only way he knew to do that was by renewing his flagging interest in Cynthia.

He was pleased and proud to escort her into the elaborately decorated ballroom. She was striking in her body-hugging royal blue sequined gown that molded her tiny waist and curving hips. Its spaghetti straps teased a beholder’s eye with a spectacular view of swelling breasts. The deep blue color of her gown emphasized her electric blue eyes and silver-blonde hair and lit up her entire face. Cynthia had recently been a centerfold in a men’s magazine, and was continually hounded by fans wanting to photograph her. She created attention wherever she went and loved every minute of it.

They were greeted by staff, alumni, and board members. Carter was shocked when he was presented to Skylar Barrett, and learned that Skylar was not only a member of the board of trustees, but was the university’s largest contributor. While he was absorbing this information, Maura stepped up and took Skylar’s arm possessively. Her green eyes glittered as she glared at Cynthia, then fixed her outraged stare on Carter. At that precise moment, a flash of awareness hit him. What a fool he was. What a damn fool. Somehow Maura knew about Cynthia's spending that night with him. No wonder she had refused to have anything more to do with him. She obviously thought he left her, went home, and slept with Cynthia. Carter’s special night became a night of misery.

Carter and Cynthia were escorted to the place of honor. He was sure the speech he gave sounded a great deal too impassioned for its content. As he spoke, his eyes and tone of voice pleaded with Maura to feel his regret, and his love, and to pity him and deliver him from the death blow she had inflicted on their relationship. How would he ever make things right with her?

He returned to his table while the orchestra tuned their instruments. The extravagant buffet was opened. He took Cynthia’s hand and accompanied her to the buffet. They became separated as numerous members of the faculty greeted Carter, and congratulated him. When the storm of recognition died down, he found himself standing beside Maura. He saw Skylar on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with Professor Hartmann.

"We need to talk, Maura."

She refused to acknowledge his presence. She moved quickly down the line until she left him behind. He followed as closely as possible. A large man got stalled at the salad bar and was unable to decide what he wanted. Carter pushed past him and caught up with Maura. "We will talk," he said, setting his jaw in a stubborn line. "In public, or in private. You decide."

She edged very close to him and whispered through taut lips, "Leave me alone, Dr. Boyd. We have nothing to say to each other." Her gaze caught his, pulled him into clear green pools, and threatened to drown him.

He rescued his gaze and retorted, "I have plenty to say, Maura. I intend to say it, and I intend for you to listen. You’re not being fair and you know it. Don't do this to me."

"I m not doing anything to you. Go away."

"No. I want to dance with you."

"Oh? You really think that will do it, don't you? Hold her and watch her melt as she did before when you honored her with the touch of your superb male body."

"Stop that, Maura," he said through clenched teeth. "Let's dance."

"No, I won’t. I couldn't bear to have you touch me while I'm still hurting."

He pulled her away from the buffet so they wouldn’t continue to hold up the line of people filling their plates. "Don't you think I'm hurting?"

"Obviously not." She darted away from him and was caught up, once more, in the crowd.

Carter let her go. Anger cut him to the quick. In a daze, he selected seafood, salad, and a slice of Key Lime pie. Knowing he must somehow get through this evening, wishing it over, he went to his table. Cynthia was already there, her plate filled.

"Look at all these terrific buffet goodies, Carter. Probably about ten pounds here on my plate, but who cares. I’ll run it off when the weather gets cooler. Famous last words, huh?"

"Among many others." He sat down, firmly resolved to give all his attention to Cynthia. "Cyn, you haven’t gained an ounce since I’ve known you, and you eat the most atrocious things. I wouldn’t worry about a few buffet goodies, as you call all that stuff in front of you."

A waiter appeared and asked if they'd like something from the bar. "Champagne," Cynthia replied. The waiter quickly marked his pad and walked away. "What’s wrong, Carter?" she asked. "Something is. I can tell. You’re very gruff, and you should be ecstatic. This is such a nice gesture for the university to make. They’re truly proud of you, Sugar. Are you still worried about someone trashing your lab the way they did poor Dr. Epstein’s?"

"I can’t help but worry about it. I’ve finally come up with an effective treatment against the enzyme, but I’m not sure what the side effects might be, yet. I’m working on it."

"You'll do it. Tell me about the enzyme."

"It’s an enzyme I’ve discovered in cancerous cells that facilitates a chemical reaction causing the cell to reproduce itself so rapidly that it overwhelms the body's defense mechanism, but doesn’t, itself, undergo any permanent change. If the enzyme can be controlled, the affected cells could be kept in check, or destroyed, by the body's immune system."

"That's awesome work. If you do find a way to do that effectively, will cancer be wiped out?"

"Many forms of cancer will, and it will give us insight into the causes of other related ailments."

Cynthia gazed into his eyes, and he knew her mind was not on cancer research. "Carter, you're so gorgeous. I can hardly keep my hands off you, but I’m smart enough to know this is not a good time for me. Your interest in this fantastic work of yours and the pressure you’re under are all you’re able to handle right now. And I understand that. I admire you for it. When we leave here, I want you to take me to Mandeville Hall. I’ll sleep there. I can’t bear another night being near you and not making love with you. I know you don’t want me tonight."

"Cynthia," he said, "I don't know what to say, except I hope you’ll forgive me for being such a . . . the word that comes to mind is jerk. I’m sorry. You deserve better. I hope I can make it up to you one day."

"There will be plenty of opportunities for you to make it up to me. I’m the one who made the rules about nothing permanent, remember? I’ll be there for you when you want me, Carter, just like always. No pressure. No promises." She looked at him lingeringly, then picked up her fork.

Cynthia ate her dinner while Carter picked at his food. He tasted nothing and mentally chastised himself for allowing Cynthia to think his odd behavior was due to his work, when all he could think of was Maura.

Cynthia filled their champagne glasses. She raised hers to touch his in a toast. "Sugar, may you always have the love, respect, and recognition you so richly deserve." She leaned over and kissed him.

"Thanks, Cyn," he whispered against her lips.

Suddenly Skylar was at Cynthia’s side. "May I have this dance, Miss Warren? That is, if Dr. Boyd doesn't object."

Carter stumbled to his feet. "No", he said. "Not at all." He hadn’t realized the orchestra was playing soft dance music, and the floor had filled with couples. His gaze searched the room for Maura. She stood near her table talking with a faculty wife.

He strode across to her and touched her arm. She whirled around, startled. A slight frown furrowed her smooth brow. Her tongue wet her lips.

The woman with her smiled and said sweetly, "Do have your dance with Dr. Boyd, dear. We can visit another time."

Carter propelled Maura to the dance floor. She resisted until he pulled her close and held her tight. Once in his arms, she ceased struggling. The feel of her, soft and warm, and the sensual scent of her perfume sent his blood rushing through his body--his pulse beating in his temples. The enchanting music of Stardust, a perennial favorite of dance bands, filled him with great emotion.

Her tears dampened his cheek and he moved her head so he could look into her eyes. "Please, darling, don’t. Those tears are ripping my heart out."

"Good! I’m such a fool, I believed everything you told me." She pushed him away.

He knew from her trembling, and her faltering voice, she was on the verge of losing control. He drew her to him again, holding her firmly, danced her to double doors that led out onto a portico, and guided her outside.

She hit him on the chest with her fists and said through tight lips, "I allowed myself, to feel for you . . . what I’ve never felt for another man. I went home that night, so full of love, knowing I would have to rearrange my whole life, willing to do so. I couldn’t sleep. I was overwhelmed by the magic of it. I wanted to be with you." She hit him again.

He caught her hands and held them. "Maura--"

"Be quiet," she sobbed, her voice harsh with emotion. "I lay awake thinking of you, and decided I couldn’t bear it unless I could hear your voice, hear you say again how much you love me. I dialed your number, Carter, and guess what?" She struggled to free her hands, but he held them in a firm grip. She kicked him in the shins.

"Maura!"

"Guess what, Carter? A woman answered. I knew that couldn’t be. I must’ve dialed the wrong number. I dialed again, praying I had dialed the wrong number the first time. But the woman answered again."

She kicked him a second time, and he stepped as far from her as he could without releasing his hold on her hands.

"Cynthia, right?" she asked sniffling. "Movie-star gorgeous Cynthia. You didn’t even have the decency to pick an ordinary beautiful woman, did you?"

He laughed in spite of himself, drew her to him and stilled her flow of words with his kisses. He kissed away her tears. "Maura, you are the ultimate beauty. You are everything I consider truly beautiful. Perfection is not beauty; it's an illusion. You are the reality."

She shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but he kissed her again. "I think you should know how it is with Cynthia and me, how it’s always been. I’m not in love with her. I needed someone in my life and she happened to be the one. She is beautiful, but beauty had little to do with my forming a relationship with her. Most people consider beauty to be what the eye sees, but to me beauty is the whole and not the part. Cynthia has never made me feel the way you make me feel just seeing you across the room."

"Oh? How did she make you feel that night?"

"Maura, I need you to understand something. I’ve been involved with Cynthia a long time, just as you’ve been involved with Skylar. I can’t dismiss her with a wave of the hand. She was waiting for me when I got home that night. She was leaving town for the summer and wanted to be with me. I invited her in. I couldn’t have done otherwise."

He kissed Maura’s forehead, her nose, brushed his lips across her cheek, kissed her mouth. She tried to pull away but he held her in a firm grip. He spoke against her ear. "I explained to her I was tired and interested in nothing more than a shower and a good night’s sleep. She understood that. I couldn’t have made love to her after having just left you. Your kiss was still on my mouth. My heart was still singing with the wonder of being deeply in love for the first time in my life."

He cautiously released her hands. "I must have been in the shower when you called. Suppose when you got home, Skylar had been there waiting for you. Suppose you left the room for some reason and I called at that moment and Skylar answered. How would you feel if I refused to even discuss it with you? Maura, if--"

"Carter--"

"What?"

"You sound like a--"

"I know, like a professor giving a lecture, but I’m fighting for my life, this time."

She laughed through her tears and he knew the wound would heal. He would have a second chance with her.

* * *

The following day Carter called Maura. They arranged to meet as soon as she could get dressed.

He parked his Cherokee and rode with her in her car to Harold's residence. After a fairly long ride through downtown Norwich, and out toward the suburbs, she drove onto Country Club Drive and slowed the car. "I don't see the yellow tape. I hope it's safe for us to go in." She turned into the driveway.

"This is the way to live,’ Carter said. "That’s a nice house."

"It's a very nice house. I lived there with Uncle Harold and Sue Ann from the time I was twelve until I moved to the high-rise where I live now."

"Harold must have made a fair wage at SkyBarr."

"He did, but he had money when he went to work for SkyBarr. He inherited money when he was only twenty-one years old. Harold didn't need to work, but he worked harder and longer hours than most men."

"Must be nice.’

"Just wait a few weeks. When you win the Nobel Prize, you'll be able to buy this house if you want it. You can display the gold medal in the trophy room. There is a trophy room. Harold won a few medals and awards over the years."

"How did you know about the Nobel?"

"Skylar told me. He said Professor Hartmann is very proud of your affiliation with the university and talked of nothing else."

"There's something very troubling to me about all this, Maura. If Harold was an important man, why did it take so long for the police to identify him? And, why wasn't there more of a

reaction from the media?"

"Very good questions. I’ve asked them myself, many times. Harold kept a low profile, and the company kept his work there as secret as possible, afraid some other company would steal him away. But why it took so long to identify him, I cannot imagine. It’s just another mystery that has finally convinced me he was the victim of some kind of conspiracy."

"By whom? Skylar--SkyBarr?"

"I still don't want to think that." She got out of the car. "Let's go in."

He followed. "Won't it be locked?"

She gave him a condescending look.

"Of course, you have a key."

They walked into the large entry. With a stunned cry, Maura stepped back into Carter. The electricity was off, but even in the dimness of the foyer it was evident the house had been ransacked. Carter switched on a small flashlight attached to his key ring, and took Maura’s hand as they went through the many dark rooms of the large house. No real damage could be seen, but everything was in disarray, especially in Harold’s study and in his office. Drawers had been pulled out, papers strewn about. His safe was open and empty. Someone had made a thorough search of the entire house.

They had no way of knowing what had been taken away--except that his computer room was empty. His entire elaborate computer set-up was gone. Even his filing cabinets were missing.

"Someone was definitely looking for something and must have thought his computer held the answer. Maura, you don’t have any idea what Harold was mixed up in?"

"He wasn't mixed up in anything. He must have learned something, though. Something he shouldn’t have known, just as you thought."

Maura pushed litter aside with her toe. "Sue Ann doesn’t know about this break-in or she would’ve called and told me about it." She turned to Carter, "What were they looking for? I can’t stand not knowing what this is all about. Poor Uncle Harold. What do you suppose happened to start this whole thing?"

"I have no idea." He handed the flashlight to her. "Why don't you look around, go through all this stuff, and see if anything you find gives you a clue to what they might have been looking for."

She wiped her eyes. "Okay."

"I’ll look around outside while you do that."

After wandering through several rooms, Carter found the front entrance and went outside. As he stepped out into the night, a car accelerated quickly and sped away from in front of the house. He ran to the street. All he saw were the receding tail lights of a large, dark blue or black luxury car. He wasn’t sure of the make from the glimpse he got.

The car’s occupants had seemed very curious about who was in the house. Carter’s interest had now definitely been inflamed. He was determined to help Maura solve this mystery, even though he knew he must not let his work suffer in order to help her. His work had to come first with him, and the struggle to stretch his time and energy between the two was beginning to take it’s toll.

He went back in the house to find Maura on her knees, sadly holding a framed photograph of a smiling man and two laughing young girls.

"Honey, I know how difficult this is for you. I’m convinced there’s a great deal more to this than meets the eye. We’ll just have to find out what it’s all about." He helped her to her feet and into his arms. He kissed her and held her until she composed herself.

It was completely dark when they emerged from the house. He didn’t mention the suspicious car. Maura opened her purse and slipped a small spiral-bound writing tablet inside.

"What is that?" he asked. "Something you found in the house?"

"Yes. It’s a tablet of words and phrases, sort of like a dictionary. Uncle Harold, Sue Ann, and I once played a game with it. He made one for each of us. This one is mine. I forgot it when I moved to Highland Terrace. It’s been a few years since I even thought about these. We had such fun with them. I want mine to remind me of Harold--what a wonderful person he was--and how much joy he brought to my life. I'll bet Sue Ann still has hers."

"Do you mean it's something like a code?"

"It is a code."

"Where is Harold’s?"

"It's still behind the picture I was holding when you came in. He hid it there. That was part of the game, to find hiding places for our tablets. When I remembered where mine was, I checked to see if his was still in its last hiding place, and it was."

"You left it there?"

"Yes."

"Maura, let's go back in and get it."

"Why?"

"I have a feeling we should not leave it there for someone else to find."

"I’m sure no one was looking for that, Carter. It’s a child’s game."

"I don’t think we can be sure of anything until we know more about why someone went to the trouble of searching Harold’s entire house. That was no little job, you know."

"I guess you’re right. Go back in and get the other tablet and keep it with you. When I get home, I’ll call Sue Ann and ask her if she still has hers. We’ll go see her tomorrow night."

"Maura?"

"Yes?"

"How long have you been officially engaged to Skylar? I remember you said you'd been dating him three years. When did he ask you to marry him?"

She frowned slightly. "Just a couple of weeks before you and I met under the azalea bushes, before the sniper attack. When I accepted, he called his parents, and our visit to England was arranged at that time."

"Was that before or after Harold was fired?"

Her frown deepened. "After. What are you thinking?"

"You said Skylar wasn’t aware of your relationship with Harold. But suppose he was. Suppose he suspected Harold had confided something to you, something you didn’t know had any significance. If Skylar married you and was later called to account for something involving Harold, you couldn’t be forced to testify against him."

"That’s pretty far out, Carter, and not very flattering."

"Yes, you’re right. It doesn’t make any difference anyway, because we both know you aren’t going to marry Skylar."

"Oh, I’m not?"

"You know you’re not.

CHAPTER 5

The following evening Carter and Maura sat in Sue Ann's spacious country-style kitchen drinking coffee.

"Yes," Sue Ann said, answering Maura's question. "I still have my code tablet. Can you believe the mess left at Uncle Harold's house? I've contacted the insurance company to report the damage and the theft of the computer center. Surely, no one was looking for a child's code tablet."

"Oh, no," Maura said, "I don't think that. I don't know what's going on. I was hoping you might know something, or remember something Uncle Harold said that would give us a clue."

Sue Ann pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. Finally, she took a deep breath and replied, "I knew there was trouble at SkyBarr. Several times Uncle Harold seemed on the verge of discussing it with me, then changed his mind. He said enough for me to know he was worried about . . . wait a minute!" She got up and left the room.

In a few minutes she returned and handed Carter a news article. "I don't know if this is helpful, but it’s certainly interesting. Uncle Harold cut this from the newspaper one evening

when he was visiting here and forgot to take it with him. I put it in a book of poetry he gave me, hoping I’d remember to mention the article the next time he came to see me, in case he wanted it. But he never came again. The next thing I knew, he was dead, blamed for that terrible crime." Her eyes glistened. "I know he didn't do such a thing."

Maura nodded wordlessly and hugged Sue Ann.

Carter busied himself reading the article. "Listen to this." He read aloud. "Investigators say tainted painkillers caused many deaths. Now, we're getting somewhere." He folded the paper to the article and continued to read. "More than fifty children in Bangladesh have died of kidney failure after being given a toxic drug. An investigation revealed drug makers used poisonous diethylene glycol to make acetaminophen, instead of the more expensive but safe ingredient, propylene glycol’." He frowned. "That safe ingredient," he explained, " propylene glycol--is derived from propylene and glycerol and is used as an anti-freeze mixture and solvent."

Maura and Sue Ann stared at him. Carter shrugged. "The tainted drugs were shipped to third world countries, and the dead are mostly poor children." He glanced at them. "Harold might have discovered something like this, or worse, going on at SkyBarr."

Maura swallowed several times against the dryness in her throat.

"There's more," Carter acknowledged, and read further. "The U.S. Center for Disease Control investigated a similar case in Nigeria, where at least seventy children died of kidney failure thought to be caused by the same tainted drug. One investigator said the lack of public health concern and an inadequate health system in most developing countries leaves them susceptible to this type of malfeasance by greedy drug manufacturers’." Carter's voice rose slightly, filled with disgust. "This sort of thing has become big business."

For a while no one said anything. They looked at one another. Sue Ann reached for the coffee pot and refilled their cups, then pressed her napkin to her eyes. "I think we must assume Uncle Harold discovered something very damaging to SkyBarr and was probably threatened. But that wouldn’t explain his taking a rifle, going up on the University tower, and shooting innocent people at random. Furthermore, nothing on earth could have compelled him to shoot Maura. She and I both know that."

"Is it possible he was set up in some way?" Maura asked. "Lured to the tower and shot by the actual sniper?"

Carter replied, "Not unless the sniper was the SWAT team cop who killed him. Still, as farfetched as that sounds, that's exactly what I'm beginning to think. Maura, is there any way you can get a sample of a drug, any drug, but preferably a pain killer made at SkyBarr for shipment out of the country? To some third-world country, maybe?"

"I don't know. Sometimes, I have a reason to go to the warehouse where such drugs are held before shipment, but getting a sample might not be possible. Everything there is crated and ready to go out. I can try "

"Don't do anything that might put you in danger. We'll find a way to get a sample."

"Carter, I do know there are random checks by Quality Control and by federal agencies. Even if the people who do the checks are in Skylar's pocket, how do they know which boxes to check? What would keep them from occasionally stumbling onto a case of bad drugs?"

"I'm sure codes of some kind have been set up to differentiate between legitimate shipments and illegal ones. Questionable medicines are probably mixed in with the legitimate ones, and

those boxes are marked with some kind of special code."

"Even if I can't get a sample, I still want to check out the drugs ready for shipment. There won't be any danger if I have a legitimate reason for going to the warehouse."

He nodded. "Okay. Just be careful. I've been looking at this code tablet of Harold's, and it's fascinating. Are you sure Harold didn't, at anytime lately, give either of you something to be decoded? Some message?"

Maura shook her head. "Not me."

"Nor me," Sue Ann added. "Oh!" she exclaimed suddenly, "he gave me that book of poetry, a first edition I'd been wanting for my library. I'll get it."

She left the kitchen again. Carter sighed and smiled encouragingly at Maura.

Sue Ann returned with the small, beautifully bound book. They scooted their chairs around

so each could see the pages as Carter leafed slowly through them.

Finally, he shook his head. "There are no marginal notes, or sheets of paper stuck in the pages. Could any of the poems be significant, Sue Ann?"

"I’ve read them all. I don't know how any of them could be helpful unless he’d marked certain passages we could study."

Carter spent some time reading the poetry. After a while, he gave the book back to Sue Ann. "I don't find anything that seems relevant. It would've been great if he'd written some of that code in it so we could decipher it and know we're on the right track. Maura, are you sure Harold didn't give you something?"

"I'm sure. The only thing Harold brought me lately was my teddy bear he found in a closet. I moved, and it somehow got misplaced. I couldn't find it to bring with me. Harold found it, brought it to me, and I couldn't believe how happy I was to have it again." Her eyes took on a far-away look and her voice softened. "Many lonely nights Teddy sang me to sleep."

"One of those singing bears?" Carter asked.

"What?"

"He sings you a lullaby?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "How old are you, Maura?"

She stuck out her tongue and wrinkled her nose. "Not too old for a good friend like Teddy."

Carter chuckled. "Sue Ann, did you see that? She stuck her tongue out at me. I rest my case."

Sue Ann laughed. "Maura is still just a kid, Carter. I’ve told her that many times."

"Well, they think she’s old enough at the Rendezvous. I'm going to take her there for a drink. Would you like to join us?"

"Thanks, not tonight. I’ll study this book of verse. Maybe there is one that will spark a memory.

* * *

Carter and Maura entered the lounge and sat at the same table they’d shared the first time they were there. Carter ordered Scotch on the rocks and Maura ordered a Stinger.

He raised his brows at her choice. "Ah, brandy. One or two of those and you'll be putty in my hands."

"No, I won't."

"You're immune, I suppose."

"Immune to what?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Immune to the power of brandy to fire up your erogenous zones and make you easy prey to a hot-blooded male who can barely keep his hands off you at the best of times."

"Carter, you promised you wouldn't let me tempt you beyond your ability to resist. Now you must promise not to try to tempt me."

"You expect too much from a mere mortal. As a matter of fact, I've decided to let you tempt me all you want to."

"Great! Well, if we're going to dance, let's do it before this brandy attacks my erogenous zones. I'd really hate to be embarrassed right here in this lounge."

He laughed, helped her from her chair, and into his arms. He held her close. His mouth touched hers lightly and his warm breath tingled her skin and destroyed her fragile composure. She was sure he could hear the thunder of her heartbeat and the rush of blood through her veins. She was putty in his hands. The immeasurably strong sexual awareness Carter had awakened in her frightened her. Her reaction to his nearness, his touch, continually embarrassed and distressed her. Maura fretted that she’d succumbed so easily to her attraction to Carter that he might wonder if she’d slept around, when, in fact, never before had she felt such a powerful ache for any man. The one sexual experience she’d been drawn into, after a party at college, had left her less than happy and satisfied. It had been a painful, sweaty, drink-blurred struggle to enter the realm of womanhood, and a deep shame troubled her that she couldn’t even remember the boy’s name.

She knew it would be different with Carter, though. Her body’s responses to him told her beyond doubt that sex with him would be what she knew sex should be.

The lounge was a popular place with the University crowd, as well as the townspeople. The jukebox played only love songs from the big-band era. The unspeakable beauty of Jimmy Dorsey's So Rare, mingled with the warm intoxication of the brandy and filled Maura with a breathless longing. Her strength left her and she feared she would faint if she continued to let him hold her and move his body against hers in rhythm to the arousing strains of music-- movement that masqueraded as dance--but was in reality an accepted form of sensual, erotic public contact between the sexes.

"Maura, you're trembling. Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay? We're practically having sex right here on the dance floor. I need to remove my body a safe distance from yours. I need to get away from you and try to control myself."

"Moving away from me won't help. We're both hooked, and nothing is going to help until we acknowledge it and do something about it. You do know that, don't you?"

She moaned. "Why did this have to happen to me? I don't want to feel the way I feel when you touch me. You're too . . . intense!"

He raised his brows. "I’m too intense?"

"I have to go home. Right now." She grabbed her purse and started for the door.

"Run," he said, following close behind. "But you aren't running from me, and you know it. You'll soon find you can't outrun what you feel, what you want, what you must have, any more than I can. The difference is, I resigned myself to the truth almost from the moment I met you."

She stopped and turned to him. "Carter, will you stop telling me what I want."

"Then I'll tell you what you don't want. You don't want to go home. And you don't want to marry Skylar." He pulled her to him and kissed her, his mouth firm and demanding. "Come home with me," he whispered.

She pushed him away and got into her car. "Do you want me to drive you to your Jeep?"

"Across the street? I think I can manage to walk that far. Actually, I need to walk a while. Why don't you walk with me?"

"No. I want to, but I can't. I have problems. The biggest one is Skylar. Which reminds me, I believe you have a problem, too? One named Cynthia."

Her eyes accused him, and he knew she had not completely forgiven him. She still had some doubt about that night Cynthia had answered his telephone.

"I didn't have sex with Cyn that night, Maura. You've got to believe me."

"Cyn!" she shouted. "I knew it! I knew you called her that!"

He chuckled. "Take it easy, will you, honey? Cyn's just a shortened form of her name. I'll call you Ma, if you like."

"You just dare!"

Maura slammed the door of the BMW and drove off, leaving him standing at the curb, laughing and shaking his head.

* * *

Maura was shocked speechless to find Skylar waiting for her in her living room. His back was to her when she entered the suite. He stood in the open doors to the balcony, looking down upon the city lights blinking below. Turning, he glanced at his watch and faced her, his eyes burning into hers.

"Where have you been, Anna Maura? Do you realize it's one o’clock in the morning? I've been here three hours waiting for you. Your secretary told me you left work early to go shopping. I see no evidence you've been shopping. Where have you been?"

Maura had not seen this side of Skylar before, and she was taken aback. She supposed he had reason to be upset, but what right did he have to question her in such a manner? Her shoulders slumped and she thought, I'm not ready for this.

She wearily threw her purse on a chair and went to the bar. "Would you like a drink, Skylar? I'm going to have one."

"No." His mouth was tense, his eyes narrow. "I'd like an explanation."

His anger fired her temper. "What is this? Are you checking up on me? I do have a life apart from you, you know. You're not my entire world. Not yet."

"Oh? What kind of life apart from me do you have? That is what I'm interested to know."

"I'm tired, Skylar. I'm sorry you waited so long. If I'd known you were here, I would have hurried home. I gave Freda the weekend off and didn't particularly want to come home to an empty apartment, so I had dinner at the Rendezvous, listened to the music a while and then came home."

"I see. You did at least tell the truth about the Rendezvous. However, you left out one small but significant detail. You were with another man. Dr. Carter Boyd, to be exact."

Maura's mouth went dry. The shock of knowing Skylar was having her watched, and the outrage she felt that he dared, left her unable to speak for a moment. When she found her voice, she said coldly, "I don't like this. I don't like it, at all."

"No? Let me assure you, you will like it much less if you ever do this sort of thing again."

He sat on her sofa and smoothed the creases in his trousers. "What were you and Dr. Boyd doing out at Country Club Heights? And, later, at the home of Sue Ann Lyons?"

Maura seated herself in a chair opposite him, feeling the weakness in her knees. She

stirred her vodka and tonic with her index finger, playing for time, struggling to regain her

composure. She felt like an insect under a microscope.

Finally, she said, "Why don't you ask your spies? I have nothing to tell you. How dare you have me followed? I can’t believe you’d do such a thing!"

He stood up and jerked her to her feet, spilling her drink on the expensive Turkish carpet. His fingers gouged into her arms painfully, but she did not attempt to free herself. "You foolish girl. You have involved yourself in something that could quickly get you killed."

She cried out, "Skylar! You're hurting me!"

"Anna Maura, I want to protect you." He loosened his grip, then dropped his hands to his side. "You have no idea of the danger you're in. That’s why I'm so angry with you. You've let that scientist get you into something he can't get you or himself out of."

She inhaled deeply and rubbed her arms. "Dr. Boyd hasn't gotten me into anything."

"Very well. If that is the position you wish to take--"

"I wasn’t aware I had taken a position. I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"You and I will be married as soon as arrangements can be made," he said.

"Won't you at least explain this to me? I’ve done nothing. Dr. Boyd has done nothing."

"Why have you been spending so much time with him lately?"

"I didn't realize I had. I won't see him anymore, if that's what you want."

"Do you mean that, Anna Maura?"

"Yes," she said, wishing to placate him.

"I hope so, because if you do continue to see him, you might have to watch him die."

A chill crawled up Maura's spine. She fell back into the chair and refused to look at Skylar. She bowed her head, clasped her glass with both hands, and did not look up again until she heard the door open and close. When she realized he’d gone, she jumped up and bolted the front door.

Maura went into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed in the dark, trembling in fear. What had they stumbled into? If she was being watched, she couldn't continue to see Carter. Was her telephone tapped, too? Were cameras hidden in the suite? Her alarm grew as she thought about it. And Carter was completely unaware. How could she warn him?

She drank the inch of vodka that hadn't spilled and put her glass on her bedside table. Then she collapsed on her bed, spent and frightened. Her hand touched the bear. Maura drew it to her, rubbed her cheek against its soft fur.

Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away. Her fingers found the switch on the back of the bear and pressed it. The music started. The bear turned its head. Its bright eyes opened and closed. Instead of a lullaby, Harold's voice sang softly to the music.

Maura shut off the switch, jumped up, and turned on a lamp, her hands trembling. This was it! This was what they had been searching for, praying for! She searched for pen and paper in the bedside table drawer. Ready now, she turned the bear on again and listened intently to the entire tape.

Replaying it, she wrote down each word. Once finished, she read the nonsensical verse silently to herself.

A hinger, a hanger, a hunger, an owl--

A jigger, a jagger, a jogger, a foul.

Dracula drank a potion, indeed--

A diller, a dollar, his pocket to feed.

And sank his fangs in far too deep--

Too bloody, too ruddy, too muddy to weep.

A dingle, a dangle, a dungle, an owl--

A biggle, a baggle, a boggle, a cowl.

Slay the dragon whose fire revealed--

A secret thought to be well-sealed.

Then take his carcass, hang it high--

Once the goat has made it die.

+Plus, -Minus

Now, sing a song of new wine, strong--

And, hide the old, old skin.

Do this though it may be wrong--

And make the old wine thin.

Maura collapsed back onto the bed and didn’t even try to still the tears stinging her eyes. She had to find some way to get to Carter. She knew he’d want to help decode the message and try to make sense of the awful mess they’d fallen into. This tape was Uncle Harold’s way of explaining to her--and through her to Sue Ann--what he had discovered. He obviously suspected that what he had learned could mean his death and ruined reputation, and he must’ve thought the information would put them in danger, or he would’ve just told them what he wanted them to know, without going to all this trouble. This was his way of letting her know what was happening to him, without the evidence falling into the hands of those who had threatened him. Uncle Harold knew she’d switch on the bear the first time she was depressed or upset about something. He knew that for most of her life she’d turned to the bear for comfort.

* * *

The morning was bright and clear, cooler than it had been for some time. Carter's mind was filled with images of Maura as he drove away from the condo. Remembering the agony of his first youthful love, he laughed, thinking how monumental it had been. He realized, with a jolt, his feelings for Maura were no less intense, but hoped they would be a great deal more enduring.

Engrossed, thinking of her sweet kiss, the magic of her touch, he was completely taken by surprise when the car behind him slammed into the rear of his Cherokee. The impact hurled his body forcefully into the back of his seat, then jerked him forward again.

He brought his hand to his neck, and squinted into the rearview mirror. An icy finger of fear jabbed his spine as his shocked and searching gaze locked on the two men in the vehicle behind him. The car accelerated and slammed into him a second time.

Realizing the large dark car ramming into him was probably the same one he had seen speeding away from Harold's the night he and Maura were there, he stomped hard on the accelerator and tried to put some distance between the two vehicles. Because it was too early for much traffic on the thoroughfare, Carter sped toward the freeway, hoping to discourage pursuit. If not, perhaps he could lose the big car in the freeway traffic.

His sweaty hands clutched the wheel and he concentrated on controlling the Cherokee as he took several turns at high speed. He knew he would recognize the dark car, a Lincoln, if he ever saw it again.

Finally gaining a short lead, he glanced into the side mirror just in time to see the man in the passenger seat hanging out his window, pointing a gun at the Jeep. "Oh God! You cowardly bastards!" He ducked as the bullet shattered his rear window, struck the dash and disintegrated his tape player. Broken pieces of plastic hit his face.

The Cherokee careened onto the freeway in the path of traffic, causing horrified motorists to swerve. Tires squealed, horns blared, and Carter's heart thudded against his rib cage, but the big Lincoln didn't follow him onto the freeway, and luckily no one crashed into him. Carter went limp with relief.

Wiping at the blood running down his face, he took the first exit. Then fearing his pursuers might expect him to do just that, he immediately got back onto the freeway and drove for some miles in the opposite direction.

He took the Union Street exit, drove to an east side clinic where a physician friend of his tended to his lacerations. Grateful he had not been shot, as he first thought, Carter paid his bill and left. He drove to the University, alert to every car in sight.

He parked in his slot and got out to assess the damage to the rear of his Jeep. It wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. His bumper had a dent, but that was minor compared to the back window and dash. He sighed. He would report it to the police and insurance company as what it was, a hit and run. If the bullet hole was questioned he would inisist it was from a rock. His gut instinct told him he should not make this attack known to the police just yet.

Trying to sort things out, he went to his office and sat for some time with his head in his hands. He needed to calm down. No doubt, someone wanted to scare the hell out of him, or kill him, and he wasn't any happier about the one than he was about the other. He was frightened now, knowing he and Maura were caught up in something extremely hazardous to their health.

Suddenly alarmed, thinking perhaps Maura had been the victim of the same kind of assault, he grabbed the phone. With unsteady fingers, he dialed her private number. She answered, and after hearing his voice, she whispered into the phone: "Thanks for calling. I’ll be in touch." She hung up.

He stared at the phone in confusion. Okay, now he was fairly certain she had been threatened. Surely she didn't expect him to sit still, wondering if they had scared her as much as they’d scared him, wondering if they had hurt her.

She told him she would contact him, and she sounded all right, so he would wait, but not for long.

Unable to focus his attention on his work, Carter got up and walked to Dr. Hartmann's office. He told the professor about his trouble on the way to the University, but let his colleague think the rear-ender was an accident.

"You were injured," the old man observed.

"Nothing serious, but I need to report it and fill out the paperwork involved in this sort of thing. I wanted to ask if you could cover for me this afternoon."

"Of course. Whenever you need me, I'm here."

Carter thanked his friend and walked out of the building. He went to the Jeep, took a city map from the glove compartment and traced the route to Sue Ann's house with his pen.

He stopped twice, pulled over, checked the map, and finally found her street. Driving slowly along the wide avenue, he studied the houses, hoping to recognize hers. None were alike, but all were pretentious with large, heavily shrubbed, tree-lined lots.

As he neared landscaped grounds that looked familiar, a midnight blue Lincoln shot out of the drive and sped off down the street. Carter's pulse quickened. Fearing for Sue Ann's safety, he turned into the drive, skidded to a stop and jumped from the Jeep. He ran to the front door, rang the bell and banged urgently, calling her name. Footsteps approached.

Sue Ann opened the door. Eyes wide, she exclaimed, "Carter!"

She seemed upset. He assumed the men in the Lincoln had threatened her as well. He followed her inside, pushed the door closed and quickly looked around. "Are you all right, Sue Ann?"

She nodded.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes. . . what’s wrong?"

The hesitant way she asked struck him as odd, but he dismissed it. "There was a car in your drive as I approached the house. It left in a hurry. It was the same car that rear-ended me a couple of times this morning. One of the men in that car took a shot at me."

"What?" her hand flew to her mouth. She turned quickly away and walked to a window.

"They didn’t come in then, didn’t threaten you?"

Sue Ann shook her head and led him into the living room. "No. No ... they ... I haven't seen anyone."

"Sue Ann, those men were here to intimidate you, scare you the way they did me. I can't imagine what made them change their minds, but I know they'll be back."

She sat on the sofa and gestured toward a chair. "Maybe they saw you coming."

It seemed odd to Carter that she seemed unwilling to look at him. "No," he replied. "If they had, they wouldn't have just driven away. Where are the servants?"

"Today is the cleaning woman's day off. My housekeeper is grocery shopping, and Jordan is on an errand for me but will return shortly. He and his wife, Abigail, are live-ins. She's away visiting her father who is ill. I don't expect her back for several days."

"Sue Ann, Harold knew something that probably cost him his life, and whoever killed him thinks we know something, too. We're in danger--you, Maura, and I. Try to be sure there is someone here with you all the time until we can figure out what this is about and decide the best way to handle it. Maura asked that I not contact her. She will get in touch with me. Will you be safe here?"

She frowned. "I think so. Jordan will be here. When my housekeeper returns from shopping, I'll ask her to stay in the house with me until Abigail returns home."

"Good. Don't open the door to anyone you don't know. If you see a dark blue Lincoln in the neighborhood, call the police immediately and tell them it’s been seen around your house several times and you don’t know the men in it. Ask them to watch for it and find out what they want."

She nodded and seemed to have conquered her nervousness. "I will. I'm glad you came. Come in the kitchen and I’ll pour us a cup of coffee. Or you can have something cold if you prefer."

"No, thanks. I have business to take care of. Have you thought of anything that might be helpful in making sense of this mess?"

"Not a thing. I’ve gone over the book of verse until I’ve memorized them all, and nothing about any of them casts any light on this thing with Uncle Harold."

"That’s what’s so bad about all this. None of it makes sense. I won't be caught with my pants down again though, I'll tell you that. I'll not leave my house without being armed. I will protect myself, and my advice to you and Maura is to do the same."

"You think those men will come back?"

"Yes, I think they will definitely come back. Do you have a gun?"

"I do. I'm an expert shot. And so is Maura. That's only one of Uncle Harold's legacies to us."

"Okay, call me at home or at the University if you need me."

"Thanks, Carter, I will."

Troubled, sensing Sue Ann was holding something back, Carter left and drove into the city. He headed home, hoping Maura had called and left a message for him on his machine or with Mrs. Malcolm.

When he stepped inside the entry, he froze and stood transfixed, staring at the mess someone had made of his apartment. Inflamed with fury, he strode into his living room. In horror, he remembered Mrs. Malcolm and pictured her hurt and helpless, victim of these intruders, and as he did so a distant thumping sound caught his attention. He rushed into the kitchen toward the sound and followed it to the pantry. Kicking aside a chair which wedged the door shut, he jerked it open. Mrs. Malcolm stood gagged, her arms tied together, her eyes blazing.

"Mrs. Malcolm! My God, if they've hurt you. . . . "

She shook her head. He snatched the gag from her mouth and untied her hands. Clasping her to him in a rough embrace, he said tenderly, "I'm sorry. Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride, Dr. Boyd, honey. I don't know what those men wanted, but one of them won't walk just right for awhile. And the other one will carry the mark of my nails for the rest of his natural-born life."

Carter peered at her intently. "Mrs. Malcolm!" he exclaimed, "you have a black eye! They did hurt you!"

"No. I kicked one of them and he hit me a couple of times. I saw a few stars, but I'm just fine."

"Sure you are. Let’s go. You need to see a doctor and I won't hear any arguments."

"But you’re a doctor. I want you to tend to me."

He took a firm hold on her arm and led her out to the Jeep.

"I'll go because I see I must," she said. "But as soon as that doctor tells you I'm all right, which you already know I am, I'm coming back here with you to get started cleaning up this mess. I just hope they didn't ruin any of your nice things."

"Mrs. Malcolm, things can be replaced. You can't."

A wide, pleased smile lit her face. Then she composed herself and said acidly, "I knew it would happen someday. This city has become too crime-ridden."

* * *

Maura, too preoccupied with fear and apprehension to concentrate on her work, left early and went home. She had been unable to reach Carter. Knowing she would not have an opportunity to see him without being followed, she removed the coded papers from her vest pocket and placed them, along with the tape, in the back of the bear. She would have to think of some way to get to Carter.

CHAPTER 6

Early the following morning, on the way to his lab, Carter turned around and got on the freeway. He got off at Porter Avenue, drove to Hampton Heights, and checked an address on a card in his billfold. He found 437 Arles and stopped the Jeep. Jackson's Chevrolet was parked in the carport. Carter got out and rang the doorbell.

The surprised night watchman invited him in.

"I hoped to catch you before you went to bed, Jackson. I need to talk to you."

"Have a seat, Dr. Boyd. How about some coffee?"

"No thanks, but you have some if you like."

"Just had some. Well, what can I do for you?"

"Did you get a good look at the men who tried to get into the lab? Can you tell me what they looked like?"

"I got a good look, sir, but their faces was covered with what looked like ladies' stockings."

"So you couldn't identify either of them?"

"No. Except-- "

"Except what? Do you think they were college students?"

"I think one of them was a cop, the other one might've been a student, I don't know."

Carter dropped into a chair, rubbing his forehead.. "A cop?"

"I didn't tell no one, ‘cause I was scared to, but . . . Dr. Boyd, one of them guys was wearing a large ring that was . . . well, it wasn't no ordinary ring. I wasn’t no more than four feet from them when I switched the lights on, and I got a good look at them before they knocked me down and run off, and that ring caught my eye."

"What did it look like? Can you describe it?"

"Yeah, but only because I've seen it twice before. And it ain't something you'd forget. It looks like a picture frame with raised-up sides, made of silver. In the middle is a tree. On one side of the tree is a figure of a man, and on the other side, a figure of a woman. And a snake is hanging from the tree."

Carter’s senses became so acute he could hear his own breathing. He inhaled deeply and asked, "Where did you see it before?"

"The last time, I saw it on the finger of one of them cops who shot that rapist to death a couple of weeks ago. Remember that? They said he pulled a gun on them."

"I remember." Carter said. "Are you sure it was the same ring?"

"Yep. Sure as rain. I got a good look at it when them cops was being interviewed on the television. One of them was wearing that ring. No mistake about that. I sure wasn't gonna tell nobody one of the guys trying to break into the lab was a cop; so I didn't say nuthin' about th’ ring."

"What you're telling me is, you think one of the cops who killed the Norwich rapist was also one of the men who tried to break into the lab?"

"Yep, that’s what I’m telling you. That cop must have took the ring from the rapist after he’d killed him. You know what that ring is, don't you?"

"No. What is it?"

"It's a Adam and Eve ring. And those who belong to Adam and Eve don't never wear them rings in public, only at their meetings and in their films. See? That cop didn’t know what the hell he had taken."

"What is an Adam and Eve?"

"It's a organization . . . . " He hesitated, as though beginning to doubt the wisdom of such a free tongue. "I'd better not say no more. I've done said too much as it is."

"I'll be damned if you're going to have second thoughts now. You have said too much to suddenly back off. I want you to tell me everything you know about this."

"Naw. Please, Dr. Boyd. I cain’t say no more about it. Just look for a cop wearing a silver Adam and Eve ring. But don't try to prove nuthin' by me. I ain't gonna finger him."

"Does this Adam and Eve organization have some connection to SkyBarr?"

The night watchman laughed a low, shaky laugh. "Dr. Boyd, everything in this state has something to do with SkyBarr. Probably everything in this country does."

"Listen to me, Jackson. An attempt has been made on my life. Someone wants to kill me because they think I know something I don't. I need your help. Please. No one will know you told me anything. I desperately need to know what I'm up against, or I don't have a prayer of protecting myself."

The night watchman visibly squirmed while he fought his conscience. As Carter waited with open impatience, Jackson made his decision. "Well," he said, "I've let my big mouth run this far, far enough to get me killed, so I guess to tell it all can't get neither one of us deader than dead."

Jackson coughed his reluctance, wiped his mouth on a handkerchief, and said, "Adam and Eve is a pornography film studio owned by SkyBarr."

"Are you telling me pornographic films are made here in this city? In Norwich?"

"Yep. The charter members all wear those rings, but like I said, none of them would ever be caught wearing one in public. That's how I know that cop didn't have no idea what that ring was all about. So, I figure he probably found it in the guy’s pocket and took it after he'd killed him, not knowing what he was taking. And breaking into the lab wouldn't be Adam and Eve business. SkyBarr business maybe, but not Adam and Eve business."

"Good God! My brain is just beginning to function. Is this Adam and Eve the same as the A&E Film Company that donates so much money to Christian activities and to the arts?"

"The very same. I sure hate to tell you this, Dr. Boyd, but a cousin of mine is a porno dealer, and I used to go to his house every Saturday night to drink beer and watch his Adam and Eve porno films."

The security guard sat down, rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. "And I saw that ring for the first time on the fat, sweaty hands of the guy who was . . . his face wasn't never on camera, but I recognized that rapist the cops killed as the same guy I saw in a porno film wearing that ring. It was the same guy, all right. I'd know those hands anywhere. Each of his fingers was tattooed to look like. . . . Well, like a . . . . You know, like a man's . . . ."

"Good God!" Carter got to his feet and paced. "What I've stepped into here is not just a garbage dump, it's the whole damn filthy cesspool. And there's no way out except to wade through it. This Adam and Eve has to be somehow connected to SkyBarr's drug business. I wonder if Skylar has one of those rings?"

"Wouldn't surprise me none. I might as well tell you something else I know. I was fixing a lock on a door of that big conference room when the board called a special meeting. No one knew I was there, and I didn't let ‘em know I was, so wasn't nuthin' for me to do but be still and quiet and hope they didn't find me and think I was eavesdropping on them."

"Fixing a lock? I thought your job was night watchman or security guard."

Jackson got up and lit a cigarette. He offered one to Carter, who shook his head. "Hell, Dr. Boyd, I’m a Jack of all trades. I do any job I’m asked to do. Well, I heard Mr. Barrett say

something about setting up a foundation. He said he would build a new research center for the Institute with all the latest state-of-the-art equipment. He told the board members they would head the foundation. He mentioned millions of dollars, said something about a patent, and then I heard your name."

Carter felt the blood leave his face. "He wants the patent on my work. And the board can give it to him. Was Dr. Hartmann at the meeting?"

"No. None of the voices I heard was his. I don't think he knew about the meeting, cause he's the one who sent me to fix the lock."

"I’m sure he didn’t know. Dr. Hartmann expects the patent to remain with the Institute. That is, if I'm successful, and if there is a patent." Carter stood up and extended his hand. "Thanks, Jackson. Don't worry about this conversation. What we said here this morning will not go beyond this room. Thanks again for your help."

Carter left the Arles street address more troubled than he'd ever been in his life. He was plenty scared. Unintentionally, he and Maura had allowed themselves to be caught up in a very ugly, very dangerous situation, and he didn’t know what to do about it. His work had begun to suffer, and that upset him as much as the trouble in which he now found himself.

He couldn’t ignore the problems he faced as a result of trying to help Maura. It had obviously gone too far for either of them to back out now, and in spite of Maura thinking her engagement to Skylar afforded her a measure of protection, Carter didn’t think so for a minute. He believed if she became a real problem to Skylar Barrett, she would quickly find out just how expendable she was.

What was he to do? He couldn’t continue to neglect his work, and he couldn’t ignore the danger to Maura--and to himself. His frustration was a constant torment. Carter couldn’t decide what to do next. He found himself caught between what he should do and what he felt compelled to do.

* * *

Maura left for work. She drove past the enormous building which housed the exercise gym, an aerobic classroom, and heated swimming pool. She used the gym regularly, attended the aerobics classes offered by the company three times a week, and made good use of the pool.

After parking in her space, Maura got into the glass elevator that hugged the side of the building and stepped out onto the seventh floor. A nervous twinge knotted her stomach as she walked into Skylar’s huge plush office suite.

He sat at his highly polished desk. It was clear of papers and litter. His phones were located in a pull-out section so that his desk surface reflected a priceless figurine and an array of silver-framed photographs. The prominent one was a studio portrait of the two of them, posed and elegant and, to her eye, stiff and lifeless. A silver bowl of fresh fruit was placed on one end of his desk. Skylar was a health enthusiast. He liked fruit and consumed a lot of it.

Maura entered the suite thinking how much this environment was an extension of Skylar's exemplary British character. She loved the look of his offices, the statuary, the crystal chandeliers and the plush Aubusson carpets in brilliant shades of teal, berry, daffodil and jade. Floor-to-ceiling windows afforded Skylar a light and airy space in which to work, and a spectacular view of the river.

Teal-blue walls, offset by numerous green plants along the floor, flower arrangements on gleaming tables, and mirrored wall panels that gave the huge area an even more spacious look, never failed to impress her. The decor had a calming effect on her.

Skylar glanced up as she entered. Maura watched his eyes appraise her briefly before he turned back to the phone. Without looking up again, he motioned her to a chair, and continued his telephone conversation.

"Yes, Senator, the wall has been repaired, although there may still be a weak spot or two. It is

being thoroughly checked, I assure you. How was your flight down? I hope you found your accommodations comfortable." Skylar swivelled his chair around until he faced Maura, and settled his keen gaze on her. "Excellent. Yes, we finally decided SkyBarr should build its own hotel in order to offer our people the best. I'll expect you and your guests around eleven-thirty this morning. We'll have lunch in the executive dining room, and then I'll take your party on a tour of the complex." He listened a moment, then said, "Thank you. It's my pleasure. Good-bye."

Maura sat in a chair placed at the side of his desk near him. "Good morning, Skylar."

"Good morning, dear. Anna Maura, I want to apologize for my behavior last evening. That was quite unlike me; but I don't have to tell you that, do I? I'm sure you concluded from my

conversation just now with Senator Wilkins--you've heard me speak of him--that he and some of his colleagues are here to tour the SkyBarr complex. I want you to join us for lunch. They want to meet you."

Her anxiety was back. Why would these people want to meet her? Skylar laughed suddenly, and she got the odd feeling he knew what she was thinking.

"They want to meet the future Mrs. Skylar Barrett. The senator is a longtime friend of mine. I've told you that, dear."

"Yes, Skylar. I'll meet you and your guests for lunch, but I have an appointment with my doctor for my annual check-up at two this afternoon. Did I tell you that already?"

"You did not, but it's not important. Just don't make any plans for tomorrow evening. I'm taking you to dinner. I want to have a serious talk with you."

Why did this innocent statement make her feel a chill all the way to her toes? Unable to restrain herself, she asked, "What wall, Skylar?"

A frown flitted across his brow and his eyes narrowed. Then he smiled, but she had seen something in his eyes she did not want to see again.

"The back wall along the alley, Anna Maura. A refuse truck backed into it and knocked loose some of the bricks."

She stared at him. Why would a senator be interested in such a thing? No. It wasn't a literal wall he’d been discussing with his friend, Senator Wilkins. She must remember to mention this to Carter and see what he thought about it.

Maura realized Skylar was speaking again. "Don't forget, dear, eleven-thirty in the executive dining room."

"I won't forget, Skylar. Is there anything else?"

"I haven't received the layout for the fall campaign."

"I'll have that ready before I leave for the day. I want to make a few changes before you see it."

"Very well. Give it to Watson when you're finished with it. I'll see you at lunch."

Maura forced herself to walk slowly to the door when all she wanted to do was run. Why was she so disturbed? Skylar seemed, more or less, back to normal. Perhaps she had just misread his look.

Her suspicions about him made it impossible for her to feel at ease in his presence. She regretted getting so deeply involved in the situation, but couldn't have done otherwise, not if Skylar had something to do with Harold's death.

Now all she had to do was get through the luncheon and she would be free for the day.

* * *

Maura drove toward Bassinger Women's Clinic, planning to slip out again and find some way

to see Carter. Alert and suspicious, she noticed at once the dark blue Lincoln following her. She made several quick turns and drove through a bank drive. The car stayed with her. It didn't come into the bank drive, but it slowed and stopped.

She drove out onto the street again and into the opposite lane. The driver of the other car made an illegal U-turn and fell into traffic behind her. Maura made every effort to lose the blue car, but it stayed within sight behind her, taking each twist and turn and alley she took.

Frightened, she drove into the clinic's private parking area in the rear, parked, and hurried into the building. Walking quickly to the front entrance, she looked through the plate glass panel in the front door and saw the dark Lincoln idling across the street. Wondering how she could leave without being seen, she went to the check-in window and canceled her appointment.

Maura walked down a long hall and out the back door. Her car was parked out of sight of the Lincoln, but she knew she couldn't leave the parking area without being seen if she left by the drive.

Her eyes searched the back lot, looking for a likely place to drive onto the street behind the clinic. A deep drainage ditch blocked the rear of the parking area, and a concrete separation on the left side of the clinic made it impossible to get to the street from that direction.

On the right side, she faced an empty, tree-filled lot. She studied it to see if there was a way to drive through it. If she could find a space wide enough through the trees to take her to the back street, she might be able to get away without being seen.

Maura got into her car, started it, and whispered, "Sorry, Beemy, but you'll just have to suffer a few more scratches." She backed out barely far enough to turn into the vacant lot. Easing the car off the pavement into the weeds, she discovered she couldn't continue in the direction she headed. The trees grew too close together.

Backing up enough to maneuver around a cluster of trees, Maura fretted at the scraping sounds of heavy brush grinding the fresh paint from the sleek car. She caught her lip with her teeth and steered the car toward the street.

She couldn't see anything now, except bushes, trees, and a ribbon of asphalt beyond. Praying she wouldn't go into a ditch, she drove to the edge of the vacant lot. The BMW bumped and scraped, slid in and out of a muddy ditch, jolted over a curb, and was safely on the street behind the clinic.

With a sigh of relief, Maura stepped on the gas and sped away, taking side streets and alleys in her desperate bid to get to Carter undetected. She didn't see the Lincoln again and began to breathe easier but was afraid to drive to the university.

Stopping at a phone booth, she called Carter's office. He didn't answer. She called his lab. He wasn't there. She called his home. No one answered. Where was Mrs. Malcolm? Why didn’t she answer the phone? Maura hung up and pressed her fingers to her temples where an ache was beginning.

"Oh, Carter. Where are you? I need you." She threw her head back in despair and leaned against the side of the booth. Taking several deep breaths, she dialed the numbers again and continued to dial until he finally answered his office phone.

"Carter! Thank God, you answered!"

"Maura, where are you? I'm out of my mind worrying about you. Are you okay?"

"For now. I'm being followed everywhere I go. Skylar knows we're still seeing each other. He knows we went to Harold's, and to Sue Ann's--"

"I figured as much. Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"Can you borrow a car? I'd feel safer if neither of us drove our own cars right now."

"I'm ahead of you on that. Where do I come?"

"I'm at a phone booth on the corner of Van Buren Avenue and Ely Boulevard. Do you know where that is?"

"Is there a pizza place on the corner?"

"Yes, Mike's Pizza Parlor."

"Watch for an old green station wagon. One of my students borrows my Cherokee every time he has a date. I'm sure he'll be happy to accommodate me. See you in a few minutes. About thirty minutes, actually. Can you handle it?"

"I'll go into the Pizza Parlor and drink a coke. Come there for me."

Maura didn't realize she trembled until she hung up the phone. She crossed the street, entered the pizza place, and ordered a coke. Sitting at a table that provided her a view of the street through red and white checkered curtains, she watched for a green station wagon to drive up and pull over to the curb in front.

She was sure the two men in the Lincoln following her had been sent by Skylar, and wished she could've had a better look at them. She might have recognized them had they not pulled down the sun visors to hide their faces. Why was Skylar still having her followed? She had promised him she wouldn't see Carter again. She hadn't meant it, but he didn't know that.

What will he do to me? she wondered. To us, Carter and me? He apparently still wants to marry me. This is all so confusing. He definitely considers Carter a threat, and not because he thinks Carter might steal me away from him. It's a lot more than that.

Glancing at her car parked across the street near the phone booth, she was startled to see a police car pull up behind the BMW. An officer got out and inspected the car. Maura was sure she had put enough money in the meter. Her car had been parked there for less than twenty minutes, and she’d paid for an hour.

Her frown deepened when a second police officer stepped out of the patrol car and went to the phone booth. He peered inside, then looked toward the pizza place.

Maura moved like a sleepwalker to the window, and with stricken eyes gazed out from between the curtains. "My God!" she whispered. She dropped her cola. It spilled all over the clean checkered tablecloth. There was no mistake! That was the man! That cop was the man she had seen on the tower holding the rifle!

Maura panicked and ran to the restroom. She pushed the door open, went in, and leaned against the wall. The door slammed shut. She bolted it and sank to the floor. Sitting with her back to the door, she pressed her hands against her breast and took several deep breaths, hoping to slow her wildly beating heart.

She lost track of time, having no idea how long she sat there, unable to move. A tap, tap-tap on the restroom door started her heart pounding again. She jumped up to check the lock.

"Maura. Are you in there?" The familiar voice brought a quick sigh of relief. She unlocked the door and fell into Carter's arms.

"Are you okay, honey? The boy behind the counter said he thought you must have been taken ill."

"I'm not ill, just scared out of my wits."

"What happened?"

"I'll tell you later. I want to get out of here. Is there a police car outside?"

"No. Should there be? What's going on, Maura?"

"Let's get out of here." She pulled him by the arm and hurried to the exit. Once outside, she stopped suddenly. Carter bumped into her almost knocking her off her feet. "My car!" she cried. "My car's gone! They towed my car!"

"Sh-h. Calm down." He led her to the station wagon, opened the passenger door and helped her in. He hurried around, slid under the wheel and turned on the ignition. "Now, what is this about your car?"

"Skylar had the police tow my car. My God! I have so much to tell you. I found it, Carter. A coded message from Harold. It was the tape. The bear's tape. Where can we go to talk?"

Excitement flickered in his brown eyes, flecking them with gold. "A message? Are you sure it's a message from Harold?"

"Yes. Where can we go so I can show it to you?"

"Back to the woods?"

"No, I'm even afraid to go there. I think Skylar knew about our going there. He had the car repainted the next day. Did you notice that? God! Wait until he sees that new paint job all scratched up again." She expelled her breath loudly and said, "Think of some place!" She seemed to really look at him for the first time since he’d come to her rescue. "Carter!" she exclaimed. "What happened to your face?"

"I’ll tell you all about it when we find a place to stop. Why don’t we get on the Interstate and pull off at one of the rest stops?"

Maura nodded. "Okay, but drive far enough for us to feel safe."

He drove to the Interstate and headed the station wagon out of town.

"Skylar was waiting for me when I got home last night. I’ve never seen him like that before. He scared me to death. Carter, he said if I continued to see you, I might have to watch you die."

"Great! So now you know what he’s really like. Maybe you’ll realize that being engaged to him doesn’t give you immunity--not if you cross him."

"I think my phones are tapped, and my apartment might even be bugged. I was followed to the clinic."

"By a dark blue Lincoln?"

"Yes." She frowned. "How did you know that?"

"A couple of thugs in a dark blue Lincoln rammed the Cherokee, and one of them took a shot at me. The bullet hit my tape player and pieces of plastic struck my face. Minor lacerations, but they hurt like hell. Maura, those same goons were at Sue Ann’s earlier, and I didn’t tell you, but they were also parked out front of Harold’s when we were there. I saw the car when I went to look around outside."

"I’m really scared, Carter. I know I sound paranoid, but I recognized one of those cops who took such an interest in my BMW and had it towed. He was the man I saw on the tower with the rifle! He was the sniper! We are in a lot of danger, aren’t we?"

"Are you absolutely certain he was the one you saw on the tower?"

"Yes, I am. I got a really good look at him. I was just ten or so feet from the base of the tower. He was bent over the railing far enough that I got a good look at his face. You’ve got to believe me."

"Well, we're in danger all right. And I've learned more about the why than I wanted to know. Was that cop you saw at the car, the one you're so sure was the sniper and Harold's killer, wearing a large unusual silver ring?"

"Carter, he was across the street. I didn’t notice a ring.."

"Honey, we are in trouble."

"What does a silver ring have to do with it?"

Without mentioning Thomas Jackson, he told her about the porno studio, the members who wore the Adam and Eve rings, and Skylar’s involvement with pornography."

"Carter!" she exclaimed. "Are you telling me Skylar’s involved in a pornography ring?"

"It sure does looks that way."

"A few days ago I wouldn’t have believed a word of what you just said. SkyBarr's criminal activities are apparently very real. But the tape Harold left me is not proof. We can't protect ourselves unless we can find proof to back up what he says on the tape. What can we do?"

Carter didn't reply. His face looked frozen. His eyes were glued to the scorched pavement of the Interstate.

"Carter? Did you hear me?"

"Yes. I'm trying to sort this out." He remembered Jackson’s information about the patent, and for a while he was completely confused. He was so sure that the men who were seen trying to break into his lab were Skylar’s men. Why would Skylar send someone to break into the lab if he wanted the patent on the work being done there? And what about Dr. Epstein’s’ lab?

Suppose Skylar had Dr. Epstein’s lab trashed to ensure that Carter would reach a successful conclusion to his experiment before the German scientist could. If true, the break-in at his own lab was not meant to succeed. Skylar had no intention of harming the experiment. He wanted to put the fear of God in Carter and make him pay more attention and give more time to his work, and less to Maura. That was the only thing that made sense.

"What can we do?" Maura repeated.

Carter took her hand. "What we can do is find proof to back up Harold’s charges. If he went to the trouble to send you a message, and there was proof to back up his charges, he must have found a way to tell you how, or where, to get that proof."

Maura leaned forward and pointed, "There's a rest stop up ahead."

"Maura, let's go on into Lakeside and rent a cabin for a few hours. I want to study the message without any interruption. A rest stop is a public area, and we're not likely to be alone."

She closed her eyes, wondering if her life would ever again be free of dread and fear.

Maura waited in the car while Carter rented the cabin. He came out and got into the station wagon. "We were lucky to get a cabin this time of year. They had a ‘no-show’." He turned down a dirt lane that wandered among the tall pines, thick oaks, honeysuckle vines, and berry patches. Finally it became two ruts leading to a small cabin, nestled in a clearing, covered with pine straw and built on the bank of the lake.

They got out and went inside. Carter opened all the windows and both doors to air it out. He switched on the lights. A large ceiling fan whirred to life.

Maura threw her purse on a table and removed the papers from her skirt pocket. Carter came up behind her. He touched her hair, pulled it aside, and clasped a cameo set in gold around her slender neck. She turned to face him, fingering the hand-carved ivory cameo.

"Skylar gives you diamonds, and I give you a cameo."

"Oh, Carter," she whispered. "It's beautiful. I love it, thank you. It's . . . it's me!" She forgot about the papers, she forgot about everything.

He took her in his arms, kissed her mouth, her throat, and whispered in her ear, "You can stop me now, but if you don’t, I won't be responsible."

"Carter," she said breathlessly, "You didn’t want to talk at a rest stop because it wouldn’t be private. You said there would be interruptions. I would call this an interruption."

"It's going to be, unless you stop me."

In spite of the danger she found herself in, or perhaps because of it, Maura knew that making love with Carter was as inevitable and necessary to her as taking the next breath. "Oh, Lord." she whispered, "I don't want to stop you."

She unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it loose from his trousers. His hands cupped her breasts and a fire sprang from his touch and radiated through her. She trembled when he clasped her buttocks and drew her firmly against the hard bulge of his arousal. She pulled away slightly to fumble with his zipper. He slipped her blouse over her shoulders.

Together they fell onto the bed. Maura lifted her hips and Carter slid her skirt down and removed her silk panties, his hands moving gently along her smooth thighs and legs.

He kicked his pants to the floor.

Maura pulled him onto her. He kissed her tenderly. Looking into her eyes, he touched his fingers to her face. She watched him, her chest tight, as he raised up and guided himself into her. Holding onto him firmly, she locked her legs around him and lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, which were slow and gentle at first, then deep and forceful, bringing forth strangled moans of pleasure from her. She buried her face against his neck to soften her panting cries.

He fulfilled all her fantasies about him, his lovemaking far more wonderful than she’d ever imagined. Tears of emotion welled in her eyes and she held on to him fiercely, caught up in the moment, locked into his space and held captive by the intense sensual gratification, almost too wonderful to be borne.

The heat in the room pulled the moisture from their pores and wet their straining bodies. "Kiss me," she whispered. His mouth found hers and she gave herself up to him totally.

Their initial lovemaking was a fiery, demanding struggle, an explosive coming together, just as he had said it would be.

Afterward, Carter held her close for a while, then took her a second time, in a slow unhurried total possession. Soon he lay spent beside her, his arms enfolding her.

The soft warm flutter of his breath on her neck overwhelmed her with the wonder of it--the pure ecstasy of oneness with a man she loved completely. She had united with him so thoroughly that his love making left her with a feeling of truly being a part of him, his body, his flesh.

* * *

Skylar reached for his private phone. "Yes?"

"Mr. Barrett, we picked up the BMW in front of the Pizza Place on the corner of Ely and Van Buren."

"Where did you take it?"

"It's in SkyBarr's parking garage."

"No. Take it to the high-rise and park it in Maura's parking space. I want her to find it there."

CHAPTER 7

Carter and Maura remained locked in each other's arms, reluctant to part, until finally the reason they were there could no longer be ignored. They got dressed and went to sit at the small table. Maura removed the code tablet from her purse and placed it beside the jingle copied from the bear’s tape.

"Keep in mind, "she said, "the decoded words and phrases have to be applied to Uncle Harold and the trouble with SkyBarr. They may not make much sense unless we can apply them properly."

"Okay, honey. Let’s get started."

"The first line of the jingle is: A hinger, a hanger, a hunger, an owl. Now look up those words."

"Okay," he said. "Hinger is ‘rock-a-bye baby’; hanger is ‘change’; hunger is ‘greed’; and owl is ‘a person of authority’. How in the world are those words related?" Carter asked. "What clue is Harold trying to give?"

"I remember playing a game Uncle Harold made up called ‘Rock the Baby’, using the first two code words. Hinger in that game was used to signify rocking a baby, change also applied to a baby. You change a baby’s diaper." She sighed. Good Lord! What does a baby have to do with anything?"

"Wait a minute," he said, scooting his chair closer to the table, "rocking a baby puts it to sleep. What about drugs? Drugs produce drowsiness, unconsciousness. And SkyBarr makes drugs."

Excitement flooded Maura. "Yes! And ‘change’ could mean ‘altered’. Altered drugs. That must be it!" Her pulse quickened. "The next word is 'greed'."

"Okay, that ties in," he said. "Next is owl, ‘a person of authority’. Would that be Skylar or Harold? Harold seems to be saying that someone in authority is altering drugs, or someone in authority knows about the drug altering. And greed implies that a lot of money is involved.." "I agree," she said. "The second line of the ditty is: A jigger, a jagger, a jogger, a fowl."

He flipped a page. "Jigger is ‘measure’; jagger is ‘forbidden’; jogger is ‘mimic’, and foul means ‘rotten’."

Maura leaned closer to him. "‘Forbidden measure’?" She tapped the table top. That indicates alteration--adulteration--just as ‘change’ does. ‘Mimic’ could signify an adulteration which seems to be the real thing, and of course ‘rotten’ in that context could only mean toxic."

"Right." he said. "So far, we have a message that apparently says: ‘Altered drugs are being made for profit and someone in authority is responsible, or has knowledge of it.’ This could point to Harold as having discovered it, or to Skylar as being responsible, or both. The altered drugs are toxic."

She pointed to the last two sentences of the first verse: "Dracula drank a potion indeed-- a diller, a dollar, his pocket to feed."

"Dracula in the code book is ‘night creature’, drank is ‘nourished’, and potion is ‘medicine’."

"Carter, couldn’t ‘night creature’ indicate a hidden or covert thing?"

"That’s what I’d say. I would guess that SkyBarr is the creature, and ‘nourished by medicines’ could mean what? Drugs?"

"Maybe, it means that the creature is quite healthy."

"Of course," he said. "Quite healthy financially."

She nodded and they skipped to the next line, which he recited: "A diller, a dollar, his pocket to feed. Diller is ‘Midas’, dollar, means ‘gain’, and his pocket to feed ... well, here it says feeding a pocket means ‘personal profit’."

"So the word Midas just strengthens that idea, don’t you think, Carter? King Midas with all his gold? Gain and personal profit show that an enormous amount of money is involved."

"Sounds reasonable to me," he answered. "Next we have: And sank his fangs in far too deep."

"Sank his fangs in means ‘attacked’," she said. "And far too deep means ‘costly’."

"Costly? Who attacked? Or who was attacked?" he wondered aloud. "Costly, in this context, could mean costly to the creature. But how, if the operation is so lucrative?"

She thought a moment. "A breach in security? Uncle Harold breached their security and became a threat."

"That could be it. What’s next?"

Maura moved her finger down the page. "Here: Too bloody, too ruddy, too muddy to weep."

"Okay, bloody is ‘deadly’; ruddy is ‘fever’; muddy means ‘far-reaching and insensible."

She laughed nervously and stretched, rubbing her neck and shoulders. "Okay, deadly means these toxic drugs cause fatalities. Fever indicates dangerous side effects, responsible for the deaths. Far-reaching could mean international and insensitive, ruthless."

Carter grabbed her and kissed her. "Now add to the first part of the decoded message: ‘Greedy carelessness of the creature made it possible for its security to be breached. Harold discovered ARC is producing altered and illegal drugs, and marketing them. He discovered the scope of this endeavor and its huge profits, and that these toxic drugs are responsible for many deaths."

Maura stood up, took a deep breath, pressed her fingers to her burning eyes, and picked up their scribbled notes. Her eyes scanned the pages. "Okay, next we have, A dingle, a dangle, a dungle, an owl."

Carter frowned. "Dingle is ‘lab’, dangle is ‘brain’, dungle means ‘brain-teaser’, then we come to owl again. It says here, when owl is used twice in the same jingle, it represents the ‘big boss’. Figure all that out."

"Well, the word dingle decodes to lab or laboratory--that would probably be ARC."

He shrugged. "It would have to be, I’d think."

"Dangle decodes to brain, and dungle to brain-teaser. Uncle Harold referred to computers as brains, so brain is a computer. And of course, brain teaser would be the computer programmer, maybe Uncle Harold, himself. Next we have owl a second time. Used once it means a person of authority. And yes, used twice in the same message it means the highest authority, the big boss, Skylar. So this part of the message tells us that records are kept on computers, and the programmer, Uncle Harold, accessed those records and discovered that Skylar is the head of this creature."

Carter moved closer to Maura. "Next, we come to: A biggle, a baggle, a boggle a cowl.

Maura took a deep breath and ran a finger down the page. Biggle is ‘code name’, baggle is ‘password’, boggle is ‘codebreaker’ and cowl is ‘cloak’."

Carter eased the paper toward him. "All these terms just repeat and emphasize the message that this operation is deadly serious, secret, and widespread. Do you get anything further from this line?"

"No," she sighed. "Things are often repeated when you play with these code words because the object is to give a coded message in jingle form. And sometimes that can get a little tricky."

"I believe that," he said. "This next sentence is: Slay the dragon whose fire revealed.... Slay means what it says, ‘destroy’, the dragon is ‘menace’, whose fire revealed is ‘knowledge uncovered’. Destroy has to be self-explanatory," he said. " Menace in this context would point to Harold. He became a threat, or menace, to SkyBarr. Knowledge uncovered must also means what it says."

"Probably. And this next sentence seems easy to understand: A secret thought to be well-sealed. Secret means ‘truth’, and thought to be well-sealed means ‘under lock and key’."

So," he mused, "proof is highly guarded, extremely difficult to get to. What about this next

line? Then take his carcass, hang it high-- carcass decodes to ‘dead body’ and hang it high, to ‘make example of’."

Maura replied, "That speaks for itself and shows me we’re on the right track. Carcass is ‘dead body’ and must mean that Harold believed an effort would be made to kill him. Hang it high is make an example of, and means what it says. And the next line is also easy to interpret. Once the goat has made it die. Goat means ‘Judas’ and has made it die means ‘betrayal’, and points to someone Harold considered a friend, who betrayed him.

"My word, Carter. What could he have had in mind by these next two words--Plus, Minus which decode to 'Major' and 'Minor'. Nothing comes to my mind."

"I can’t think of any way that could be relevant--any way to apply it to Harold."

"Well, maybe, later," she answered. "Next is: Sing a song of new wine strong. Sing a song means ‘testify’, of new wine strong means ‘evidence’."

"Well," Carter said, "We know now that Harold planned to blow the whistle, and he had, or knew where to get, evidence. Listen to this one: And hide the old, old skin."

"Yes," she answered, "hide means ‘alter’ and alter means to change, just as change means to alter. Old, old skin means ‘unbranded’, and could only denote drugs that are not name brand-- thus generic. Is that how you see it?"

"I hardly think it could mean anything else. We’re down to the last two lines: Do this though it may be wrong--which decodes to ‘act’ and ‘make right’."

"I think that means Uncle Harold wants me to do something to bring about justice. Clear his good name."

He nodded and sighed. "The last line is: And make the old wine thin. Make decodes to ‘justify’, the old wine is ‘sacrifice’, thin is ‘smoky’. Maura, the only thing I can come up with for sacrifice is that Harold must have known his course of action against this giant corporation would ultimately cost him his life. Smoke could mean that he knew the company would throw up a smoke screen and smear him in order to protect itself."

"Isn’t that exactly what’s happened, Carter?"

"Sure looks like it.."

Maura sat back and waited for Carter to finish writing their decoded version of the jingle.

"All right," he said, here it is. This is what I get from the coded ditty." He spread the paper out on the table.

SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals, its subsidiaries, and Skylar Barrett, owner, are involved in drug altering and tampering for profit. Illegal toxic substances are introduced into selected drugs and put on the market. This is an international operation which produces enormous profits. Harold discovered what was going on, managed to break the project file code and password, and thereby access the ARC lab computers.

"Probably," Carter said, pointing to the paper, "Harold channeled the information directly to his home computer and kept himself informed of everything going on in ARC."

She nodded her agreement and continued reading silently.

Harold believed his life was in danger; and he believed someone he considered a friend betrayed him. The meaning of Plus and Minus, which decode to Major and Minor, eludes us, at least for now. Harold intended to make known what he had discovered. Tainted drugs are shipped out to developing countries. Harold wants Maura to look for evidence, which does exist, that will clear him of any wrongdoing and expose SkyBarr's illicit operation.

Maura hugged him. "I’m really happy about this but I’m even more scared, now that I know what we’re up against and the danger involved." She shuddered, and the pride she felt at having it all figured out, palled.

"You should be. So am I." Carter replied.

"I hope I can go to work and do my job as well as ever and not give us away, knowing Skylar the way I now know him."

"This whole thing is mind-boggling, Maura. Everything that's happened to me since I met you is mind-boggling."

"It's happening too fast. I'm afraid all the time. My whole life is filled with fear, but mostly, I'm afraid to face Skylar now. I'm afraid he'll be able to tell at a glance I’ve made love with you."

"You don't have to face Skylar. I'll take care of you." So, he thought, just like that, he’d made the decision to put Maura first in his life, and that was the way it would be, but he didn’t know how he could bring himself to push his work aside--especially at a point of almost certain success. His life’s work must now come after Maura’s welfare. He had wholly committed himself to her. There was no turning back.

"Is that a proposal, Carter?"

"Yes, but this is a better one. Maura, my darling, since you are going to be the mother of my children, won't you please marry me?"

Her eyes misted, she pulled him to her and rested her head on his shoulder. "I want to marry you more than I've ever wanted anything."

"I’ll drive you home. Pack a few things, get the bear, and come away with me. I'll take

a sabbatical leave and take you to a special place no one knows about but me."

"Teddy? But we already found the message Harold put on Teddy's tape."

"The bear held the message, and I think he hides the clue that will give us the proof we need."

"I'll go with you, but how can we leave town? I'm serious when I tell you Skylar knows everywhere I go and everything I do. And, Carter, he must have tapped your phones, too. Or how could they have found my car? You're the only one who knew where I was."

"I don't think that's how they found your car. Otherwise, they would have known about the station wagon and would've followed us, and they didn't. I was very careful that no one followed us here."

"How, then? I know Skylar sent those police officers to get my car."

"He probably did, to let you know he has ways, other than bugging your phones and

apartment, to keep up with you. He probably had a tracking device on the BMW."

"Oh, my God! I hope I'm around to see him go down! When I think I trusted him, thought I loved him, and was going to marry him--" She stared at Carter a moment, then asked, "How will we get out of town without being followed? I'll bet the Cherokee also has a tracking device. What do you think?"

"It's possible. I'll have it checked out and taken care of if it does."

"Good. I'll go home, pack some clothes and be ready to leave tomorrow morning, early. Can you have the Jeep checked and everything ready by then? Or should I go to work tomorrow?"

"If you think it's safe, go to work. We'll have more time to get away after you get off work tomorrow than we would have if we leave in the morning. If you don’t show up for work, Skylar will start looking for you right away. How will you explain leaving the clinic the back way?"

"I don’t think he’ll mention that he actually had me tailed, but he might. If he does I’ll tell him I went out the back way to lose them."

Maura, try not to antagonize Skylar."

She nodded. "I'll do my best."

* * *

Maura insisted Carter let her out of the station wagon a block from Highland Terrace. She walked the block, crossed the street and entered the lobby of the fashionable apartment building. She met Freda coming off the elevator.

Seeing Maura, the maid glanced at her watch and sighed. "I waited as long as I could, Liebling. I have to pick up my friend at her work. Her car wouldn't start."

"Sorry I'm late, Freda, but you know your time is your own after five. You don't have to wait around for me to get home when I'm running late."

"Your dinner is on the stove. It's still hot. Didn't you drive your car this morning?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I came outside to check the mail and saw two men drive the BMW into the garage and park it in your space. I just thought it strange."

"Oh? I had work done on it and they were delivering it."

"I see."

Maura watched Freda go through the door to the parking garage, then followed. Freda got into her Volkswagen and drove off. Maura walked to her space. The BMW was parked there. She expelled her breath loudly.

She went up to her suite, hid the code papers in the bear, showered and got into her silk gown. She loved the way the gown hugged her body. It was cool and soft and sensual. She had never before been so aware of her body. She felt as though she had awakened from a long sleep, and was just beginning to experience all the wonderful sensations of being a woman. A woman loved, and in love.

The ringing of the telephone startled her and she reached for it, not sure whose voice she expected to hear, but Skylar's was not the one she wanted to hear.

"Hello, dear. How was the medical visit? Nothing wrong, I hope."

Forgetting her promise not to antagonize him, she retorted, "I think you know I canceled the appointment and left the clinic. The police towed my car, Skylar."

"It must have been somewhere it shouldn't have been," he answered at once.

"Anywhere I want to go is where my car should be," she said, her anger burning her face. "Stop playing these childish games with me, dammit! I know you sent the police to get the car. What I don't know is why you had them take it to my garage. Seems pointless to me."

"Nevertheless, you must learn to go where you say, and not slip away somewhere else."

"Stop spying on me, Skylar. I mean it. I don't want you to know my every move. I'll come and go as I please in my own car."

He laughed. The sound hovered in the air around her, and she found herself clutching the receiver so fiercely her fingers turned white.

"Anna Maura, listen carefully." As controlled as his voice was, she felt its cutting edge, and a tremor shook her. "The BMW is a company owned vehicle. The building you live in is a company owned building. The designer clothes you wear so beautifully, the fine furs you wrap yourself in, the jewelry from Cartier's, and Tiffany's, are all company owned. Do you understand? Without me you have nothing--are nothing."

She visualized his mouth near the receiver, his brilliant blue eyes, and she stood as still as if she were carved in stone. She held her breath and couldn’t swallow through her dry throat. "You have been deceitful with me," he continued, "so I naturally wonder if you are to be trusted at all. That is the reason I feel the need to keep an eye on you." He paused, and Maura could hear the soft sound of his breathing. Then he added, "To protect you, dear."

Her heart sank and her knees grew weak. She took a deep breath, but his accusation whipped her into a fury. She swallowed hard and shouted, "Deceitful? Deceitful, Skylar? I could take lessons from you, and never be as deceitful as you are!"

"Deceit breeds deceit, dear. You hid your relationship with Harold Lyons from the firm, and now that you've learned he was the sniper who shot you, you refuse to accept the truth. Instead, you go snooping around in something that doesn't concern you, trying to discover some kind of complicity on SkyBarr's part for what happened. I warned you about that. Now I'm going to tell you how things will be in the future. You will forget all this nonsense. You will begin making serious plans for our wedding, and you will stay away from Dr. Carter Boyd. Is that clear?"

Maura stared at Teddy. My God! If only she and Carter could find proof to back up Harold's allegations.

"Anna Maura, did you hear what I said?"

"You don't own me, Skylar. I'll go where I please, with whom I please."

In his quiet ominous voice he replied, "Anna Maura, I want to see you escape real hurt. I know what's best for you. You obviously do not. Don't defy me, dear. I feel I have an obligation to protect you, even from yourself. And I shall do so. I'll see you in the morning at your desk, as usual. You do remember, do you not, we have an engagement tomorrow evening?"

Maura didn't answer. She slammed the phone down and fell back onto her bed in helpless anger. She and Carter couldn't leave tomorrow after work. There wouldn't be time. Skylar expected her to have dinner with him, spend the evening with him. She had to let Carter know about that. She fretted until she fell asleep.

* * *

Roused from a troubled sleep by what she supposed was a sound coming from the street below, Maura looked groggily at her bedside clock. It was 2:35 A.M. She turned over and hugged Teddy to her.

She was not fully asleep again when someone clamped a rough hand over her mouth. Two men held her in steel grips, their strong arms jerked her from her bed. Maura fought so fiercely a third man stepped from the shadows and thrust a needle into her arm. She opened her mouth to scream, but only a strangled sound came from her stiff lips.

She felt herself lifted and carried, and tried to focus her eyes on her assailants but saw only fuzzy dark shapes. Her heart seemed to have stopped beating. Her strength left her.

Maura was vaguely aware her assailants took the stairs, avoiding the elevator. She thought she prayed they would pass someone in a corridor, or on the stairs, but no one was stirring at that hour. She wanted to pray. Waves of darkness washed over her and left her confused. Her tongue felt heavy and dead. She wasn’t sure she could get any words past her tongue, but she should pray now. "Dear Lord, I’m sick . . . give me my arm . . . don’t take me where I’m not supposed to be." She heard the mutterings and knew they came from her.

A firm pressure on her mouth shut off her incoherent rambling, and her eyes sought to pierce the blue haze that clouded her vision. Something had hold of her. Something awful on each side of her, holding her body upright. She felt as though she had no bones. Were all her bones broken? Everything was too ... too dark...

* * *

Maura roused. Rapidly passing street lights overhead caught her attention, and she rallied enough to know she was in a car, speeding into the darkness. She wasn’t sure if what was happening to her was real. Maybe it was a dream. She seemed to be watching it all through a dark glass.

In her confused state she thought they traveled a long distance before the car finally left the street and entered an area of complete darkness.

Rough arms grabbed her, lifted her again , and carried her into a large, cavernous unlighted building. Flashlights appeared and lit their way. A door opened. Lights suddenly came on, blinding her. She covered her eyes with her hands and shook her head to clear it but the effect was that of a blow. Her head felt as though it might burst.

When she could bear to remove her hands from her eyes and look about her in the bright light, she saw she had been cast into a room startlingly like an old Roman amphitheater. The men released her and left her in the center of the huge room, standing on her feet, swaying unsteadily, and staring in awe at her surroundings.

Brilliant overhead lights gave the scene a surrealistic atmosphere. Maura’s terror-stricken gaze fixed itself on the huge cameras that ringed the room, and the mind-chilling truth seeped into her consciousness. She was on a movie set. Was this the porno set of Adam and Eve studios that Carter had told her about?

The whimpering started deep within her and emerged with each breath in a painful sob. She found herself in the ultimate nightmare.

A door in the circular room creaked open and she whirled in its direction. Her sudden movement caused her to lose her balance and she fell to the floor. She struggled to her feet to see a huge, hard-muscled, dark-skinned man emerge. He wore arm and leg bands of silver. On his head was a lion's mane of honey-colored hair. A lion's tail was strapped to his naked buttocks. He wore nothing else. His oiled, sweaty, glistening skin, repelled her. A sick, dreadful fear hit the pit of Maura's stomach and tied it in knots.

Now her eyes absorbed the image of his large, stiff, penis, erect and threatening, and brought a thin, high wail from somewhere deep within her. She sank to her knees.

A second door opened and another man, identical to the first, including the jutting penis, came into the room. Then, a third. And, finally, a fourth.

An ominous sound now filled her ears, a sound of lions growling and snarling and a roar, as from a crowd of spectators. The first man strode across the room to her, grinning--a grin which embodied all the evil she had ever imagined--and said mockingly, "You are the Christian and we're the lions. We're going to eat you alive."

Her breath burst from her lungs. She was suffocating. Dimly, she heard a voice ask, "Are the cameras ready?"

Another voice replied, "We're ready when you are."

The dark man’s great muscled arm reached for her, and Maura saw the silver ring on his finger. Her blood froze. The man’s massive hand tore the silk gown from her body. A voice in her head which sounded like her own came from afar.

"Skylar!" the voice screamed. "Skylar, help me! I know you're here! Help me! Please!"

A crushing weight fell on her. Her legs were wrenched apart. She welcomed the descending mist, and was vaguely aware of it forming into a heavy black void, pulling her into it.

Skylar came onto the set, walked to the man whose body covered Maura's and said in his quietly menacing voice, "I told you to scare her only. You went too far. You people had better pay attention when I speak to you."

The man quickly got to his feet and backed off.

Skylar reached down, pulled an eyelid back and looked into Maura's eye. "The injection has taken effect. She won't know what happened. I want her to think the worst, but I warned you men not to violate her."

"I didn't penetrate her, Mr. B. I swear I didn't."

"I know that. If you had it would have been your last conscious act on earth. You did, however, handle her in a violent manner."

"I was just trying to make it seem authentic. Honest."

"As frightened as she was, it was authentic enough. Get her home and to bed. I'll hold you responsible for her. Any more rough hands and I don't have to tell you the consequences."

"No, sir."

"What about this?" another of the men asked, holding Maura's ruined gown.

"Put her to bed nude and leave the gown on the bed beside her."

* * *

Sometime later, Maura awakened. Her mouth was dry. A metallic taste brought the nausea up into her throat. Wondering at her nudity, she looked around the room in confusion. She saw her ripped gown, picked it up, stared at it, and remembered. With a deep wounded cry, Maura cast the silk gown from her. The touch of it made her violently ill.

Slapping her hands over her mouth, she ran to the bathroom, leaned over the commode and vomited. She trembled and cried hysterically, filled the tub with water as hot as she could stand it, and sank down into it. She lathered and scrubbed her aching bruised flesh, weeping harshly, until her skin was raw and burning.

Maura wept until her tears were spent, and her swollen eyes were dry and on fire. Her head ached so intensely it seemed the pain controlled her world, leaving no part of it pain-free.

Freda found her in the tub, dry sobs issuing from the bloody lips she had bitten through. "Good Gott!" Freda shrieked. "Good Gott! What has happened to you, Liebling? Get out of that tub, at once! You've scalded yourself!"

Freda lifted Maura from the tub, wrapped her in a large soft towel and helped her to her bed. Grabbing the phone, Freda called 911. Too weak to protest, Maura lay limp and unresisting as her maid gently slid a fresh cotton gown over her head, and wrapped a robe around her.

An ambulance arrived. Freda opened the door to the medics. Before following them to the hospital, she called Skylar.

"Yes, Mr. Barrett. She's been admitted to Good Shepherd Hospital. No. I don't know what happened. She needed help, so I called 911. I will. Ja. Good-bye." She expelled her breath furiously and muttered, "You had something to do with this, I know it."

* * *

Maura opened her eyes to see Skylar, surrounded by flowers, standing at her bedside. She gasped and turned her back to him.

"Don't turn away from me, Anna Maura." The soft hiss of his voice, holding a veiled threat, pierced her like the poisonous fangs of a serpent.

She reluctantly faced him and wondered why she hadn’t seen it before, the ruthless, manipulative brutality lurking within his frozen blue eyes. "Go away," she whispered hoarsely.

"I'm not going away. You must have realized that, by now."

"Why didn't you kill me? Why didn't you order them to kill me? It would've made a much more exciting film."

"What are you talking about, dear? You must have had a very bad dream."

She sighed loudly and faced him. "Skylar, you are the most despicable man I've ever known. You should've made them kill me."

"What kind of nonsense is this? I'm quite disturbed about you, Anna Maura. I think I should ask Dr. Reed to look in on you."

Maura's bravado quickly melted into terror. Dr. Reed was a SkyBarr psychiatrist. She didn't care if she died, but the least hint of a straight jacket or mental institution, was all that was necessary to cow her. If having her committed was the only way Skylar could control her, Maura knew it was a possibility. He was capable of any outrage. She bit her lip and swallowed her pride. "Please, Skylar....." In spite of her attempt to control her emotion, her voice shook. "Why did you let that happen to me? I begged . . . you."

Skylar looked away from her a moment, then met her gaze. "I've announced our wedding date to the press. We will be wed September the 17th. I know that doesn't give you much time, Anna Maura, but all you'll have to concern yourself with is choosing your gown and trousseau. We'll honeymoon on the Riviera."

Maura stared at him with burning eyes. Skylar's fierce look softened. "You'll feel better soon, dear. We'll talk later. I want you to rest a day or two and regain your strength. Enjoy the flowers. I'll return this evening to check on you, see if you need anything."

Near hysteria Maura asked, "Where is Freda? I want Freda!"

"I asked her to wait in the visitor's lounge. I'll send her in as I leave." He bent over and kissed Maura gently on her swollen lips, turned and walked out of the room.

Maura stared after him in astonishment. She turned over and buried her face in a pillow.

Freda came into the room, her usual calm disposition shattered. "That man is posting a police officer at this door. Anna Maura Sinclair, I want to know, right now, what's going on. What has he done to you? " She helped Maura sit up, fussed with her pillows, and eyed her stubbornly. "Out with it, Liebchen."

"Freda, I need you to help me. I hate to get you involved in this mess. You have no idea . . . You could get hurt. But you're the only one I can depend on to help me."

"And help you I will. Tell me what this is all about."

Maura inhaled deeply. She took Freda's hand and told her what she and Carter suspected about Skylar's involvement in Harold's death, about SkyBarr's illegal drug operation and pornographic film-making.

"And God only knows what else, Freda. Skylar thinks Carter and I know something, and we do, but we can't prove anything. He has me followed everywhere I go. The phones at home are tapped. I'm under surveillance all the time. My God. I'm so scared of him. He can and will hurt us. Will you help me?"

"Ja, I said I would. What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to make a couple of phone calls for me, but be very careful. Don't make any calls from home. Always go to a pay phone. Call Sue Ann. Tell her I'm here but I don't want her to come to the hospital. Tell her I'll be in touch with her when I feel up to it. Then call Carter--Dr. Boyd. Tell him to stay away from me. Convince him he can only cause more trouble for me if he doesn't do as I ask. I know Skylar will do something awful if he catches us together again. Do you think you can make Carter understand?"

"What is it you think Mr. Barrett will do to you?" Freda asked in alarm.

"Oh, I don't think he'll kill me. He'll do something worse, like having me committed to a mental ward, or take me out of the country to some unheard of place where no one can ever find me. He has the money and the power to do anything he wants to do. It's really important that you make Carter stay away from me. I’m afraid he’ll have Carter killed."

"I'll convince him. Don't worry."

"I want to go home. Did Skylar tell you how long I'll have to be here?"

"He said he'll take you home in a day or two, but he didn't mean to Highland Terrace, Liebling. He intends to take you home with him to SkyView."

"Oh, Freda, no. I can’t handle that, knowing what I know about him. Help me."

"I will. I promise. Give me time to think. What did he do to you last night?"

Maura shook her head.

Freda looked hard at her, realized Maura would not discuss it, and gave up. "I'll go make those calls."

CHAPTER 8

Freda called Sue Ann, who was extremely concerned about Maura. However, she agreed to wait for further word from Maura. The call to Carter was a different story, however, and he refused to consider staying away unless Freda promised to meet him at once and tell him what was happening.

Freda waited in the park across the street from Good Shepherd. The Cherokee pulled up to the curb near her bench. She got in beside Carter.

He accelerated into an opening in the heavy traffic, feeling stress in every cell of his body.

His jaw muscles ached, and the pressure behind his eyes would soon be a full-blown headache. He made an effort to relax, but his voice was harsh, "Why is Maura in the hospital, Freda?"

"I don't know what happened, Dr. Boyd. I found her this morning boiling herself alive in the bathtub, completely unresponsive. I called for help, and she was taken to Good Shepherd Hospital."

"I swear if . . . if Skylar Barrett so much as laid a hand on her . . . . The way you found her is the way rape victims behave."

"That's what I thought."

"Do you think Skylar raped Maura?"

"Lord, no, Dr. Boyd! That's definitely not his style. If he wanted her in his bed, he would find a way to make her come to him, whether she wanted to or not."

"Could one of his . . . thugs have raped her?"

"Maybe. But I doubt it. I don't think any of Mr. Barrett's people would risk doing such a thing, and face an immediate death sentence. After all, she’s engaged to marry him."

"I see you also think of that as a protection."

"Nicht?"

He shrugged.

Freda leaned back against the seat. "Dr. Boyd, she told me about the trouble she's in, having discovered all this about SkyBarr and Mr. Barrett. But not one word would she say about what happened to her last night, and something did, something awful. I know she's in a lot of danger." Freda coughed nervously into a handkerchief, took a deep breath, and said, "Mr. Barrett stationed a police officer outside her hospital door, and he plans to take her out of the hospital, probably tomorrow, to SkyView. She'll be no better than a prisoner there, and I don't know what to do to help her. She's very insistent that I convince you to stay away from her. I believe she has every reason to be afraid of Mr. Barrett catching the two of you together again. She thinks he'll put in an institution or take her out of the country to some remote place. I know he's threatened her with Dr. Reed, a SkyBarr psychiatrist. And right now she's not exactly stable mentally."

"Damn it!" Carter swerved to avoid a collision with a truck. Pulling over to the curb, he stopped the Cherokee. "Freda," he said, his hands gripping the wheel, "I’ll take you to Maura's apartment. I want you to pack a small case with a few of her clothes, and be very sure to pack her teddy bear."

"The bear?"

"Yes. That bear is very important to Maura. Be sure you pack him. Put the case in your car and keep it with you until I ask for it."

"What are you thinking?" Freda asked, her voice loud with concern.

"I’m not sure, but I want some of her clothes and the bear ready to go at a moment's notice. I'll need to know where to call you."

"That won't be easy if Mr. Barrett lets me go with them. I really don't think he will, though. He seems to want to isolate her from everyone. If I don't go with them, I'll stay with a friend until--"

"Give me your friend's number."

"Do you have something to write on?"

He handed her a card and a pen. "Write on the back of this, and put your name next to the number."

"Are we going to Highland Terrace now?"

"Right now."

"You'll have to wait for me and bring me back. My car is at the hospital."

"I plan to do that," he smiled. "Try not to be too long in the apartment."

"I won't. I've got to hurry and get back to my Liebling."

* * *

After bringing Freda back to the hospital, Carter went immediately to the university to see Dr. Hartmann. Without going into detail, he requested a leave of absence.

"I know you’re under a great deal of stress, Carter, and I know you can use a rest, but is now a good time?"

"Yes, I'm under a great deal of stress, but this has nothing to do with my work, Professor. A personal problem requires my full attention right now. I wish I could explain it to you, but I'm not sure you'd understand if I did, or that you'd believe me."

"I'll believe anything you tell me."

Carter decided to trust the professor. He reluctantly told Dr. Hartmann a little about Maura, Harold Lyons, and Skylar, just enough to determine his reaction.

Dr. Hartmann’s brow wrinkled slightly. "I must admit," he said quietly, "it will take some adjustment to my thinking for me to be able to accept the idea that Skylar Barrett is mixed up in anything underhanded. He's a nationally-known philanthropist, a powerful man, not only in the state of Georgia, but in the United States. He has close personal friends who are congressmen, senators, judges. He’s politically active in his party, donates huge sums of money to various charities, to the arts, to Christian work, especially missionary work abroad. And he is this university's largest contributor."

"I know all that. I also know he called a special meeting of the board, without your knowledge, and offered to donate a new research wing with state-of-the art laboratories and equipment. He wants to establish a foundation to oversee the work done here, and hinted that the members of the board would head the new foundation. He's prepared to fund it with millions of dollars, but expects to secure the patent on this work I'm doing, and I'm sure he expects to be handed all the patents on work done in the new labs."

Carter paced the room. He stopped and gazed out a window at the university tower. "He also donates, I understand, a large amount of money to local pornography interests, the major one being A&E Productions, whose slimy underbelly operation is known as Adam and Eve Film Company."

"Good Heavens! Carter, what are you saying? Do you know what you're saying?" Dr. Hartmann stepped over to a water cooler and drew a cup of cold water, which he drank in one swallow.

Clasping his hands behind him, he walked to the window and stood beside Carter. In a soft voice, he said, "Carter, I know you’re not one to make such charges lightly, but I must ask you if you’re absolutely certain what you're telling me is fact. Are your sources reliable?"

"Yes. Maura and I have both been assaulted because we know too much. The day I told you I had an accident, I was attacked by two men in a car who rammed my Jeep from behind. One of them took a shot at me. The bullet hit my dash, and that's how I got the lacerations on my face. Maura is in the hospital right now from some kind of assault. Our lives are in danger. I'm going to take Maura away somewhere until something can be done about this."

Dr. Hartmann stood very still a moment, then replied, "Carter, you have my full support. You may count on any help I can give you. Don't you think we should call the police?"

Carter laughed. "I don't think so, Professor. Skylar Barrett numbers among his close personal associates at least two of Norwich's finest. We don't know who to trust at this point."

"I see," the old man said, his eyes downcast.

"I want you to take over my work, Professor. The work on the enzyme itself is completed, but I'm working on lab grown antibodies which in sufficient numbers counteract the enzyme's effect on its host cells. It's important that this work not be interrupted."

"I'm very aware of that."

"I hate to leave, especially now. All this is too distressing to put into words, but I really feel I have no choice. I'll turn over all my notes to you. They will explain every phase of the work I've done so far. Will you do it?"

"I'll do anything I can to help. I would rather take on this work than have it suspended, even for a short while. It's too important."

"I’m sorry I have to leave, but as I said, I feel I have no real choice."

"Carter, I'll get everything in order for your leave of absence. Will you be able to tell me where you're going?"

"I'll be in touch with you later. I'm not sure where I'm going," he said, fearful of divulging the location of his camp, even to Dr. Hartmann.

Dr. Hartmann nodded. They shook hands.

Leaving the university, Carter went to his bank and made a large withdrawal. He didn’t plan to write checks or use his credit cards and leave a paper trail behind him. He left the bank and went home to speak to Mrs. Malcolm.

"Mrs. Malcolm, I'm going out of town. I might be gone quite a while. I don't know yet. Is there any reason you can't live here while I'm gone? I wouldn’t consider it if I thought there would be any danger to you. Those thugs, who ransacked the place before, were looking for something and didn’t find it because there’s nothing here to find. They’re apparently satisfied

about that. However, if anything happens to make you uncomfortable, call the police at once. I've made arrangements with my bank to send your paycheck here each week. They've also been instructed to pay all the bills. I'll be in touch with you."

"I'll be happy to stay here, Dr. Boyd."

She asked no questions, so he knew she assumed this trip had something to do with his work. This was not the first time he'd had to be away and she had stayed at his condo.

He packed a large valise and started for the door. "I'm not leaving town just yet. I'll let you know when I’m ready to leave."

She nodded and smiled. "I'm going to miss you, Dr. Boyd, honey."

"I'm going to miss you, too, sweetheart."

"Wait," she said. "I almost forgot to tell you. A woman called here for you three times but wouldn't leave her name or a message. And Sue Ann Lyons called. She wants you to call her as soon as possible."

Carter placed the valise on the floor and went to the phone. He called Sue Ann.

"Carter. I'm glad you called. Freda phoned me, said she'd tried a number of times to reach you and couldn't--"

"Has anything happened to Maura?"

"Freda told me Skylar is taking her home with him. He's planning to check her out early in the morning. Can you come over here, Carter? I really need to talk to you."

"I'm on my way." He grabbed his valise and waved to Mrs. Malcolm. "I'll see you before I leave town," he said as he went out the door.

* * *

Sue Ann led Carter to a vine-covered veranda, and sent Jordan to bring them a pitcher of iced tea. "Carter, I want to apologize to you. The last time you were here, I lied to you about those men. I don't know why, exactly, except I was still stunned, and to be honest I think I briefly considered an offer they made to me."

"An offer? They didn't threaten you?"

"There was an implied threat, if I decided not to accept their offer."

"Why don't you just tell me about it."

"Those men pushed past Jordan and came in, told me to sit down and listen. They said SkyBarr had acted hastily in dismissing Uncle Harold so near his retirement and thought it only proper to make amends. They said the company would turn over to me his profit-sharing fund, as well as his retirement pay, in a lump sum. The entire amount mentioned was six million dollars."

"Six million dollars!" Carter exclaimed. He shook his head. "Well, I suppose when one considers the vast amount of money SkyBarr has at its disposal, that's not an unheard-of sum. Skylar does tend to pay well for what he wants."

"What could he want from me?"

"I don't know. They must have given you some idea."

She grew silent, frowning in thought, then looked at Carter and said unexpectedly, "Uncle Harold's estate is worth ten million dollars. Maura is named in the will. Did you know that?"

Carter expelled his breath loudly. "No, I did not know that. She's never mentioned money to me."

"Maura has no concept of the value of money. She likes comfort and nice things around her, but the cost of an item has no meaning for her. Remember that. Carter. Maura doesn’t treasure an expensive item over a less expensive one."

"I've seen evidence of that. She treats that BMW as if it were a truck."

"Maura would be just as happy with a truck. But don't get the wrong idea. Security means everything to her. She grew up poor and vows she will never be poor again. Her mother died from blood poisoning because she had no money for medical treatment, and no insurance. That’s the reason Maura became so thoroughly attached to Skylar. To her, he represented the ultimate security."

Jordan appeared with a large pitcher of tea. He filled the glasses with ice, poured the tea, and asked, "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you, Jordan."

"In what way were you threatened, Sue Ann?"

"They told me in no uncertain terms you were a bad influence on Maura, and that I would be expected to use what influence I might have with her to convince her to stay away from you. They said unpleasant things were likely to happen to anyone who closely associated with you, meaning me, as well as Maura. They want me to report to Skylar anything I learn about you. Skylar knows you and Maura came to see me. Those men told me he was worried about Maura's seeing so much of you and was having her followed for her own protection."

"Didn't that make you wonder about me?"

"No, Carter. I know what Skylar's capable of. I tried to tell Maura, but she didn't want to hear it. She had to find out for herself what he's really like. I didn't get too worried until Freda called and told me Maura was in the hospital. She believes Skylar did something that caused Maura to have a breakdown. I decided then I would do everything I could to help you and Maura vindicate Uncle Harold, and see that Skylar gets what he deserves. And to hell with their money."

"We need your help Sue Ann but don't do anything to provoke Skylar. I'd like to see you make him pay that six million dollars. If you can help us while pretending to do what Skylar wants you to do, that's fine. Just don't make any outward show of support for me." Carter reached for his glass of tea. "I have to think of some way to get Maura out of Good Shepherd before morning."

"That won't be easy, but shouldn't be impossible. You're a medical doctor."

"I gave up my practice to go into research. I'm no longer on staff at the hospital."

"You can still dress the part. Surgery scrubs, maybe."

"I could, but Skylar has a cop stationed at Maura's door who, I'm sure, would know me on sight. I'm the one he's guarding her against."

"Couldn't Freda get the officer's attention long enough for you to get Maura out? Freda is a good-looking Fraulein."

"Yes, she is. I'm sure Skylar's alerted everyone to the possibility I might try in some way to get to Maura."

"We’ll think of something."

"I'll need to get clothes to her. I could ask Freda to take one of her dresses into her room."

"Make it one of her jogging sets, and sneakers."

"Okay. I'll get a nurse's uniform for you to wear."

"We'll need to cause a diversion of some kind, Carter, so there will be a lot of confusion." She thought about it a minute. "I've got it. Tell Freda to get Maura dressed, then get that officer away from the door any way she can. You'll be in scrubs. I'll be in the nurse's uniform. We'll go to Maura's floor. While you go into the coffee alcove and pour yourself a cup of coffee, I'll create a diversion."

"What kind of diversion?"

"Don’t ask. I doubt you’d approve what I have in mind, but as long as you don’t know, you don’t have to worry about it."

Carter looked at her suspiciously. "I don’t think I like the sound of that."

"You don’t have to like it. It’ll work. All you have to do is be at the hospital, on Maura’s floor, at a prearranged time. I’ll do the rest. Trust me. You do want to get Maura out of there, don’t you?"

"Of course."

"Then leave it to me. One of Uncle Harold’s inventions he created to amuse and delight Maura and me when we were kids will be perfect for what I have in mind, and it seems right that he should be the one to help us get Maura away from Skylar."

"Okay, if you say so. But why wouldn’t I approve?"

"You just wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t do it except in this situation it‘s probably the only way we can hope to help Maura. I’ll leave it up to you to get a uniform for me, Carter."

"That won’t be any trouble. Thanks for agreeing to help. We'll have to arrange some way to be sure Skylar won't find out about your involvement in this."

"We'll work it out. We can't do anything until Skylar makes his evening visit and leaves the hospital. Freda told me he said he'd visit this evening to see if Maura needs anything. What he really meant was to see if she's still under his control."

"Sue Ann, we need to plan this thing almost to the minute or it won't work. We'll need to decide what time Freda is to get the cop away, what time you and I will go to Maura's floor, what

time you’ll do your thing, and what time we’ll all meet outside the hospital after I get Maura out. We should leave our cars on the other side of the park so we won’t have any trouble leaving the area. When we get to them, you take Maura in your car. We'll meet again outside of town somewhere, and Maura will come with me. Where can we meet?"

"Which direction will you be going?"

"South. I want to avoid the interstate."

"We could pick up 166 and meet in Carrollton. That will put you pretty close to the Alabama border. Once you get into Alabama, you can get on the Interstate."

"Where in Carrollton?"

Sue Ann thought a moment, then replied, "How about Harvey’s truck stop?"

"That's what we'll plan on. We'll have to get together this afternoon with Freda and get all this worked out. Did Freda say if Skylar planned for her to accompany Maura to his home?"

"He doesn't. He told her she would have to seek other employment."

"Then for awhile, anyway, she'll be living with a friend she told me about. I want you to copy this number." He took the card from his wallet and handed it to Sue Ann. "This is where you'll be able to reach Freda. Please stay in touch with her. As soon as things settle down a bit, Maura and I will send for her and pay her way home to Germany, or keep her with us, whatever she and Maura want to do about that."

They sat in restless silence. Sue Ann sipped her tea.

Carter placed his empty glass on the table and shifted in his chair. "I have an idea to keep you in good with Skylar, and it won't have a detrimental effect on Maura or me. When we get to Maura's floor, and are waiting for Freda to lure the cop away, phone Skylar. Make him think you're at home. Tell him you've learned something very important he needs to know at once. Ask him to come to your house. Say you'll be watching for him. Hang up before he can question you and pray he'll leave immediately to come to you. That will ensure us he won't be where he can be quickly located, told about Maura’s disappearance, and get to the hospital in a hurry— unless the cop at the hospital has his car phone number.

"Later, when he does confront you--and he will--tell him you learned I was planning to make an attempt to take Maura out of the hospital and you wanted to warn him. You can say you waited for what seemed a long time, then decided to go to the hospital yourself, to see what was happening, if anything. Do you think you can pull that off?"

"You'd better believe I'll try."

* * *

Sue Ann hung up the phone. She walked back down the corridor to the coffee nook. "Carter, Skylar agreed to come. He didn't ask any questions but told me he would come after he finished a late dinner. I just hope he won't delay long enough for the officer on duty here to call him when he realizes Maura is gone."

"I guess it went okay, then."

"Yes, I think so."

"While you were on the phone, Freda got the cop into the waiting room down there at the other end of the hallway. No trouble at all." He grinned. "He’s a real professional, right? Course, if he was he wouldn’t be in Skylar’s pocket, would he?"

"Good. Something will happen very soon now." Sue Ann looked nervously at her watch. "Carter, I set off one of Uncle Harold’s wonderful smoke devices in the chapel almost four minutes ago. Any minute now, all hell is going to break loose, and that will give us the opportunity to get Maura out."

"God! Sue Ann tell me you didn’t do that! There’ll be such panic someone is bound to get hurt. What about heart patients? Patients in surgery?"

"Carter, take a deep breath and stay calm. You know very well there are no heart patients or surgeries on this floor."

"But everyone will think the hospital is on fire!"

"It’s too late to do anything about it now anyway."

Carter’s heart jumped into his throat. He should’ve made her tell him what she had in mind.

The horror every hospital fears, above all other horrors, burst upon Good Shepherd at exactly 11:47 P.M.--according to Carter’s watch--the night of August 25th.

Thick, black smoke curled from beneath the closed chapel door. A night nurse noticed it at once. She went quickly to investigate. Opening the door, she was enveloped in smoke that boiled out into the corridor, rapidly filling it. She screamed in spite of all the warnings she had been given to remain calm in such an emergency.

Smoke alarms sounded, sprinkler systems activated, and the electronic fire alarm shot its warning through the system.

Panic ensued. Shrieks, hysterical cries, shouts, running feet, slamming doors echoed down the long corridor, bringing hospital personnel from other floors into the chaotic ward to help establish order.

Carter and Sue Ann pushed their way through a mob of people who were incoherent with fright. Hospital attendants struggled to maintain some semblance of order, while evacuating the patients.

Barely able to see, Carter and Sue Ann rushed into Maura's room. She was dressed and waiting, but seemed drowsy. The three of them emerged, going as quickly as possible to the elevators. Carter warned them not to take the stairs where everyone would go to escape, fearful of being trapped in an elevator as a fire raged.

Freda, having been told what to expect by Sue Ann, pulled away from the officer's embrace, scratching her wrist on a weird-looking silver ring he wore, and hurried to the elevator. As she entered and the door was closing, the officer shouted, "Not the elevator! You might get stuck between floors if the electric power goes off!"

Freda, however, was already down to ground level by the time the dismayed officer turned back toward Maura's room. Through the blinding, choking, smoky haze someone shouted to him, "That patient's been evacuated already."

Sirens wailed the arrival of fire engines and firefighters. Police lights flashed onto the scene. News people crowded in. Hundreds of spectators, running from all directions, converged on the area.

By the time the firemen entered the floor, the smoke had thinned and mostly dissipated and the hoax was discovered. As stunned but relieved hospital staff and firefighters made a thorough search of the hospital to be sure nothing else frightening or dangerous awaited them, two cars and a Cherokee Jeep drove onto Route 166, well on their way to Carrollton.

At the truck stop, Sue Ann got out of her car and ran to Carter. "Carter. Maura's asleep and won’t wake up. They must've given her a sedative."

"Okay, I'll get her into the Jeep. I want her to sleep, if she can, until we get out of Georgia. I'll feel better once we get into Alabama." He hugged Sue Ann. "Thanks, Sue Ann. Thanks for your help."

"You bet. Be sure to let me hear from you. And I hope you won’t find me in a prison cell."

"God, so do I. Deny everything. I’ll be in touch."

Freda came to them, tears in her eyes. She handed Maura's small satchel and the bear to Carter. "Drive carefully. Take good care of her, Dr. Boyd."

"Freda, don't worry about anything. I'll call you soon. Remember what I told you when we met this afternoon to plan this? We'll send for you."

"Please don't forget you told me that."

"I won't forget."

* * *

Just before dawn, Maura's cry pierced the stillness. She clawed at the tangled sheets and panicked when she couldn't get them off her. A second terrified cry bubbled up out of her throat.

Carter grabbed her, pressed her to him and held her tight. "Sh-h," he said gently, "don't be afraid, darling. You're safe. You're with me. Maura, you're with me."

Her eyes were wild in the dim red-flashing neon lights of the motel sign that lit up the small room in brief, monotonous bursts through ill-fitting blinds.

"Maura," he whispered close to her ear, struggling to hold her, "it's me, honey. It's Carter. Maura, wake up, you're safe."

As suddenly as it began, she went limp. He held her and soothed her with soft, calm reassurances until she finally quieted. Her arms went about his neck. She rested her head on his chest, and asked, "Where are we?"

"In Alabama, almost to Mississippi," he whispered. "We're going to Louisiana. I grew up there and own a camp on Boggy Bayou. No one knows about it. We'll be safe there until we can figure out what to do. Don't you remember? We took you from the hospital?"

"I do now." She sat up, her hand over her mouth, and let her gaze sweep the room. "I'm scared, hic, to stay here. Skylar will have the motels and, hic, hotels checked." Her voice broke repeatedly with violent hiccups. She took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

Carter kissed her brow. "I'm a little worried about driving the Cherokee. Do you feel like getting dressed? I want to find a phone and call my uncle who lives just outside of New Orleans in Jefferson Parish."

"Skylar will, hic, know about him by now."

"I don't know how. Not from my records at the university. I didn't list a next of kin on my résumé."

He drew Maura closer, rested his cheek on her head. "I don't know what happened to cause you such pain, but I promise I'll try to see that nothing bad happens to you ever again."

She sniffled. "I know I have to, hic, tell you. And I will, when I can make myself speak

the--hic--necessary words. But, Carter, you won't want me anymore when you know."

"Maura. You can't believe that. How can you say such a thing?"

"Because I know it's true." She pressed her head into his shoulder.

Carter’s own eyes stung. He drew away slightly so he could see her face. "Look at me, Maura. I won't leave this room with you thinking that. Tell me what you believe is so terrible it will stop me from loving you."

She averted her gaze from his. "You don't want to know." Her hiccups were gone, replaced by a new fear. "You won't love me anymore, because--"

"Listen to what you're saying to me." Overcome with helpless anger, Carter took hold of her shoulders and shook her. "Do you actually think that? I thought you knew me better."

She closed her eyes and haltingly told him all that had happened to her after she left him Wednesday night... about her losing control with Skylar on the phone... about being taken from her bed and driven to the pornography studio... about the sights, the sounds, the lights, the cameras... about the four men who came to her naked, threw her down, tore her gown from her body, and fell upon her like animals on a fresh kill.

Carter tensed. Maura opened her eyes and looked at him with such distress he drew her to him and kissed her tenderly. "Maura. I feel so helpless knowing such a thing could happen to you. It makes me so damn mad I could...." He kissed her again. "Honey, nothing can ever make me stop loving you.. Certainly not this. You were the victim of perverse, sub-human . . . . May God help us find evidence that will result in these criminals being locked away in cages where they belong."

Maura sobbed, "But do you really still love me?"

"With my whole soul. So much I carry a constant ache within me when I'm not near you. You're a part of me I couldn't survive without, any more than I could survive without my literal heart." Carter brushed her hair back and took her face in his hands. "Maura, don't ever doubt my love." He wiped her tears away, kissed her freckles and released her. "Let's get dressed and get out of here."

Carter found a pay phone and called his uncle. Maura sat in the Jeep and watched him, wondering why she felt so sad and bewildered. She loved him completely but felt unworthy of him.

She smiled at him when he got back in the Jeep. He leaned over, kissed her, and drove onto the highway.

* * *

An hour later, Carter parked the Cherokee at the side of a small diner. They went inside, found a table in the back, and sat down. A smiling waitress appeared at once, placed a menu before them, and stood with poised pencil.

They both ordered the breakfast special. The waitress disappeared into the kitchen. Maura looked around the spotless little cafe. "Small places like this often have good food. I’m starving."

"So am I."

"Tell me what you told your uncle, Carter, and what he said."

"I told him everything. He said he's heard nothing about any of this yet. I'm to try to make it in the Jeep to a Chevrolet dealership on this side of Gulfport. Malloy Chevrolet. My uncle will call ahead to the man who owns it and arrange with him to trade my Jeep for a Chevy truck, value for value. I'll feel a lot better when that's done. Right now, I feel like the bull's eye on a target, driving the Cherokee."

The waitress brought their food. Maura began to eat at once. "Um-m. This is good. Eggs just the way I like them."

A police car pulled up outside and two officers got out. Maura saw them and dropped her fork. She motioned to Carter. He looked around in time to see the officers enter the cafe.

The waitress wiped a place at the counter and smiled. "Mornin' boys. Breakfast? Or just coffee, this morning?"

"Morning, Loretta. Just coffee. You folks hear the latest?"

"What's that?"

"A scientist from Norwich University has disappeared. About the same time, a patient from Good Shepherd Hospital came up missing. Probably foul play. Someone set off a fire-scare device at the hospital."

"They disappeared together, did they?"

"Don't know. Didn't say. The newscaster just said any new developments would be broadcast as they came in."

"You had to hear that on th' news, Joe, and you a cop?"

"Well, it didn't happen here. The department hasn't been notified. I checked in just before we got out of the car."

Carter looked at Maura and saw fear leap into her eyes. "You go on ahead to the Jeep," he whispered. "I'll pay the bill. Walk past them and go out the door. I'm right behind you."

Maura got up and headed for the door. Carter laid a couple of dollar bills on the table and followed her to the front. He stopped at the counter and paid the ticket as she went outside.

"How was your breakfast?" the man behind the counter asked.

"Very good, thanks."

Carter turned toward the door. One of the officers stood up and called to him. "Hey!"

Carter froze, turned slowly, and faced the officer. The officer wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and asked, "You're not from around here, are you?"

Carter hesitated just a moment before replying. "No. We're traveling."

"Going west, are you?"

Carter nodded. "Yes."

"Well, keep an eye on that weather. We got a severe weather bulletin a little while ago. A pretty big thunder storm is rolling in from the west."

Relief surged through Carter so strong he wondered that the officer didn't feel it. "Thanks," he managed. "I appreciate that." He tried not to appear in a hurry as he stepped through the door. He got into the Jeep, drove around the building and onto the interstate.

In a shaky voice, Maura asked, "What did he want? Do you have any idea how scared I was? I thought it was all over."

"He warned me about a storm blowing in from the west. Told me to keep a watch on the weather. Relax. We'll make it."

"I hope I don't get many more scares like that."

"You're doing fine."

Carter realized he was driving too fast, and he slowed the Jeep. He certainly didn't want to be stopped by the highway patrol, but he hoped to get into Mississippi before the expected bad weather hit the area. He knew they had done nothing wrong, but they could be stopped for questioning, if for nothing else, and how would they know if they were being stopped by someone in Skylar’s pay. It was better to try to avoid detection.

A depression unlike any he had ever known suddenly overwhelmed him. Life, he thought, is a sad joke that unseen forces perpetrate on humans. He sighed loudly.

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

"Maura, there are times I feel like giving up. I work so hard, and I have such an enormous emotional investment in my work. But sometimes I stop and think, what for? Why? Why do I bother?"

"What are you . . . ? Carter, what are you saying? You feel that way because of me, don’t you?"

"God, no! Not because of you. Because of what happened to you. How could something like that happen in our society? A few people all over the world are constantly working to make a better world, while the majority of those who benefit most are crippling and killing their own kind with their filth and violence, destroying the good that’s done with their evil. When I was a kid I believed that good always triumphed over evil, but as a man I know that simply is not so. It's when we acknowledge the truth that we want to . . . to just throw up our hands and say, ‘What's the use? To hell with it’."

Maura sat back against the seat and stared at the swiftly passing scenery. "I've known that ever since my mother died. She didn't have to die, and wouldn't have died if she could’ve had medical care. We didn't even have the small amount of money that would have saved her life, yet our neighbors across the street had plenty of money. None of them worked, but they always had plenty of money."

"Right. That's what it has come to. I'm sorry, honey."

"But Carter, we have to go on, doing what we have to do, because that's the only hope of survival we have. You can't quit what you do without giving up your life. Maybe someday it will matter and things will right themselves."

"I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I don't know if you can understand this or not, but what happened to you affects me just as if it happened to me. It tore the heart out of me, but that's no excuse for my attitude. I should be comforting you rather than you comforting me. Since I met you and fell in love with you, I don't feel like a separate entity anymore. I'm so completely united with you that I can't seem to think of you, or me, but only we."

"That's all the comfort I need, Carter. And I do understand, because I feel the same way."

"We'll make it, honey. Together, we'll make it.

CHAPTER 9

As Carter and Maura drove through Alabama, wind-driven clouds obscured the sun, giving the Kudzu vine-covered trees and fences a fairytale enchantment. Thirty miles east of Gulfport, Mississippi they ran into the outer fringes of the storm. Dark menacing clouds rolled in. Hanging protuberances indicated a severe thunderstorm approaching. The wind rose in sudden fierce gusts. A heavy downpour followed. Thunder boomed and crashed, and dangerous flashes of lightning sent bright jagged streaks toward the earth, briefly illuminating the roadway.

Carter switched his wipers to high and pushed the defrost lever to clear the quickly clouding glass. Visibility was so poor he braked to a near stop, as did other drivers. Traffic barely moved. Rain came down in torrents, quickly covering the pavement with a solid sheet of water, obliterating the sides of the highway. A timid driver pulled his car out of traffic onto the shoulder of the road and slid into a ditch.

"Can you see, Carter?" Maura asked. "I can't."

"I can't see anything but a sheet of water. It's a weird feeling driving blindly along, but

I'm keeping my eye on that truck ahead. If he goes off the pavement, I'll stop right on the highway until I can see where the pavement ends and the shoulder begins."

The eighteen wheeler in front slowed to a crawl. After twenty minutes of silence, with Carter’s attention riveted on the truck, the rain began to slacken. The horizon disappeared as night quickly fell. The darkness made visibility even more obscure. Bright headlights behind them blinded Carter. He adjusted his rearview mirror to cut the glare and cursed under his breath. "That damn fool behind me won't dim his lights."

"What happened to the truck in front of us?"

"I don't know. I guess he picked up speed and is too far ahead for us to see his taillights. I've been busy watching that jackass behind me. He's making me nervous."

Carter hadn't realized it, but he had picked up speed also. He slowed the Cherokee and was relieved to see the car behind him swerve out to pass.

"He made it." Maura said. She looked behind them and cried, "Carter! There's a huge truck coming up too fast and too close behind us! What's wrong with these people? They can't see any better than we can in this weather."

Before Carter could react, the big truck veered alongside to pass and clipped the Jeep. Carter fought to maintain control of his vehicle. The rig's brakes squealed, and the truck swerved in front of him to avoid an oncoming car. Trying to keep from plowing into the back of the Semi, Carter fought to keep control of the Jeep.

Maura screamed, "Carter! A bridge! We're going to hit the bridge support!"

Carter jerked the steering wheel to the left and missed the concrete abutment by inches. The Jeep careened into the wrong lane and oncoming car lights warned of an impending crash. Carter took a chance and pulled off the road onto the shoulder. He stopped the Jeep and watched wide- eyed as the driver of the oncoming car hit his brake and went into a skid. The car straightened just before running off the pavement into the Cherokee, and Maura grabbed Carter and rested her head on his shoulder, too frightened to speak.

Carter blew out his breath and eased the Jeep back onto the pavement and over to the proper lane. "Sorry, honey."

The storm passed over. The cloud mass stirred in a sudden gust of wind, and scudded across the dark sky, opening up a path for the pale emerging moon. The now ghostly-lit landscape looked like something out of a science fiction movie to Maura as she tried to calm her raw nerves.

When had the rain stopped, she wondered. Her stomach rebelled and she fought the overwhelming urge to cry. Not a single car had passed since the near accident. Maura kept her eyes on the hypnotic moonlit ribbon of asphalt. Twin haloes of light appeared from afar and she tensed.

"It’s okay," he assured her. "I can see better now, and everything’s under control."

She nodded, feeling weak and light-headed, trying to keep her senses about her but too tired to care.

By the time they reached the Chevrolet Agency, they could actually see the roadbed in places. Carter drove the Jeep into the flooded car lot and to the building that housed the Malloy offices. Malloy himself handled the transfer. He was obviously a good friend of Carter’s uncle, Judge Carleton. Everything went smoothly and quickly, and Malloy helped Carter take their personal items from the Jeep to the truck.

"If I need anything more," he said to Carter, "I'll call the judge. Have a safe trip. Looks like the weather might clear up some now."

* * *

They entered the city limits of New Orleans and Carter said, "The judge asked me to call again as soon as we got to New Orleans. I'll find a motel and call him."

"The judge?"

"Didn't I mention that my uncle is Judge Wesley Carleton, a federal judge?"

"Not that I recall." She pointed up ahead. That looks like a nice motel. Can we stop there? I'm really beat."

Carter drove in and stopped the truck at the office.

"What name will you register, Carter? It might be nice if I know that."

"Mr. and Mrs. Adam Carleton." He went in and registered.

He soon returned to the truck, drove around an in-ground pool area and found their room. After settling in, Maura went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

"I'll make my call, Maura, then join you in there."

"You can wash my back." She stripped and stepped under the shower. Why did she still feel dirty? Not road grime dirty, but perversion dirty. She lathered, increased the flow of hot water and scrubbed her body. Her bruises were healing, but her lip still hurt. She couldn’t even remember biting through her lip after the trauma of the porno experience. Carter had warned her that her lip would carry a small scar. She could live with that. She usually healed quickly.

Carter entered the bathroom, took off his clothes, and got into the shower with Maura. He yelped and moved out of the stream of water. "Maura! What the hell are you doing? That water is scalding, and you're red as a lobster." He reached around her and adjusted the temperature.

"Honey?"

"Sorry. I feel so dirty."

"Well, soap will take care of that, no need to boil your skin off."

Soap wouldn't take care of the kind of dirty she felt, but he wouldn't understand, she thought.

"The Judge wants us to drive to a marina where his cabin cruiser is docked. I wrote down the directions." He took the washcloth, lathered it, and washed Maura's back. "We're to stay aboard the cruiser until he can do some checking and find out if the FBI has been called in on this." He kissed the back of her neck, and handed the cloth to her. "Now, me."

Maura scrubbed his back. "Carter, I need to talk to you about what happened to me."

"You told me what happened. It doesn't make any difference how I feel about you."

"I need to ask you some medical questions. Questions I was afraid to ask at the hospital."

Carter turned the shower off, held her wet body to his, then helped her from the tub. He wrapped her in a towel. Folding a towel about his waist, he followed her into the bedroom.

She sat on the edge of the bed, damp and appealing. Her bottom lip, still slightly swollen, was caught between her teeth, dimpling the freckles on her cheeks, freckles that caused him to melt with tenderness each time he noticed them.

"Maura, I think I understand. The terrible ordeal you’ve gone through has made you reluctant to have sex, or fearful of having sex. If that's what's bothering you--"

"Yes, but that isn’t what I need to know."

"What, then?"

"Since I've made myself recall everything, I find there’s a point beyond which I can't recall anything at all."

"Darling, that's what happens in cases like this. The mind tends to suppress memories too traumatic to deal with. That's what you're experiencing."

"I understand that. But what about the body?"

"You were very fortunate not to suffer severe physical injuries."

"Wouldn't I have? If four . . . huge men--"

"What are you trying to tell me, or ask me, Maura?"

"I remember clearly up to the instant the first hand reached for me. I was pushed onto my back on the floor. I felt an awful weight on me, and my legs were forced apart. These bruises on my inner thighs," she showed them to Carter, "must be from the fingers that jerked my legs apart. Yet, I have no other bruises. When I woke up and found myself in the hospital, I realized I had no pain or soreness and no bruises except these. For a while I was really confused about that. And I thought maybe I had dreamed the whole thing, after all. What I'm asking is, wouldn't I know it if four big, brutal men raped me, sodomized me, and whatever else they do when they make those porno films?"

"Of course, you would. Weren't you examined at the hospital?"

"Not that I know of. I wasn't told anything."

"That's odd. Do you want me to examine you?"

"No, Carter! I want you to tell me if it's possible I was violated the way I was made to believe I was, and not have some physical signs of having been assaulted."

"No. That's not possible. Even if no violence was used, just intercourse, four different men, one after the other would cause some vaginal discomfort. You would definitely know you'd had a lot of sex. Are you telling me you aren't sure you were raped?"

"I don't know what I'm telling you. I broke my promise not to antagonize Skylar. He made me so mad, I must have threatened him. I know I told him to leave me alone. The next thing I know, I'm on a movie set, being scared out of my mind. It would be like Skylar to stage all this to keep me in line, make me think he has a porno video of me. He knows I'd do anything to keep anyone from seeing such a thing. What I can't figure out, is why. Why would he go to so much trouble? He doesn't have any romantic feelings for me anymore, if he ever did. He certainly isn't in love with me. I don't think Skylar's capable of loving anyone."

"He's the kind of man who would do whatever necessary to keep from losing something he wants. For whatever reason, he wants you, Maura."

"I don't think it's because he wants me. He's come to think of me as his property, and he sees you as a threat. No one takes anything that belongs to Skylar Barrett. And to make it worse, he believes we have knowledge that can harm SkyBarr."

"So, you think it might have been all show, to scare you and keep you under his control?"

"Well, that's what I'm asking you, as a doctor. Wouldn't I be reluctant, just as you thought, to have sex after being gang-raped?"

"Yes. I’d certainly think so. Absolutely."

"I keep thinking it didn’t really happen, but it’s difficult for me to think about sex right now."

"Sweetheart, of course it is."

She nodded, then tears came into her eyes. "How long before--"

"God, honey, don’t worry about that. It will take time. Even if you were not raped, the trauma was real. You were handled roughly and indecently and it will take time for you to feel comfortable with the idea of sex again." He cradled her in his arms and held her to him. "It doesn’t matter how long it takes, Maura. Sex is not the only way to express love, and I love you will all the love in me."

* * *

Carter drove through New Orleans toward Jefferson. "Maura, have you ever been to New Orleans?"

"No, but I know it’s a fascinating city. I wish we could go everywhere and do everything while we're here."

"Maybe we can, later. Maybe we can spend our honeymoon here."

"That would be wonderful."

After many miles, and much map searching, Carter found Bayou Barataria and, finally, the marina. Judge Carleton was waiting for them. He shook hands with Carter warmly, then impulsively pulled him into a bear hug. "It's really good to see you. How long has it been? Ten years?"

"No excuse for that, Judge. Good to see you, too. I want you to meet Maura Sinclair, soon to be all mine in the holy state of matrimony. Honey, this fine-looking gentleman is my favorite uncle, John Wesley Carleton."

The judge laughed. "I'm his only uncle. Are you sure you know what you're getting into, young lady? This boy is always conducting experiments of one kind or another. One good thing about him, though, you'll know where to find him--in a lab somewhere."

The water was rough. Gun-metal gray waves lashed the pier and sprayed water upward in a white foamy mist. The wind, still gusting in the aftermath of the storm, whipped the water into a fury. Shore birds flew, soaring and dipping, their shrill cries piercing the damp misty air. A pale sun peeped through the cloud cover.

Judge Carleton noticed Maura's concerned look and said, "If the weather gets too rough, you'll have to come ashore, but it seems to be clearing up a bit."

Maura was favorably impressed by the large, smiling man. He gestured toward the beautiful sleek cabin cruiser which bore the legend, CAROLYN, in large gold letters on her bow.

"I named her for Carter's mother, my only sister, Carolyn Carleton Boyd."

"Not your wife?"

He led them aboard the CAROLYN. "I'm not married. I'm too focused on myself for any woman to become seriously interested in me. I'm married to my work. The CAROLYN is my true love. Carter, I want you and Maura to remain aboard until I do some checking and find out what's what. I have a close friend, an FBI agent who’s in a high position within the Bureau. He knows everything worth knowing. Even if there have been no charges filed, or accusations made, he’ll know about your disappearance. I can't advise you until I know more about it."

"How long have you known this man, Judge? Are you sure you can trust him? Maura and I are in serious trouble. If Skylar Barrett locates us, we believe he'll have us executed, or try to."

"I trust my friend completely. No need to worry about that."

"Thanks. I'd like to know what's happening, if anything."

They entered the lounge. The judge waved them to a sofa and went to a wet bar. "Make yourselves at home. I'll mix the drinks. What would you like, Maura?" He stared at her swollen lip.

"A daiquiri, thank you."

Carter raised his brows. "Do you ever drink the same drink twice?"

"Probably not. I keep hoping to find one I like."

"A Daiquiri coming up. Carter?"

"Scotch and water."

The judge brought the drinks to them, then settled down in an overstuffed chair with his Jack Daniels on the rocks. He continued to gaze at Maura’s swollen lip. "Carter, did you bite her?"

"What? Did I bite . . . no. Of course not, she had a little accident."

"He did bite me, Judge."

"Maura!"

She and the judge laughed.

The judge took a swallow of his drink. "I have to ask this, Carter. Have you heard from your father?"

Maura saw Carter's startled look, the sudden emotion clouding his eyes. She was startled also. Hadn’t he told her his father died when he was twelve? No, not actually. He’d said he ‘lost’ his father when he was twelve.

Carter took a drink of his scotch and answered quietly, "No. I had almost forgotten such a person existed. I don't expect to hear from him."

"You hold him responsible for your mother's suicide, don't you?"

Maura's quick intake of breath was her only indication she had not known that.

"Not entirely. Amy's death was partly responsible. My mother never got over losing her only daughter, just as I never got over losing my only sister."

"I hold him responsible. Completely responsible. Carolyn could've coped with little Amy's death, just as she’d coped with the child's cancer, if he had been there to support her in her grief. If he had not run away with that . . .that woman!"

Maura leaned back and shifted her position on the sofa. She was an outsider caught by circumstances in family secrets. She lowered her head, fixed her gaze on her drink, and sat in rigid, uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry, Maura," the judge said. "Since you are to become a member of this very small family, this discussion includes you. If he hasn’t yet, Carter will tell you all about this in time."

She nodded self-consciously.

The judge caught Carter's gaze and held it. "I think I might know where he is. Over the years I've had a number of private investigators looking for him. As a last resort, I asked my FBI friend to try to locate him. Through Interpol, we received photographs of a man believed to be James Claude Boyd, in Sumatra. I can't identify him from the photos. I saw him only a few times, years ago. But you might be able to, Carter."

Carter frowned his distress. "Why do you want to find him? What good will it do you, or me, or--"

"Or Carolyn? None, of course. I just want to look into the eyes of a man who was, most of his life, a decent productive citizen. A man blessed with a beautiful loving wife, a handsome, gifted son, an angel daughter, and a brother-in-law who respected and admired him. I want him to explain to me what happened to him. What happened to make him desert his family, his precious little girl struck down with cancer and not yet buried, then disappear with a woman of doubtful virtue who wasn't even pretty. Don't you want to know why?"

"No. I don't want to know why. How could knowing why make a difference?"

"Then you do hold him to blame."

"Not for my mother's death. I hold him to blame for deserting us, for deserting her, when she needed him most."

"Will you look at the photo's while you're here and tell me if you recognize him?"

"If that's what you want. Just remember, I don't want him back in my life."

"I'll remember. Come with me and I'll show you your sleeping quarters. You'll stay in my cabin. It's larger and more comfortable than the other accommodations. The CAROLYN is fully stocked. You'll lack nothing." He handed Carter a card. "Call me at this number if you need me. Since we're dealing with a powerful man, there's no sense in underestimating Skylar Barrett. If there is a problem, I'll come to you as quickly as possible. I'll come anyway if and when I have news for you."

Carter and Maura followed the judge up to the deck.

"Carter, I informed the security people I was making the CAROLYN available to friends of mine for a few days, so no one will question lights coming from the boat."

"Thanks." Carter shook his hand and the judge left the CAROLYN.

When Judge Carleton was out of sight, Maura put her arm around Carter's waist. They walked the deck and looked out over the broad expanse of rough water. Wind-driven waves lashed the hull of the cabin cruiser, but the sky was no longer threatening. Carter knew that Maura's dismayed look was the result of hearing what she considered to be family secrets.

"Honey," he turned her to face him. "I'm sorry about all that. In time you'll know everything there is to know about me and my family. I saw no reason to bring up such unpleasant . . . now that the judge has uncovered all our family secrets, I do owe you an explanation."

"No, you don't, Carter. I did think your dad was dead, though."

"I let you think that by saying I ‘lost' him when I was twelve years old. I did lose him. I really didn't know if he was alive or dead. He was dead to me."

She pulled his head down and kissed his lips. "I'm sorry. In a way your loss was worse than mine. You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about."

They went below and inspected the beautiful vessel. "Come to the kitchen with me, Carter. You can help make dinner. I'm hungry."

"Galley. It's called a galley, not a kitchen."

"Whatever. It sure is a nice boat."

He laughed. "Boat? Honey, don't let the judge hear you call this a boat. Yes, it's very nice." They entered the galley. Carter opened cabinets, vegetable bins, coolers and freezer. "The Judge meant it when he said the CAROLYN was stocked. What would you like, lobster, steak, shrimp, or maybe some good old Cajun crawfish?"

"How about boiled shrimp and a salad? That’s pretty quick and I’m all for something quick."

"Okay, I’ll boil the shrimp and make my special shrimp sauce," he said. You can make the salad and then butter and brown those crackers while I select the wine.."

"Carter, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I don’t like wine. Skylar constantly poured wine down me. Can you make iced tea?"

"I can, but how romantic is iced tea? Have you no ‘couth’?"

She giggled, "None at all. Underneath this polished exterior beats the heart of an ‘uncouth’.

Sorry about that."

He grabbed her and kissed her. "I love you, anyway."

* * *

Later that evening, Carter sprawled in a deck chair while Maura stood behind him playing with strands of his hair. "Carter, your hair is getting sun-streaked. I love this wheat color. If I could get this shade from a bottle, I'd bleach my hair."

"Maura, haven't you heard the saying, ‘Don't mess with Mother Nature'? Your coloring is fantastic with your dark hair and fair skin. What could be more beautiful than auburn hair that flames in the sun and the most incredible green eyes imaginable? You could never hope to improve on that. You’re perfect just the way you are."

"I have freckles, for God's sake!"

"Lord. And are they special. Each and every golden one of them. It was those freckles that caught me and hopelessly hooked me. And don't you forget it." His bare legs, muscled and brown, deeply contrasted with the vibrant white cotton shorts he wore. Both he and Maura had kicked off their sandals and were barefoot, enjoying the late evening breeze.

The weather had cooled considerably since the storm had blown through, but the humidity was high, and a heavy dampness settled over the area. The moon rose, cast a pale shimmering streak of light on the restless waves and hid at intervals behind the cloud cover. The stillness and quiet was broken only by the lapping of the water at the hull of the big vessel.

Maura bent over, kissed Carter's lips, and sighed, "I forgot for a while to be scared. Let's go below. I want you to hold me. I need you to hold me."

He got up, caught her to him and kissed her with great tenderness. "Maura, this will work out. We'll soon be free of Skylar and the threat he poses. Try not to worry, honey."

"It's hard to worry when everything is so perfect. I want it to stay this way."

"I know. I intend to concentrate on making things perfect for you, always."

Before they had a chance to leave the deck and retire, Judge Carleton hailed them and boarded the CAROLYN. Carter shook hands with him. "Have you learned anything, Judge?"

"Plenty. Let's go below."

They went to the lounge. Judge Carleton seated himself opposite Maura, while Carter sat beside her on a sofa. "Carter, did you withdraw two hundred thousand dollars from your savings account?"

"Yes."

"Why so large a sum?"

"I had no idea how long I might have to be in hiding or how much money I might need, and I didn't want to leave a paper trail with credit cards and checks."

"That transaction was reported by the bank to the IRS, informing them bank officials believed you made the withdrawal under duress. That brought the CID into it, and they are conducting an investigation. Here's what I've learned. Dr. Hartmann was questioned and told a CID agent he knew nothing except you had been under a great deal of stress of late. The agent questioned Mr. Barrett, who informed the CID man he had reason to believe the young woman who disappeared from the hospital, his fiancée, Anna Maura Sinclair, is with you against her will."

"I expected something like that. Do they think I engineered the hoax and took Maura by force?"

"I’m not sure what they think. A bank teller volunteered the information that she was certain two men came into the bank with you and you seemed disturbed."

"Good Lord! No one was with me. No wonder law enforcement officials have such a tough job. I hope you told your friend enough to get him on the right track."

"I did. Maura, the authorities can’t locate your maid. They want to talk to her."

Alarm spread through Maura like a flame through dry grass. "What do you mean they can't locate her?"

Carter removed his wallet from his back pocket. "Freda is staying with a friend. Here's a number where she can be reached. Give it to your agent friend, but tell him to be sure Skylar doesn't get his hands on it."

"Carter, my friend's name is Madison Moore. I told him about the trouble you two are involved in with SkyBarr, and he showed great interest. He's looking into it for me. He told me that Senator Wilkins, one of Mr. Barrett's long-time friends, has strong ties to the Marcello crime family based in New Orleans. The senator is already the subject of a Congressional inquiry. There are four other close friends of Skylar Barrett on an FBI list. However, there is no record of anything questionable that SkyBarr is involved in at this time. Skylar's name is of interest to the FBI only because of his association with these men whose activities are being monitored by them. Carter, we need proof."

"I know that. Maura, give the papers to him. Judge, look these over. First this coded message from Maura's foster father to her. Then, our decoded version of it. We decoded it with code tablets Harold Lyons made for Maura, Sue Ann, and himself, when the girls were just kids. They played a game with it." Carter took Maura's hand in his. "Harold was shot to death. It's a long story, but we believe he was killed on Skylar's orders. Harold discovered questionable activities going on in ARC, a secret laboratory at SkyBarr. We know these papers do not constitute proof. But from his message, we are confident there is proof, and he must have made an effort to disclose where that proof can be found. All we need is to figure out where to look."

The judge studied the documents for some time. "I need to have Agent Moore fly down and take a look at these. He will not pose a threat to you. The FBI is not officially concerned with this matter, yet, and might never be. But Agent Moore has agreed to use his influence and resources to find out what this is all about."

"Judge, Maura and I discussed it, and we'll go along with whatever you think should be done. But I want to be sure you and I do not put her in any more danger than she’s already in."

"You have my word on that, Carter."

CHAPTER 10

At the arranged time, a black Mercedes arrived at the marina. The driver opened the door. Judge Carleton stepped out. Maura watched as he walked down the long pier and approached the CAROLYN.

Carter reached for Maura's hand. They descended the deck onto the walkway and waited on the pier for the judge to reach them. The three of them went quickly to the Mercedes and got in. Dark tinted windows subdued the sunlight, giving the passing scenery a dark, moody look. No one spoke until Carter whispered to Maura, "We're going to the judge's estate in Jefferson."

A thirty-minute drive brought them to Judge Carleton's sprawling estate on Bayou Barataria. They left the car. Judge Carleton led them through a side door into a study which was equipped as an in-home office.

As they entered the room, a tall unsmiling man stood and faced them. The judge introduced him to them as FBI Agent Madison Moore. They all made themselves comfortable and Agent Moore asked for the papers he had come to see. Carter handed them to him.

"Dr. Boyd," he said, "I want to thank you and Miss Sinclair for trusting me. Whatever you're dealing with, we can do nothing without evidence of wrongdoing. These papers, I understand, prove nothing except that Harold Lyons was a clever man."

His gaze centered on Maura. His eyes revealed nothing of what he thought or felt. Without any preliminaries, and very little emotion, he said, "I regret to inform you, Miss Sinclair, your maid was found dead yesterday evening. Her wrists had been slit. The woman with whom she was living has not been located."

Maura cried out. Her face paled. She tried to get to her feet, but she fell back on the sofa. "She didn't! She wouldn't!" Maura's words came out a horrified whisper.

"Apparently there was a struggle, which suggests your maid might have been the victim of an assault, even though she died from injuries usually inflicted by one committing suicide. The authorities are looking into it."

"Skylar did this!" Maura accused. She buried her face in her hands.

"There's nothing to tie Skylar Barrett or SkyBarr to this death. Please excuse me, I need to give my full attention to these papers."

At Judge Carleton's insistence, Carter and Maura spent the night at his estate in separate bedrooms. Maura lay awake for some time, staring into the darkness, her head filled with a kaleidoscope of troubling images. Sleep finally numbed her and hurled into a chilling nightmare. Skylar appeared to her. His cobalt eyes turned as black as ebony, hard, fiery as brimstone, and imprisoned her in his gaze. She watched his lips curve into a smile. His soft voice mocked her. "You must be where you shouldn't be," it taunted.

He pulled her into his embrace. A silver ring glittered on his finger, and she shuddered. His handsome features melted into those of the fierce dark-skinned man wearing a lion's mane and tail, who threw her to the floor.

Lions roared, music played, crowds shouted, cameras clicked and the cruel lights blinded her. The monstrous naked man hovered over her. His teeth were fangs, his eyes glittering red embers. A savage snarl came from his throat and his words cut into her, slicing her into a whimpering incoherent mass of terror. "You're the Christian and I'm the lion, and I'm going to eat you alive."

From somewhere far away, she saw a woman on the floor of an amphitheater. The woman was not her. The woman was Freda. Her throat was cut and she was drowning in her own blood. Maura's eyes flew open, a scream trapped in her throat, and her heart tried to burst from her chest. Sweat dampened her pillow even though the room temperature was pleasant. It took a moment for her to remember where she was and to realize Skylar was not there, nor was the dark-skinned man. Freda was not bleeding on the floor.

Maura got out of bed, sat in a chair near floor-to-ceiling windows, and watched the dawn spread its golden-pink glow over the lovely landscape. Graceful, majestic old oaks, dripping with Spanish moss, hovered above trellises of climbing roses and fragrant yellow-blossomed jasmine. The pastel tints of fragile florals blended with the vibrant hues of border plants, from apricot to deep wine-red, to purple. The dark-green foliage of shrubs, vines and trees framed a wonderland garden, a riot of colors and shades and tints, sweet scented and dew kissed.

Her gaze caught a row of white azaleas in a corner of the garden and a chill shook her. She thought of Freda. The thought froze--and slowly melted into her subconscious. The loss she felt was too debilitating. Her paralyzed mind wouldn't allow her to dwell on it.

She forced her attention back to the view outside her window. In the center of the garden, a large water fountain gurgled and sparkled and flashed in the early morning sun, and spilled its water from a stone boy urinating into the basin. Casting her glance beyond the garden, Maura saw an aviary in the distance. Obviously, rare birds were bred and tended there. Brilliant flashes of red, green, blue, orange, and gold, flitted into view and out again, like daubs of bright paint splashed onto a giant canvas.

Beyond the bird sanctuary a manicured lawn stretched green and untrodden to the water's edge. A peacock preened and strutted on the velvet turf. Two small boats were anchored within sight of the house. Maura wondered why the CAROLYN wasn't docked there. Maybe the water was too shallow. Her pounding heart slowed its beat and she grew calm, caught up in the early morning magic of the exotic place.

She forced herself into the bathroom, showered and dressed in the shorts and pullover blouse she’d removed the night before. A knock sounded at her bedroom door. She opened it to Carter. Throwing her arms about his neck, she cried, "God, Am I glad to see you! I had an awful nightmare, Carter."

"I didn’t sleep much, either, honey. I have more bad news." His eyes reflected his anger in spite of his effort to control his emotion.

Maura's heart sank.

"Agent Moore learned about an hour ago that Thomas Jackson and his family were killed in an explosion and fire that completely destroyed his home. Skylar’s really playing rough, Maura."

"Oh, God! What will we do? Can't Agent Moore protect us?"

"He can. If we want to be surrounded night and day by a group of agents and have our lives completely under their control. I told him, and the judge, about my camp on Boggy Bayou, that I wanted to take you there where I hope to keep you safe until evidence can be found to help us. They agreed, but suggested I not drive there. Apparently Skylar has persuaded the Georgia authorities to issue an APB on us, and the Louisiana State Police have been alerted to be on the lookout for us."

He drew a deep breath of air into his lungs. "They found the Cherokee in Gulfport after that cop in the diner remembered seeing us in Alabama. They knew, once they located the Jeep, we were headed in this direction, and they know I'm driving the Chevrolet truck."

"How will we get to the camp?"

"Aboard the CAROLYN. The judge says he doesn't expect any problem from the Coast Guard."

Maura covered her face with her hands.

"Honey, don't--"

"I'm all right, Carter."

* * *

The judge’s driver brought the Mercedes around and drove them to the marina where the judge, Agent Moore, Carter and Maura boarded the CAROLYN and joined the pilot already aboard. Fog hung over the water.

Carter drew a rough map showing the judge where his camp was located. After a course was charted, the map was destroyed. Judge Carleton stood beside the pilot as the boat headed out into Barataria Bay, toward the Gulf of Mexico. Agent Moore cautioned Carter and Maura to remain below until they were well into the Gulf. He joined the judge on the bridge.

Carter poured himself a scotch and water. "Want something to drink, honey?"

"Yes, I'm nervous. Make me one of those."

"Scotch and water?"

"It can't be any worse than the other stuff I've consumed for the sake of being sociable."

He laughed. "You don't have to have a drink at all, Maura."

"I know. I want one."

He mixed her a scotch and water, brought the drinks and sat at a game table with her.

Maura took a sip. "This isn't so bad. Actually, it’s good."

"Maybe you haven't found a drink you like because you always drink sweet drinks."

"That might be it."

Carter removed a white envelope from his pocket and emptied it on the table.

"What are those? Are those the photographs the judge asked you to look at?"

"Yes."

"Well, aren't you going to look at them?"

"I did look at them."

"Is it your dad?"

Carter drank his drink. Maura stared at him until he picked up the photos and shuffled them as he would a deck of cards. He laid them face up on the table.

"Is that your dad, Carter?"

"Yes." He averted his eyes from hers.

"Carter I'd have to be a real dummy not to see how badly you're affected by this. You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to. Put the pictures away and we'll listen to music, or dance, or something, to pass the time. I wish we could go on deck."

"Can't. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hurt by seeing these photos. I hoped while my mother was alive he would come home and her life would be good again. When she killed herself that hope died. I hated him, and I buried him with her. To me, he is dead."

"No, he isn't. If he were you wouldn't be so hurt. You haven't gotten over his desertion, and you haven't buried him. You need to deal with the hate before you can get over the hurt. Please don't let that hate into your life."

He picked up the photos.

"Have you told the judge the man in the photos is your dad?"

"Yes. Let's forget about it. I'll put on some good dance music and hold you."

The judge called, "Carter! I'd like you to come up now."

Carter and Maura went up on deck. "Carter", the judge said, "we've entered Boggy Bayou and I think I see the trading post." He pointed. "Is that it over there?"

Carter shaded his eyes with this hand and squinted. "That's it. You can dock there, judge, the water is deep enough. I don't know how deep it is farther up into the bayou."

"No reason for me to go on into the bayou, is there?"

"No. I need to buy supplies. Pete DuBach will take us across to my camp in his boat, or have one of his boys take us. I have a boat at the camp."

Agent Moore walked over with their suitcases. The pilot cut the power and guided the CAROLYN in.

The judge handed Carter a small black case. "Carter, this is a cellular phone. Take it with you. If you have an emergency of any kind, call me. I can get here quickly by helicopter, if necessary."

"Thanks. I hope we won't have an emergency. I don't know how long Maura will be able to take this kind of isolation. Agent Moore, you do plan to look into Harold's charges, don’t you?"

"Absolutely. I'll keep Wes informed, and he can get in touch with you if we discover anything helpful."

The judge looked uneasily to the southwest. "I don't like the look of that sky. I've not heard any warnings, but I think we'd better get the CAROLYN back in before nightfall, just in case bad weather does move on in. I wanted to see your camp, Carter, but I'll have to make it another time."

Carter shook hands with the judge. "I understand. Thanks for everything, Uncle Wes."

The judge's smile twinkled his gray eyes. "No thanks needed, son."

Maura noticed the judge had Carter's soft beautiful eyes.

Carter took the luggage from Madison Moore and shook hands with him. "My thanks to you too, sir."

The FBI agent nodded. "Take care, Dr. Boyd. I'll be working on this. You two keep thinking of some way we might get proof to back up Harold Lyon's allegations."

"We'll do that."

Carter and Maura left the boat and went ashore. They stood on the dock, watching and waving as the CAROLYN headed back into the Gulf. They turned toward DuBach's.

Maura’s gaze took in a large, rambling old wooden building attached to a second building, partially built out over the water. Bald-cypress trees, their broad trunks firmly anchored in the water, clothed in nothing but silver strands of moss, stood like ghostly sentinels around the trading post. For the first time, she became aware of the swamp sounds, a constant eerie cadence that crawled up her spine with tentacled fingers.

A huge sign framed the front of the building announcing the trading post:

DUBACH'S TRADING POST

MARCHANDISES SECHES - BUY, SELL, TRADE

PETE DUBACH, PROP.

The attached building sported an ornamental sign depicting dancing couples, bottles, musical instruments, and cards, all in gold and black paint with the legend:

THE GOLDEN MOON FAIS-DODO.

LAISSEZ LE BON TEMPS ROULEZ!

Maura's glance swept the area, taking in a dozen or so boats at the dock. Trappers, shrimpers, farmers, and off-shore oil workers congregated--talking, spitting, gesturing and laughing.

Carter led her up onto the long porch and greeted four men seated around a table playing bourrée. They nodded to him and looked solemnly at Maura.

On the screened porch of the attached Golden Moon Club, several women sat fanning themselves and drinking beer. The sound of fiddle and accordion playing zydeco music reached Maura's ears, and dimly, the sound of stomping feet.

One of the women stood and called. "Mon Dieu! Is that Carter Boyd my eyes are looking at? Comment ça va?"

He waved, "Oui, c'est moi. Hello Ruthie Lee. Good to see you again."

All activity came to a halt and many eyes studied the newcomers. "Hah," the woman said loudly. "You come around, now, you hear? Brang that purty woman with you. I teach you some

good ole swamp cures for to make you throw away you doctor stuff."

"I'll do that soon, Ruthie Lee."

Carter, with Maura close beside him, entered the large store. Merchandise took up almost every inch of space--on shelves, in barrels, crates, buckets on the floor, and hanging from the walls and the ceiling. The interior of the room was dark and cavernous-looking. Be careful where you step," Carter whispered.

A heavyset man with brown leathery skin and piercing blue eyes, pushed his way through several customers, and hurried to them. "Mon ami!" he called. "Awrite! You decide to come again for a time among us, no?"

Before Carter could do much more than smile and offer his hand, Pete DuBach slapped him smartly on the back. Whack! He looked at Maura. "You brang you woman this time, eh? Allo, pretty lady. Si-mohn! I tell you, I got me a little one since you be gone, believe you me. Une bébé chétit. She purty as a dew-kissed water lily. I let you both set you eyes on her when

her maman brang her home from her cou-san's."

"That's great news, Pete. How many does that make, now? This baby girl makes seven, oui?"

"Who-ee," Pete laughed. "Mais non. You forget them deux we got just ‘fore you left us last time. I got nine little swamp rats now, me."

Maura’s eyes opened wide. "Nine?"

Carter laughed at Maura’s horrified expression. "Pete," he said, "I need to put in some supplies over at the camp. Il y a bien des choses que j'ai besoin. And I'll need someone to take us over there later. Do you mind?"

"Pas une miette. What I tole you, my fran? When you ready, you holler, no? I take you, me."

* * *

Pete maneuvered the motorboat in and out among the cypress and Tupelo gum at a speed that caused Maura to hold her breath as the trees seemed to jump out in front of them. His skill brought the boat safely out of harm's way each time. The sun, hanging low in the western sky, shafted a bright path through the sparse naked trees that wore only tufts of foliage and gray hanging beards of Spanish Moss. It was a scene strangely sad to Maura, but peaceful and hypnotic.

Large white birds perched like huge blossoms in a water elm. Their beautiful plumage, tipped with deep black, caught Maura's attention. Pete pointed to one which spread its wings as they passed and flew overhead. He said, "Bec-croche, white ibis."

She realized he meant to teach her some of their language. A bluebird flitted from one branch to another in a flash of color, and again Pete pointed, "Oiseau bleu." Maura smiled her pleasure and repeated the words, unable to pronounce them in exactly the same way Pete did.

Carter laughed and lowered his voice, "This is how I learned the little bit of their language I know. When they take the trouble to do this, it means they like and accept you. They do expect you to learn some of their language as well as their customs."

"I can appreciate that, Carter, but shouldn’t we tell him why we're here? That we're in trouble? We aren't placing them in danger, are we?"

"Lord, I hope not." To Pete, he said, "Pete, Maura and I are . . . have had the malchance. We came here to get away from people who want to harm us in order to protect their illegal activities. Uh ... Il y a . . . du micmac . . . dans cette affaire."

"Ah! No worry, padnat. I tell everbody. No stranger bother you here. We you frans."

"I know that. And I thank God for that."

Carter squeezed Maura's hand. "He understands."

As they came in sight of Carter's camp, Pete called and waved to an old man, cigarette dangling from his leathery lips, lifting a full net of fish into his boat from the murky water. Maura thought the man, thin and wiry, was too old to be on the water, fishing alone.

The motorboat put in to shore. Pete jumped out and pulled the boat partially up on the bank. Carter helped Maura out. They waded through mud.

"There's a pier farther down, Maura, but this is the closest spot to the house, and we have a lot of supplies to carry in."

"I'm glad to hear that. I'd hate to have to slosh through mud every time we get in or out of a boat."

Pete climbed back in, lifted box after box to Carter who placed them on the ground. When all the supplies were unloaded, Pete leaped out again and helped carry everything to the house.

Maura's first view of the camp was a large weathered log structure surrounded by a world of wild flowers and vines and lofty shade trees. A clematis vine, smothered with fragrance, crawled up into a sycamore, reached over to the side of the cabin, and splashed it with a cloud of white blossoms. The sweet rare notes of a songbird drew Maura's attention to the most vividly colored bird she’d ever seen. She was entranced by its blue crown, green back and wings, and brilliant red breast. "Pete, what kind of bird is that?"

"He pape. Some call him ‘pope’ bird, put him in cage for him to sing. But he no sing in cage. He sing in mulberry tree. You hear how he sing so purty in that tree? He like the mûre d'arbre and he sing his merci beaucoup."

Carter had told Maura earlier that the house had been built in 1890. Native fieldstone piers held it off the ground. A massive stone chimney hugged the thick square logs. Front and back galleries extended the width of the house. The original "dog trot" had long been enclosed, and a back stairway to the attic had been added. She knew the property was kept up by a couple named Broussard. The house looked lived in and comfortable.

After getting everything inside, Carter and Maura walked back to the boat with Pete to thank him and say good-bye. His reply, as always was, "Pas une miette," which Maura quickly learned, meant, "It's nothing".

The setting sun's crimson rays filtered into the spacious kitchen through netting which hung as curtains over the windows, spread a deep flush over the linoleum-covered floorboards, and streaked the walls. "I love this place, Carter. I really love it. It's so beautiful here, but--"

"But what?"

"It's a little frightening to someone who's only experience with nature has been picnicking, swimming at a man-made lake, and visiting a zoo."

"You'll get used to it. I've always loved it here."

"I was amazed to learn you could speak French."

He laughed. "I can't speak French. I speak a little--very little--Cajun French. You'll be surprised how quickly you'll pick up on it. Just like today, with Pete. Most Cajuns speak

English, except for some of the old ones; but, even the most proficient English-speaking Cajun will throw in a little Cajun French from time to time to keep it from dying out. These people aren't just fishermen and farmers and shrimpers. Some leave here to study medicine or law or academics. They become doctors and attorneys and professors. Sooner or later, most of them return, but it isn't the same. They build big houses on the bayous and rivers and on the Gulf, and although their souls are still Cajun, they're not like those who remain and continue the old ways."

"Thank you, professor, for the Cajun history lesson."

He grinned at her. "Of course, any time."

The hour grew late. They were both tired. Maura made sandwiches while Carter got a pitcher of beer, napkins, and two mugs. They went out on the back porch and sat on the steps to eat.

Darkness came suddenly, an eerie moon-washed darkness in which every imaginable shape loomed up ominously. The night was filled with the croaking of frogs, the cleek, cleek, cleek of the black necked stilt, the zi-zi, zi-zi of cicadas, the choc, choc of the crow blackbirds, and the many other night songs of various wild creatures.

A distant drum beat lent its eerie but soothing pulse to the other sounds of the swamp. "Carter, do you hear drums?"

"Yes. No other drum can make that sound. It is the bamboula, a drum the Cajuns make from bamboo."

A sudden thunderous roar sounded nearby and Maura spilled her beer. She grabbed Carter's arm. "My God! What was that?"

He chuckled. "A bull alligator, known to the Cadiens as caiman. Smaller ones are called cocodrie."

"Good Lord! Will he come up to the house?"

"No, not likely. He's looking for some action, but not from us."

Maura took a couple of deep breaths and held out a shaking mug. "I spilled my beer!" Carter refilled her mug and she soon forgot about the alligator. "Carter, this beer is great. I think I've finally found a drink I like. What kind is it?"

"It's called biere creole. Pete makes it. I love it."

"It is good! It isn't sweet exactly, but it isn't bitter either, like most beer."

"Don't drink too much of it or you'll think you've been run over by a bushhog. Do you know, Pete DuBach has a Coca-Cola drink machine at the Golden Moon Club that dispenses beer?"

"I bet the coke people don't know that."

Carter laughed. "I doubt it would make any difference. They sell Coke, too."

A great Cajun curse split the night air and assaulted their ears, "Who you are, eh? What you do here? Speak up before I come shoot you dead! I gar-ron-tee! You hear what I done said? Come on out from there, you!"

Maura's mouth dropped open. She moved closer to Carter who choked down a bit of sandwich before his laughter chased the alarmed look from her face.

"It's okay, honey. It's Joe Broussard. I forgot to let him know I was here." He stood up and shouted, "Joe! Joe Broussard, c'est moi, Carter. Come on around back."

A gruff-looking, black-bearded giant of a man came around the side of the house holding a shotgun. "Si-mohn! Why you no tole Joe you come home? Eh?"

"Sorry, Joe. We just got here. I intended to walk over in the morning and tell you."

"I see lights in the house and I thank some betasse done gone an' broke in. Good to see you, my fran."

Carter shook hands with Joe and introduced Maura to him.

"Ah," he said, kissing his fingertips, "etre en amour."

A strange looking animal emerged from the shadows and looked at Maura with one blue and one brown eye, both shining like glass.

She giggled, "Is that one of those Catahoula Cur dogs I've heard so much about?"

"The same," Joe said proudly. "The best damn dawg in the whole damn world! Believe you, me. And this one, c'est une pichouette--is the best of the best."

"What's her name?"

"Bébé Broussard, what else?"

Maura laughed with delight.

"Sit awhile, Joe. Have a beer and a sandwich." Carter invited.

"No sandwich. A beer, merci." To Maura, Joe said, "Tomorrow, sur le naut du jour, my woman Belle, she come to make your acquaintance, no? She brang you good Cadien food, eh? You not eat sandwiches no more, I bet. She come tomorrow, I gar-ron-tee."

CHAPTER 11

The next morning, Belle, hands full, came up the front steps and called, C'est moi, Belle Broussard!"

Maura opened the screen door. "Come in, Belle. I'm Maura."

"Oui, allo. My ole man tole me. I brang you Jambalaya, les oreilles des cochon--that's pig's ears to you, ma cherie--and the gris-gris."

Maura knew what Jambalaya was. Pig's ears, she questioned. And gri-gri escaped her completely.

Carter appeared in the doorway which led from the wide center hall into the kitchen. "Come on back here to the kitchen, Belle."

When the two women reached him, he took the pot of Jambalaya and the tray of pig's ears from Belle." This stuff smells great, merci beaucoup."

"Mais oui, I make the good Cadien food, me. You remember, no?"

"I remember." Carter uncovered a dozen delectable pastries, dribbled with thick dark syrup, and covered with pecans. "Maura, look at these. These are called pig's ears'. Belle makes the best ever made."

Belle Broussard's large ebony eyes sparkled, and her generous breast heaved with the compliment. "You man, he like my cookin'," she said to Maura.

Maura tasted one of the pastries. "No wonder! These are delicious!"

"What gris-gris did you bring?" Carter asked.

Maura frowned slightly. "What's a gri-gri?"

"A charm to ward off evil." Carter told her and winked.

"DuBach, he tole my Joe and me, you have betasse that make you scared," Belle explained.

"I brang you gris-gris to keep you safe." She gave Carter a small flat shell that shone with a green

radiance. "This is special shell. It make the strong voudou, to turn the evil you enemy plot, back upon him. You must keep it on you person all the time.

"An' you," She sat Maura in a chair. "We put this on you ankle and it protect you." She held up an old, very thin dime with a hole in it attached to braided wires formed into a cuff.

Maura's glance darted to Carter as Belle placed the coin cuff on her ankle. Belle said softly,

"I go home an' make the cassine for you. Then you will see what you must see."

"Now, Belle," Carter chided her good naturedly, "Ruthie Lee once told me about the black drink. She told me she's the only Cadien who knows about that drink, and none know how to brew it."

Belle's dark eyes narrowed and glittered like black marble. "Hah!" She expelled her breath harshly. "What do Ruthie Lee know? She have but little ju-ju. Mostly she have bien des

chimeres, no? Ole Mama Betu's people come from the Kuba tribe of Zaire, the Luluwa, she give Belle the leaves, and say how to make the black tea. Her people once made and drank the black drink and danced the black dance and made the black voudou. I know what I do, mon ami. Not for others, but for you, my fran, I do."

"I've not of heard of Mama Betu. I thought Ruthie Lee was the local traiture."

"Mais Jamais! Pas du tout! Never! Mama Betu has the potent magic. Elle est une voudou. Tres bon! Her plants and potions cure the swamp fever, and the rheumatis, and the lung

sickness. Everything she touch get well. Even the land. She have plant that make the dead land green again. Mama Betu will give us--"

"Belle, will you take us to visit Mama Betu? I want her to show me her cures and tell me about them. I'm not sure I understand what you mean by a plant that cures dead swamp land

and turns it green again. But, I want to see it."

"Mais oui, I take you. Tomorrow, in the early morning time, I take you."

* * *

Jeff Henderson's gravely voice sounded loud, even to him. "Yes, sir, Mr. Barrett. I'll be right in." He ran his thick fingers through his unruly brown hair and straightened his tie. He glared at the wrinkles in his five hundred dollar jacket and scowled. He always looked like he had slept in his clothes. He wondered why he couldn't look neat like other guys. He had finally decided it must be his shape. He was barrel-chested and slender-assed.

He caught his image in a corridor wall mirror and stared at deep set yellow eyes beneath the heavy brows. Dark whiskers were noticeable beneath the tan of his face. He could shave twice a day and still look like he needed a shave. His large nose, square chin and droopy right eye made him look mean. That was okay. He figured it saved him a lot of misery. Most guys didn't want to mess with him too much. As a kid, his nickname had been Bear.

Henderson knocked twice and opened the door of Skylar's office suite. Standing stiff-legged, he waited for his boss to acknowledge his presence.

"Henderson, I assume you recall our conversation yesterday?"

"Sure do. Are you ready for me to take care of that matter for you?"

"Yes. Make sure you remove the ring from Russell's finger. Bring it to me. He was a fool to take that ring, and a bigger fool to wear it in public, not knowing its significance. I don't tolerate fools in my organization. Make it look like a suicide."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Barrett. Consider it done."

"I expect a great deal of media attention because he's a law enforcement officer. Make it bad enough, so that when his body is found, the department will want to cover it up. Have Lowell dub him into several of the porno videos and leave them near the body. Also, leave kiddie-porn photos around."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't like what's happening, Henderson. One of my people in the FBI informs me his superior has made at least two trips to New Orleans to visit a Federal Judge there, and is now in the process of investigating some of my friends. As soon as you've taken care of this assignment, take Rollings with you and drive down there. That’s probably where Dr. Boyd has taken Maura. I want them found. Take care of him and bring Maura to me."

Henderson took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his mouth. "Mr. Barrett, Russell isn't our only problem at the moment. I don't like Eric Moran. I don't like cops, period, especially SWAT cops, but that's beside the point. Eric is getting . . . irresponsible. He's shot off his mouth twice in my hearing, complaining about having been ordered to go beyond the bounds of his assignment, targeting those people on campus after he took care of Lyons. He's whining you only paid him for Lyons, and he figures you owe him. He says he wants what's coming to him so he can leave the country."

Skylar stood, leaned over his desk toward his security officer and bodyguard. His glittering eyes were the only indication of his anger. "How long has this been going on?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

"A couple of weeks."

"Too long. Give him what's coming to him. Take him with you and lose him in one of those Louisiana swamps."

Henderson smiled and nodded. Skylar noticed the peculiar way Henderson's yellow eyes darkened perceptibly and his droopy right eye almost closed when he was contemplating violence against another human. He knew his henchman had a sadistic streak and considered that a valuable asset, as long as he, himself, controlled it. He had hand-picked these men, who were at his disposal for just such unpleasant tasks.

Skylar turned his attention to a stack of papers on his desk, dismissing Henderson.

* * *

Maura awoke and gazed out the bedroom window. A tall slender bush grew against the side of the house, framed in the window like a delicate drawing. Its small lacy leaves fluttered

and moved continuously, even though there seemed to be not a breath of air. She watched its performance with fascination. Belle called it calenda--the dancing bush.

This was the time of day Maura loved most about the bayou. Dawn was breaking. The foliage of the trees, bushes, and other plants still loomed black to the eye, but the early morning

twilight cut through the wood, casting a pale golden glow so bewitching she caught herself holding her breath as she viewed it. A profound peace settled over her.

Faint bird calls sounded from afar and were answered nearby, but the teeming nightlife sounds were stilled for a short while, and the singing silence settled over her like a soft breeze.

She hugged Carter, filled with a contentment and love she had not known possible. She lay still, enjoying the enchanting quiet time, until the dawn chased the night completely away, and

reality like a weight came crashing down on her again, with its fears and dreads and apprehensions.

* * *

"Viens avec moi," Belle said. "Come with me."

Carter and Maura followed Belle through thick, tangled Cherokee rose hedges that grew rampantly on the south side of Carter's property, providing windbreaks. When they reached the marshes, they got into Belle's pirogue with her, and set out to visit Mama Betu.

They followed a groove cut through the marshland especially for bateaux--boats. Pussy willows with their flat-capped buds, pogonia--orchid flowers--spider lilies, growing in the bogs along the shores, splashed their beauty and fragrance along the large treeless marsh tract.

A tangled carpet of green leaves and blossoms parted at intervals to reveal the water, shattering the illusion that they were boating on a vast meadow of bulrushes, cattails, reeds, and

water plants.

Belle gestured with a wide sweep of her arm. "Where the bayou spills into the marshland is where the cocodrie breeds. But out here at the edge of the bayou is where les petits think

the loup-garou--the werewolf--roams.

Maura shuddered and giggled, bringing a chuckle from Carter. "I'll protect you, honey," he said in an exaggeratedly deep voice.

Belle cut her eyes around and set her gaze solidly on Carter. "Some things best left unsaid," she muttered darkly. "Le Bon Dieu can only protect against such things." She spat into the water, crossed herself, and mumbled, "Une, deux, trois. I count for you half the nombre of Diable. You must count the other half."

Glancing at Maura, Carter lifted his brows and smiled, but an indefinable foreboding pricked her. She frowned and jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. He finished the count to six to

placate her.

Carter had insisted Belle take him to see the old black woman ever since he first heard about her. He couldn't hide his excitement. He knew many modern medical discoveries had come from just such raw sources. He wanted to acquire samples of the old woman's magic potions. He was especially interested in the plant Belle had been so excited about.

Carter looked around the vast area and felt a momentary chill of alarm. From any direction, it looked the same. There was nothing to distinguish one point from another. "I sure hope you know your way around in this marsh, Belle," he said, only half joking. "I'm lost as a goose. If one of those cocodrie or loup garou things get you, Maura and I will be cursed to roam forever, lost in this place."

Belle turned her black eyes on him and muttered. "Not to joke Si-mohn. I know how to get in and out of here. But it is for you to remember, out here is the place of the amé. It do you well to pray nothing bad happen to Belle. Hear you that?"

The pirogue entered an area of oppressive heaviness. "God," Carter struggled for breath, "the humidity gets really bad the farther we get into this marsh."

"Not humidity, Si-mohn Boyd," Belle corrected him. "We are come to Mama Betu's land. It is her amé you feel."

"Amé?" Maura asked.

"Presence," Carter answered.

"Spirit," Belle said. "You feel it when you get near, and you know her power surrounds you."

Maura looked in the direction Belle pointed and saw they were coming to the far end of the bayou. "Beyond this point," Belle explained, "is no one but Mama Betu. This is her land."

The marsh opened up into the bayou again, and trees began to appear. The scenery changed dramatically from a primitive Eden to a primitive wasteland. Trees and vegetation were black and decaying. The stench of rot and mildew hung heavy in the hot air, stinging their noses. Even the birds, perched in the trees, were black against the dead limbs. All that the eye could see

was gray and black, a vast dead zone.

They came to shore and got out of the boat. A small thatched hut, a boucaniere, and several other out-buildings dotted the clearing. Chickens cackled and scratched and searched in the black dirt.

A large striped cat, lying near the opened doorway, eyed them with its good eye. The other eye stared blindly, and Maura felt a deep sense of pity for the animal.

Coming from behind the hut, an ancient Negro woman appeared. Older, Maura had been told, than the trees from which she strung her herbs and plants to dry in the sun. Her skin was so black that the whites of her eyes and her astonishing white teeth were dazzling.

She wore a flaming-red cotton skirt and a bright yellow blouse. She was barefoot. Her thin hair hung in long gray strands from her scalp, not unlike the moss hanging from the bare tree limbs.

No one knew her actual age. She, herself, claimed to be one hundred and twenty-seven years old. She was still agile and spry and had all her own teeth. Her ebony skin was as wrinkled as a

prune, but her strange colorless eyes gleamed like live coals and missed nothing. It was said she could see in the dark as well as any nocturnal creature.

Mama Betu came at once to greet her visitors. Learning Carter was a traiture, she immediately latched onto him. She took him by the arm and showed him all her curatives.

Some she cultivated, she told him, and others she found growing wild in the swamp.

Carter quickly learned she could speak three languages and five dialects. She spoke English with ease, and did so with only a slight Cajun accent.

"Doctor man, I show you what Le Bon Dieu sent to this dying land to heal it. The swamp is being killed by those who spill their poisons into the water. The waters go bad and the little

creatures die, and the trees die, and the plants die, and the people die."

She looked beyond them, as though her eyes sought an unseen comfort. "The land must not die, you know. So, Le Bon Dieu makes to grow a little plant that sucks the poison from the

swamp. And someday if enough of the little plants can grow, the bayous will be made well again."

"Will you show this plant to me, Mama Betu?"

"Oui. Okay. I show you. Viens avec moi." She called to the cat. "Minou." She laughed a whisper of a laugh. "I call him minou," she said, her strange colorless eyes aglow, "but he is not a kitten. He is pichou, a wildcat."

She picked up the one-eyed cat and led Carter to an area where oil from off-shore drilling rigs spilled into the water and eventually collected there, forming a huge oily quicksand bog that stretched treacherously beyond. As they neared the bog, the cat's fur bristled. It squalled and dug its claws into the old woman's wrinkled skin. She released it. It leapt down and ran back toward the hut.

"You see," she said, looking after the departing cat, wiping a bright line of bloody drops on the tail of her skirt. "I brang him with us to show you. Even with his one eye, he sees the evil here. Minou cannot be coaxed to come near the oily bog. Too bad humans not so smart."

"Good Lord," Carter muttered in awe, "this has to be the dead-end of the world." He found himself at a loss for words, unable to express his deep aversion to what he saw.

"Come look, doctor man. Come close and see."

Carter followed Mama Betu to the black virulent mire; its chemical stench burned his nose and snatched his breath from his lungs. At first he saw nothing, until he got up to the very edge of the bog. Along its edge, fern-like plants with fronds like pale yellow wax grew in clusters. A foot or two of soil around each cluster was completely pollution-free. Tiny, very green grass shoots, and healthy small plants had pushed through the cleansed soil.

"My God! I've never seen anything like that except in studies dealing with the formation of our planet." He stooped and examined the ferns. "I'm not sure, but these look like seed-bearing ferns. Such plants have been extinct for millions of years! Are you telling me this is a new species of plant life that absorbs pollutants?"

"Oui. Yas, I tell you that."

"Incredible! Do you know what this means?" He reached to pick one of the plants. The old woman's claw hand shot out and grabbed his arm.

"No, mon! You must not take even one. You would bring despoilers in to strip them away and leave the bayou to die. These plants must make this land well again."

"I understand that. But do you understand the significance of this? Eons ago, plants like these absorbed radiation, gases, all kinds of pollution, to cleanse our newly formed earth. If this plant can absorb toxins into itself and leave the infected area poison-free, imagine what it might be able to accomplish for humanity. It could hold the secret that could bring about a cure for many of mankind's ills, since many of our ills are caused by pollutants of one kind or another."

The old woman shook her head vigorously. "No, doctor man!" The words exploded from her mouth with a vehemence that startled Carter. "The plants are too few to be used to cure the ills of those who caused the ills. They must be used only to cure the land."

"Mama Betu, you're a traiture, a healer, yourself. It surprises me to hear you say that. Are these few plants the only ones?"

"Only ones I know about. Might be others where the land is hurt as bad as here."

"You won't let me take even one with me to study? Perhaps I can learn enough about it to reproduce its properties, make a synthetic drug which will accomplish what the plant does."

"Hah! What man makes, he leave behind poisons that kill the air, and the plants, and the land. No! Only Le Bon Dieu can make."

Carter's disappointment seemed to sting the old woman. Mama Betu closed her eyes and stood thoughtful for so long a time, Carter began to pace. Finally, she relented. "What you think, doctor man? You ask how I say what I say about the land being more important than the people. What you think should be most considered? People come and go, generation after generation, tormented by the same troubles, making more troubles along the way for those who come after them. But there is only one earth. If the earth dies, all the peoples die, everything dies. What you think?"

Carter faced her. He gazed into her eyes, seeing wisdom that reached back as far as the African king Belle had said she’d descended from. Maybe, he thought, some of her knowledge was passed down to her through her tribe's Ashanti captors, who stole her ancestors and sold them to slave traders to be transported as slaves to this land. A land she now considered her own possession.

"Mama Betu, all I can think of at this moment is that I'm a scientist and I want . . . No! I need to know all I can learn about this plant."

The old woman's piercing eyes flashed and she muttered under her breath, "L'Appé vini. L'Appe vini."

"Did you say something, Mama Betu?"

"Come, doctor man, let us walk and talk, and you think about what will happen if you let him come in."

"Him? I don't understand."

"The devil. If you decide to take one of my little ones, don't tell me. Take it after I go inside and shut my door."

Maura watched Carter and the old woman walk off into the decaying marsh. She turned her attention to the thatched hut and to a black iron pot hanging over a fire. With Belle at her side, she walked toward it. "If Mama Betu is cooking her medicines in that pot, they sure do smell good."

"No," Belle said. "She cook her dinner. Swamp rat."

"Yuck! Swamp rat?"

"You turn you nose up? I tell you, the fine eating places in La Ville--New Orleans--serve the same thing, and charge the high price for it. It is gande manger - good to eat. And, the Maison Blanche sell the beautiful fur of the swamp rat in they fine store for thousands of dollar."

"Swamp rat? In New Orleans restaurants and Maison Blanche?"

"Oui." Belle laughed. "Mais oui. They call it ‘swamp chicken', in the fine eating places, but

it’s swamp rat. You not hear of the nutria?"

"Yes I have. Are you saying nutria is swamp rat?"

"The same."

"And people eat it?"

"You bet."

"Well, I might wear it, but I don't think I want to eat it."

Belle laughed. "How you been like the good food I brang you, eh?"

"Belle!"

Belle laughed again loudly. "I give you the joke. Belle brang you only the good Cadien seafood."

"So, you can make a joke, after all. Well, it wasn't funny, Belle."

"I can make many jokes, but never a joke to tempt the fate."

"Why is that beautiful red and black rooster kept in that cage? The other chickens and roosters run free."

"Ah! That is the coq-gaime, fighting cock."

"I thought game fighting had been outlawed."

"It is the big business here. Rich oil men come from Texas to see the cock fights. Mama Betu raises the best fighting cocks in the bayou country. She is the only woman to raise them. Cock fighting is the man's business, and men raise the fighting cocks."

"Why does she raise them, then?"

"She only fight her birds to get money for the emergency, like when the crops fail, or a man lose his job on the oil rig, or a family must needs to rebuild after a hurricane. She say she

must use man's vices to help him when he need help."

"She's a most unusual woman, isn't she?"

"Mama Betu is . . . well, the Cardinal say if she was Catholic, she would be made a sainte. He say she is like the Mother Teresa. I don't know Mother Teresa, so I don't know about that, but I do know she's the last of her kind. When she lay down, there won't be no more like her."

Carter and Mama Betu returned to the hut. He decided not to upset the old Negro woman by taking one of her plants. He could always come back later and get one. He was unable to concentrate on his work right now, anyway.

The hour was getting late by the time they started back home. The sun was low, and a breeze gently swayed the tall water plants and cooled the air. Long shadows crept over the swamp. The reeds and trees took on ominous shapes and the bayou's myriad sounds became dismal and frightening.

Maura took hold of Carter's arm and said in a low voice. "This is the creepiest place I've ever been. It's almost as though we've traveled back in time ten thousand years, or been transported to an alien world."

Belle nodded. "The bayous are two places. In the day, the swamp draws the sun and the bayou becomes what you call the Eden, all Gods creatures and colors come alive. In the night, it is strange and scary and becomes what you say, the forbidden . . . the forbidding place."

Carter drew Maura into his arms and whispered. "Me, Adam, you, Eve, and this is Eden."

"Ah, yeah," laughed Belle. "And who is me? Don't you say it--M'su Diable--or I throw you out of my pirogue, me."

Carter laughed loudly. "I was not going to call you Devil."

"Is it raining up ahead?" Maura asked.

"Oui, yes," Belle said. "Ça Mouillasse. A little rain is falling. The rain feel good."

* * *

The following day Maura ventured away from the cabin into the dense foliage surrounding the inland pond. She slapped at mosquitoes tormenting her, and scratched until she drew blood, knowing she would have to go back soon. She had forgotten to rub oil on her skin, as Carter had instructed her to do, before venturing out into the underbrush and tall swamp grasses.

The only thing on her mind, as she explored the immediate surroundings of the camp, was the fear of coming into contact with a snake or an alligator. She had failed to remember there were tiny predators, too.

Before long the savage beauty of the bayou country made her forget even the snakes and alligators. She came to a small inland pond. Pushing through the cattails, reeds and bulrushes, she stood on the bank admiring a tangle of water lilies, primroses, and hyacinths that created a mat of fragrance. She noticed yellow lotus plants, poised above the surface of the water like reigning monarchs. Joe Broussard called them "water chinquapins", or in the Cajun lingo, "graine-a-volée".

Maura was beginning to learn a few things. She could recognize the pink steeple bush, the purple ironwood, and the gold ragwort. All the beautiful flowers and plants dazzled her eyes with tints and hues no artist could duplicate.

Every time she dared leave the cabin, she felt as if she were in another world. All around her were the beautiful wood ducks, brown pelicans, and rare hummingbirds, called Oiseau de Fleurs, because of their ruby throats, seen only in Louisiana, she had learned.

An awesome assortment of trees locked her into this strange, beautiful, forbidding world. She remembered the names of many of them and could now identify black walnut, Osage orange, hackberry, locust, the stately magnolia, the Virginia willow, palmetto, pecan, and persimmon.

The coral tree, Belle had told her, provided leaves and roots which were made into a tea and used by the bayou people to treat pneumonia. "Not a tea for you to make, ma cherie," she warned Maura. Little girls strung its red seeds and wore them as necklaces. Maura wore such a necklace. Belle had given it to her and called it graine de mamou. She nervously fingered it. She was never completely at ease when out of sight of the camp.

Maura picked leaves from a cherry laurel and inhaled their fragrance. They smelled like almonds. She had also been warned against tasting them. They were poisonous. Her favorite was the pawpaw tree. Its fruit looked like lemons, was heady-scented, and tasted like fig bananas.

The dense shrubs delighted her eyes, crape myrtles of rose, white, lavender and purple-- evening primroses--acres of asters blooming in shades of purple, blue, violet, pink and buzzing with bees. Muscadine vines, heavy with fruit, crept up into the trees. She picked and ate some of the luscious berries, staining her lips and dribbling the purple-red juice down her chin.

A whirligig beetle, tracing unending circles in the water, fascinated Maura. A dragonfly--the Cajuns called it "mamselle"--dipped its jewel-toned wings and hovered just above the surface.

From the corner of her eye she saw a duckling disappear under the tangle of marsh grasses as a hazy shape sank beneath the green, scum-covered surface of the water where the little duck had been a moment before.

Belle had invited her for coffee, but she decided that would have to be later, after she went back to the camp and treated her mosquito bites. As she turned toward the house, a hawk swooped down and caught a water snake in its powerful talons. Minutes later, a fox crashed through the brush after a wildly fleeing small gray rabbit. At the edge of the bayou, a cotton-mouth struck and swallowed a little green frog. She shuddered and hurried her pace while a red-winged blackbird scolded her for intruding.

Death was all around her. Her delight in the magical beauty of the place had quickly turned to melancholy sadness as she witnessed the life-and-death dramas of the swamp. This was not the idyllic place she wanted it to be. She wondered how these bayou people could adapt to so violent an environment.

One moment the sun was brightly shining, showering its golden rays through tall oaks, mayhaws, cottonwoods, and gum trees that surrounded the house--and the next it was obliterated by dark clouds boiling overhead. The wind whipped leaves, dirt, and grass into a whirling- dervish all around her. She thought she had become used to the many sounds of the bayou country, hardly heard the clicking, whirring, screeching, hissing anymore, but the sound coming in with the spreading black clouds was unlike any she'd ever heard. It resonated through the swamp and was more terrifying because of its suddenness.

The trees bent and bowed under the fierce howling attacks of the wind. Some resisted and broke with resounding cracks, like magnified shotgun blasts. Marsh grass kissed the black earth in undulating waves--a sea of sun-bleached grasses.

Maura ran in great haste toward the house. Her heart pounded. Carter appeared in the doorway and held the door open for her. She ran up the steps and inside. He closed and bolted the door, took an oil lamp from a table and led Maura into the center of the great hall.

"Stay here. I'll drag a mattress in. Sometimes these storms are brief, sometimes not. We might have to sleep here."

Maura helped him with the mattress, threw herself on it, and covered her ears with her hands to shut out the ear-splitting roar of the wind as it rattled panes and screamed under the eaves.

CHAPTER 12

A deluge of rain pounded the house. Thunder boomed and crashed. Lightning slashed across the raging skies in brilliant flashes, briefly lighting their taut faces.

Maura moved into Carter's arms. Their shadows merged, cast upon the walls by the feeble glow of the lamp, and danced as the flame flickered.

Maura shouted to make herself heard over the turbulence of the storm. "It sounds as though the roof’s being torn off. Is it a hurricane?"

Carter shouted back, "No, honey, don’t worry. This house has stood on this ground for more than a century. It's weathered many such storms. They sound worse than they are." He added, under his breath, "Usually."

"I heard that."

He tightened his arms about her, felt a slight tremor run through her. "It isn't a hurricane, Maura. It's just a freak storm. It'll rip and tear and boom and then it'll pass on over."

After half an hour of frightening activity, the storm passed through the area leaving a soft pitter-pattering rain. Maura remained in Carter's arms.

"Carter?"

"What?"

"Why are deadly things always beautiful? This place is beautiful, but it’s so dangerous."

"Not as dangerous as what we left behind. With a little experience you can avoid the dangers of the bayou, but who can avoid danger that is deliberately plotted, that seeks you out and follows wherever you go?"

"I know. But a place like this . . . its dangers are so deceptive."

"Do you want to go home, Maura?"

"No. I want to learn how to live here without so much fear."

"You will, darling. Sooner than you think."

She melted against him and kissed him. They snuggled. Later, he gave her his strength through his body, and all the dangers of the swamp were forgotten as she united with him in a euphoria of love and contentment. They slept on the mattress in the hall.

* * *

Carter kissed Maura awake, took the lamp and helped her up. "Maura, get the bear and bring it to the kitchen. I want to hear the tape again."

"Okay, but we've gone over the papers and listened to the tape a dozen times."

"I know we have, but we're missing something. There has to be a clue, maybe in his voice, in how he sings a certain part of the ditty."

She frowned. "You might be right. I always concentrated on the words."

Maura went into the back bedroom, got Teddy, brought it to the kitchen, and handed it to Carter. He stood a moment in the opened kitchen doorway, holding the bear, studying the wet landscape and the dark swirling waters of the bayou. "You can really smell the swamp after a storm."

Maura joined him at the door. "To me it smells like wet vegetation, touched with a faint scent of wild-flowers. What does it smell like to you, Carter?"

"It smells like . . . like a million years of raw nature."

While she made toast, fried ham, and scrambled eggs, Carter made a pot of strong, fresh-ground, chicory-laced Cajun coffee. They sat at the big kitchen table.

"Let’s have breakfast, Carter, then we'll listen carefully to the tape."

He nodded. "I wonder what's happening back home. I'm worried about Mrs. Malcolm. And about Sue Ann."

"So am I. I wish we could find out if they're okay. I've really been scared for Sue Ann since Freda . . . ." Tears welled in her eyes.

"I know. So am I." He didn't tell her Mrs. Malcolm had already been injured by Skylar's thugs when they ransacked his condo after assaulting him, leaving him a message loud and clear.

"Later today," Carter said, "I'm going across to the trading post to call the judge from Pete's phone. The cellular phone isn't as safe to use as Pete's old telephone. Maybe the judge knows something by now. Did Belle say she planned to come over today?"

"Yes. She's bringing our lunch, bisque d'ecrevisses. That isn't swamp rat, is it?"

He laughed loudly. "No, that's crawfish bisque, and Belle makes the best."

"I love Belle and her food."

"I won't ask which you love most. We'll make a Cajun--or as they call themselves, a Cadien-- of you yet."

They finished breakfast, drank the last of the coffee, and Carter reached for the bear. "Help me, honey. Listen with me." He switched the bear on.

The sound of Uncle Harold's voice brought a catch to Maura's throat, and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She pushed her plate aside and tried to concentrate. It was so hard to accept some things. She hoped time would ease the pain of losing Uncle Harold... and Freda.

Carter stopped the tape. "Could that be it? His voice changes inflection as he sings ‘A secret thought to be well-sealed'."

"Yes, I heard that. It decodes as ‘truth under lock and key'. Figure that out. I can't imagine how that tells us anything other than what it says. Turn him on again and listen carefully to what comes after that."

Carter switched the tape on and heard, ‘Then take his carcass, hang it high--once the goat has made it die'. And immediately after, ‘Plus-Minus'. He stopped the tape. "That's it, Maura. Plus-Minus! That has to be it. Did you hear what he did to his voice as he sang those words?"

"Yes. I heard. That must be it. It decodes to Major and Minor and was the only part of the ditty which had absolutely no meaning for me, so that has to be the clue. But if we can't

decipher it, we'll never find the proof we need."

Belle's familiar call came to them, "C'est moi, Belle!"

"We're in the kitchen Belle!" Carter shouted. "Come on back!"

"Mais non!" she called. "You come hold the door for Belle, huh? I carry what I brang you in both my hands, me!"

Carter got up and hurriedly walked down the long wide hall to open the front door for her. He took the pot of crawfish bisque. "What's in the jug?"

She grinned a sly grin. "What you think? I tole you I brang you the cassine--the black tea, no? You heard me, that?"

"Belle! I'm not sure it's safe to drink that stuff. I don't know enough about it."

"It's safe, mon ami. You drink. The black drink will let you see what you must see."

"You keep saying that. We might see a lot of things we don't want to see."

"You think Belle give you something bad and say you drink?"

"No, not intentionally."

Belle stood very still, her dark eyes boring into his. Carter exhaled loudly in defeat. "Come on into the kitchen, Belle. We'll take a drink of it, if you will."

"I drink. But I don't need to see. No danger seeks me."

It took a degree of coaxing to get Maura to drink the black tea, but she finally did. The three of them touched their cups together and downed the black liquid. Immediately Maura's tongue began to swell. It felt too large and heavy for her mouth. She closed her eyes and yellow flashes of light lit up her brain. "Carter," she gasped.

"Relax, honey. I'm having the same sensations you are."

"It's fearsome at first," Belle said dreamily. "But soon you feel real good, relaxed. And you be more alert than ever in you life. You be one with the spirit of the--"

"I wouldn't have done this for anyone but you, Belle," Carter said from somewhere far away.

"Sh-h," Belle admonished. "Sit still and quiet a few minutes, then think in you head what you most want to see."

Maura pulled the bear to her breast and sat very still. A foggy mist in her mind lifted and she saw the man on the tower with the rifle. She floated above the tower and saw Harold crumpled against the stone wall. From a gaping hole in his head, blood ran freely into his eyes, down his face, and dripped onto his shirt. He opened his eyes and stared at her. His features disappeared. All she could see were his eyes. She closed her own eyes. When she opened them again, Harold was gone.

Teddy lay where Harold had been. Teddy’s big eyes opened and closed, and grew larger and larger. Maura cried out. She felt Carter's arms around her and heard the sound of his voice but couldn't understand his words. She knew she was slipping away from him. She clutched at him as the blackness descended upon her.

* * *

Maura woke. Shadows filled the room. Carter sat on the floor near her, and they both leaned against the base of a cabinet. Belle was gone.

"What happened?" Maura asked.

"I don't know. We must have passed out. Do you feel okay?"

She nodded.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I keep getting flashes, glimpses of a scene, but the images dart away before I can focus on them. Do you?"

"All I remember is seeing a huge black hole, filled with stars. Maybe something will come to us later. Belle has left us." He glanced at his watch and exclaimed, "My God, Maura! We've been out for three hours!"

Maura stood up, still holding the bear. "Light a lamp. I need a drink of water."

"No. Don't drink water. Drink a glass of milk."

"That's fine. Anything wet will do."

Carter poured two glasses of milk and handed one to her. "Let's go into the living room. Bring the bear."

Maura sat on the sofa and hugged the bear to her. A sudden flash of intuition had her open the bear's vest and pull a chain from underneath. A small silver medallion hung suspended from the chain. She frowned and stared at it. "Carter," she whispered. "Look at this. This was around Teddy's neck. I've never noticed it before."

Carter took the medallion. "Harold must have put it around the bear's neck." He examined it. On the obverse side was a cluster of stars, on the reverse, the words: "Don't let the stars get in your eyes." His brows knitted in thought as he handed the medal back to Maura. "Stars," he said more to himself than to her, "and the words, ‘Don't let the stars get in your eyes'."

"That's what I saw in the vision, Carter. Eyes. First, Harold's, then Teddy's. And you said you saw a black hole filled with stars." She shivered involuntarily. "Look how these stars are arranged."

He looked at them again, studying them. "These are the big and little dippers," he said, his eyes widening with excitement..

"Of course!" she cried. "Ursa Major and Ursa Minor! That's the Major-Minor, Carter! This has to be the clue we've been praying for!"

Carter frowned. "What do these constellations have to do with Harold's accusations? Can you think of what he's trying to tell us with this clue?"

"No. Not even Uncle Harold would use something this far out just to emphasize the scope of SkyBarr's influence."

"Would the placement in the message have any significance?" asked Carter.

"I thought of that when I was trying to make some sense of the Plus-Minus, Major-Minor thing, and couldn't make anything of it. I even remembered that one of Skylar's good friends is called Major, but I can't make anything of that either. I imagine all his close friends are involved in his drug business in one way or another, or in one of his many other criminal activities."

"This clue must be important. ‘Don't let the stars get in your eyes'. Isn't that a line from an old popular song?"

"Yes." The drug-induced dream in which she had seen Harold's eyes staring at her, and then Teddy's eyes staring at her, took hold of Maura's consciousness and she whispered, "Don't let the stars get in your . . . . "

Her own eyes grew large, and at almost the same instant, they both yelled, "Eyes!"

Carter took the bear from Maura and fingered one of its eyes. It moved up, then down.

"His eyes move up and down--open and close--when he's turned on," Maura told him.

Carter held the eye rigid and twisted. The eye popped out. He turned it over and removed from its pupil a tiny black dot. He sat down beside her, overcome with emotion. "God, Maura! A microdot. This is it. This has to be the proof we need."

He replaced the black dot with trembling fingers and removed the bear's other eye. Nothing there. He replaced that eye and grabbed Maura. He kissed her. She trembled, as he did..

"We have to get the microdot to the Uncle Wes and Agent Moore as soon as possible, honey. Don't let that bear out of your sight. My God! Harold was a brilliant man."

Maura buried her face against his shoulder. "Carter, do you suppose we're really about to come to the end of this nightmare?'

"Not yet, honey. But, soon."

* * *

Night came. The big Lincoln turned off the highway on to a secondary road. Its headlights cut a swath of bright light through the darkness, disturbing a hoot owl that emitted its eerie whoo-whoo call. Flapping its wings, it sought a more solitary perch.

The leaves of the catalpa trees had begun to fall. Soon, after the first frost, the chinaberry trees would be clouds of butter yellow, softening the gray-green approach into the swamp.

After several miles of bumping and sliding, the car made another turn from the gravel road to a rutted dirt road, and the darkness became even more intense. They entered an area of dense marsh grasses and mud. A bayou beyond the trees was discernible by the reflected moon floating on the water.

"Rollings? Do you know where the hell we are? It's blacker than the inside of a tomb out here!"

"No! I don't know where we are any more than you do, Mr. Henderson, but I can find my way back to the highway from here. I only made two turns."

Rollings’ wide-spaced blue eyes in the dim moonlight seemed large in his pale thin face as he looked steadily at Henderson. Henderson glared at his companion’s receding hairline and noted, with irritation, that he looked neat and well-groomed, even after the long drive. His own suit, as usual, looked as if it had came from a rummage sale. "Let's get this over with and get the hell out of here."

"Can't be too quick to please me," Rollings replied. "This place gives me the creeps. It even smells deadly. Listen to all those weird sounds. A whole world of nothing but croaking, and clicking, and screeching, and wailing, and . . . ." A great roar split the eerie stillness. "Good God! What the holy hell was that?"

"That was an alligator, Rollings."

"I don't like this stinking swamp. I'll tell you one thing, I'm not going deep into this country without a local guide. Night or day."

"This looks like a good place to get rid of Moran's body. Drag him over to the water, weight him, and throw him in."

Rollings got out of the car, went around back, and opened the trunk. He grinned and dragged the cop’s body out. "Something will most likely eat him before morning." His grin worked itself into a scowl. "Damn it to hell! I'm up to my ankles in this swamp muck."

Henderson got out of the car, thinking with envious satisfaction that maybe the swamp would put a damper on Rollings’ neatly groomed look. "Watch where you step, Rollings. There's more around here to step on than swamp mud. This place is crawling with water moccasins. Hear that rustling sound?"

"Well, thanks a lot, Mr. Henderson! Damn!" He let go of the body and wiped his brow. "This guy's heavy. Help me get him over to the water."

Ah, what the hell, Henderson thought. I can't get much more rumpled than I already am. "Grab his arms, I'll take his legs."

"Ever noticed how much heavier dead weight is, Mr. Henderson."

Henderson, panting from the exertion, didn't bother to answer. Partly carrying, partly

dragging the body, the two men managed to get it into the water.

"Well, I'll be damned!"

"What is it, Mr. Henderson?"

"I got blood on my sleeve. How come I got blood on my sleeve? I was carrying his legs. You were carrying the bloody end. How come I got blood on me and you didn’t get any on you?"

"I don't know. Maybe, I was more careful."

"Bullshit! I wonder if some guys are just born slobs. You reckon that's true, Rollings?"

"Could be. Maybe, it's in your genes, or something."

"Yeah. Well, let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

Maura got out of the tub, dried herself and oiled her skin. That was the one thing she'd learned to do each morning. It was already too hot for underwear, so she slipped on a pair of cotton shorts and a thin T-shirt. She wouldn't even bother with shoes.

She went out on the back porch, sat on the steps and gazed out across the bayou. Carter had left early for the trading post to call the judge to come get them. Maura couldn't see the trading post. It was too far away. She continued to gaze in its direction, however, hoping to see him come into view on his way back to the house.

She almost fell off the steps when a blast shattered the normal bayou sounds. She jumped up and ran inside, down the long hall, and out onto the front porch. A second explosion, near the Broussard place, scattered birds into the air in raucous flight. A third detonation brought Maura down the steps before she realized she was barefoot. She hurried back up the steps and into the kitchen where she'd left her sandals. Sliding her feet into them, she raced out the front door.

Halfway down the steps, she froze. Coming around a bend in the lane, a dark-blue Lincoln emerged from the palmettos and tall sedge grass that bordered the path. She knew at once it was the same car that had followed her back home. Skylar's men had found her!

Maura lost her breath. Panic closed her throat. She turned abruptly and fell on the porch but was up again and inside the house before the car stopped and the men got out. She slammed and bolted the front door, rushed into the bedroom and grabbed the bear, clutching it tightly to her.

From a window, she saw a young Cajun boy jump from the car and flee into the woods. One of the men lifted his rifle and took a shot at him.

"Rollings, you fool!" the other shouted. "We need him to guide us out of here! Go get him!"

That last gunshot broke Maura's trance-like state. She looked around for a weapon, not remembering Carter's revolver in its holster hanging on a nail by the kitchen door until later, when it was too late. Holding the bear in her left hand, she picked up a fireplace poker with her right.

Henderson wiped his steaming brow with his handkerchief. He tromped up the steps, jerked open the squeaky screen and pounded on the door, rattling the windows.

Maura struggled to control her terror. A pause, then a thunderous WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The door splintered. She stood a moment in wide-eyed horror watching the door give way, then bolted out the back door. She jumped down the steps and ran toward the water. Remembering that the boat was not there and the alligators were, she did an about face and raced around the corner of the house--and into Henderson.

The impact knocked Henderson backward. As he fought to regain his balance, Maura hit at him with the poker. She brought it down toward his head with all her strength. He dodged and it glanced off, inflicting a minor scalp wound. She hit him twice more in rapid succession, but both blows were deflected by his arm and did little damage. She threw the poker at him and ran to the front of the house.

Henderson grabbed for her, caught the bear and tore it from her grasp. She hesitated, then ran harder, screaming as loud as she could. Her breath ripped in and out of her lungs in painful

shrieks.

Maura had gained some distance on him when she looked up and saw Bébé Broussard coming toward her. Part of the cur's head was gone. Blood and matter dripped into the grass as the mortally wounded animal staggered along the path toward Maura's screams. She stopped running. Her shoulders slumped, the screams died in her throat and tears choked her. Her legs gave way and she sank to her knees in the brush.

Wiping blood from his face, Henderson threw the bear into the dirt and rushed to Maura. She gasped as he jerked her up and roughly clutched her in his arms. The cameo on the gold chain Carter had given her snapped and fell to the ground at her feet, bringing her out of her lethargy. She fought like an alley cat. She hit and kicked and bit Henderson. He slapped her a resounding blow and yelled, "Rollings!" Where the hell are you? Get your butt here on the double! I've got the girl, and I want to get out of here! Rollings!"

Henderson made it to the car. He slammed Maura on her feet and held her in a cruel grip while he opened the car door, then he flung her inside. The fight went out of her again when the image of the dog came to her once more. She knew the Broussards were dead. All she could do was whisper over and over, "Why? Why?"

Rollings came running and got into the car. "I couldn't find him, Mr. Henderson. God! I'm eaten to the bone by mosquitoes big as horseflies!"

"Damn you, Rollings! You should've made sure that boy didn't run. What did you expect him to do after witnessing two people and a dog gunned down? You'd damn well better be able to find the way out of here."

Rollings started the car, maneuvered it around and headed out the way they had come in. When they passed the Broussard house, Maura was appalled to see both Joe and Belle slumped awkwardly at the side of the road, lying bloody and lifeless.

A sick hurt hit the pit of her stomach. She couldn't cry. This final hurt, along with all the other hurts, was too deep for tears. She was too numb to react. She hoped the numbness wouldn't go away. She didn't want to have to deal with any more emotion.

* * *

On returning to the camp, Carter knew something was wrong before he docked the boat. He sensed the emptiness. Afraid to call out and receive no answer, he tied the boat to the pier and went to the house, up the back steps, and inside. From the back door he could see the ruined front door.

Rage seeped into him. It had happened, the thing he most feared. They had Maura. With a coldness that frightened him, he forced himself out the front door. The bear lay on the ground, and as he bent to pick it up, the pale gleam of Maura’s cameo caught his eye. Moving like a sleepwalker, Carter retrieved the cameo and put it in his pocket and brushed the dirt off the bear. He Followed the path that led to the Broussards and came upon the dead dog. Her strange mismatched eyes were open, glassy. Her tongue hung down into the dirt. His emotion squeezed his heart, and an acute fear for Maura's safety tore through him.

Carter broke into a run. At the front of the Broussard house, he found Joe and Belle. A quick examination of the bodies told him they had died instantly. Struggling to remain detached, afraid of losing control, he swallowed the bitter agony of losing two dear friends and went inside their house. He took sheets from a bed and covered them. An aching lump closed his throat and forced into his consciousness the reality of the horror that had taken place while he was away at the trading post. He knelt and said goodbye to the friends he loved. A crushing guilt laid its heavy hand on his chest.

He touched Belle's lifeless arm, and through tears he could not stop, he whispered, "Belle, I'm so tormented by what you said when we drank the black drink, that you would drink but no danger followed you." His voice broke. "You were wrong, but it was our danger which found you."

He wanted to beg their forgiveness, even though he couldn't forgive himself. Pounding his chest with his fist to get his breath past his painfully closed throat, wanting to scream out his anguish, he returned to the cabin and used the cellular phone to call Pete DuBach.

Carter reported the two murders and Maura's disappearance. Pete contacted the local police. Soon hundreds of bayou people congregated there.

Carter knew the judge was on his way by helicopter to Pete’s to get him--and Maura. How could he leave without her?

With a vise gripping his heart, he packed their belongings, careful not to leave the bear. Taking the luggage to his boat, he headed back to the trading post where he had arranged to meet the helicopter. Carter tried to ignore the fire burning inside, while the region around his heart turned to ice. He was deeply afraid of what he felt, like something alive was eating away at him.

He got out of the boat and walked to a group of excited people all speaking at once. Flashing lights told him the police were already there. He knew they would go in by boat, rather than by the many miles of twisting, over-grown, sometimes flooded and almost impassable roads that led to his camp and the Broussard's house on the other side of the bayou.

Carter stood at the edge of the large crowd and tried to hear what was being said. He caught the words les chiens, mort, pourquoi, Broussard cabane, and elbowed his way into the crowd. A young Cajun boy, gesturing wildly with his hands, related what he knew about the tragedy. "Them two, they stop that big ole car rat there in front of Fay Lou's Beauty Shop, rat there on the main street in Chênière, and tole me I could make myself fifty dollar if I'd take them two down there and back. They tole me they was Dr. Boyd's fran."

He wept. "I didn't have no notion they'd shoot Joe and Belle. I didn't have no way of knowing what they was up to, believe you me." He sobbed loudly.

Several soothing assurances and head pats helped calm him, until he remembered about the cur. "They even shot Bébé! Good ole Bébé!" He wailed his outrage, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I jumped out of that car and run like hell and one of them shot at me three or two times. He come into the woods looking, but I hid myself. I saw them two take Dr. Boyd's ma'am. They took her off in that big ole blue car." He sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve again. "They ought'a be good and lost by now. Unless--"

"Unless what, Jamie?"

"Unless Dr. Boyd's ma'am --" The boy saw Carter and jumped up. "Dr. Boyd! There's Dr. Boyd!"

The crowd parted and Carter came over to be questioned. He told the police Maura wouldn't have any idea how to get out of the swamp. He described the Lincoln and the men as well as he

could. He’d seen them only briefly once before. He didn't mention to the local authorities anything about SkyBarr or Skylar Barrett. He wanted to give that information to Agent Moore.

Two police boats and a police helicopter were on their way to the scene before the judge and Madison Moore finally arrived. All roads in and out of Boggy Bayou were closed off by roadblocks. The authorities would make very effort to catch the killers and rescue Maura.

Having said goodbye to Pete, Carter greeted his uncle and explained that he couldn’t leave until he was sure Maura and her kidnappers were no longer in the area. The judge got him aboard the helicopter by promising they’d fly over Boggy Bayou and search for the men who had Maura..

"The kidnappers are probably on the highway by now and long gone, Carter, but if they are still around, we should be able to spot their car from the air. I’ll bring you back to the trading post if we spot them. If not, if the kidnappers have managed to get out of the area, there is no longer any reason for you to remain here." Carter reluctantly agreed.

They flew over the swamp, alert for any vehicles. After an hour, the pilot took one last turn over an area where he had seen sunlight reflecting off an object. Unable to spot the reflection again, he headed the helicopter toward New Orleans, and Carter sat between the judge and Madison Moore, like a man of stone, dejected and bitter. He didn’t even wonder how Skylar’s men had found them. Skylar could do anything he wanted to do. He probably knew Carter’s entire life history by now, and the judge’s.

CHAPTER 13

Rollings parked the Lincoln beneath the trees in dense brush. Henderson opened the passenger side door and stretched his cramped legs. "Rollings, climb one of those trees, that tall one, and see if you can spot a road or something that might indicate we're on our way to civilization."

Rollings swore under his breath but got out of the car. A white birthmark on the side of his nose turned hot pink when he was really angry--which he wasn't now. Henderson thought of that birthmark as a red-light warning. He bullied Rollings a great deal but never took him for granted. Rollings was usually an easy-going guy, but Henderson knew he could be lethal under the right set of circumstances.

Almost immediately, Rollings slid back under the wheel. "I hear helicopters, Mr. Henderson."

"Yeah, and I see them," Henderson answered. "Those are police helicopters. They've obviously discovered the bodies. In another hour this place will be crawling with Cajuns and dogs. This state is known for its bloodhounds, supposed to be the best in the country. Did you know that, Rollings?"

Maura leaned forward. "They use bloodhounds to track down criminals like you, so they can put them in Angola. Angola is the worst prison in the entire country."

"We need to get the hell out of here," Rollings observed. "And you shut up back there, girl. You might soon wish you were in Angola."

Maura sat still and quiet, her mind racing. The numbness had worn off and she knew she'd better try to think of some way to get away from these men. She feared Skylar more than she feared the swamp. If she could manage to escape into the swamp, someone would find her.

The two men got out of the car. Rollings climbed the tree. Henderson asked, "Do you think they can see the car from the air?"

"No, I can't even see it from up here."

"Do you see a road?"

"Only the road we just got off of. But," he pointed north, "way up that way, I see a railroad trestle. It must be a bridge over a river."

"Thank God. That gives us some hope of getting out of here. If we can get to it, that is."

"We'll have to leave that dirt road we've been on and drive through those woods. The road winds away to the northeast and doesn't seem to be going in the direction of the trestle."

"Get your bearings and come on down. You're the one who will have to drive us there."

While their attention was diverted from her, Maura slipped out of the car and had run into the dense growth of trees, tangled vines, and high grass. She ran until she could no longer see the car. Stopping in a small clearing, she shaded her eyes from the bright sunlight and saw one of the helicopters hovering overhead.

The glare of the sun's rays through the foliage gave her the idea. She removed the dime anklet and held the metal coin in the sun. It flashed into the trees and reflected back onto the leaves in a brilliant spot of light. She moved the dime around in the sun until its dazzling radiance shot through an opening between two giant oaks. She held one hand over her breast in a silent plea that someone in the helicopter would see it.

One of the helicopters circled and flew dangerously low overhead. "What the hell?" Henderson shouted. "Goddamn it, Rollings, come on down from there. The girl is gone!"

"I see her, Mr. Henderson. Over that way." He pointed, then quickly climbed down from the tree and ran off in the direction he'd seen Maura. Henderson followed close behind.

Maura heard their yelling and darted away, splashing across a water-filled ditch toward what she hoped was stable ground. A snake slid past her foot. Covering her mouth to stifle a scream, she leapt up on the bank and headed toward a slight rise between the trees which offered hope of a hiding place.

Skirting a large briar patch, she lost her bearings and could no longer see the little hill. Henderson appeared from behind a thick hedge growth and grabbed her with vicious glee. Maura realized she had run in a circle and right into his arms. She struggled and fought as he dragged her to the car.

"Damn bitch," he muttered. "If you give us any more trouble, I'll put you to sleep. Mr. Barrett gave me something that'll put your lights out, if I think it necessary. It'll take about a week for you to get over it and you won't like it one bit. You got that? I won't hesitate to use it if you don't behave." His hard eyes stared into hers until she looked away from him.

Rollings opened the car door and Henderson shoved her into the back seat. She rubbed her bruised arm. The men got into the front seat. "We can't chance moving the car as long as those copters are up there, Mr. Henderson."

"I know that, Rollings." They sat for more than two hours, watching in dismay, as the sun sank low. The bayou would soon quickly succumb to the darkness of night.

Henderson sat up straight. "I don't hear them anymore, do you?"

Rollings listened intently. "No. I think they've finally given up for the day."

"Well, get moving. It'll soon be as black as the ace of spades."

Rollings started the Lincoln. "I hope that trestle isn't too far. We're almost out of gas."

At that news, Henderson let out a string of profanity that had Maura pressing nervously against the door. The car moved slowly and erratically through the dense foliage, in and out among the trees and tall bushes.

Darkness crashed down upon them. Maura knew the night sounds of the bayou country could curdle the blood of outsiders, and Skylar's thugs would not be immune to the terrors of the swamp.

"I can't drive through here in the dark."

"We'll have to stop and stay put until dawn. I swear, if I'd known I'd have to spend a night in this place. . . ."

Maura said meekly, "I have to go to the bathroom. And I'm hungry."

"Damn!" Henderson glared at her. "What do you think I can do about that? Take this flashlight and go behind the car. You'll just have to wait for something to eat."

"I'm scared to go out there in the dark," she protested.

"What do you want me to do? I'm not going to hold your hand. If you have to go, you'd better go."

Maura fleetingly thought about running away again, believing they wouldn't come after her in the dark, but the threat of being sedated held such fear for her she wouldn't attempt it. She saw the glowing yellow eyes of what she hoped was an owl, and hesitantly stepped out of the car.

When she got back inside, she lay down on the back seat and fell into a troubled sleep. She dreamed she was holding Teddy, but when she looked at him, it wasn't Teddy. She was holding Bébé Broussard. She wept and wiped blood from the dog's wounded head. Skylar appeared and said to her, "You must have been somewhere you shouldn't have been."

Maura cried out and awakened to Henderson's gruff voice, "Go back to sleep," he growled.

She turned over and soon drifted to sleep again.

* * *

The sound of the car motor coming to life reawakened her. She pinched her stiff neck muscles and sat up. The pre-dawn darkness held just enough light to see shapes and obstacles. The car moved slowly toward the trestle, which now rose up indistinctly in the distance.

"What will we do when we get to the trestle, Mr. Henderson?" Rollings asked.

"We'll ditch the car in the river, hope it will sink out of sight, and hop a train."

"What?" Maura asked. "No. I can't-- "

"You'll do what Mr. Henderson tells you to do," Rollings said harshly. "Now shut the hell up." He looked at Henderson. "What if trains no longer use those tracks, Mr. Henderson?"

As if in answer, a forlorn whistle sounded. Distant rumbling of metal wheels on metal track broke the silence, and Henderson sighed his relief. "Hurry, Rollings."

"I can go just so fast without blowing a tire."

"Listen." Henderson hissed. "I hear something."

They grew silent, and heard the unmistakable sound of baying hounds.

"Dammit!" Henderson roared. "Get this car moving. I don't care if you blow all four tires and have to go on the rims."

They made it to the trestle. The train, a freight, came into view. It slowed considerably as it neared the river. The dogs, however, had picked up the scent and were closing in.

"Rollings, run this car into the river, and get back here on the double. The train has slowed enough for us to hop one of those open cattle cars. Hurry it up!"

"I can't hop a train," Maura protested.

Henderson shot her a look that caused her to bite her lip.

It took only a minute to run the Lincoln into the river. The car rolled to the water's edge, hesitated, then slid into the water and disappeared as they watched. "Hold her, Rollings," Henderson ordered. He took a syringe from his pocket, removed the protective cover and as Maura screamed and begged and struggled, he jabbed it into her arm.

Henderson hefted Maura onto his shoulder. He and Rollings ran alongside the slow-moving train. Rollings climbed into a boxcar. Henderson thrust Maura’s limp body to Rollings, jumped onto the train and hoisted himself up. The train crossed the rickety trestle that squealed and shook, then picked up speed.

Maura sniffled loudly, adding to Henderson's anger. "Shut the hell up. You’re not hurt." he said hotly. "Thank God, we got out of that damn swamp."

"Yeah, but look at us." Rollings complained. "My pants are torn and filthy, and I'm covered with bug bites. Your shoes and pants legs are caked with mud. Mr. Barrett's broad is practically naked and her hair would scare a witch. We're bloody and dirty and scratched up and thoroughly disreputable looking."

"So what? We can take care of all that when we get back to civilization." Henderson was elated that, for once, Rollings looked as unkempt as he did.

"Yeah. At least we got her. That's only half of what we were ordered to do, though. Right?"

"Rollings, you let me worry about that. As soon as we get to a town big enough to have a car rental agency, I want you to lease a car. Maybe we can get home without calling too much attention to ourselves. The cops will be looking for the Lincoln."

"I'm hungry!" Maura said drowsily.

"Shut up," Henderson ordered savagely. "We'll get you a burger or something as soon as we can."

* * *

It was night when the rental car turned into the drive and stopped at the massive iron gate which shut SkyView off from the rest of the world. Maura had no idea what time it was. She wasn't sure what day it was. Her Rolex was back at the camp. Maybe Carter would find it. She hoped he would find her cameo.

She tried to steel herself to being in Skylar's presence again, to being under his control again. She dreaded seeing him, and she feared what he might have planned as a means of punishment this time for her rebellious behavior.

She didn't have much hope of seeing Carter, being with him, until some action could be taken in response to the evidence they had uncovered linking Skylar and his companies to criminal activity. The evidence they were so sure of having found was really her last hope. She admitted to herself she was no match for Skylar. She knew she couldn't continue to fight him alone.

Rollings reached for the button on a metal box affixed to a stone pillar, one of two flanking the gate, and pushed it. A small hinged door opened. He entered a code on a panel of buttons and spoke into the box. "Rollings and Henderson here with Miss Sinclair."

Bright lights suddenly flooded the drive and the gate. The two men stepped out of the car to be inspected. Maura saw armed uniformed guards inside the gatehouse. One of them reached up and pulled a lever. The heavy gate swung open. The men got back in the car and drove through the gate.

A guard spoke into a phone alerting the house.

Rollings drove the car around the mansion toward an underground garage in the back. He stopped at a covered walk which led into a side entrance. Henderson got out of the car and ordered Maura out. She pushed away his extended arm and crawled from the back seat.

A dark-sleeved hand took hold of her with a fierce grip. Maura looked up into Skylar's narrowed, unsympathetic eyes. A rush of adrenalin flooded her and buckled her knees. She stumbled against him. Skylar held her at arms length and stared at her pale face and disheveled appearance.

"What happened to her?" he demanded.

"Nothing, Mr. Barrett." Henderson answered.

Rollings spoke up. "That's how we found her. I mean, that's how we found her dressed. Our guide ran off, and we got lost in that damn swamp. We thought we'd never find our way out of there. We're scratched and tattered and mosquito bit. God! You ought to see all the things that bite and sting and eat human flesh in that stinking place."

Skylar motioned to a woman who stood in the shadows. She came forward. "Take Miss Sinclair to her suite." To Maura he said, "I've brought your things from Highland Terrace. After you shower and change, I'll want to talk to you. I'll be in the bar. Mrs. Allen will bring you to me. Are you hungry, Anna Maura?"

Maura wouldn't look at him. When she didn't answer at once, Rollings said, "I'll say she is. All she did was yell she was hungry. I stopped and bought some burgers, but she hardly touched hers. I don't suppose she likes burgers much."

"Who does?" Skylar directed a look at Rollings that cemented his mouth shut, then turned his attention back to Maura. "Anna Maura, I'll have chef prepare something light and serve us in the lounge. I've not had my dinner as yet."

Henderson said under his breath, "Rollings, you talk too damned much. Leave well enough alone."

Maura followed Mrs. Allen into the house. She went directly to the bathroom and disrobed. Mrs. Allen filled the tub and arranged the bath oil, soap and shampoo within reach. With a huge sigh Maura sank down into the warm fragrant water. She soaked as long as she dared, then showered, and shampooed her hair.

Maura's eyes were red from lack of sleep, and from the tears she fought constantly. She couldn't stop thinking of Carter and yearning to be with him. She hoped he wouldn't lose his head over her abduction and do something rash that would make the situation even worse.

She believed she could endure being at SkyView for awhile if Skylar didn't make romantic overtures to her, try to make love to her. He had never tried to make love to her. Why had she not wondered about that? Had she subconsciously thought he had some moral inhibition about having sex before marriage? No. She didn't think Skylar had any moral inhibitions about anything. Was it possible he liked men? That he wanted to marry her only because he wished to be seen as a heterosexual family man? Maybe.

But the reason he wanted to marry her was most probably because his father insisted he marry, and she was the woman he had dated for three years, so he chose her. No other reason. Certainly not the reason Carter had come up with--that Skylar feared Harold had told her something detrimental to SkyBarr and he wanted to marry her to protect himself. Skylar didn't fear the devil himself. She had learned that, if nothing else.

What most fretted her, and what she tried not to dwell on, was the fact that she had missed her period. She knew she was pregnant. That would be joyful knowledge if her life were not so chaotic, if she and Carter were together. It could be nothing but trouble for her as long as she was with Skylar.

Maura dried her body. She caressed her abdomen, felt again the touch of Carter’s hands on her flesh, the ecstasy of his body united with hers. She was thrilled that his seed grew inside her, but the knowledge made her separation from him even more stressful and unbearable.

She dressed in the cranberry silk pantsuit from LeRoi which she had once especially liked, but the feel of the silk against her skin nauseated her, and she quickly removed it. Rapid swallows and deep breaths finally settled her stomach and Maura changed into a slim turquoise linen skirt and middy top. She remembered that Carter had once said the brilliant hue of the outfit made her green eyes look like polished turquoise stones. She sniffled, jerked a tissue from a box on a bedside table, wiped her nose, and stuck her slender stockinged feet into a pair of aqua barefoot sandals.

Mrs. Allen waited patiently for her to dress. If she was concerned that Maura was keeping her employer waiting, she gave no indication of it. When Maura was dressed and ready, Mrs. Allen led her through the house to a west wing past a gym, a theater and an indoor pool to a bar and lounge and dining balcony. Skylar awaited her on the balcony.

As soon as he saw her approaching he picked up a small silver bell and rang it. A butler rolled a steam cart to the already set table, and stood by to serve their dinner.

Skylar arose, held her chair for her. She was seated, and he returned to his chair opposite her. "We have much to talk about, Anna Maura, but it can wait until we've had our dinner. You may serve us, Hadley."

Maura was so engrossed, dreading what Skylar would do and say, that she hardly noticed what she ate. She vaguely knew the food was excellent. A chilled fruit dessert was delicious. When drinks were to be served, she asked for biere creole. She must have asked for biere creole because the butler gasped, and Skylar looked at her with fierce eyes. His pupils reflected the flame of the candles and seemed to burn into her. She coughed, covered her mouth with her hand, and said through her fingers, "May I have a creme de menthe, please?"

* * *

Carter paced the floor of the judge's chamber as his uncle watched him. Madison Moore entered the room and Carter stopped his pacing. Facing the FBI agent, he waited expectantly.

"The microdot held all the proof we could hope for, Dr. Boyd. Not only does it encompass all of SkyBarr's criminal activities on this continent, it includes those of Barrett Enterprises in the rest of the world, as well.

"Thank God! I didn't let myself believe for a moment it was anything but the proof we sought."

"However, there is not so much as a hint of complicity on the part of Anthony Baxter Barrett."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that Mr. Barrett, Sr. is apparently ignorant of what his life's work has become. The head of the European operation is Dr. Geoffrey Taylor-Hickham, referred to as Major. He had the senior Mr. Barrett's complete trust, as did Mr. Barrett's son, Skylar." Agent Moore poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher on the judge's side bar.

"There's cold beer in the cooler, if you’d like one, Madison."

"Thanks, but I have to go by our office in New Orleans this afternoon and I don't want to smell as if I'd spent the day at the Jackson Brewery. Maybe later. Where was I? Oh, yes. Skylar's father recently retired and was in the process of turning over the entire conglomerate to him. Knowing this was to happen was apparently the reason Skylar initiated the conspiracy to kill Harold Lyons, after Harold discovered one of SkyBarr's embarrassing and nasty little secrets. Before he was killed, Harold Lyons discovered something much bigger and uglier than you thought. It's all on the microdot."

"Will I be able to get a look at it?"

"Later. Let me finish. Skylar didn't want to be compelled to address the problem, that Harold presented, in a more complicated and time-consuming manner; so he eliminated the problem by eliminating Harold."

"Did Harold name the person he was supposed to meet on the tower?"

"No. We know from the microdot that Harold was supposed to meet someone up there that morning. He didn't name that person, but we know who it was."

"Who?"

"Since there were only two people on the tower until the whole SWAT team got up there,

and Harold was one of them, the other had to be the person he was to meet. That person was

Eric Moran, a member of the SWAT team. He killed Harold. He shot to death three people

on campus, and wounded two others, then claimed to have killed the sniper. Incidentally, Eric Moran has disappeared. We don't expect to find him alive. The Norwich police department is undergoing a shake-up. They have attempted to put a lid on Moran's disappearance. They admit he was ‘on the take' but are desperate to keep their problems from the press as much as possible. Dr. Boyd, Skylar would've gotten away with this except for you and Maura Sinclair."

"Yes. And now Skylar's got Maura, while I pace and fret and curse myself. I don't want to think what he might do to her."

"My agents have confirmed that Miss Sinclair is at SkyView with Skylar Barrett. She has not been harmed in any way."

"She has not been harmed in any way, yet. She was kidnaped, for God's sake. Is any effort being made to identify the men who kidnaped her? They murdered two innocent people." Madison's usual emotionless features colored slightly, and his voice was tinged with impatience. "Please give us some credit, Dr. Boyd We know the identity of those men, and we have every intention of bringing them to justice when the time is right. I want you to remain here with Wes until we can get the necessary warrants. Once we have those, I'll accompany you back to Norwich, and meet with agents there who will serve the warrants."

"You're asking me to pace the floor, for no telling how long, while every minute counts?"

"I'm not asking you, sir, I'm telling you. Sorry. We do not want you to go after Skylar Barrett and possibly tip our hand before we're in a position to act. I don't think you have any idea what an enormous and lucrative operation you've uncovered. Politically powerful people are involved in this thing. Senators, congressmen, federal judges. FBI, CIA, DEA agents. Also prosecutors, attorneys, bankers and financial consultants making millions laundering drug money through foreign banking concerns." He shook his head and sighed. "Add to those, Food and Drug people, U. N. representatives, missionaries, Catholic Church dignitaries for God’s sake. Get the picture?

"Skylar's organization's success is based on political corruption, and it rivals anything we've ever come up against in his manipulation of those in positions of power. He deals with Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan. If we mess up now, we can forget it. With such a vast organized operation we won't get a second chance. You do understand that, don't you, Dr. Boyd?"

"I . . . yes, of course. I had no idea. This knowledge only makes me more concerned about Maura."

"If she appeared to be in any immediate danger, we might handle things in a different way, but my sources assure me she isn't. The Attorney General of the United States is calling the shots, now. We have to accept that."

"I accept it because I have to. But I wish I could convince you that Maura is in danger."

"I know she's in danger. I've learned what Skylar Barrett is capable of. What have I been saying? I'm going to tell you something that defies credibility, something Harold found out after he made the code tape for Maura. Have either of you heard of a drug on the street called ‘Purple Passion’?"

Carter shook his head. "No."

"I've heard of it," the Judge said. "I don't know much about it except it’s appearing more and more in drug-related cases, overdoses, and so forth, and it’s extremely expensive."

"It is, but it takes such a little to get its effect. This synthetic designer drug, known on the street as Purple Passion, is made exclusively by SkyBarr in ARC. It's shipped out to foreign markets where the contraband drugs are separated from legitimate shipments by those awaiting them who are, often as not, the ruling regimes of third-world countries."

Carter grimaced. "How do they know which are the illicit drugs?"

"From bar codes on the return envelopes of legal order blanks. We haven’t completely broken the code system yet, but we’ve figured out enough to know that’s how it’s done. Once the drugs are in the hands of the proper recipients, they are distributed to Asian markets where they are processed. When the cycle is completed, the drugs are back on the streets of the good old U.S.A. as well as on streets worldwide."

Carter couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice, "How is this drug different? What makes it so unique?"

"A very small amount is effective, and the effect is rather long-lasting. The drug enhances one's awareness, heightens all the senses to the point of ecstasy. As if suddenly coming alive, a user is in tune with even the slightest sensation, and his discernment is acute. It’s a highly erotic drug, giving its users an insatiable sexual appetite. An addict described it by saying the touch of a breeze on his skin tasted purple. Hence, the name ‘Purple Passion’ came to be what users call it. Its crystals can be pulverized and sniffed like cocaine. It can be heated, melted, and injected like heroin and morphine, or it can be taken orally. It has a particularly bad taste, I'm told, but is palatable when taken with citrus juice."

"How long has this drug been available?"

"We've known about it for some time but thought, as we were supposed to, that it originated in Asia."

"I'm not sure I'd want my senses enhanced to such a degree." Carter remarked.

"Under the influence of the drug, a user's sexual response is euphoric, and the ability for long continuous performance is increased to the point of physical harm to both male and female. It’s used freely in the making of pornographic films, another huge-profit enterprise that SkyBarr is heavily into. ‘Purple Passion’ is highly addictive and an addict will readily kill for it."

"Damn!" Carter exclaimed. "Maura and I thought Skylar was involved in something tame, like using cheap toxic substances in drugs to make them more profitable."

Agent Moore laughed. "Much too tame and not nearly profitable enough. But this drug I've just described, as something which might seem desirable to many, has a downside much more ominous than any other known drug. More terrible than the violence and physical harm it causes, is the reality when the drug wears off. Its victims no longer have the ability to feel much of anything. In short, this drug, after having taken a user to heaven, slams him back to a hell-on - earth, stripped of his humanity. The horror of it, and that which most alarmed Harold Lyons, is the end result of the drug--a generation of sub-humans, a horde of insensible, unfeeling, uncaring animalistic beings."

"Is this our future?" The judge asked aghast. "What is being done about it? Are we to allow it?"

"It cannot be allowed, and it won't be. This evidence will prove to be the downfall of a man even our Federal Government wouldn't go after for lesser cause. But no government wants the responsibility of trying to govern the ungovernable. Therefore, Skylar Barrett and SkyBarr, as it is today, will soon be no more. And God help its users, Purple Passion will be no more."

Both the judge and Carter sat dazed, trying to absorb all the information just given them.

Agent Moore shook hands with Judge Carleton, then turned to Carter. "Thanks for your help, Dr. Boyd. We'll rescue Miss Sinclair, never fear."

The FBI man put on his hat and left the chamber.

CHAPTER 14

The judge touched Carter's arm. "Let's go home and have dinner. There really isn't anything more we can do right now."

Carter nodded and followed his uncle out of the courthouse to the Mercedes.

Sometime later, they arrived at the estate. Judge Carleton left the car at the front of the house for his driver to park in the garage. He asked Carter to join him in his study.

He sat down and invited Carter to take the chair nearest him. "Before we go in to dinner, there is something I want to discuss with you--about your father."

Carter sighed.

"I know you think you don't want to hear this, Carter, but I think we should discuss it, painful or not. I've learned the truth about him, and it’s helped me to better accept what happened. It should do the same for you."

"Uncle Wes, I went into medicine because Amy's illness destroyed my family, even before my father added the finishing touches to it. The decision to dedicate my life to healing has made it possible for me to deal with my pain. I don't need to know, or want to know, why he did what he did. I can't forgive him, regardless of the reason. He's just one of an endless number of married men who run off with their secretaries and desert their families."

"That isn't what happened."

"What? What do you mean that isn’t what happened?"

"He didn't run off with his secretary."

"Good Lord. I hope you aren't going to tell me he killed her. When he disappeared, his secretary disappeared, too. The scandal shamed my mother until the day she died."

"I've learned from Madison what really happened. Madison got permission to open a secret CIA file and get the information about your father for us."

"A secret CIA file? What in the hell are you talking about?"

"I've discovered that your father was what is popularly known as a ‘mole' for the CIA. He

was involved in a covert operation having to do with arms shipments to a foreign power. An accidental meeting with a subversive who had once dealt with him, and recognized him to be a U.S. agent, put him in grave danger and forced our government to pull him off the assignment. He was covered under an avalanche of bureaucratic paperwork, much as is done in the witness protection program. Knowing he had placed his family in danger and couldn't drag you, your mother, and little Amy to some God-forsaken spot to hide you away from his enemies, he went along with the story fabricated by the CIA, that he was involved romantically with his secretary and ran off with her. He was sent out of the country. The woman who posed as his secretary, also a CIA agent, was sent back to Washington. Your father did not know Amy died that very morning. I'm sure all this has been as painful for him as it has been for those of us he left behind. He is in Sumatra, where he is now working to break up an international drug ring, possibly connected to this Purple Passion thing."

Carter could only stare at him.

"Doesn't this make any difference at all to you, Carter?"

When he trusted himself to speak, Carter said, "I don't know what I think or feel at this moment. I'm numb."

* * *

Maura kept her gaze on her glass, waiting for Skylar to say something. "Do you find it difficult to look at me, Anna Maura?"

"Yes," she replied at once.

"Difficult or not, I prefer you look at me when I speak to you."

She raised her head and forced herself to look at him. How deceptively altruistic he appeared. Talk about the leopard changing his spots.

"Did you enjoy your vacation, dear?" He rotated his glass, lifted it to his mouth and sipped his drink, all the while watching her.

She flinched. "Vacation? Vacation, Skylar? My God! What a demon you are."

He smiled, but his eyes did not reflect any humor. He was the coldest person she had ever known. How had she failed to discover, early in the relationship, that he had no real human emotion. She realized that everything Skylar did, everything he said, was calculated to evoke a certain response he wanted. She assumed the response he wanted and expected from her at this time was anger, and she could not control her anger. She lashed out at him. "I don't want to play with you anymore, Skylar. You're the little boy who has all the toys, and manipulates the other children by threatening to take your toys and go home when one of them displeases you. I know I displeased you, and you took away all the toys. So, now, why don't you go away?"

He laughed outright. She was annoyed that she noticed his beautiful gleaming teeth and the charming way his features softened when he laughed. Yet his laughter wasn't genuine mirth. He laughed for the very purpose of charming her.

"Skylar, do you think it's possible for you to tell me what you want from me? What you have in mind for me? I won’t play any more of your degrading, hurtful games. Just tell me straight out what you want, what you expect of me."

"You know what I want, what I’ve planned. You keep saying you don't want to play my games, but you are the one playing games. And you keep playing by the wrong rules."

"Then tell me what the rules are."

"I prefer to show you what the rules are."

Her breath stopped in her throat, and her blood ran cold. She downed her drink with trembling hands. Suddenly, she slammed her glass on the table, stood up and yelled, "Show me, then, damn you! Show me!"

Skylar stood, leaned across the table and grabbed her arm. His hold on her was deliberately cruel. "Sit down," he said in a tight voice. The look in his eyes sat her back in her chair meekly.

Hadley diplomatically entered the room. "Did you ring, sir?"

"Thank you, Hadley. We'll have fresh drinks, please."

Maura stared at this man who had become a stranger to her. She must not let him see how much she feared him. Her only hope of holding her own with him, she realized, was to excite his need to dominate her while remaining, at least on the surface, a challenge.

"Anna Maura, I’m aware you no longer love me, if you ever did. You wanted the security I could give you, and whether you will admit it or not, you were attracted to me physically." He smiled. "You still are."

She fidgeted. How exasperating he was.

"And you still want that security. It might surprise you to know I don't love you. I never did."

"That doesn't surprise me, Skylar. You don't know what love is. Why do you want to marry me? That is what surprises me."

"Because my father wants me to marry, expects me to marry. I want a family, a wife, children. I must have an heir."

"It doesn't matter to you that I no longer want to marry you? Don't you want a wife who will make you happy?"

"You will make me happy."

"No. I won't."

"Then I'll not be happy. But you will be less happy."

"This is so . . . so unreasonable," she stuttered in frustration. "I don't love you. You don't love me. What kind of marriage could we have?"

"The kind I want. I want a wife who is not too pretty, not too smart, not at all rich, who will not demand too much or expect too much. I want a wife who will quietly, unobtrusively be an asset to me politically and socially, a wife who will produce heirs for me and behave as I tell her to behave."

Insulted, angry, and hurt, Maura could do nothing but stare at him. Why was she surprised at this revelation? Hadn't she known all that? Hadn't she once considered identical reasons why he probably wanted to marry her?

Maura drank her fresh drink in one huge swallow and kept her voice a few decibels below shouting. "I will not marry you. I most certainly will not bear your children. I'm in love with Carter Boyd. Nothing can change that. I've given myself to him in greater passion than you will ever know."

A warning light went off in her brain, and she hesitated just short of confessing she was pregnant. She wanted to wound him as he had wounded her, but she knew she had gone too far.

Skylar sat back, crossed his arms, and shook his head. Then he smiled the way an adult smiles at a naughty child. "The biological coupling you call love is nothing more than a necessary function for the procreation of offspring, and a physical release of tensions and pressures. Nothing too romantic about that, Anna Maura. I can, however, bring you to your knees in sweaty rapture, make you cry out in the throes of passion, if that is what you feel you need." His smile vanished and his voice cut into her like the blade of a knife. "You are truly naive if you think I am incapable of giving you a performance equal to any man's."

Willing her voice to be steady, she struck back, "Skylar, you are more naive, if you think one man is the same as another just because they are all men and endowed with the same equipment. There's a little more to it than performance."

"We shall see, dear."

Maura sat back and stared at him, suddenly limp with anxiety. He leaned forward and looked steadily at her. She stirred uncomfortably under his disconcerting gaze. He smiled again. "I can see you need rest. You may retire if you like."

She got up, let her breath out slowly, and walked away from the table.

"Anna Maura, I do not intend to seek your bed until we're married. In the morning Dr. Blake will examine you, so that I might be certain you are not pregnant with Dr. Boyd's child before we are married, and I take you to my bed. You wouldn't expect me to rear another man's child, would you?"

She froze. She could not respond. Just as she thought she had been the brunt of his most cruel and unsympathetic thrust, he lashed her with another. She took a deep breath and the fear crawled up around her heart.

Mrs. Allen led Maura back to her suite. Pensive, moody and very frightened, Maura undressed and slipped into a gown that had been draped over a chair by her bed. She got into bed and lay awake, wondering how all this would be resolved. She couldn't see any way to escape, or any way for Carter to rescue her.

Everything seemed so hopeless. She couldn't stop thinking of Joe and Belle and Bébé Broussard. Uncle Harold and Freda were always on her mind. It seemed to her that her whole world had been reduced to a state of constant mourning.

She was afraid all the time for Carter. Hadn't Skylar told her, if she continued to see Carter, she might have to watch him die? Oh, Lord. Maybe she should forget about Carter, forget she loved him and he loved her, and let Skylar control her every move. Maybe, if she could do that, Carter would at least be safe from harm.

Unable to sleep, Maura got up and rang the bell for a servant. Mrs. Allen responded. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Allen, but may I please have a glass of warm milk? I can't sleep." The truth was, she was afraid to let herself fall asleep. Although it was hard to tell which was worse, the nightmares or the reality. Mrs. Allen nodded and left to get Maura a glass of milk.

When she returned, Maura took the milk and thanked her. "Mrs. Allen," she asked, "would it disturb anyone if I listened to music?"

"No, dear. Is there anything else I can do for you before I retire?"

"No, thanks."

"I'll be nearby. If you need me, just ring."

Maura sat on the edge of the bed, drank the milk and tried to listen to Joseph Haydn's oratorio, The Creation, but the soul-stirring music was too emotionally draining and all but destroyed her fragile self-control. She switched off the music, drained her glass of milk, and lay back on the bed afraid to go to sleep, reluctant to stay awake dreading the morning.

* * *

The warning call came to Skylar from one of his most trusted men, an FBI agent to whom he paid enormous fees. "We're in trouble, Mr. Barrett. I'm leaving the country, and you'd better do the same, at least for now. Warrants are going out for everyone. I haven't been able to find out what kind of proof there is against us, or how much proof there is. I'm obviously under suspicion, and that's the red flag for me as far as I'm concerned. I don't intend to hang around long enough to be taken into custody."

Skylar was caught completely by surprise. Even though he knew Harold had discovered the illegal drug manufacturing in the ARC laboratory, he had been confident he had silenced Harold before he could secure any evidence against SkyBarr. He realized now he had been hasty, acted in a way contrary to his usual response to such threats.

Harold was the one who had designed and installed the programs that allowed them to carry on the operation. If anyone knew how to go about getting proof to back up his charges, Harold did. Why hadn't he realized that?

Skylar dialed SkyBarr legal services and found his attorneys already establishing legal barriers to protect him and his U. S. companies. They had been in contact with his overseas legal network and alerted them.

"My advice, Mr. Barrett," his top legal advisor stated, "is that you get out of the country immediately, and make yourself unavailable for questioning until I can get more information. The Federal authorities are behaving as though they have concrete proof of wrongdoing against you and SkyBarr. The word is, they will soon be here with warrants. They'll also come to SkyView in case they don't find you here. Shall I get the jet ready for takeoff?"

"Yes. We'll come at once."

"Do hurry, or they may catch you before you can leave. I don't think they know we are aware of what's coming down, so you might be able to get out tonight. I expect they won't descend on us like avenging angels until we open for business in the morning."

Maura, still awake, heard the sounds of frantic activity even before Mrs. Allen came into her suite and opened her bedroom door. "Miss Sinclair, you must get up at once. Mr. Barrett is preparing to take a trip. He said you need not pack anything, just get dressed immediately."

Maura rubbed her tired eyes and yawned. She arose and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth and comb her hair. The excitement in the household brought her hope that this unexpected

turn of events was what she had prayed for. Skylar must have been alerted that he was in danger of being subpoenaed, or arrested, or something just as dire.

Mrs. Allen handed her a two piece suit of caramel-colored suede with supple black leather trim. "Will this be all right for you to wear on the flight?"

"Flight?" Oh, God! Skylar was taking her out of the country, just as she once feared he might.

The house was filled with the sounds of hasty preparations being made for an extended trip. Mrs. Allen helped Maura dress quickly, then led her to the side door where Skylar had told her to take Maura.

Henderson, his droopy eye more pronounced than usual, took Maura roughly by the arm, guided her to the limousine, and held the back door for her. "Get in and stay put," he ordered. "Mr. Barrett will be along any minute."

He closed the door behind Maura and yelled, "Rollings! Get your butt here on the double!" Rollings came running. "Stay with her," Henderson said. "I've got to go help Mr. Barrett with some of his papers and things."

The next thing Maura knew, she was in the limousine with Skylar, his four bodyguards, including Henderson and Rollings, and a priest. Her stomach jolted. There was only one reason for the priest to accompany them. Skylar intended to force her to marry him once they were airborne. What about a marriage license? Wouldn't he have to have a marriage license? Knowing Skylar, he had probably arranged for the license long ago. A little thing like using subterfuge to acquire one wouldn't bother Skylar.

The limousine wheeled onto the SkyBarr airstrip and stopped at the hangar. Maura was hustled from the car and onto a SkyBarr jet. She still had not had an opportunity to talk to Skylar. A full crew awaited takeoff, just as though the flight was SkyBarr business. Maura had no idea where the plane was headed.

Skylar took the seat next to her in the lounge, leaned over and hooked her seat-belt. "We can dispense with these," he said as he checked her belt, "as soon as we are off the ground."

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Skylar?"

"We are going abroad, dear." He motioned to the priest. "We'll be married now, Anna Maura. Later, we'll have a proper wedding at Barrett Manor. You are going to be reasonable about this, are you not?"

"Skylar, are you really going to marry me without a pre-nuptial agreement? That does seem so out of character."

He laughed. His handsome face showed no trace of what he must be feeling, having to flee so unexpectedly. "I have a pre-nuptial agreement, all signed and sealed."

"Not signed by me."

"Of course, signed by you. You are sometimes quite forgetful Anna Maura."

Two stewardesses came into the lounge and presented Maura with a lovely floral bouquet. "Mr. Barrett asked that we witness the ceremony."

Maura wanted to crawl under something. Was this truly to be her wedding day? A day that was supposed to be the most wonderful day of her life? She wished she could scream out her unutterable despair, but she knew she wouldn't do anything. She would marry Skylar while her heart bled and lay crushed within her, and her soul ached for the man she loved and wanted to marry.

She stood beside Skylar. In a trance, she heard nothing, felt nothing, until Skylar slipped a diamond wedding band on her finger and replaced the twenty carat diamond solitaire she had removed after being told it was SkyBarr property. He pulled her to him and kissed her mouth. She wondered that his lips were warm, while hers were so cold.

She must have said the proper words, although she couldn't remember doing so, for her hand was grasped, her cheek was kissed, and the priest smiled and wished them a long, happy and fruitful life together.

Nervous tension drove Maura to the lounge. She kicked her shoes off, lay down, closed her eyes and in spite of herself, fell asleep.

* * *

Maura opened her eyes to Skylar's touch. "We're here, Anna Maura. You might want to go to the lavatory before we leave the plane. We still have a journey of some distance ahead of us."

The SkyBarr jet was circling to set down as Maura returned from the restroom. They landed at a huge international airport. She learned, when they got off the jet, that she was now in Geneva, Switzerland.

Under different circumstances she would have been delighted to be in the world's most famous watch-making center, visit the home of the European headquarters of the United Nations and the International Red Cross.

Skylar took her arm and guided her to a Rolls Royce which awaited them. She and Skylar got into it. Skylar's bodyguards got in two other automobiles--one preceded the Rolls, the other followed.

Lake Geneva, on the Swiss side, lay before them. The awesome peaks of the Bernese Oberland towered over it and stretched away as far as the eye could see. As they drew nearer

the lake, Skylar spoke.

"On the other side of the lake--the French side--Anna Maura, you can see Mont Blanc. It is Europe's highest mountain."

"Are we going there?"

"No. I own a hunting lodge on the Swiss side, high in the mountains. It was built in the sixteenth century as a hunting lodge for an Austrian prince. The last of his descendants to use the lodge was the Duke Charles Eugene von Klein, a hero of the Tyrolese insurrection against the occupation forces of Napoleon's French and Bavarian troops. That was a real love story. The handsome, obstinate, courageous duke who could not be conquered by Napoleon's armies was conquered by the ravishing Mignon, who was actually a French heiress, the Duchess Catherine Elizabet Esterhazy duCroy. I will tell you about them some evening when we find ourselves with time on our hands."

"I didn't know you were a history buff, Skylar." Her voice was edged with sarcasm.

"There are many things you do not know about me," he replied acidly. "It might be to your advantage to learn some of them."

Maura moved slightly away from Skylar. He deliberately took hold of her arm and closed his fingers tightly around it until she squirmed and moved back near him. She didn't otherwise

react. He released her and spoke as though nothing had happened. "You will be enchanted with the lodge, dear, and you'll love the refreshing, clean mountain air. From the third-floor balcony there is a spectacular view of a deep valley below and the majestic mountains above."

Maura didn't respond to his attempt at conversation. She wasn't surprised to learn he owned a lodge in the Swiss Alps. Nothing about Skylar surprised her any more.

The car climbed upward. The fantastic autumn colors of the landscape contrasted startlingly with the frosted panorama of distant peaks. They passed a small village nestled snugly at the base of the mountains. A goatherd herded his goats along the cobbled, sloping streets from a summer mountain pasturage. They passed a number of surrounding village fields. Maura saw farmers working the land to the rhythm of cow bells jingling and jangling, as the cattle moved about to forage.

Rich vegetation of heath and rhododendron, dwarf willows, pines and shrubs disappeared as the car climbed higher into the great woodlands of conifers, and higher still, into fields of edelweiss blooming in brief splendor in the pale rays of the sun high overhead.

From a great distance, a sound identified by Skylar as a Swiss Alpenhorn caught Maura's attention, and she couldn't help but ask, "Is that one of those enormously long horns?"

He laughed. "Yes. In this atmosphere, the sound can be heard as far away as seven or eight miles."

Well into the mountains, Maura was sure they had left the rest of the world behind, until an express train suddenly appeared running parallel to them on an electric railway network, snaking its way up to an even higher elevation.

Finally, losing sight of the train, Maura found herself nodding in the thinner air. To her dismay, her thoughts strayed to Carter, and she wondered if he had returned to Georgia, to the university, and his work at the lab. What was he doing right now, this minute? Was he thinking of her and hurting the way she hurt when she let herself think of him?

So distressing was her separation from Carter, she forced herself to concentrate on her present dilemma. A dreadful apprehension gripped her. What would happen to her when they reached their destination? What would Skylar do when he discovered she was pregnant? Her greatest fear was for the child she carried. She knew Skylar would not tolerate her pregnancy. She must do something to prevent him from trying to terminate it. But what could she do?

The lodge, called SkyHigh, was a towering solid-looking edifice, perched almost on the very edge of a steep precipice, overlooking an enormous valley below. The snow-covered peaks of the Jungfrau rose high above. A full staff of servants lined up in front to be inspected by Skylar Barrett.

Once inside, Maura was impressed by the quiet elegance of the interior and its furnishings. Of course, Skylar always had the best of everything, and not too long ago that was what she had wanted--Skylar and the best of everything.

The beautiful porcelain stoves in many of the rooms most interested her and caught her fancy. The one in her bed chamber had hand-painted tiles that depicted ancient warriors, Biblical themes, and historical scenes. She was intrigued by all of them, and studied each one.

A maid brought her a tray of cheeses, her favorites among them--Emmentaler and Gruyere-- with various fruits and breads, and a glass of milk. She announced to Maura that dinner would be late because Mr. Barrett had not yet decided on the menu.

Maura kicked off her shoes, took the tray to a window seat, sat down and gazed out at a fairyland filled with a cold, frightening, and intimidating beauty. Her spirits sank. There could be no escape from such a place. SkyHigh was her prison.

She had no idea how long she remained at the window, her tortured mind searching frantically for some way out of the intolerable situation in which she found herself, when a knock on the door roused her from her reverie.

Before she could get to her feet, the door opened. A large middle-aged man and a young plain-faced woman entered. The demeanor of the man as he stepped forward into the room, followed closely by the woman, caused an icy tremor to stab Maura. Overpowering the fear, a sudden defensive outrage at the intrusion flamed her face.

"I did not invite you into my bedroom. Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm Dr. Felix Girod. This young woman is my nurse, Miss Weir. Mr. Barrett instructed me to give you a physical examination."

Maura's heart skipped a beat, and she lashed out at him, "You will do no such thing! Have I nothing to say about it? Get out. Tell Mr. Barrett I will not be examined by you."

Doctor Girod stepped to the door and opened it. Rollings and Henderson entered. The doctor nodded to nurse Weir, who produced a hypodermic syringe.

Maura's face blanched with horror. "No!" she screamed. "Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!" She darted toward the door. Rollings caught her and pushed her to Henderson who grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her. She kicked him and stomped his foot. His face reddened with anger, but he held her firmly while the nurse administered the injection.

Maura howled. She kicked the woman into a bedside chest, and stomped Henderson's foot again. She tried to kick Rollings in the groin, missed him, and caught the doctor in the stomach with her toe. He swore, moved back and asked Henderson to put her on the bed. She was tossed on the bed and held down by both Henderson and Rollings until the sedative took effect and she went limp.

She felt her legs forced apart. She was hurled back into the nightmare of roaring lions, of joyfully shrieking hordes of spectators, of lights and cameras, and, mercifully, darkness.

* * *

"She fought like a tigress, Mr. Barrett", the doctor informed him. "We had to sedate her. I'm sorry."

"I was sure you would. Anna Maura is very headstrong, and she hates doctors." He said this proudly, as though her resistance pleased him. "What was the result?"

"She is definitely pregnant, and healthy, and shows no signs of any infection."

"I was sure of that, as well. At least I was sure of the pregnancy. She has the look about her."

"Yes. Congratulations, sir."

Skylar didn't bother to enlighten the doctor that he was not the father. "How long before the sedative wears off? I want her to join me for dinner."

The doctor checked the time on a French Porcelain Mantle clock. "She should be coming around by now."

* * *

The drug, though strong, wore off quickly and Maura roused to another knock on her door. "Go away," she mumbled hoarsely through a dry and burning throat.

Skylar came in. "Anna Maura, dinner is waiting. Dry your tears, freshen up, and come with me. You have not been hurt. You have been examined. You are pregnant, but we shall deal with that later."

"You didn't need to put me through that ordeal to determine I'm pregnant, damn you. You enjoy shocking and humiliating and terrorizing me, don't you?"

"Of course not. There were other things to determine, as well, dear."

"Go to hell, Skylar. Eat without me. I'm not hungry."

"Anna Maura, will you never learn how unwise it is to defy me? I will not allow you to sulk about this. It's over and done. Get up."

Maura dragged herself off of the bed and gave him a searing look. She went into her bathroom and washed her face. Her hands would not stop trembling.

She accompanied Skylar through the maze of corridors and rooms until they reached a large dining hall. A long lace-covered table was set formally with fine china, silver, crystal, and a scented centerpiece of lighted candles and delicate flowers grown in the greenhouse. Soft music in the background tore her frail composure to shreds and she feared she would burst into tears.

Servants stood by to serve them.

Skylar held her chair. She sat down, appalled at his insistence on the proprieties, treating her as though they were lovers enjoying a romantic evening, rather than acknowledge even to himself, she was a hostage.

As they dined, Skylar kept up an attempt at conversation, until he looked up and saw her hostile gaze on him. He put down his knife and fork and turned his full attention to her. She felt the force of his indignant stare and bowed her head.

"Anna Maura, you said you would not make me happy. I can, and will, accept that. But I will not allow you to make me unhappy. There is a difference between not being happy, and being unhappy. Do you understand that? I expect you to control your emotions well enough to make it possible for me to live in peace with my own wife. You are my wife."

"You don't treat me like a wife, so how can I behave like one? I can't even talk to you, Skylar. You refuse to hear what you don't want to hear."

"Then, tell me what I do want to hear. As for not treating you as a wife, perhaps I was a little remiss in forcing you to wait for the consummation of our marriage. Since that is obviously important to you, I'll come to you tonight."

Maura dropped her spoon, staining the lace tablecloth. A servant appeared at once, blotted the stain and provided her with a clean spoon. My God. Why couldn't she leave well enough alone? Why did she always do and say the wrong things, things that just intensified her predicament? "No, Skylar, you misunderstood me. I meant to say you show no respect for me. You never consider my wishes."

"That is because you don't know what you want, Anna Maura. You certainly don't know what's best for you. Why do you condemn me for trying to see to your welfare?"

"You don't try to see to my welfare. You force me to do what you want me to do."

"That's easily remedied. Don't make it necessary for me to force you to do anything. Do as I ask you to do, and that problem will resolve itself."

She wanted to weep, to hit him, to scream. She might as well bash her head against one of the stone walls of the lodge. Maybe if she did try to please him, things would be easier for her. He never interfered with what she wanted to do, or what she did, the first three years of their relationship. He was very good to her, catered to her wishes, was easy to get along with... until Carter came into her life. No. Not just Carter. Until she and Carter began to nose around about Uncle Harold. That was when things changed, got out of control. That was when Skylar changed.

She took a deep breath. She must call on all her skills now, if she hoped to better her situation. "I apologize Skylar. I must be to blame. We once had such good times together. We never had any trouble between us. You were always good to me. You did take good care of me. I realize now, all this trouble must be my fault."

He lifted his brows.

"I will try to do better," she said. "I promise."

Skylar smiled his brilliant smile. "Thank you, Anna Maura. I knew you'd understand once you thought it through. I want you to have a good life with me. I want us to be happy together, and I pledge to do my part to bring that about. The rest is up to you."

"I'm willing to wait . . ." her voice faltered, threatening to give her away, ". . . until the pregnancy can be dealt with. What do you have in mind about that?"

"There's plenty of time. My family owns a clinic in Stockholm. I'll make arrangements for you to go there for the abortion, possibly as soon as next month. You will have excellent care, dear. We have the best doctors in Europe on our staff. Having settled that, I see no need to wait to begin our married life. We will move into the master suite at once, and spend our first night at the lodge together."

The trembling started deep inside of her, inching its way through her. She prayed it wouldn't work itself to the surface and alert Skylar to the truth, that she was desperately seeking to throw him off guard.

She made up her mind, then and there, to do whatever was necessary to protect the baby. Once Skylar decided he was ready to have sex with her, nothing could deter him. Nothing could

be done to keep him from her. Since she knew that was the way things were, she would get through it, somehow, without offending him, if possible. She would try to view it as he

had said it was, a necessary biological function, nothing too romantic about that. That's what he'd said. Well, that's what it must now become to her. The fact he couldn't impregnate her made it a little easier to accept.

CHAPTER 15

After dinner, Skylar and Maura took their drinks and went out on a glass-enclosed deck overlooking a fantastic alpine landscape. A huge fire roared and crackled and blazed in an over-sized stone fireplace. Classical music filtered in from some hidden source. Maura vowed to drink enough champagne to dull her senses.

Skylar stepped up behind her and pulled her to him. He held her in his embrace as they gazed out into the clear star-spangled night. His nearness, his breath on her hair, caused her to stiffen and close her eyes. If he noticed her rigid response, he ignored it.

The moon glow cast a sparkling shimmer on the snow capped peaks. The golden-tenor voice of Luciana Pavoratti swept over Maura and engulfed her in sadness. She was back in her bedroom at Highland Terrace listening to that same beautiful voice, with Teddy beside her on the bed. Tears of jealousy had stung her to the depths of her being that night. That was the night she had called Carter and Cynthia had answered the phone. My Lord, she thought. That seems so long ago. She drew in her breath audibly.

Skylar turned her to face him, mistaking her intake of breath as awe. "Yes," he said. "This view is quite overwhelming. I brought another woman here once, and she thought it sinfully breathtaking."

Maura gasped. "Why would you tell me that?"

"I suppose I felt the need to tell you because of your affair with Dr. Boyd. But my liaison happened when I was involved with her, before I met you and decided to spend my life with you."

"I'm sorry, Skylar. I realize how much my behavior must have offended you."

"I wasn't offended. I knew he had influenced you, and it wasn't your fault. You are so naive, Anna Maura. That is partly why I was attracted to you."

Yes, she thought. You saw me as someone you could easily manipulate and control. You will never believe you made a mistake in judgment. You'd rather believe everything that happened, against your will, was influenced by Carter. You can’t allow yourself to think I might not be so gullible and easy to mold, after all. She laughed and said aloud, "Yes, I'm very naive, Skylar. I'd like a fresh drink, please." Maura slipped out of his embrace.

He didn't move except to reach for a bell cord. He pulled it, and a servant came quickly into the room.

"See to our drinks, please," Skylar indicated their champagne glasses.

Maura moved nearer the glass wall. Snow fell steadily. She hadn't noticed the heavy snowfall until now. The misty white swirl of snowflakes drifted down dreamily, and she wished she could pretend well enough to pretend she was here with Carter, so she could more easily get through the night ahead.

Skylar had not mentioned his trouble with the authorities to her. He seemed not at all disturbed by it, but she knew when Skylar had fled the country that Carter must have turned the microdot over to the FBI and they were close on Skylar's heels. He probably thought he was too big for them to bring down. He would be sure his high-powered, overpaid attorneys, and all the officials in his pocket could insulate him and protect him from any serious repercussions.

After all, that's what money was for, and Skylar had plenty of money.

They drank and talked until Skylar began to question the amount of champagne she consumed. .

"Anna Maura, I think we should retire. Go on ahead and get ready for bed. I'll be in shortly."

"I don't know where to go. I can't find my way around in this place."

He smiled and rang for the servant. "Dutton, take Mrs. Barrett to the master suite, please."

"Yes, sir. Please follow me, Mrs. Barrett."

That was the first time anyone had called her Mrs. Barrett, and she wanted to weep. It was what she had once wanted more than anything, and now that it had happened, she didn't want it at all. She wanted to be Carter's wife. She knew it would do no good to weep, or plead, or fight.

She would lie beneath a man she had once thought she loved, a handsome, ambitious, callous man. She would pretend to feel what he wanted her to feel, all the while wanting another man with all her heart.

* * *

Madison avoided eye contact with Carter, and Carter's intuition told him he wasn't going to be happy with what Madison had to tell him. "Carter, I'm sorry." the FBI agent said at last. "He slipped through. He left the country and took Maura with him."

Carter slammed his fist on the table. "Dammit! I told you every minute counted! Someone got to him, warned him, just as I knew they would. Does that really surprise you, Madison? It doesn't surprise me."

"We thought we had identified all his people in the agency and had them sealed off from this operation. Obviously, we missed someone. We'll get him, don't worry."

"Don't worry?" Carter asked, his anger choking him. "Don't worry?"

"We'll get him, Carter."

"I doubt that. I'm sure he had a back-up plan for just such a contingency. Where did he go?"

"Switzerland. He owns a lodge in the mountains. He's holed up there, very comfortably, I might add. But we'll get him, sooner or later. By tomorrow every major newspaper in the world will have this story. A lot of people will be put out of work, very lucrative work. Many others will go to prison, or be shot, or commit suicide. When the crap hits the fan, we won't be the only ones after him."

Madison poured himself another drink and took a sip. When Carter said nothing, he continued, "Skylar's attorneys are throwing up all sorts of stumbling blocks to deter us, but it’s too late. We already have in custody all those in crucial positions within the illicit end of the business, here and abroad. Those who are clean will be left to keep the giant corporation alive until it can be reorganized."

"I've got to go, Madison." Carter said impatiently. "There are people I must see. No one knows I'm on my way home yet."

"I'll be in touch, Carter. We have men in Geneva. We're keeping track of him. He'll make a mistake, step outside the protection of the Swiss government, and we'll be there to get him when he does."

"I don't want to count on that. I want to hire someone to go in and get Maura out of there. A mercenary. Can you recommend someone?"

"I know someone. He's the best, but his fee is exorbitant. If you'll just be patient--"

"How exorbitant?"

"Half a million if the job is in Europe, and this one is."

"I have about half that amount. Would he accept half now, and the other half when the job is done?"

Madison's tired features broke into a smile. "No, Carter, he wouldn't do that. He insists on the entire amount up front, cash, in case he gets killed on the job. Which is certainly possible--even likely."

"Okay. I'll get the balance from a friend of Maura's. Have your man get in touch with me at the university."

"I'll do that. You'll hear from him, if he's interested. He'll identify himself to you as Cobra."

"Cobra? I hope he is a cobra."

"As near as you'll ever get."

"Will he go alone to get her?"

"Whatever it takes to do the job is what he'll put together. If he needs a half dozen, or a dozen men, to pull it off, he'll recruit them. It will be his responsibility to pay them. That's why his fee is so high."

"I understand. Thanks."

"I'm sorry about this, Carter."

"I know you did what you had to do. I'm just upset, knowing Maura is with him against her will. None of this is your fault. I'll never be able to thank you enough for all the time and trouble you took to bring this about. I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful."

They clasped hands. Carter took his leave, and walked out of the Federal building in Atlanta. He drove to Norwich, his mind in turmoil. He envisioned the most painful scenarios: Maura being intimidated, forced to do things she didn't want to do, punished in frightful, degrading ways, because of him. He had been convinced that he could never, under any circumstances, take a human life. Now he knew he could and would kill Skylar Barrett if he ever got the chance, and that knowledge destroyed a part of his own humanity.

* * *

"Dr. Boyd, honey! You're home!" Mrs. Malcolm rushed to him and hugged him. "I sure did miss you. It got so lonesome around here, I had to go and get my mean old cat, Mo-Mo. Hope you don't mind." All this was said without her drawing a breath, and Carter knew he was home.

He deepened his voice, drew his lips back, and said, "I missed you too, sweetheart." In a normal tone, he added, "No, I don't mind about Mo-Mo."

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes, but I'll eat later. I need to get to the university and meet with Dr. Hartmann. I promised everyone I'd keep in touch, and I didn't. I'm sorry about that."

"You should be. We were all worried and concerned about you, especially when we didn't hear from you. Your lady-friend, Cynthia Warren, has called every day for a month."

"Okay, thanks. What about Sue Ann Lyons? Has she called?"

"Many times."

"I'll call them from my office. I'll be home in a couple of hours. I'll have dinner then."

"Good, I'll have it ready for you."

Carter drove to the university. He couldn't concentrate on much of anything since Maura had been taken from him. His only relief came from his conviction that Skylar wouldn't hurt her as long as he had some control over her. Carter perceived that Skylar had an unhealthy obsession with Maura. He had a psychological need for her that he couldn't ignore, and was helpless to change. Carter believed his obsession was a clear indication of a serious mental disorder. If Skylar ever became convinced she was slipping away from him permanently, he would kill her to prevent it. He was programmed, ordained, destined to control everything and everyone in his life. For that reason he was a real danger to Maura, and anyone else who defied him. All Carter could do was hope and pray that Maura would not defy him to the point of making him give up on her.

He was so engrossed with his thoughts, he didn't realize for some time that he was not only

at the university but parked in his parking space. He didn't know how long he sat there fretting and worrying, but he promised himself he would try to keep his mind on things which were constructive, rather than on gloomy, distressing, pessimistic things that might, or might not, happen.

He went into the administration building and walked to Dr. Hartmann's office. The door was opened before he could knock, and the old man was shaking his hand.

"I saw you through the window, Carter. I'm happy to have you home, my boy. You'll need to check out the work I've done in your absence. I might be onto something. How are you?" He took a deep breath. "The IRS and FDIC people have practically moved in here with us, going over all our records, especially grants, donations, and so on that SkyBarr or Skylar Barrett was involved in. All this is so difficult for me to believe, but I knew it must be so when you told me it was. Oh, I do go on, don't I, not giving you a chance to say a word? Do come in and sit down. I want to know everything."

"Did you know Skylar took Maura and left the country to avoid arrest?"

"No. I didn't know that. I haven't seen him or spoken to him in some time."

"I'm happy to be back, Professor, but I need a few days to settle down before I can get my mind back on my work. I want to discuss with you, later, a fantastic plant growing in a Louisiana swamp. It has quite remarkable properties. I intend to return to Boggy Bayou and bring back some of its seed pods to study."

"Is that where you went? To a Louisiana bayou?"

"Yes, I forgot you didn't know that. I just wanted to check in and say hello. I'm going to my office now and make some phone calls I neglected to make while I was gone. I'm sorry I didn't contact you as I said I would, but once the FBI got involved, I was instructed not to make any phone calls at all."

"I can understand that. Did you hear about Thomas Jackson?"

"Yes. I believe he was murdered, and Maura's maid was found dead. We know she was murdered, as well, but the police, I understand, finally decided the fire that killed the Jackson family was accidental and Freda committed suicide. I assume both files are closed. Skylar was never considered to be involved. So, what else is new?"

"Yes, it is all so sad. Well, we are very happy to have you back." The old man suddenly grinned and Carter raised his brows.

"What?" Carter asked.

"A telegram, from the Swedish Embassy, Carter. It came several days ago, but I didn't know how to get in touch with you. It's official now. You won the Nobel. You were the only recipient in medicine this year. Congratulations, my boy."

"Do you mean it? I won? This is the greatest honor I'll ever receive. I'm very happy about it. Thank you, sir. I hope I don't wake up and find it's just a dream."

"It's no dream, Carter. Not all news is bad news, thank goodness."

The two friends had a drink together, shook hands and parted.

Carter left Dr. Hartmann and went to his own office. He would be happy for it to be a dream, if it could all be a dream, and he could wake up to the way things were before he and Maura were caught up in Skylar's web.

Carter called Sue Ann and asked to visit. She wanted him to come at once.

He called Cynthia and promised to see her soon, but begged off for the time being. He told her he had too much to catch up on and would not be able to see her for the next few days. She was, as usual, agreeable and thanked him for calling.

* * *

"Carter. Come into the den. It will be more comfortable. I'm having the living room and dining room re-papered."

Carter followed Sue Ann. Jordan appeared in the doorway. "Shall I serve coffee, madam?"

"Yes, thank you, Jordan. Sit here beside me, Carter."

"Sue Ann, did you know Skylar's men found my camp? They took Maura while I was

away?"

"I knew she was back in Norwich with Skylar, at SkyView. I didn't know what happened. She didn't call me, so I assumed she was closely watched and unable to make any phone calls. I've been quite distressed not knowing what was going on. I tried several times to call and reach her at SkyView but was rebuffed each time. I knew it was no use. Skylar wouldn't let her talk to me. He accepted my account of what happened the night of Maura's escape from the hospital, but he was never quite sure I wasn't lying, and he doesn't trust me."

"She's no longer at SkyView."

"What? Where is she then?"

"Skylar left the country and took Maura with him. They are in Switzerland."

"Switzerland! He didn't lose much time getting her out of reach, did he?"

"Someone tipped him off. We found the proof we needed to back up Harold's charges, Sue Ann."

"So that's it. Thank God. Where did you find it?"

"In Teddy's eye. His pupil. A microdot."

Sue Ann leaned back against the sofa cushion and put her hand to her mouth. "Yes," she managed to say, "that sounds like Uncle Harold. So, Skylar is running from the authorities. He's on the lam." She laughed. "Isn't that the term for it?"

"It's as good a term as any," Carter agreed. "Sue Ann, Maura is in a great deal of danger, especially now that she knows what kind of man Skylar is. She's very good at antagonizing him, and I can't help but worry she'll set him off and he'll hurt her, maybe kill her. I want to get her away from him and home again before she does get hurt. I need help to do that."

"I'll help in any way I can, Carter. I hope you know that."

"Let me explain. There is a man who rescues people from this type of situation, makes his living doing it."

"You mean, one of those soldiers of fortune, or whatever they're called?"

"Yes. A mercenary. His fee is enormous, five hundred thousand dollars. I have less than half that amount."

"I said I'd help you, and I will. SkyBarr paid the money they promised. We'll take it out of that. Isn't that a kind of poetic justice? To make Skylar pay for someone to rescue Maura from him?"

Carter leaned over and kissed her. "That's the most wonderful example of poetic justice we'll ever know. I can repay the money after December. I won the Nobel. I believe the going rate for that is over a million dollars."

"Carter! How wonderful!" She returned his kiss. "I don't want the money repaid. What makes you think I wouldn't do for Maura what you're willing to do? I love her, too. If it bothers you about the money, consider it my wedding gift to you and Maura. You are going to marry her, aren't you?"

"At the very first opportunity. Thank you, Sue Ann."

"When will you want the money?"

"I'll call you as soon as I hear from this man."

"You trust him with all that money?"

"I don't know him. I trust the man who recommended him."

"Well, it that is good enough for you, it's good enough for me. Carter, I can't tell you how sad I was to hear what happened to Freda. I know Maura must have been devastated by the news."

"She was. We both were, but Maura won't ever get over it. Our security guard at the university was killed in a fire that destroyed his home and his family. I don't think there is any doubt that Skylar had a hand in both of those tragedies."

"Oh, God! I'm glad you know him for what he is, Carter, so you will be extra cautious when dealing with him, as I hope Maura is."

"Maura isn't. She lets her anger override her mouth, and I fear for her safety because of it."

* * *

NOVEMBER:

Carter was at home getting ready for bed when the telephone call came. He answered and heard a well-modulated voice on the other end say, "This is Cobra."

Carter's voice betrayed his excitement, "I've been expecting your call."

"Yes. When can we meet?"

"I'm available any time that's convenient for you."

Cobra asked, "How about tonight?"

"That's fine with me. Can you come here?"

"Are you alone?"

"I am."

"Then, I'll come to you. Give me your address and directions. I'm not familiar with Norwich, yet."

After determining where the man was at that time, Carter gave him the address and directions to his condominium.

"Be expecting me."

Carter paced impatiently. He kept checking his watch. It seemed a long time before the knock finally came. He strode to the door and opened it to a tall man with an athletic build, light brown hair and amber eyes. His lean, strong face was bearded, partially hiding a deep scar which cut through his right cheek. He had a slender build, but there was no mistaking the power behind his solid muscular frame.

Cobra looked too young to be in the business he was in, until one looked at his eyes. His eyes shone like liquid gold in the indirect lighting of the vestibule, and reminded Carter of the eyes of a serpent-- older than time--in experience and caution. Yes, Cobra was a good code name for this man.

"Come in. Can I get you a beer or a drink?"

Cobra entered. His eyes scanned the area, missing nothing. "I don't drink or smoke. I

have no bad habits except my work. This is not a social call. Forgive me, but I'm here to do business."

If Carter considered the man rude or abrupt, he made no indication of it. "Thank you for responding so quickly. Did Agent Moore brief you?"

"He told me everything he knows, which is enough for me to work on. I'll need a recent photograph of the woman."

That caught Carter off guard. "I can have one for you by tomorrow." He hoped Sue Ann had one to give him.

"Do you have the money? Madison did tell you my fee is half a million dollars?"

"Yes, he told me. How long have you known Agent Moore?"

The shadow of a smile flitted across Cobra's face. "I ask the questions, Dr. Boyd. I don't answer them. That is why I'm known by the code name Cobra. To hide my identity. My credentials are another matter, however. I've had twenty-two years experience as a mercenary, all over the globe. Most of those years have been spent learning and experiencing things most people don't even allow themselves to think about. Didn't Agent Moore convince you I'm the man to handle this assignment?"

"Yes, he did. Sorry. All this is new to me. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the protocol--"

"I wouldn't expect you to be. I'll bring the woman out, never fear. However, I require something other than a photograph of her."

"Anything in my power to give you, is yours."

"I'll need something that she will recognize could only have come from you. It will be necessary that she trust me, and not fight my efforts to rescue her. There will be no time for introductions or polite conversation. You understand?"

"Of course." What could he possibly give Cobra to convince Maura that Cobra was someone he had sent? He frowned. The first thing that came to mind was a coded message, but he discarded that at once. He wasn't familiar enough with the code to put together a message that would make sense, and it would take too much time for it to be decoded.

Carter realized the man was regarding him with an expectant gaze. "Sorry, I was trying to think. I'll have everything for you tomorrow. The photograph, the money, and something for you to give to Maura."

"I must inform you that these things cannot be brought about overnight. It could possibly take weeks before I'm ready to go in. When I put a plan into action, nothing is left to conjecture, nor to chance. I do not intend to fail in this endeavor, nor die in the execution of it."

Carter's dismay was plainly evident. "Weeks? I'll be in Europe myself in four weeks, to receive the Nobel Prize!"

"Congratulations. What better time for it, then? I won't try to bring her to you. That would not be possible, given all the security measures taken and the restrictions of the Nobel Awards. But I will try to position her where you can see her as you're leaving for the banquet, so you'll know I've fulfilled my mission successfully. Afterward, I'll put her aboard a plane for home."

The mention of the Nobel Award brought to Carter an image of the medal Maura had discovered around Teddy's neck. "Wait." he said, his eyes flashing his excitement. "I have just the thing for you to give her, to assure her I sent you."

Carter left the room and soon returned with the medallion that had the stars on one side and the legend, ‘Don't let the stars get in your eyes' on the other. He handed it to Cobra. "Give this to her."

Cobra examined the silver pendant. "Interesting."

"Yes." Carter smiled his pleasure at having thought of it. It was the very thing to send. "That little medal is responsible for the fall of one of the world's great criminal empires."

"It's often the small things that accomplish big results, Dr. Boyd. I 'll call you tomorrow evening, after six. Is that agreeable?"

"Yes. How do you want the money packaged?"

"Large bills. Pack them in an oversized florist's box and tie it with ribbon."

"Won't you want to check it?"

Cobra laughed, showing good teeth, pulling his scar down so that one side of his mouth gave the appearance of a scowl. He quickly cemented his lips. Carter had the impression he rarely laughed. His eyes sparkled with humor, however, and he replied. "That won't be necessary."

He shook hands with Carter and went to the door. He turned as if to say something, then opened the door and was gone.

Carter stared after him, relieved that he had placed this problem in Cobra's obviously capable hands.

He thought about calling Cynthia, knew he should, but really didn't want to. It was now very late. He would put off the unpleasant task of informing her of his love for Maura.

Carter went into his bedroom. Mrs. Malcolm had turned his covers back before she left for the day. He undressed and got into bed, switched off his beside lamp and closed his eyes. He thought of Maura. Unable to bear the image of her with Skylar, he forced his tired mind from her, and focused his thoughts on the plant growing in the bayou, cleansing the soil of man's poisons. He wished he could cleanse his soul of the hatred and anger which poisoned him.

* * *

Carter and Cynthia went through the long line in the university cafeteria and took their trays to a table. He helped her out of her coat, removed his own, and they sat down.

"Carter, I can't believe you disappeared for so long without a word to anyone about where you were, or how you were."

"We've been through that, Cynthia. I explained it to you."

"I know. I'm relieved you're okay, and I'm sorry about Maura. I do wish you'd told me about her when you first realized you felt something for her. I wasted a whole summer agonizing over you."

"Wasted a whole . . . I should've told you. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Well, those things happen. I know that. But if I'd known that Maura and you were getting it together, I could've gone after that super-rich hunk, Skylar Barrett, myself."

"Haven't you heard anything I've told you? Skylar Barrett is a criminal. He took Maura by force and fled to Switzerland."

"I could handle it."

"Cynthia!"

"Anyway, I'm going to terribly miss our times together. Carter, you're the best lover I've ever had."

A frown clouded his brow. "That sounds as though you've had a few."

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't. And I'll find another now that I know you are no longer available to me. I need a man in my life, Carter, but I don't want to be married. I'm allergic to children."

"My greatest desire is to have a family, a wife and children. You and I didn't really know each other at all, did we, Cynthia?"

"We knew enough to get together on cold nights like this one." She picked up her fork. "Are you sure you don't want one last time together. I could handle that, too."

Carter simply looked at her. He couldn't have answered that one if he’d wanted to, which he didn't.

She took a bite. "I wish you the best, sugar. I mean that."

"I know you do. I wish the same for you." He should have known this would be her response. All the time he had thought her accommodating and agreeable, it was just that she didn't care. He suddenly realized Cynthia was actually a little cold and self-serving. She had not the slightest emotional investment in their relationship, yet it had caused him considerable discomfort, fearing the breakup would hurt her. He was relieved she wasn't hurt, but dismayed to learn he had been nothing to her but a . . . He laughed. At least she hadn't said 'stud'.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing." He was thinking that few men accused their women of viewing them as little more than sex objects, but that's exactly what he had been to Cynthia. She and Skylar would have made a great pair, he thought, two beautiful cold narcissists.

CHAPTER 16

DECEMBER:

"Anna Maura, I have to go to Zurich to attend a business meeting. I'll be away for several days. I'm taking Rollings and Henderson with me but will leave Perry and Gordon to see to your security. Of course, a dozen guards are on the premises and on duty at all times." He hesitated, looked at her intently. "If you need anything, Gordon is the one to see. You should be able to find something to occupy you while I'm gone. I fear I've spoiled you with my constant attention."

Believing she would have a better chance of escaping if she could go to Zurich with him, Maura pleaded, "Can't you take me with you, Skylar?. I feel like a moth in a cocoon here, especially since I'm unable to go outside."

"I would like to take you with me, dear, but that is quite impossible. This is not a pleasure trip, I assure you. Perhaps later, after the abortion, I’ll take you on a tour of Switzerland. Did I tell you it is scheduled for next week?"

Maura endured his embrace and his kiss, and in stunned silence watched him get into a helicopter with several other men. It soon disappeared in the whirling snow. She turned back into the great hall telling herself she must not let the thought of an abortion find a place in her consciousness or she would not be able to function, and she must keep her senses about her. She summoned Gordon. "Gordon, I want you to take me sleigh riding, or ice skating, or skiing. I need to get out of here for a while."

"Do you ice skate and ski, Mrs. Barrett?"

"Yes." His grin brought the truth to her lips. "No, I do not ice skate or ski, but I assume it doesn't take a lot of skill to sleigh ride."

"My orders are that you do not leave the lodge for any reason. There is an indoor rink, however, if you'd like to learn to ice skate."

Another blow. She would not be able to go outside at all. "No, thank you. Sliding around on ice doesn't appeal to me, especially since I know which part of me would be sliding on it. I'm bored. How long will Skylar's meeting last?"

"Several days, I understand."

"What's it about? I thought all Skylar's business was on hold."

"He's meeting with some people in an effort to keep his business under control, until some sort of misunderstanding with the U.S. government can be cleared up satisfactorily."

"What? Misunderstanding? You are joking."

"Ordinarily I wouldn't discuss this with you. I tried to convince Mr. Barrett not to go to Zurich. The people he went to meet are people who have paid many millions of dollars for a particular drug which they will not receive now that SkyBarr shipments are frozen."

Her pulse took a leap, and a spasm of hope shot through her. "Is Skylar in danger? Is that what you're saying?"

"It's hard to imagine Mr. Barrett in a situation he cannot control, but this might be one."

Gordon remained for a time, talking with Maura, but refused to say anything more about Skylar's trip to Zurich, or SkyBarr's troubles. When he left, she took a book from a shelf to read, but couldn't concentrate on the words.

She tried desperately to think of some way to escape. The remoteness of the chateau, the fierce weather, and her ignorance of the dangerous terrain all made any thought of escape absurd. Maura became drowsy, but fought sleep. She hated the nights with Skylar, and she hated going to sleep, for then the nightmares clutched at her, dragging her into the horror she couldn't cleanse from her subconscious, even though she learned it had been a hoax.

The heat of the fire and the silence finally lulled her into a restless sleep. The images which flooded her dream state were different this time. She was lost in a world of blinding white. Bitter cold seeped into her as she trudged through enormous snowdrifts. Heavy ice-encrusted snow caused her to slip and fall.

Blood stained the vast bright whiteness. A trail of dark red splotches led to a shape, stiff and frozen. A hand was lifted awkwardly into the air. It clutched the bear. Sitting next to the bloody ice-enshrouded form was Bébé Broussard, also bleeding into the snow. Maura struggled through deep drifts to get to the body. Standing very still, she looked down at it.

She heard herself saying, "You must have been somewhere you shouldn't have been, Skylar."

Maura awoke in a panic. She walked the floor. She would not allow herself to get back into bed. She feared she would fall asleep again, and the nightmare would return.

She heard a noise. It sounded as though it were right outside her bedroom door. She walked to the door and opened it. Perry stood with his hand reaching for the knob. Maura stepped back.

"Oh," he said. "Sorry, if I scared you. I was just checking to see if everything was all right."

"Yes, everything is fine."

He pushed inside. "I need to check the windows."

"No, you don't. The windows are fine. No one could get inside through any of those windows. They overlook a deep chasm. "I want you to leave."

He looked undecided for a moment, walked back to the door as if to leave, then turned suddenly and grabbed her. He covered her mouth with his hand. "Sh-h. Don't make a sound or I'll kill you. I'm leaving here in the morning. I've been fired. That ass Gordon fired me. I know you want to get away from here. Be good to me, give me what I want, and I'll take you with me when I go."

Maura struggled fiercely. He jerked her toward the bed and growled through clenched teeth. "Don't make me hurt you. I will, if I have to." He pulled her gown up, forced her back on the bed and tried to get his trousers unzipped. He had to keep grabbing her arms. He pulled her gown off one shoulder with his teeth and tried to get his mouth to her breast.

Maura arched her back, drew her knees up, released her legs and caught him in the groin. He stumbled back. She screamed. He hit her a resounding blow that knocked the breath from her, and she curled up, gasping.

Gordon, three guards behind him, kicked the door open. He grabbed Perry and slammed him into the wall. "Get this poor dumb bastard out of here. Restrain him. I'll take care of him as soon as I see if Mrs. Barrett is okay."

Gordon helped Maura sit up. A red welt on her face made him grit his teeth. "Do you need the doctor?"

"Lord, no, not Dr. Girod. I hate him. I'll survive." She touched the pulse hammering in her throat and said, "God, I'm glad you came when you did. That pervert was trying to rape me."

"He'll regret that to the last day of his life, which won't be long if I know Mr. Barrett. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Gordon?"

"Yeah?"

"I don’t want to be alone. Can you send one of the serving women to stay with me tonight?"

"I'll send Madam Pauline, the housekeeper."

"Will it take long for her to get here?" Maura trembled uncontrollably. She clasped her arms, sat on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe normally.

Gordon noticed that Dutton had just arrived on the scene. "Dutton, stay here with Mrs. Barrett until Madam Pauline gets here."

"As you wish, sir." Dutton said. He stood framed in the doorway after the others had left.

To Maura, Gordon said, "Dutton can be trusted to see to your welfare until the housekeeper can get here."

* * *

Skylar had been away two days. The sun was shining and the weather was cold but beautiful. Maura spent most of the day on the third floor gallery, wishing she could sprout wings and fly away. Madame Pauline told her one of Mr. Barrett's guards, Perry, had suffered an accident and had died.

As the sun set, casting a warm golden-red glow over the frosted landscape, she heard the helicopter. Skylar was back. She was excited, and disconcerted. Without him, without human companionship, she was losing her grip on reality.

She raced through many corridors toward the side entrance where the helicopter pad was located. Before she could get there, machine-gun staccato blasts, shouts and screams, echoed thunderously in the frigid air. Frantic servants appeared from everywhere. Maura now saw black-dressed men with hoods covering their features, armed with automatic weapons, being lowered from the helicopter. She was suddenly in the midst of a war zone.

Gordon materialized and grabbed her arm. He pulled her away from the side entrance doors. "I don't know what's going on," he said, drawing his weapon, "but I want you to go to the basement shelter and stay there until I find out what's going on."

He called to a group of terrified servants and told them to take Maura to the shelter and lock themselves in. Reluctantly, Maura turned to go with them, burning with a need to know what was happening. "Is Skylar in the helicopter?"

"No. Whoever is, is shooting up the place. Get going!"

Before she could get out of the corridor, a frightening figure in black burst through the door, dropped to one knee and shot Gordon as he pointed his own weapon to fire. Maura stood paralyzed in shock. The assailant, bleeding from a gunshot wound, ran to her. He seemed to recognize her. He handed the medal to her. "You must come with me at once."

The moment Maura saw Teddy's pendant, she knew Carter was somehow connected to this. She extended her hand to the man and ran with him out the side doors to the helicopter."

* * *

After they were settled into a hotel in Stockholm, Cobra sat in a chair by a window, his chest bared, revealing a wicked shoulder wound. One of his men attended him.

"You should have a doctor see to that," Maura said. "It looks awful!"

"This man is a medic," Cobra replied. "He knows what he's doing. It looks worse than it is."

She gazed at the scar which sliced a jagged path across his handsome, boyish face. "Apparently this is not the first time you've been injured."

"Nor the last, I'm sure".

"Why do you do it?"

He chuckled. "Why does anyone do what they do? Most of us, for money. Some few, like this man who sent me to get you, do what they do to benefit others. There are too many men like me and Skylar Barrett, too few like Carter Boyd."

The mention of Carter's name brought a flutter from Maura's heart. "I wish I could share this honor with him. I wish I could be with him."

"That will happen soon. I've brought you here so you can be near him when he receives his award. I hope he’ll be able to spot you in the crowd and know you’re safe with me. I heard one of the men at the lodge refer to you as Mrs. Barrett. Does that mean you’re married to Skylar Barrett?"

A startled gasp came from Maura.

Cobra’s eyes softened. "Dr. Boyd doesn’t know, does he?"

"That is something Carter and I will have to work out. There is no need for him to know anything I was forced to do as Skylar's prisoner until he is back home and everything has returned to normal. If it ever does. I must say I'm a little miffed that you should know so much about me, and I know nothing about you."

"It's my business to know everything I can about a subject I'm hired to involve myself with. I've learned enough about Skylar Barrett to know we must not let our guard down for a second. He will send someone after us. You aren't free of him. You will never be free of him until he's dead."

A chill shook her. She recalled her nightmare of stumbling through the snow and falling over a body. Without seeing a face, she had known it was Skylar. Had that been just a deeply immersed hope? Or had it been a prophetic dream?

* * *

The news of the assault on the lodge had reached Skylar in Zurich. His meeting had ended, and he was making arrangements to return when he heard about it. He immediately ordered the helicopter home.

He entered the lodge and called his people together. Most of the details of the raid came from Gordon, who was seriously wounded but able to talk to him. When Gordon finished his account, Skylar's face looked as if it had been hewed from stone, and his merciless dark blue eyes blazed forth his wrath. Everyone present could feel his implacable fury. It wasn't necessary for him to rant and rave and slam things around. No one could mistake the depth of his animosity.

Skylar beckoned to Henderson and Rollings. They followed him from the room. He led them up to a tower called the Eagles Lair, walked to the stone abutment, and looked down into a bottomless abyss.

Without facing his men, he exhaled harshly. His breath formed a white vapor in the frigid atmosphere. "I should have left you two here in charge of the security of the place, rather than Gordon and Perry." His eyes narrowed at the mention of Perry's name. "But I needed you with me."

Skylar buttoned his overcoat against the biting wind. "Gordon was remiss in his duties not to have been aware of the rogue helicopter long before that team had time to get on the ground." Pacing the small area of the tower, he inhaled deeply, welcoming the painful burning of icy air that filled his lungs. Physical pain was preferable to the mental anguish that plagued him.

He stopped his pacing and faced Henderson. "You heard Gordon say he had Perry thrown from this very tower?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Barrett.

Skylar said quietly, "I hold Gordon responsible for what happened here. You know what to do."

"Yes, sir."

Henderson moved to leave the tower. Skylar held up a hand to stay him. "Not now, Henderson. There are matters we must discuss, plans to be made. Were you successful in getting information on the man called Cobra?"

"Everything I learned is in the report I gave you."

"I haven't had a chance to look at that. I'll get to it right away. Perhaps, we can use him in some way. Who knows? First things first. I want you to go immediately to Stockholm. Dr. Boyd is there, maybe Cobra will try to get Maura to him."

* * *

Cobra stood up, pulled his shirt over the bandaged shoulder, and said with the suggestion of a smile, "If he had been at the lodge, your troubles would be over. I would have killed him. As an added bonus for Dr. Boyd, a man I admire, I would have killed Skylar Barrett."

They settled down to watch the award ceremonies on TV. Maura beamed with pride when Carter's name was announced. The cameras caught his dream-come-true expression, and his beguiling smile, as Sweden's King Carl XVI Gustav awarded him the gold medal, the diploma, and the authorization for the prize money.

At a precise point in the ceremony, the man called Cobra, got up and stated, "It's time to go. It might not be possible to get near enough for him to see you, but we will try. He’ll be searching for your face in the crowd."

"How could you know that?"

"It was prearranged. I told him I would have you where he could see you, if possible, so that he’d know the mission was successfully accomplished."

Maura donned a navy-blue wool coat. Cobra handed her an umbrella. A light snow misted the city.

They left the room and walked along a hallway until Cobra stopped and tapped on a door. It opened. He spoke to the man inside. "Get the others and meet us in front. Hurry it up."

Cobra told Maura, of the nine men he recruited, three died in the rescue attempt. He did not know how many of Skylar's men were killed. She shuddered to think that she was responsible for so many deaths and hoped Gordon had survived his wound.

No, she thought, it wasn't her fault. She wouldn't accept that responsibility. Skylar had forced her to accompany him against her will. He was to blame for all the bloodshed.

All night snow flurries had whispered down, laying a soft glistening white blanket over the city, and providing a lovely backdrop for the momentous event that had just taken place.

As they walked from the hotel across to the side entrance, Oxtorgsgatan 14, of the Konserthuset, excitement rushed through Maura. She couldn't be still. She would see Carter again. She would at least get to see him. The streets were cordoned off and they were quickly caught up in an overwhelming crowd of people milling about. The sky had already darkened. Night would soon envelop the city.

"I can't see anything at all," Maura said, "except umbrellas and people. I can't even get a view of the exit."

"No. This wasn't a good idea. For security reasons, he probably won't come out this way. I can't believe I let sentiment get me into this situation."

Cobra pushed through the mob and caught the sleeve of one of his men. "Signal the others and let's get out of here."

"Thank God, for that," the man replied.

"No, please," Maura pleaded. "I need to see him. I want to see him. You said you told him to look for me."

"A bad decision on my part. We were home free, and I allowed sentiment to cause me to make an error in judgment. We will get out of this crowd before we are hopelessly buried in it."

Disappointment overcame her. Maura stiffened to resist, but looked up and saw Henderson not more than a dozen feet away. She grabbed Cobra's arm, jerked him to her and whispered. "I just saw Skylar's number one man." Her fear was sudden and crippling. She trembled so violently, Cobra had difficulty keeping her on her feet.

He hissed, "Get control of yourself. Don't hang on me. I have to be free to move." Reaching inside his overcoat, he removed his weapon. He got the attention of his men who pressed near and told them they were in an alert situation. Then, he asked her, "Which one is he? Where is he?"

She forced herself to look in the direction she had seen Henderson. He was no longer there. Looking around, she finally saw him again and pointed him out to Cobra.

"He's not alone, be sure of that," Cobra told her. "Of course, they would look for you here, knowing Dr. Boyd is in Stockholm. What a fool I was to even think of bringing you to this place."

"What will we do?"

"He hasn't seen you, yet. That much is obvious. We'll try to get out of here without endangering the lives of all these people."

They pushed and shoved their way to the edge of the crowd and crossed a blockaded street to the corner of an intersection where a number of cabs were parked. Maura, Cobra, and two of his men entered one taxi, the other four men, another. As they departed, Cobra looked back and saw a number of men running in their direction.

"They've spotted us," he growled. "They'll be watching all the transportation ports." He leaned forward. "Driver, head south out of the city and drive until I stop you, and don't waste any time."

* * *

Carter was surprised to find his father a guest at the reception following the Awards Ceremony. He wouldn’t have recognized his own father if his uncle had not shown him the recent photographs of him. He was pleased his father had come, but was sure his uncle had something to do with that, too.

Tormented by concern for Maura, and unable to view the crowds milling about outside, he had no idea if the mission had been successful and she was safe, or if the mission had failed and she was still in Switzerland with Skylar. This worry was the only thing which dampened his joy and enthusiasm at his accomplishment of winning the Nobel and the honor and fame it brought him.

As soon as he felt he could excuse himself, Carter made a call to his uncle, and another to Madison. Neither man had heard anything from Cobra, and this news did nothing to console him. He spent as much time as he could spare with his father. Each wanted to catch up on all that had happened to the other since that fateful day they were torn apart by a situation for which neither was responsible.

Although Carter believed he fully forgave his father, he couldn't help feeling there must have been some way for them to communicate so that he could’ve known what was going on. Carter acknowledged he still loved his father, but a tiny seed of bitterness remained. He hoped, in time, it would vanish and nothing would mar their new-found relationship.

* * *

Cobra directed the cab driver to a private hangar located in a field behind a row of buildings, in a small town outside Stockholm. The principal building was a large taxidermy shop. They got out. He paid the driver, waited for the second cab to drive up and paid that driver also. Instructing his men to go directly to the hangar and wait for him, Cobra took Maura by the arm and led her inside the shop. An old man came forward to greet them.

"Is Joseph about?" Cobra asked.

"I'll get him." The man hobbled though a curtained door into the back of the shop.

Minutes later, a young dark-haired man appeared. He smiled and shook hands with Cobra. He glanced at Maura but asked no questions, and no explanations were offered.

"I need to make a quick phone call, Joseph, before we get to our business."

Joseph pointed to a wall phone. Cobra shook his head. "Not that one."

The dark-haired man opened a cabinet and took a phone out. He handed it to Cobra."

Maura looked around, pretending an interest in the many stuffed animals and birds and fish that were displayed everywhere, while she listened intently to Cobra's call. She heard him say, "Yes, she's safe. No. No trouble at all except for a few casualties. Actually, fewer than anticipated. Who? Really?" He laughed. Maura had never heard him laugh. Or seen him smile. His manner was cold and professional but his soft amber eyes could speak volumes without uttering a sound. Yet they could be fierce and hard as well. She had seen them change in a instant.

"What's that number?" Cobra asked. "Yes, I have it. I'll give them a call. That’s one assignment I look forward to accepting. You know better than to ask that. I'll just say,

if circumstances had been different, I would've already done the job--gratis. It's better this way. I'll get paid for it. Yes. I'll call them now."

Maura frowned as Cobra dialed a second number and spoke again. "This is Cobra." A pause, while he listened. "You know my fee? Yes. Have the money ready when I get there."

"What was that all about?" Maura asked.

He ignored her. "Joseph, I want you to fly this young woman to the United States."

Maura interrupted, "That call was about Skylar, wasn't it?"

Joseph said, "You know my fee for international flights, Cobra.".

"Yes. I know." Cobra faced Maura. After a moment's reflection, he said. "Give Joseph the ring."

"Which one?" she asked.

"The diamond wedding band."

Maura removed the ring and handed it to Joseph. He looked at it briefly and nodded. "I'll fly you to the east coast of the United States, but you must take a commercial flight from there, if you wish to go elsewhere."

Maura protested to Cobra, "Aren't you going with me? I have no money!"

"I'll buy the other diamond, the solitaire," Joseph offered.

Maura fingered the engagement ring. "How much?"

"For whatever that size stone is worth to buyers who sell on the black market. Let me check it out."

She removed the ring and handed it to Joseph. He spent some time examining it. He removed the diamond from its setting, measured it and weighed it. After intense scrutiny, and many notations on a paper, he went to a file cabinet and flipped through records. He lifted a folder out and studied it. Then he picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"I have a brilliant, emerald-cut white diamond, a twenty carat stone, flawless under fifty magnification." He listened for a few minutes. "Hold on," he mumbled. To Maura he said, "I have to know the purchaser's name."

Cobra exhaled his impatience. "Is that necessary, Joseph? It's going on the black market."

"My source says this size and quality of stone has been mapped, and I need to know that, Cobra, to protect myself."

Maura said, "My husband, Skylar Barrett of SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals, bought the ring for me".

Joseph repeated this information into the phone and waited. After a tense ten minutes, he mumbled something into the mouthpiece, then said, "Okay," and hung up.

He walked over and handed the ring to Cobra. "It's been mapped and registered and insured, so the price is much less than it would be otherwise. The stone will have to be re-cut before any of my people will touch it. I'd say two hundred thousand dollars would be top price."

Cobra looked at Maura and shrugged his shoulders. "We can trust Joseph."

"Take it," she said, "I need the money." She touched Joseph's arm. "Did your source say who the registered owner is?"

"Yes. SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals of Georgia."

Maura laughed delightedly. "I suppose that makes me a seller of stolen property. But a woman would assume her wedding rings belonged to her, wouldn't she?"

Joseph went to a heavy safe, opened it and extracted stacks of bills. He pulled an attaché case from a shelf, blew the dust off, and placed the bills in it. He handed the case to Maura.

Cobra strolled to the door and stood looking out. Without turning back to them he said, "Joseph, I need you to get her airborne quickly. We might have company, and I want her out of here."

Joseph closed and locked the safe. "We can leave right now. Come on." He led them through a side door of the taxidermy shop and headed toward the hangar. "If there is to be a confrontation here, Cobra, you make damn sure my father is not involved. He's no part of this."

He pointed to a huge brass gong hanging from the taxidermy sign. "See that? That's not just for looks. If you see there is to be trouble, hit that gong. Before you can say ‘spit’, there'll be two dozen armed guys here to defend this strip."

"You just get that plane in the air, Joseph, and we'll be gone from here before you get out of sight."

"You’ve got it. Make haste, little lady.

* * *

On the flight over, Joseph discouraged any conversation. Maura was tense and nervous. Everything seemed to frighten her lately. The small plane frightened her. It was a rough flight, especially over the ocean, and she half expected the plane to nose-dive at any time into the broad expanse of water.

Her fidgeting finally got to Joseph and he tried to calm her. "There's nothing to fear. This plane is in top-notch condition. You wouldn't believe some of the flights this little sweetheart has made, and without any problem at all. You'll do us both a favor if you'll just lean back, close your eyes and try to sleep. We'll be there before you know it."

"Forget that. I couldn't sleep a wink the way this little ‘sweetheart' is jolting and bouncing around."

Joseph shot her a resentful glance. "Suit yourself, but at least try to be still. I can handle the plane's bouncing about, but I can't handle yours."

Maura muttered under her breath. "Great. I can't talk to you and I can't move. This is an uncomfortable, frightening and expensive flight."

"Maybe, you should've just booked a commercial flight on one of those super jets."

She sighed loudly and closed her eyes. She wished for once she would fall asleep, but she didn't. Her mind exploded with jumbled thoughts and memories, and new fears added to the old ones.

Once they landed, she would be alone to face whatever there was to face. She fully expected Skylar's men to be waiting for her. Even if she eluded them, where could she go?

She sat up straight. She would go to New Orleans and call Judge Carleton. He would help her, at least until Carter returned home. Her rescue from Skylar was not the end of her troubles. The fight was not over, and . . . and what would she do about her marriage to Skylar? How could she tell Carter?

CHAPTER 17

Maura didn’t know she had fallen asleep until Joseph shook her. She raised up. Every muscle ached. "What? Where are we?" She looked around. They were on the ground, but she saw no other planes.

"This is a private airstrip. You're on the coast of Maine. I'll have my friend who owns this property drive you to the airport where you can catch a commercial flight."

He helped her from the plane and introduced her to Fred Jeter, the man who would drive her to the airport.

Maura nodded and attempted a smile. She couldn't focus her eyes. She rubbed them hard.

"Are you all right?" Joseph asked.

"I feel like a Mack truck ran over me. Other than that, I guess I'm okay."

Maura got into a car with Fred Jeter. He sat behind the wheel without turning on the ignition while Joseph loaded several boxes into his plane.

"What are we waiting for?" Maura asked. She was so tired and sore and uptight that she feared she might pass out. "Can't we go?"

"We're waiting for Joseph. He'll be finished loading in just a minute. What's the big rush?"

Maura fidgeted, twisting and turning on the seat, trying to find a spot where the torn plastic upholstery wouldn't rip a hole in her flesh. "Why is he coming with us?"

"He isn't. Well, not exactly. I always take him to the Fisherman's Net to eat when he lands here. It's just up the road a couple of miles. We'll eat, then I'll bring him back to his plane and you and I will go to the airport. Okay?"

"Lord, yes! I'm starving. Maybe I'll feel more like a human when I've had something to eat. Is the food good?"

"The food is great."

Joseph came to the car. He opened the door to the back seat. Maura said quickly. "No! Let me sit back there. You get up here with . . . him."

Joseph eyed her, then looked at Jeter. Maura sighed loudly. "This seat is torn and is rubbing me raw," she explained. "I want to sit back there."

Joseph rolled his eyes heavenward and opened the door for her. She got in the back seat, and Joseph got in the front.

Jeter looked at him and snapped. "So? Like you think I made a pass at her, or something?"

"Forget it. This broad can screw up your mind without half trying."

She thought, when it's not much of a mind to screw up, but all she said was, "I hope they have a restroom at Fisherman's Net."

* * *

Maura walked wearily across the huge, tile floor of the Greater New Orleans Airport terminal, to the row of telephones. She dropped the coins into the pay phone and dialed Judge Carleton's number. The butler answered.

"Hello, you've reached Judge Carleton's residence."

"This is Maura Sinclair. Perhaps you remember me? I was an overnight guest of Judge Carleton's several months ago."

"Yes, I remember you, Miss Sinclair."

"Is Judge Carleton available?"

"No, he's not at home. He's in chambers. If it's important that you reach him, I can give you that number."

"Yes, its important." Maura listened carefully and memorized the number. "Thank you." She dialed the number he gave her. After several rings, while her heart sank, the judge answered.

"Judge Carleton, this is Maura Sinclair--"

"Maura! Are you all right? Where are you?"

"I'm in New Orleans at the Greater New Orleans airport."

"I'll send my car for you at once. Will you recognize my driver?"

"Yes."

"I'm preparing to leave for home. I'll see you there."

"Thank you."

Maura sighed her relief. She touched her aching head, knowing she should eat something; and she should rest before she succumbed to the jet lag she suffered. Entering the lounge, she bought a bottle of aspirin, a soda, and a bag of chips with a crisp hundred dollar bill taken from the attaché case.

She went outside to the passenger zone where cabs lined up, took two aspirin tablets, ate the chips and drank the soda. Feeling abnormally weak, she waited, watchingfor the judge's Mercedes.

Maura squeezed her eyes tightly shut and rubbed them hard. When she opened them, her startled gaze fixed itself on a large, rumpled-looking man whose back was to her. He seemed to be studying departing and arriving passengers. She stumbled back, clutching the attaché case to her breast. Her heart pounded so hard, it felt as if it might burst from her chest. She wished she had not discarded the large blue coat at the taxidermy shop. Maura backed away, into a second man, and lost her balance.

The man caught her arm, and Maura froze.

"Are you all right, little lady?" he asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Staring into the eyes of a stranger, Maura mumbled an apology and moved away from him. She studied the man she had thought was Henderson. He turned slightly, giving her a full view of him. She inhaled deeply and exhaled her relief slowly. He was a stranger, also.

She knew she had to get a grip on herself. She was almost a basket case. Henderson was still in Europe where he was supposed to be. She must stop imagining every shadow she saw to be one of Skylar's men coming after her.

"Miss Sinclair."

She whirled around to see the judge's chauffeur. He held the door for her, and she got into

the Mercedes. They left the airport and headed toward Jefferson and the judge's estate. Maura closed her eyes, tried to rest and calm herself. She fingered her knit blouse. It was wilted and rumpled and damp. It stuck to her and caused a vague feeling of nausea to wash over her. She looked forward to a shower and a change of clothing.

Abruptly, she sat up straight. She didn't have a change of clothing. She leaned toward the driver. "Will you please take me to a mall, or a shopping center, where I can buy a few things? I have no luggage with me."

"Yes, Miss Sinclair. Any particular shop?"

"No. Anywhere."

The Mercedes turned into a shopping center and parked at a chain of shops directly in front of The Fashion. Maura went inside and made her way in a daze to the maternity department. She bought tops and pants, pajamas and underwear. Close-fitting garments were beginning to be quite uncomfortable. Maura bit her lip, wondering how Carter would react when he saw her in maternity clothes. He didn't know she was pregnant.

Leaving the boutique, she went into a drug store and bought cosmetics. A clerk carried her purchases to the car. The chauffeur got out and put them in the trunk.

A thirty-minute drive brought them to the judge's Bayou Barataria estate. Judge Carleton was waiting for them. He greeted her and helped her with her packages, while the driver took the car around to the garage.

Once inside the house, Maura paused and leaned against a wall. "Judge Carleton, will you excuse me, please? I really need a shower and fresh clothes."

"I can see you're exhausted, Maura." The judge turned to his butler. "Stanley, show Miss Sinclair to her room, and send Nettie to draw her bath."

He called after them, "Maura, if you feel up to it, please join me for dinner."

Nettie got the bath ready for her, while Maura undressed. Left alone, she got into the tub and lay back. Ah-h, she thought. This is the second most wonderful experience in life.

Her thoughts turned to Carter. She was almost afraid to think she would see him soon, be with him soon, make love with him soon. She had never been superstitious that she was aware of, but she tried to suppress her deep love and yearning for Carter, afraid that if she let herself think of him too much, want him too much, something awful would happen to prevent them from being together.

Forcing her thoughts from Carter, she was distressed to find herself thinking of Skylar.

God forbid! that she should acknowledge, even to herself, that his touch, his lovemaking, had produced a response from her treacherous body, just as he had said it would. These thoughts made her feel disloyal to Carter, even though she knew that no man could ever take her heart from him. She loathed Skylar, it would take time for her inner self to purge all the former feelings she'd had for him, before she knew the kind of man he really was.

She forced Skylar from her thoughts and finished her bath.

* * *

The judge looked across the table at Maura. "Do you feel better now, Maura?"

"Yes, much better, thank you. I enjoyed the wonderful Creole food. You must have stolen the chef from one of New Orlean's famous restaurants."

"No. But, a couple of them have tried to steal Ardoin from me. He's been cooking his way into my heart through my stomach for twenty-five years. I consider him absolutely irreplaceable. And does he know it. I have to pay him just a little less than the president of the United States is paid."

"Really, Judge!" Ardoin's thin, lined face crumpled into a grin. "That's just plain nonsense, Miss Sinclair. The judge even makes more money than I do."

Maura giggled. "Really? He does?"

"Very little more," the judge laughed.

Maura placed her napkin on the table and sighed. "Well, anyway, I did enjoy the dinner very much. It's been a while since I sat down to eat like a civilized human."

"I know how tired you must be, so I won't keep you long, but I want to know everything. Did you get to see Carter?"

"No, and that was very disappointing to me. After Cobra rescued me, I was taken to an area outside the palace in Stockholm where we thought I might be able to catch a glance of him. It was hopelessly crowded, and it got really dark, so we didn't stay."

She didn’t mention seeing Henderson there. "I saw part of the Awards Ceremony on television. Carter looked very handsome, very pleased, and very happy."

"I'm sure he was. He had a two-fold reason to be. His father was there, came to see him in his moment of glory."

This surprising information brought a smile to Maura's tense lips. "I'm glad you told me that, Judge. I know it meant a lot to Carter."

"It did. He called less than an hour before you did. He told me they got to spend some time together. They patched up their differences, and Carter is on his way home."

"Oh! Then I must go home at once."

"No. I meant to say, he's on his way here, not on his way back to Georgia. He plans to go first to Boggy Bayou, to pick up a plant he wants to study. Cobra contacted him, so he knows everything went as planned, that you're safe."

"I'm so excited. I can't wait to see him."

"First thing in the morning, I'll take you to Boggy Bayou aboard the CAROLYN.

"You will? Thank you."

"You'll probably beat him there. When the two of you are ready to come in, all you need do is call me, and I'll come for you."

They finished dinner, talked awhile, had a drink, then Maura excused herself and went to her bedroom. It was the same room with the wonderful view that she had been given before. She put on her pajamas, glanced out the window into the moonlit garden for a moment, then got into bed.

Maura prayed she wouldn't be distressed by the awful dreams. She was exhausted. She hoped she might quickly fall into a deep, untroubled and restful sleep. She closed her eyes and soon entered the twilight world of dreams--and nightmares. Skylar appeared to her, his brilliant blue-eyed gaze pierced her. A chill shook her. She watched his lips curve into a smile. His soft voice mocked her. "You must be where you shouldn't be," it taunted.

In her sleep, Maura covered her ears with her hands, but she couldn't shut out the mocking voice. She no longer saw Skylar. She only heard his voice.

"You must be where you shouldn't be." It became a chant, and many voices repeated it, over and over, "You must be where you shouldn't be. You must be where you shouldn't be."

Figures began to emerge from the black edge of the dream state into the swirling bright whiteness of the dream image. Maura now stood in the snow staring at a snow-covered form with its arm raised, dripping blood onto its white mantle. On one of the slender fingers with its manicured nail, a silver Adam and Eve ring glinted in the misty light.

Forming a circle around them, the figures began to take on recognizable faces. She saw Belle and Joe Broussard, and Bébé Broussard. Beside them in the circle, Freda came into view, then Uncle Harold--dear, Uncle Harold.

And coming up to take her place, was Mama Betu, holding Teddy. "Oh!" Maura cried out to her, "Mama Betu! I didn't know you were dead!"

All the figures pointed accusing fingers at the bloody snow-covered form and chanted, "He must be where he shouldn't be."

Maura's wildly beating heart woke her. She sat up in bed, confused, disoriented. Sweat dampened her brow. She looked around the spacious room and knew where she was. It was just one of those horrible dreams again. Would she forever be tormented by them? Would she never be free of Skylar, free of the dreams, free of the fear?

* * *

Before they left to board the CAROLYN, Maura approached the judge. "Judge Carleton, I want an azalea plant. Can we stop somewhere and get one?"

"That isn't necessary. Come with me."

The judge led her outside. They crossed a flag-stoned terrace to a large greenhouse and went inside. Maura was spellbound by the hundreds of beautiful plants and blossoms. They went to the azaleas--red, purple, white--all blooming.

"Blooming? This time of year?"

"One makes one's own season in a greenhouse, dear."

She stiffened at the endearment. It was the one Skylar used so often. For a brief moment, it was Skylar's voice that she heard, and a stab of fear slashed into her.

Judge Carleton smiled at her, and she quickly relaxed. "May I have a white one?"

"Of course, as many as you wish."

"I want only one, to plant at the camp. It's nothing more than sentimental nonsense, Judge. Carter and I met under white azaleas."

He laughed. "Yes, I heard. Not as romantic as it sounds, though, was it?"

"No," she agreed, "not at the time. Carter often jokes that we lay together in the bushes before we even knew each other's names. He neglects to mention, however, that we were dodging sniper bullets."

Judge Carleton laughed. He gazed at her and became serious. "Maura, I want you to know I'm happy about you and Carter. He needs someone like you in his life." He glanced at her protruding abdomen. "Does he know --?"

"No. Do you think he'll--?"

"He'll be very happy. You'll see."

She sighed. "Judge, we have a lot of problems that must be worked out before we can be truly happy together. But, Lord, how I hope he will be pleased about the baby."

* * *

Carter got out of the pirogue. His guide hauled it up onto the bank, sat down beside it, lit a cigarette and prepared himself to wait until Carter was ready to go back to what he called "civilization".

They had almost missed the place they were supposed to turn into, where the marsh led into the bayou again. The sharp-eyed Cajun guide saw smoke rising from Mama Betu's cooking pot and made the turn just in time. Carter never would have found it.

She saw them, even before they got the boat up on the bank. She came down the path toward them. Carter noticed her head was wrapped in a white turban, over which she wore a fur hat, and her bony frame was clothed in a long white shift and covered with a robe-like fur.

She stopped, arms crossed, and waited for him to reach her. Her colorless eyes shot sparks at him, and he couldn't tell if she was pleased or displeased to see him.

"So, doctor man," she said in her smooth voice. "I knew I would see you again."

"I had to come, Mama Betu." He said simply.

"Yas," she answered, turning back toward the clearing. "I know about the Award thing. You are very great man, great traiture."

He followed her to her cabin. From the cooking pot came a redolent, savory aroma. He sniffed and said, "Um-m, that smells great."

"You are invited." She went in the cabin, returned with a large bowl and ladle and filled the bowl from the pot. "Come," she said.

He entered the cabin and sat at a table where she indicated. Mama Betu poured goat's milk from a galvanized bucket into two mugs, filled two bowls and placed them on the table. She sat opposite him. "Eat," she said.

He was pleased that the stew, or whatever it was, was delicious. He wasn't wild about the warm goat's milk, but not wanting to offend her, he drank it. They ate in silence. When they were finished, she arose. He moved to get up and she said, "No, sit. I will sit with you again."

She went out. He heard her calling to Minou. The one-eyed cat squalled nearby. "Come, Minou," she said. "Come and get your dinner. Come now, you must eat something for Mama."

Carter looked about the cabin. It would soon be very cold on the bayou. He saw no sign of a heater, or any kind of stove, in the room. He was concerned about the frail old Negro woman. How did she stay warm?

She came back inside, sat at the table, and studied him with her wise old eyes. "You have come for the plant." It was not a question.

"I have come hoping you will agree to give me one of the plants, yes."

"Minou is sick," she told him. "I have not the power to make him well. To make him well, you see, would be to make him young again. And that no one can do, not even you, doctor man."

"No. I can't do that. No one can do that."

"So, you see? You are not God, and you must not usurp God's power."

"Is that how you see it?"

"It is. What you need understand, Si-mohn Boyd, is that man's ills are like a pan full of holes with which he attempts to draw water from the bayou. If one is very good at it, very quick with each dip, a few drops might fall into your cup. But, you could not, in an eternity, draw enough water from the bayou with a sieve to quench your thirst."

"But don't you think those few drops might keep one from dying of thirst?"

"No. I think those few drops would only make the thirst a lingering cruelty."

Carter spun his mug in circles on the wood table top. Mama Betu took the mug. "I will brew us some tea." Carter was somewhat hesitant about drinking tea brewed by the bayou people, but he didn't object.

"Mama Betu," he said, "we have gained so much knowledge that benefits mankind. We have the technology today to add years to our lives and to make those years more productive and more pleasurable."

She grunted, placed tea leaves in the mugs she had rinsed, and filled them with boiling water. "Those are text-book words, doctor man. The long and comfortable life of which you speak is not available to the poor, to the masses. The truth is, man has the technology today to destroy nations in his ethnic cleansing frenzy, to kill the earth in his greed, and to propagate crime, drugs and disease." She sighed and fixed her gaze on him. "For every cure you find, there are political and military scientists working around the clock to create new Armageddon weapons, and viruses that can, and might, wipe all life from this planet. Do you not realize that you, and those like you, are fighting a losing battle? No. Not a losing battle, a lost battle. The battle is already lost, Si-mohn."

Carter sighed and sat back in his chair. How could she be so negative? She has given up her struggle, he thought sadly. She is ready to die. He felt oddly empty and defeated. Everything she had said was true, but as Maura had told him once when he allowed himself to feel that same sense of despair, decent people of the world cannot give up and quit.

"It will soon be cold," he heard himself saying. "What do you do for heat?"

"I brang the cooking pot inside and wrap myself in the furs of the poor creatures whose coats I have stolen."

"Mama Betu--"

"Life is a never-ending struggle between good and evil, Si-mohn Boyd. And, I know that we must continue to fight, so that evil will not completely triumph. But I have lived many decades, and my spirit is melting away. I told you before, you must do as you think right about the plants. I also told you, I do not want to know if you take a plant away."

She touched her mug to his. "Drink your tea, Si-mohn."

They sat in silence and drank the tea. It was good tea.

When the mugs were empty, Mama Betu stood and took his hand. She turned it palm up and studied it. "You are a good man. I will take you to the plants, and I will leave you alone with them. Do what you must do. And, go."

* * *

Carter paid his guide, took his seed pods and the single plant he had uprooted, and turned toward the camp. He walked past the Broussard house--he would always think of it as the Broussard house--and greeted the new family Pete had hired to take care of the camp.

A wrenching despondency overcame him, and he kept his gaze fixed on his footsteps as he left the house behind. He could still see in his mind's eye the bodies of his two good friends, stiff in death, left on the side of the road like garbage, and in the turn of the bend, he envisioned the cur dog's pitiful remains. He shook the awful images from his mind and hurried on to the camp.

As he came in sight of his own house, a strange feeling crept over him. Then, he saw it. The white azalea bush. He dropped the box he carried and broke into a run.

"Maura!" he shouted. "Maura!"

She came out, down the steps, and into his arms. Her joy shone through eyes that captured the deep green of marsh plants. He drew her to him. They clung together in silent joy. He assured her of love that nothing could destroy, and she vowed to love him all the days of her life.

He kissed her. With one hand he caressed her swollen belly, while with the other he drew her head to his chest. "I didn't know we were going to have a baby, Maura. I'm glad I didn't know until now. I would have lost my mind."

"There are other things you don't know, things I have to tell you. But, we will be happy, won't we?"

"Lord, yes! We'll be married at once. Let's have a Cajun wedding."

"Can we talk about it later? I just want you to hold me now. I want you to love me. I need you so much, Carter."

How could she tell him she couldn't marry him because she was already married? She would have to explain to him about Skylar forcing her to marry him after they had boarded his jet and left the United States even though he was aware she already carried Carter's child.

Carter retrieved the box of seed pods and the plant, and went inside with Maura.

"I see you got one of Mama Betu's miraculous plants."

"Yes, but I feel really guilty about taking it."

"Why?"

"Because, honey, she was so against it. She doesn't trust outsiders. She believes if I take a plant to study, and something beneficial comes from the study, others will come in droves to the bayou and pull up all the plants."

"You feel guilty, Carter, because you know that's quite likely to happen, unless you guard the secret of where you got the plant with your life."

"I will do that. I don't want to worry about it right now. I've been crazy worrying about you. I just want to convince myself you're here with me and safe again. I won't leave you alone, even for a minute, as long as were here."

Carter lifted Maura into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He made love to her. She held him close and hid her tears from him. She knew there was still a cloud on their horizon. How she dreaded telling him what she must.

Later, they got up and went into the kitchen. She made sandwiches, and he took a pitcher of beer and iced mugs out on the back porch, just as they had done the night Maura had first met Joe Broussard. That night they had sat out there in the humid air listening to the night songs, barefoot and scantily clothed. Now the wind blowing across the bayou was cold.

Carter poured her a beer. "I'm going to find a blanket. It's too cold to sit out here without some protection from the wind."

He returned with the blanket and they sat together, snug and warm.

"Look at those stars, Carter. They seem so bright and near. The stars above the lodge in Switzerland seemed a zillion miles away and looked tiny and cold. Maybe that was because it was so cold there in the Alps."

"Do you want to talk about it, honey?"

"I don't want to. I have to. Carter, you know this baby is yours, don't you?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course, I know the baby is mine."

"Well, I was with Skylar for a while."

"Not a long enough while. Are you saying you slept with Skylar?"

She flinched. He did not press her. He knew she would tell him everything when she was ready to. Nothing she could tell him would change the way he felt about her. She had been kidnaped and terrorized, for God's sake. They ate their sandwiches and drank their beer.

Maura put her plate and mug down on the step and listened to the night sounds. She had grown to love the bayou, and the sounds that had once frightened her now comforted her.

"Carter, when Skylar heard about the warrants, he immediately ordered the SkyBarr jet to prepare for takeoff, and forced me to accompany him. I had no idea where we were going until we landed at the Geneva airport. Once we were over international waters, Skylar told me we were to be married. He had brought a priest along for that purpose."

"What? Oh, God!"

"I told him I was in love with you, had made love to you, but he didn't seem to care. After we arrived at the lodge, he sent a doctor to examine me to see if I was already pregnant. I fought with all my might, but they drugged me. Skylar said I was pregnant--I knew that--and I would have to undergo an abortion."

Carter jumped up and slammed his fist into the porch railing.

"Don't Carter!" Maura cried. "Please don't!" She began to weep.

He came to her and drew her into his arms. "Honey," he said. "Maura, I'm so sorry. I want to kill him. I'm going to kill him." He held her, and rocked her back and forth in acute distress. He tried to kiss her tears away while mingling his own with hers.

"Carter," she wept. "I can't keep expecting you to overlook all the terrible things Skylar puts me through. There has to be a breaking point, a point where you'll want to--"

"I can't listen to that kind of talk, Maura. There will never be a point where Skylar Barrett can break me, or make me turn away from you. If we begin to allow ourselves to think like that, he's had his first victory over us. It won't happen. I won't permit it to happen."

"You really think I'm worth all this trouble?"

"You are my world, Maura, my entire universe. How can you ask me that?"

"I love you, Carter."

He laughed softly, "God, I hope so, cause I sure do love you."

They went inside. Carter built a fire in the fireplace, sat in the large overstuffed fireside chair, pulled Maura to him, and held her. How right everything was when she was with Carter. They were so closely attuned to each other there was no need for words.

CHAPTER 18

Carter wanted to leave the bayou, go home and get started on the annulment proceedings, or whatever had to be done, to dissolve Maura's legal commitment to Skylar. He wanted to marry her as soon as possible. He called the judge.

"Uncle Wes, I'd like you to come get us as soon as it's convenient."

"I'll be happy to do that, Carter. First, I want you to talk to Madison. He's here with me and has some news for you and Maura. Hold on while I give him the phone."

"Dr. Boyd?"

"Yes."

"We've just received word from Cobra that Skylar Barret's body was found last evening in a deep snow-filled gorge less than a mile from the Barrett hunting lodge."

"What? What did you say?"

"Mr. Barrett is dead. We don't know what happened. The authorities are calling it an accident, but Mr. Barrett's people are demanding an investigation. His top man, Jeff Henderson insists he met with foul play."

When Carter felt he could speak again in a normal tone, he said, "I doubt Skylar Barrett was prone to accidents."

"I doubt it was an accident, but the FBI’s official position is that it was. Henderson made a statement to the press. He said Mr. Barrett was infuriated by the attack on his property and by his wi . . . by Maura's kidnaping. He vowed retribution."

"I'll bet he did."

"According to Henderson, Mr. Barrett's bedroom light was on until the early morning hours. When his valét went to rouse him for breakfast, he wasn’t there. The lodge and the grounds were searched. He was nowhere to be found. There was no indication of a break-in, or of any kind of confrontation with an assailant. He simply disappeared from the lodge. His body was not found until the dogs were unleashed."

"Does this means that Maura and I won’t have to continue looking over our shoulders?"

"I would think so. Henderson is top gun of the fugitives now, and I doubt he’s stupid. He knows there are murder warrants out for him and his sidekick, Rollings. I imagine he'll want to let sleeping dogs lie."

"I certainly hope so."

"Carter, there's something else you should know. Mr. Barrett, Sr. has come out of retirement and has taken over the management of the conglomerate. I'm sure there will be a major shake-up and reorganization of SkyBarr holdings now that Anthony Baxter Barrett knows what was going on behind his back. He claimed his son's body and took it to London. Skylar is to be buried in the family mausoleum."

"That's a relief, and it's good news for Maura and me. I don't mean, exactly, that we're happy about the death--even that man's death--but it certainly makes our lives simpler and less stressful."

"Does it really?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Just that Mr. Barrett Sr. accepts Maura as his son's widow and legal heir. Maura is now principal stockholder and president of SkyBarr of Georgia."

"Good Lord! What next?"

"She's now one of the wealthiest women in the world. Is that bad?"

"You don't understand. It's a shock to me, and it will be to Maura. We need to discuss it and determine how she wants to handle it. She might not want to be the wife of a plain old Nobel-winning scientist."

Madison laughed. "You don't really believe that. Let me put Wes back on the phone. He's so eager to talk to you he's twitching like a man standing in an ant bed.

The judge’s voice came on the line. "Carter? What do you think about all this?"

"I'm not sure, Judge. I'm still in a state of shock. Maura and I want to be married at once, now that we can be."

"I didn't know she was married to Skylar until Madison got this news. I suppose she wanted to work all that out with you before she told anyone else about it. She did tell you about it, didn't she?"

"Yes. I'll explain everything to you later. We're going to have a baby, so we want to get married without any further delay. Come to the bayou, Uncle Wes. I want you to marry us."

"There?"

"Yes!" he shouted happily. "We'll have a Cajun wedding, and we'll honeymoon in New Orleans!"

"If you're sure you want to be married at the camp, I'll be honored to come and perform the ceremony. I'll bring Madison. Is there anyone else I should ask? Everyone can meet at my house. I'll bring them to the bayou aboard the CAROLYN."

"Yes. Call and invite Sue Ann Lyons. Hold on a second while I find her phone number. Here it is, 555-8812. That's in Norwich. And call Dr. Hartmann. You can reach him at the

University."

"I'll call them right away. If you think of anyone else, let me know."

He thought about Mrs. Malcolm, but decided against it. He couldn't handle her nervous energy right now. He'd make it up to her when he got home. "There's no one else, Judge."

"Fine. We'll see you in three or four days, if things work out so that Sue Ann Lyons and Dr. Hartmann can come quickly."

"They'll come."

* * *

Once the announcement was made to Pete DuBach, people began arriving at the camp. Maura was awed by all the attention and activity. The men brought chickens, ducks, pigs, and a mountain of other delectable fare.

Pete spread his arms and grinned broadly. "If you have Cadien wedding, you have Cadien wedding, Si-mohn. We brang the food."

The women came to get the house ready and to begin the baking. For three entire days they baked pies and cakes, shelled nuts and made candies.

When the wedding day arrived, the men barbecued outdoors and heated the spicy boudin sausages. Maura stepped outside. She wore a dress of ivory India gauze that draped and folded into a lovely ankle-length gown. Pete's wife arranged yellow blossoms in Maura's chestnut curls. She was so happy she feared she might burst into song and drown out the chirping, cleeking, buzzing and roaring of the swamp denizens.

The day was superb, cool and breezy. The pale sun shafted a path through the dense trees, sending golden rays dancing into the shaded areas. Maura was not allowed to do any of the work. She was a princess for a day.

Huge iron pots filled with water stood ready for the crawfish boil. The women roasted meat, made salads and spicy seafood dishes, dumplings, and big, plump, crusty biscuits.

Everyone drank beer, Muscadine wine, and café brûlot--coffee laced with brandy, flavored with sugar, and set aflame. Maura's favorite was the Cajun biere creole that Pete DuBach made himself, but she settled for fruit juice.

Judge Carleton arrived with a load of food from the finest restaurants in New Orleans. Maura saw how dismayed he was to find tables pushed together to make a thirty-foot long, six foot wide surface that was already loaded with dishes of every kind that sent rich mouth-watering aromas into the air.

Men and women scattered to their homes and returned with more tables. They loaded them down with New Orleans' finest cuisine. It would be eaten only after the rich homemade Cajun food was depleted.

Maura ran to Sue Ann and hugged her fiercely. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Sue Ann." She hugged her again.

"Maura. I've been crazy fretting about you. You can't imagine how relieved I was to hear the rescue went well, and that you Carter were together again." She touched Maura's abdomen. "Ah, how wonderful."

"Yes. We're very happy about the baby."

Carter grasped Dr. Hartmann's hand and thanked him for coming. Dr. Hartmann was almost as excited as Sue Ann. Sue Ann whispered to him, "So many people. And all of them as busy as can be at some task or other. Never have I seen so much delicious-looking food in such quantity and in one place."

"This is quite a wedding party, Maura," Dr. Hartmann said to her.

"Yes. These people are wonderful. They're unlike any I've ever met. They treated me, from their first sight of me, as though I had been among them all my life. I love them all."

"Oh, Maura. This whole place is so enchanting. That cabin must be a hundred years old."

"It is. Come inside. I'll show it to you. You, too, Dr. Hartmann."

Madison joined them. "I'd like to take that tour with you."

"The more the merrier," Maura said.

Sue Ann smiled and her cheeks glowed rosy red when Madison took her hand. Uh-oh, Maura thought with delight. Sue Ann hadn't shown that much interest in a man in a long time. It would take someone like Sue Ann to break the barrier Madison Moore had built around himself.

They had completed a tour of the cabin when Carter's voice reached them. "Maura!" he called. "Hurry, and see who's coming!"

Maura whispered, "Excuse me," and ran from the cabin. She hurried to the water's edge, close behind Carter. Mama Betu, an unexpected and welcomed surprise, poled her pirogue in to the bank. Carter pulled it up on the shore and helped her out.

A hush fell over the crowd as the old woman came into their midst. A Creole chair was brought out from inside the house, and she sat upon it like a queen surveying her empire. A hush fell over the guests. They surrounded the old woman's chair. Everyone loved Mama Betu, their traiture. She healed their sick and fed their poor and comforted their bereaved. She brought their babies into the world and buried their dead. She taught them her craft and shared her knowledge and wisdom, but never had she attended one of their weddings.

Mama Betu carried in her tiny bony hands two cloth-wrapped parcels. She handed one to Carter, the other to Maura. In a soft voice, respected and revered by all those present, she spoke.

"You must unwrap the gifts I brang you, and touch them together five times."

Carter looked at Maura. She bit at her lip and returned his gaze. He pulled the bright cotton cloth apart to reveal a carved piece of ancient ebony wood. Maura opened hers to find a piece of polished holly, worn thin by much handling. Neither had any idea what the shapes represented, but they were grooved so that one would fit inside the other.

"Touch them together five times," the old black woman repeated.

They obeyed. Maura was spellbound, but Carter felt a little foolish.

"Now, you must fit them together and never allow them to be parted."

"Carter," Maura whispered, "that scares me. What if they get separated and we don't know it, or can't help it?"

"Sh-h!" Someone hissed.

Mama Betu's eyes held a faraway look. She continued in a monotone. "You will create, between you, five sons. Four will be strong and ambitious and will rise to high positions. The fifth will be the wisest and a dreamer. You will sometimes lose patience with him, but he will astound the world with his philosophy and his talent, and his name will not be forgotten.

But you must choose, Carter Boyd, between this future I see, or the one you will make, if you take the Le Bon Dieu plant out of the swamp."

A chill struck Maura, and she felt the tremor that shook Carter.

Mama Betu got up from the chair. "I go now. I am tired. I go to take my long rest. God bless."

Not a soul moved as the old black woman stood, took Carter's arm, and walked slowly to her pirogue.

When she was gone from sight, everyone slapped Carter on the back and hugged Maura. They must be very special, these two. Mama Betu had come to bless their union.

Both Carter and Maura knew that most Cajun weddings were held in a church with a priest officiating, and that a formal Cajun wedding took several weeks. Eager to be married at once, but wanting to be wed at the camp with all their Cajun friends in attendance, they opted for an informal outdoor ceremony with the judge officiating. After the ceremony, well wishers came forward in droves and astonished Maura by affixing dollar bills to her dress and to Carter's jacket.

Then everyone found their places at the tables and ate the spicy food until they were sated. After a brief respite and much visiting by the men and much cleaning up by the women, they all piled into the boats and went down the bayou to the trading post. The bal de noce, wedding ball, was held at The Golden Moon Fais-Dodo Club. Carter drew Maura into his arms, and amid shouts and foot stomping, the newlyweds led off the dancing to a Cajun love song. They were followed by Madison and Sue Ann. Ruthie Lee laid claim to Judge Carleton as her dance partner. A friend of hers led a red-faced Dr. Hartmann onto the dance floor, and amid his objections, showed him how to do the Cajun two step to the lively music. Soon, a roomful of couples danced and laughed and sang and celebrated.

Maura grew tired. She and Carter sat at a table and watched the dancers. No one left until the accordionist, the guitarists, triangle-player, fiddle players, and singer put their instruments away and reluctantly headed for home.

Dawn was breaking. A misty fog covered everything, rising specter-like in the shimmering moonlight. Maura and Carter got into his boat and went back up the bayou to the cabin.

The judge, Madison Moore, Sue Ann, and Dr. Hartmann went aboard the CAROLYN to spend the night.

* * *

"Maura?"

"Hm-m?"

"Honey, don't let anything Mama Betu said upset you. It was a blessing she intended to give us, not a warning."

"I think it was both." She sighed, feeling light-headed. "I'm too tired to know the difference. Where are our joined sticks?"

"Don't worry, they're safe."

She laughed.

"Don't laugh. It seemed important to Mama Betu, so I think we should look after them for her."

"Me, too. Five sons. Can you imagine anything more wonderful?"

"No. We've already made one of them. I think we should keep in practice, don't you?"

"Absolutely."

They undressed and got into bed.

"Carter?"

"What, honey?"

"I'm worried about what Mama Betu said about the Le Bon Dieu plant. She said our future will be something other than what she sees for us if you take the plant out of the bayou to study. Didn't she say something like that?"

"Something like that, yes. But no one can know what the future holds, Maura, except God Almighty."

"I know, but can't we leave the plant here where God made it grow?"

He kissed her lips. "I’ve been thinking about it, and I think that might be a good idea, darling."

She moved into his arms, sighed and closed her eyes. She listened to his breathing, and then the night sounds were in her ears, comforting her. His lips found hers, his hands burned her flesh, and he whispered hoarsely. "When you're lying against me, your body touching mine, every cell in me comes alive and all I feel is a great need to love you, to make love to you."

* * *

Carter awoke from a dreamless sleep. He felt refreshed and rested and very happy. What had disturbed him? Maura lay on her stomach with the quilts pulled up to her chin. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He hoped the awful nightmares she suffered were a thing of the past now that Skylar was dead.

The temperature had dropped dramatically. Winter would soon close in on the swamp, bringing cold damp winds and biting rains that would last three or four days--maybe even a week or two. Then the sun would blaze forth and defrost everything, and warm weather would confuse the earth, and the swamp would bloom until the next cold spell. The natives were fond of saying, "If you don't like the weather, just wait a few hours and it will change." However, the short dark days were depressing and were known to sometimes dampen even Cajun enthusiasm.

Carter got quietly out of bed, put on his clothes and a jacket. He slipped out of the bedroom without waking Maura and felt his way in the dark along the hall wall to the kitchen. He lit a lamp and made a pot of coffee, then went out on the back porch to drink it. He sat on the top step and gazed at the wisps of mist that undulated and floated over the lead-colored water of the bayou.

Soon he would be back at work at the Institute and Maura would be . . . My God! No one had so much as mentioned to Maura about her inheritance. He certainly hadn't. He'd intended to, but once he got off the phone with the judge after having received the news himself, he had been immediately caught up in the arrangements being made for the wedding. He stunned her with the news of Skylar's death but forgot to tell her that she was legally his heir.

If someone had told her, she would have at least mentioned it to him. Sue Ann must not have known about it. He had to tell Maura at once. He got up, took the lamp and went back to the bedroom. She had not moved. He hated to disturb her. She needed the rest. He picked up her gold Rolex from the bed table where it had been since she was last at the camp. He found his own watch and strapped it to his wrist. It was four-thirty in the morning. He would wait until she awoke on her own and then he would tell her.

He started from the room, was almost to the door, when Maura flung the quilts aside and thrashed about on the bed. He got to her as she threw her head back and screamed. "No! No, Skylar! I'll be good, I promise . . . no, I won't do it again, I promise!"

Carter took her in his arms and brushed her hair from her face. "It's okay, honey. Wake up, Maura. Wake up, honey."

She opened eyes that were filled with terror. She fought wildly until he kissed her. She came out of it quickly, then, tears of relief spilling down her cheeks. "Carter," she breathed. "Oh, Carter. I had such a horrible nightmare. Skylar had the baby and was holding him over the dog pen. He said he would feed him to the dogs if I didn't let Henderson take him away."

"Maura. You don't ever have to be afraid of Skylar again. Skylar is dead. You know that Skylar is dead."

She looked at him. Her breath stopped. He became alarmed when she couldn't catch her breath. He shook her. "Please, honey. He's dead. You're free of him, now."

She caught her breath again and gasped, "Dead? I wonder if he really is dead, Carter. You don't know Skylar. He wouldn't die."

"What do you mean, he wouldn't die? Do you think he's an immortal? Skylar's father has accepted you as Skylar's widow and named you as his heir. Madison said you are now the major stock-holder of SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals of Georgia, and its president."

"No, Carter. I mean. This is too . . . I don't know what I mean. I need time to think about this."

"He's dead, Maura."

"I wish I could explain to you . . . how I feel . . . that I know he isn't dead. It's another one of his staged plays. Don't you see that? It's the only way he can get his enemies off his back."

"How could he perpetrate such a hoax? Don't you realize there would have to be a body that would fool the professionals into accepting it as his, as well as fool his own father?"

"With as much money as Skylar Barrett has at his disposal, that wouldn't be too difficult, Carter."

"Then, you think Cobra was fooled?"

"Cobra?"

"Cobra is the one who told Madison. The one who probably killed him."

"Oh." She put her hands to her face. "But, my dream. What about . . . Let me think. I have to think. If it’s true that Skylar is dead. . . ." Maura got up and dressed. "I need a cup of coffee."

"Come in the kitchen. I already brewed a pot. I'll pour you a cup."

She followed him into the kitchen and sat at the table. "Poor Skylar. He forced me to marry him thinking to benefit from the marriage, never dreaming I would be the one to benefit. I mentioned how foolish it was of him to marry me without a prenuptial agreement. He said he had one. But I know I never signed such an agreement."

"It obviously doesn't matter if he did have one. Anthony Baxter Barrett has come out of retirement and is in control of everything now."

"I hope he’ll make sure that Henderson and Rollings, at least, are sent to prison."

"Will you be a working president?"

"No, but I will want to keep a close watch on things until I see that the company is operating exactly the way I want it to. I'll turn the ARC laboratories over to my husband," she grinned at him, "that famous scientist who just won the Nobel Prize Award in Medicine. He can do his research there, with unlimited funds behind him."

Carter reached into his pocket and brought out the little cameo on the gold chain he had found in the front of the cabin. He kissed her and clasped it around her neck.

"Oh, Carter." Tears rimmed her eyes. "You found it."

He kissed her again. "Honey, I'd like to stay here a few days. I know everyone expects us to leave on the CAROLYN with them. But I want to check on Mama Betu. I think she's given up and is ready to die. I want to help her, if I can. And I need to be sure she can keep warm, especially, now, with that hard freeze heading this way. What do you think?"

"Yes, Carter, if Mama Betu needs help and you can help her, you should. Will the judge come back and get us when we're ready to leave here?"

"Sure he will. I thought I'd go to the trading post and get Pete's oldest boy to take me through the marsh. Before I go to the trading post, I'll talk to Uncle Wes and the others and explain to them why we want to stay here a little longer. Do you want to go with me? To Mama Betu's?"

"No. I'll find something to do here. Will it be okay if I take Mama Betu's plant and find a place for it beside the inland pond? Maybe it'll grow there."

"That's a good idea, honey. Well, I'll be off, now, if you're sure you'll be okay for a few hours."

"I will be. Don't you want some eggs or something. You can't live on coffee, you know."

"I'll eat a good lunch when I get back. Fix something for yourself. I miss Belle and her good cooking."

"Lord. So do I. Wait until I get dressed and I’ll go with you to the CAROLYN to say goodbye and tell them how pleased we were they came to the wedding."

CHAPTER 19

Carter had been gone half an hour when Maura finished her breakfast. She went out on the back porch and found a trowel in a box of tools. The Le Bon Dieu plant and seed pods were where Carter had left them, wrapped in their protective covering. Placing the package in a small basket with the trowel, she went out and headed toward the inland pond, her favorite spot.

Maura picked a place near the end of the pond where water had overrun its bank and formed a pool that lay still and stagnant, a spawning place for mosquitoes. She knelt and dug several holes around the water-filled depression. The plant went into one hole, and seeds from the seed pods went into the other holes. She carefully covered them with the rich black soil and ringed each place with small stones.

Something moving in the distance caught her attention. She turned her head toward the sound and listened. She heard it again. At first she thought it was an animal creeping through the brush; then she recognized the murmuring of human voices keyed low, almost in a whisper.

Someone was coming, not down the rutted road, but on foot through the growth that surrounded the inland pond, toward the cabin. If it had not been a furtive approach, they would have come by the road rather than tackle the dense growth of the swampland.

A deep sense of fear and alarm stabbed Maura. She peered above a tangle of weeds that hid her to see who was coming. They were close now, on a path that would bring them too near where she crouched.

Maura's breath stopped. Two indistinct human forms pushed and pulled their way through the heavily overgrown thicket, moving steadily toward her. Her first good view was of their hands and the weapon each carried. She caught her breath and covered her mouth to keep from crying out. Her heart seemed to have stopped its beating. The thought jumped into her head that if someone could be scared to death, she would soon be lifeless on the muddy ground.

She could see their faces, now, and a surge of adrenaline left her too weak to react. Henderson and Rollings! She numbly waited for them to find her. She bit her tongue to stifle the sounds of protest that clogged her throat with such pain she couldn’t swallow. As though her body and mind were separate entities, Maura's hand automatically reached for the trowel and she closed her fingers around it in a vise-like grip, only vaguely aware that she did so.

The two men veered off somewhat and were now on a straight path to the cabin. Oh, God! Why were they here? What did they want this time? Skylar was dead, wasn't he? She gripped the trowel so hard her fingers tingled and she loosened her hold on it to let the blood circulate through her hand again.

They came out onto the road in front of the cabin and she had a clear view of them. Henderson lumbered forth like a massive animal, and Rollings half skipped to keep up with him. Maura's survival instinct kicked in, and she made her way as quietly as possible through the underbrush until she could find a place to get across the road and into the area of the swamp itself. She didn't want to be caught on this side of the road where the vast sea of marsh land opened up and trapped her.

Almost even with the side of the caretaker’s house--the Broussard house--Maura ran in a crouch out of the heavy brush, stopped, and peered toward the cabin. Henderson had already kicked the door in, and both men had gone inside. This was her chance to get across the road unseen. Once she got into the trees on the other side, she might be able to elude them. She would get as close to the bayou as possible, where she hoped to see Carter on his way back with Pete's son, and warn them.

In a daze, she darted across the road. Henderson and Rollings came out of the cabin, and Rollings looked up in time to see her disappear into the trees.

"Mr. Henderson!" He jerked at Henderson’s sleeve and pointed. "There she is! She ran into that damn swamp!"

Henderson tromped down the steps and trotted off after Rollings.

Maura ran as fast as possible, impeded by her pregnancy. She plunged into dense growth, hardly felt the twigs and thorns that scratched and tore at her flesh, and refused to give in to the urge to look over her shoulder. Deep into the swamp, she became winded and could not go on. She collapsed against a tree and sank to the ground. A sharp pain, and blood on her wrist, drew her attention to the trowel she still held. It had cut into her palm when she fell into the tree trunk.

Sounds of pursuit seeped into her consciousness, alerting her that the men were close behind. They must have seen her. Panting and sucking air into her lungs, Maura got to her feet. She could tell by the sounds they made that Henderson and Rollings had parted so they could cover a wider area in their search for her. She caught a glimpse of Henderson coming up on her right, though he was still some distance away.

Maura backed around the gnarled trunk of the tree, out of Henderson's line of vision. Her attention was completely focused on Henderson, and she did not realize that Rollings was just a few feet away on her left, until she heard the heavy rasp of his breathing. She whirled and faced him.

He quickly closed the short distance between them and reached for her. Her eyes focused on the very scary weapon he held in his right hand. She pivoted and avoided his outstretched arm, throwing him off balance. Thrusting herself at him, Maura stabbed him with the trowel. The sharp end embedded itself in his right shoulder, and he dropped the gun. She jerked it out and ran past him into the heavy brush.

Rollings’ howl brought Henderson on the run. "What the hell happened?" he asked, examining Rollings' bloody shoulder.

"The bitch stabbed me!"

"You were close enough to get stabbed and you let her get away from you?"

"Well, hell! I didn't expect no fight out of her, and I certainly didn't expect her to have a weapon."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Rollings, never take anything for granted. Now, I want her. You hear me?"

"Yeah. Well, I should've just shot her when I first saw her, I guess."

"No. I don't want you to shoot her. Why should two grown men have to shoot a little gal like her to get control of her?"

"What the hell are we here for, then? I thought you wanted her dead."

Henderson rolled his eyes and brushed viciously at twigs and leaves covering his crumpled suit. "I do want her dead. But I want to be the one to kill her after I find out what she's got that’s so great it got Mr. Barrett killed and you and me out of a job."

Rollings eyes widened. "Wait a minute. Are you saying you're gonna ... gonna rape her ? But . . . but she's gonna have Mr. Barrett's baby."

"The hell she is!. That baby is Dr. Boyd's. All the more reason to make that slut pay big time for what's she's done."

"Well. . . ."

"Now, let's split up and go get her. She can't get far in this territory in her condition."

* * *

Carter, and Pete Dubach's teenage son pulled the boat onto the bank.

"Little Pete," Carter said, "the pirogue is already there at the edge of the marsh. I'll stop by the cabin and tell Maura we're ready to go to Mama Betu's. She might've changed her mind and want to come with us."

"You bet."

Walking up to the front entrance, both Carter and Little Pete saw the ruined door at the same time. Little Pete crossed himself. Carter stopped in his tracks. "Oh, God!" he cried. "No! This can't be happening! Not again!"

"What is this thing, Si-mohn?"

"Skylar’s men; they must be back. The men who killed the Broussard's and took Maura away. They've come for her again!"

"Oh, sweet Jesus!" Little Pete wailed. "Got to go get my papa. We brang the dogs, no?" He took off running, back to the boat they had left on the bank.

Coming down the road as fast as his feet could carry him, a shotgun in his hand, Broussard's replacement, a man called Hank, hailed Carter. "Ah, Si-mohn! I seen you ma'am run into the swamp and two big men run in after her. I get my gun, believe you me, and I going after ‘em. Now, I go with you, eh?"

Carter bolted up the steps and into the house. He came out carrying his pistol and an extra clip.

Hank nodded and grimaced. "Now we go hunt two-legged beasts, eh?"

"Hank, I want you to wait here for Pete and the others, so you can tell them what happened I'll go on ahead, every minute counts."

"Hokay. I do what you want."

* * *

Maura slid down an incline and sprawled in the mud. She wiped the muck from her face, rested her head on her arms, gave in to her fatigue and fear, and wept.

One of the two men was now very near where she lay. She could hear his thrashing about. A minute later, Rollings came into view. He peered straight ahead, parted vines and thorny hedges, and passed by where she lay. She closed her eyes and sighed her relief, but she couldn't stay where she was. The feel of the wet mud, its odor of mildew and rot, nauseated her. She swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.

Listening intently and hearing nothing more, Maura pushed herself up and stood weakly looking about. She had dropped the trowel when she landed in the muck, and she knelt to search for it.

Her wounds, saturated with the cool mud, didn't hurt and sting so much any more, but she was afraid for her unborn child. Jarred painfully when she fell, she now worried that she might have injured the baby. Nothing would matter, though, if they caught her. She had heard enough of their conversation to know they intended to kill her and the baby. And horror of horrors, Henderson planned to rape her.

Maura turned and quietly moved back in the direction from which she had come, thinking Henderson, as well as Rollings, was ahead of her, leaving the way back free. If she could get back to the cabin and Carter was there, she could warn him and he wouldn't be taken by surprise and easily killed. If he wasn't there, she might be able to get to the Broussard's house and ask Hank for help.

Maura held the trowel in one hand and rubbed her stomach with the other. She stepped around a stinging thorn bush and looked back to see if either man was aware she was headed to the cabin. When she turned again, she looked into Henderson's cold eyes.

Involuntarily, she struck out at him with the trowel and slashed his cheek. He grabbed her arm and twisted it until she dropped the trowel. Slinging her to the ground, he threw himself on her and knocked the breath from her. His weight crushed her.

She opened her mouth to scream but she had no breath and the scream died in her throat. Henderson’s face hovered just above hers, dripping blood from the trowel wound onto her forehead. He drew back and slapped her hard. "Scream and I'll hurt you more than you ever dreamed you could be hurt. You got that?"

She panted. "Please don't hurt my baby. Why are you doing this, Henderson? I've never done any harm to you."

He laughed and the sound froze her blood in her veins. He laughed the same soft laughter that Skylar laughed when he was angry and not amused. "Shut up." he hissed.

He lifted his weight enough to jerk her skirt up and unzip his trousers. He dragged her farther down under him, and she felt his erection, hard and wet, probing her panties. He ripped her top from her shoulders, fondled her breasts, and covered her mouth with his. His hot tongue pushed against her clenched teeth. Maura twisted her head and bit through his upper lip. He roared his fury into the damp air and hit her a stunning blow that shoved her head hard against the ground.

Stars exploded behind her eyes. She shook her head, spit, gagged, fought and clawed like a deranged wild thing. He raised up on one arm to hit her again with his huge fist, and her knee slammed into his groin. Henderson’s scream echoed through the singing stillness, and he rolled off her.

Maura scrambled to her feet. He grabbed her, jerked her down beside him, and hit her with his left hand--a blow that threw him into an awkward position. Taking advantage, she twisted free and was on her feet again before he could get his balance. She panicked, stumbled over a fallen tree limb and hit the ground. Henderson was all over her before she could recover. He forced her over on her stomach and onto her knees, struggling to get his trousers down.

Coming upon them so suddenly they were not aware of his presence, Carter hurled himself over a growth of vines, a cry of rage ripping from him, and kicked Henderson a vicious blow in the ribs.

The huge man came up off Maura holding his rib cage with one hand and grabbing for the gun he had thrown aside with the other. He grimaced with pain and struggled with Carter to get to the gun. Carter kicked the gun out of his reach and hit him with such force Henderson’s eyes rolled back in his head. He lay stunned. Carter, thinking he was unconscious, turned his attention to Maura.

Henderson, shook his head, got to his feet, and roared like a great wounded beast. He lurched forward and caught Carter in a bear hug. His powerful arms pinned themselves around Carter's chest. He jerked savagely, again and again, tightening his hold, cutting off his Carter's breath. Carter was helpless. He couldn't move, and he couldn't breathe. He stomped down hard on Henderson's instep and freed himself when Henderson loosened his grip. He backed away from Henderson’s reach.

Maura struggled to her knees, grabbed up Henderson's gun and handed it to Carter. He pointed it at Henderson's head and said through taut lips, "Move a hair, breathe too hard, blink twice and I'll kill you where you stand."

Henderson stood immobile and glared at Carter.

A shot zinged through the air, and Rollings came running toward them. Carter grabbed Maura and pushed her behind him. He returned Rolling's fire and felt a surge of satisfaction when Rollings yelped in pain.

Henderson crashed through brush and ran into the trees. Rollings sped after him. Carter sent a spray of bullets after them as they fled out of sight. Maura limped up to him, and the sight of her, bloody, bruised and tattered, blinded him with sudden tears. "Honey. Oh, God!".

She put her arms around his neck, rested her throbbing face on his chest, took a deep breath, and whispered, "I'm okay, Carter, really. Lord, I'm glad you came when you did."

The sound of baying hounds came to them. Cold air had begun to move in on the swampland and Maura shivered. Carter handed the gun to her, put his jacket around her, lifted her into his arms and started back toward the camp. "We'll get them both, Maura. This thing is going to end right here and now. Neither of them will get out of here alive, I promise you."

When Carter and Maura got back to the cabin dozens of Cajuns were there, talking and gesturing excitedly. Several women took charge of Maura while Carter met with the men. It was decided that the authorities would not be brought in. The bayou men would take their dogs, disperse into the area, find Henderson and Rollings and bring them out to answer to Cajun justice.

A small group of Cajuns, Carter among them, located the car that Henderson and Rollings had parked about two miles from the cabin in a clump of trees, just off the road leading into the swamp from Chenière. They decided to wait there and see if the fugitives would try to get to the car and out of the area, as they had done before.

Night came and a damp chill settled over the swamp. The area, where the two men had gotten away from Carter was completely blocked off. Dogs and their handlers were staked all along the perimeter. The Cajuns joked that a mosquito couldn't get through.

* * *

Maura lay back in the tub and soaked, allowing the heated water to sting her wounds. Finally she reluctantly got out and dried off. Ruthie Lee, treated her wounds with herbs and curatives and bound her scrapes and scratches. She felt almost human again, but her fear had grown into a giant tentacled thing, like something alive in her. Three of the women planned to stay the night with Maura inside the cabin while their husbands stood watch outside.

After turning the lamps low, and building a fire to ward off the cold of the night, Maura lay awake and fretted. What if Henderson and Rollings should get away again, and make it out of the swamp?

But why would they? They had come there to kill her, hadn’t they? She didn't really believe they would leave without accomplishing what they had come to do. A shiver shook her and her teeth clicked from its quick spasm. She pulled the quilts over her, nestled deep under them, and finally fell asleep.

A noise woke Maura. Her eyes couldn't penetrate the blackness of the room. The lamps had gone out, and the dense darkness scared her. She suddenly realized she had always been afraid of the dark.

She sat up and felt on the bedside table for the box of matches to re-light a lamp. Something touched her hair and she stiffened. Her fingers found the matchbox, withdrew a match and struck it. The wick caught, and shadows danced about the room.

Maura looked up and saw them, both of them in the dim light of the lamp. Rollings held a gun to her head, and Henderson came to stand in front of her. Drowsy and weak, she no longer seemed able to comprehend.

She held out her hands to Henderson, palms up, in a gesture of resignation, and for some reason that gesture seemed to stirke Rollings and soften his fierce look. He lowered the gun and stepped around the side of the bed.

Henderson had his pants down, exposing himself to her, and the horror of the porno studio came again into focus, but Maura was too numb to react. She lowered her hands and clasped them in her lap. "How did you get in here," she asked softly, averting her eyes from his blood- gorged penis. "There are supposed to be guards out there."

"Oh, they were out there. We killed them."

Her quick intake of breath was the only indication she gave that she had heard him. "What about the women?"

"They're tied and gagged, and we’ll deal with them later. Rollings and I are going to have our own private little orgy."

"You'll never get out of here alive."

Henderson stood her on her feet and pulled her gown over her head, then sat her nude on the bed. The lamplight bathed her full breasts and rounded belly in a golden glow.

"We never expected to get out of here alive. Who cares? You took everything from us. We're here now to pay you back in kind. We'll take everything from you." He held his erection in his hand. "How do you want this? On all fours, or on your back? Under, or on top? I'll even let you decided how you get fucked."

Maura covered her eyes with her hands for a moment, then removed them and stared at him. "You are a most pathetic excuse for a human being," she said. She spat in his face.

Henderson wiped his face on his sleeve, gazed at her swollen, bruised features and grinned. "Okay," he said, "the rougher, the better, as far as I'm concerned." He slapped her twice, once palm up, and again with the back of his hand. He clutched her shoulders with brutal hands and shoved her down on the bed.

Rollings, who had been strangely silent and contemplative, moved back a couple of steps and pointed the gun at Henderson. "Mr. Henderson," he said, "I don't think I want you to do that."

Henderson turned and scowled at him. "What the hell....?"

"We're dead men already, Mr. Henderson, and if you want to kill her, that's okay by me, but I don't want you to fuck her."

Henderson glared at Rollings, his face flamed, and his fists clenched. "What the hell's the matter with you, Rollings? You want to go first, is that it?"

"No." Rollings expelled his breath in a harsh whoosh, his white birthmark turning a deep pink. "Mr. Barrett gave us a good life. One we couldn't never have had without him, and no matter what she did to him, he loved her. She was his wife till the day he died."

"Hell, she's probably the one who had him killed. Don't you care about that?"

"Yeah. That's why it's okay with me if we kill her. But fucking her is disloyal to a man who gave us everything, and I ain't gonna do it, that's all."

Henderson was furious, but he’d already noticed Rollings nose, and that was a warning Henderson wouldn't ignore. He might get killed, though he really still believed they could get out alive, but the last thing he wanted was to die by Rollings' hand. He had seen Rollings kill. It took a hell of a long time for Rollings’ victims to die.

Henderson jerked his trousers up and zipped his fly. Rollings picked up Maura's gown and threw it to her. She wiped her eyes with her hand and slipped the gown over her head.

"All right, Rollings," Henderson said. Shoot her."

"What?"

"You've got the gun, shoot her."

"Wait a minute. What about them other women we got tied and gagged?"

"Well, I don't know. Do you have any reservations about getting a little from them?"

"No. Can we tie Maura up and gag her and go fuck them other women?"

Henderson jerked the netting from the bed and tore it into strips. He gagged and bound Maura, blew out the lamp, and followed Rollings from the room.

Opening the door to the other bedroom, Henderson said, "Go ahead, Rollings, take your pick. You can go first."

"Thanks Mr. Henderson." Rollings laid his gun on a table and approached the bed where the victims lay bound and gagged.

He never made it to the bed. Henderson picked up the gun and hit Rollings in the head with the butt. Rollings dropped to the floor like a loosely stuffed rag doll. He looked up, trying to focus his eyes. He put a hand to his bleeding head, confused, and asked, "Why’d you hit me, Mr. Henderson?"

"Once you pointed this gun at me, asshole, you should've pulled the trigger. Nobody ever gets me in their sights twice." He raised the gun, touched it to Rollings temple and pulled the trigger. Rollings’ back arched, and he thrashed a full minute like a chicken whose head had been chopped off, before he lay still.

The women, tied to the bed, screamed through their gags. Henderson glared at them, and the look in his brutal eyes stilled them. He scowled, then shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind him.

When he re-entered Maura's bedroom alone, she knew the meaning of the gunshot. Henderson had killed Rollings, and now she had no chance at all.

He jerked her up and dragged her along beside him. They came out into night. The air was crisp and cold and thin slivers of ice crunched as they walked away from the cabin. She stumbled and fell, and he viciously jerked her back to her feet. "You can walk and keep up, or I'll drag you. Makes no difference to me."

Maura's bare feet burned and bled but she made every effort to walk without stumbling. She pushed from her mind the thought, too terrible to contemplate, that Henderson wanted to rape her and kill her baby.

* * *

Carter looked at his watch. "Those two are not going to spend the night in the swamp if they can help it. They should’ve been here by now if they were coming to the car. "Oh, God, what if they go back to the cabin?"

"We got armed men there, Si-mohn. They can’t get to her again."

"Hell, I’m going back to the cabin." He took off running and Little Pete and Hank ran along beside him.

The moon was bright, and they could see quite well in the pale light. They came around the curve that turned into the stretch of road that passed the Broussard place and ended at Carter's camp. Carter, stopped, grabbed at the two with him and ducked behind a thick clump of vegetation. "Good God. There's Henderson, and he's got Maura again."

The three men hid, hoping Henderson would come near enough for them to jump him, but something alerted him and he stopped, eased off the road into the brush, dragging Maura with him. The two Cajun men, guns drawn, ran off to the left hoping to cut him off, and Carter ran to the right to follow Henderson.

He lost sight of Henderson for a moment and was appalled to hear a gunshot and recognize Hank’s agonized yell. Running toward the sound, Carter saw Little Pete come out of the brush and draw down on Henderson, and he gasped silently, "God, Little Pete, be careful you don’t hit Maura."

Henderson saw Little Pete and jerked Maura around in front of him. He held his gun to her head. "Come on, you bastard," he called. "Throw that gun over here, or I'll kill this broad, right now!".

Pete threw his weapon down, and as soon as it left his hand, Henderson shot him. The boy dropped to the ground and rolled into a fetal position. Carter rushed Henderson, and as the huge man pulled away from Maura and lunged toward him, Carter took careful aim and shot him.

The top of Henderson’s head exploded. He sat down on the ground, toppled over, and lay still. His finger tightened in reflex on the trigger and his gun roared to life. Maura stepped on his wrist, leaned over and removed the gun from his frozen grasp. Then she fainted and fell on top of him.

* * *

Little Pete and Hank would recover from their wounds but the three men who were left to guard the camp were dead. They had been ambushed and executed.

Carter took Little Pete with him to the pirogue, helping him as he hobbled along on his bandaged leg. Pete DuBach and a couple of his friends had already loaded Henderson’s and Rollings’ bodies into the boat.

Before he left to go to Mama Betu’s, Carter called the judge and asked him to come the next morning to get him and Maura. Maura was staying with Ruthie Lee until the judge arrived.

The pirogue pushed off into the marshland on its way to Mama Betu's. After a time, in which Carter was sure they were lost forever in among the endless miles of marshes, Little Pete pointed. "There! Si-mohn!"

Little Pete beached the boat, and Carter jumped out, relieved to set foot again on stable ground. Mama Betu came to meet them. Her wise old eyes took in everything in a glance, and she nodded toward the two bodies in the pirogue.

"Ah, Si-mohn Boyd and the little Pete. So what is this you have brought Mama Betu?"

"I'll explain later, Mama Betu. First, I want to know how you are? I've worried you might not be well."

"You came to minister to me, did you, Si-mohn?

"If you need me, I'm here. Are you keeping warm?

She laughed softly. "Ah, you are a good man to worry about an old woman who has outlived her purpose in life. Yas, I stay warm and, no, I do not need you to minister to me. My little Minou has died, though, and I mourn him. Do not worry about me, traiture. I have made peace with myself, and I will not lie down until Le Bon Dieu calls to me and tells me to lie down."

"I'm happy to hear that. I knew you were depressed when you came to the wedding."

"Yas, but that was because I saw a black cloud over your lady, and I didn't know what it was, so decided not to mention it." She glanced again at the pirogue. "I think, now, I should have mentioned it."

"It wouldn't have changed anything, Mama Betu. I have brought more waste to your bog."

She nodded and smiled a faint smile. "We have the Le Bon Dieu plant to take care of the waste. Will you two come in for a cup of tea, when you have finished?"

"With pleasure."

The two men hauled the bodies from the boat and dragged them a good distance to the dead zone. They rolled them, one at a time, into the bog, stood back and watched as the toxic waste engulfed them. Then, they turned back to Mama's Betu's hut, went inside and drank a cup of tea with the old woman.

"Si-mohn," she said softly, after a time of silence. "It is not a sin to destroy a diseased thing that does nothing but contaminate its space."

CHAPTER 20

On the boat going to the judge's estate, Madison got Maura alone and handed a package to her.

"What is it?" she asked the FBI agent.

"You’ll see. It's from the man who rescued you. He asked that I give it to you after the wedding, and tell you it is his wish that you be very happy, and that you bring great happiness to a man who deserves it. He said to tell you to open the package when you're alone, and do with it as you please."

Reluctantly, Maura took the package. She had no idea what was in it and wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Madison left her to join Carter and the judge, who were deep in conversation.

Maura went into the lounge and sat on the sofa. She changed her position several times to accommodate her bruised and bandaged flesh. For someone who managed to get banged up as regularly as she did, it was great to have a doctor in the family.

She tore the wrapping from the package. Inside was a handwritten note and a second smaller package.

Dear Mrs. Boyd,

It might interest you to know that a fire of undetermined origin destroyed a

film studio outside Norwich. Many tapes were saved and are being held as

evidence against the porno organization which Skylar headed.

One tape, however, came into my possession, and I thought you might want

to have something to say about its disposition.

Give my regards to your husband.

Cobra

( Skylar Barrett's death was not an accident, but you know that, don't you?)

BE HAPPY!

Maura fingered the tape. So it was true. Skylar was really dead. He hadn’t sent Henderson and Rollings to kill her. That was what Cobra's phone call had been about, back at the taxidermy shop. Someone had hired him to kill Skylar. Maybe it was those men he'd gone to Zurich to meet. Why do I still feel as though this is just another of Skylar's deceptions?

She gazed at the tape, and Skylar was forgotten. For some time, Maura resisted the urge to see what was on the tape. She did not unwrap it, but went up on deck and walked to the rail. Carter saw her and came to stand beside her. She leaned over the rail and tossed the unopened package into the gulf.

"What was that?" Carter asked.

Maura touched her fingers to her swollen mouth and said, "Oh, that was just the death of yesterday." She threw her arms over her head and shouted, "Carter, Skylar is dead! He really is dead!"

* * *

NORWICH, GEORGIA:

Carter and Maura sat and listened to Mr. Temple, head of Barrett Industries U.S. law firm, discuss Maura's inheritance with her.

"Mrs. Boyd, Mr. Anthony Baxter Barrett recognizes you as his son's legal heir. All of Skylar's personal assets will be given into your possession, including SkyBarr Pharmaceuticals. Baxter Barrett is on his way to Norwich to oversee the restructuring of the firm."

"Yes. I know. Carter and I are to meet his plane at five-thirty this afternoon. Mr. Temple, I do not plan to take an active role in the operation of the pharmaceutical company. I will, however, periodically look at the records and determine for myself that, in the future, the company is run according to the highest ethical and legal standards. I will attend all board and stockholder meetings. But as you can see, I'm soon to be a mother and I want to give my attention to my family."

"I understand. I don't expect many changes will need to be made, other than those Mr. Barrett will make to put the company back in production. Obviously, persons in authority who are still there were not involved in anything illicit. SkyBarr's problems had world-wide repercussions and left the business in serious trouble. A number of large stockholders panicked and unloaded their stock back onto the market. Mr. Barrett knows what must be done, and will do whatever is necessary to redeem the company."

"I'm relieved he's willing to come here and . . . ." Maura’s hands went to her abdomen.

"There are endless papers for you to sign, Mrs. Boyd. Can you meet me in Skylar's . . . in your new office sometime tomorrow? Mr. Barrett wishes to be present when the legal papers are executed."

"Yes, I'll be there. Let me know what time is convenient for you and Mr. Barrett."

* * *

The plane was on time. Baxter Barrett greeted Maura with a kiss on the forehead--and Carter with a handshake. They got into Carter's new Lexus.

"Mr. Barrett," Maura said, "I want to thank you for coming to my rescue. I wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do about SkyBarr. You're a life-saver. Will you be here long?"

"Please call me Baxter. I expect to be here for some time."

"Good. I want to see more of you. Will you join us for dinner?"

"I'd be most happy to do so, dear."

Maura flinched. He sounded exactly like Skylar. Noticing her reaction, he smiled. "Is the baby acting up? I hope I'm here for the birth. It looks as though it might be soon."

"Yes. In a couple of weeks."

"I've set up a generous trust for the child."

Oh, God. Did he think Skylar was the father? Was that the reason he had allowed her to inherit Skylar's assets?

"What will you name him? Have you selected a name?"

"I'm carrying twins, Baxter."

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, a brilliant smile on his handsome face. Lord! How much he looked like an older version of Skylar. "Maura, we'll spend time together as soon as I can see some light at the end of this tunnel SkyBarr is in."

Carter parked the car at the side of the SkyBarr complex. Mr. Barrett got out. They watched him walk to the side entrance and enter. As the car pulled out into traffic again, Maura asked, "I did do the right thing, didn't I, Carter? Giving up an active role in the operation of the company, I mean?

"I think you did, honey. All you gave up was a big headache. You didn't give up control of SkyBarr.

EPILOGUE:

NORWICH, GEORGIA:

"Carter," Dr. Hartmann said, "move closer to Maura and put the twins in front, so I can get a good shot. My camera isn't one of those new ones. Next time, we'll use yours."

Maura held Claude, who strained to pull away and follow his brother into the azaleas. "Carter! Grab Carleton. He'll get his clothes dirty crawling on the ground like that."

"Be good, boys," Carter scolded the toddlers.

"This will only take a minute," Maura assured them, "be still and Daddy will get you some ice cream."

"This is where Mommy and Daddy met," Carter told his sons, reaching for Carleton. "I want a picture of you guys, the first two of the five sons Mama Betu promised us." He picked up the fidgeting Carleton, kissed his freckles, and positioned him in front beside Claude.

"Hurry, Dr. Hartmann," Maura pleaded, holding Claude firmly. "These two can only be still a few seconds. Carleton! Come back here! Carter!"

"It's okay," the professor laughed. "I got it."

Maura ran after Claude as Carleton crawled into the azaleas. She raised her eyes heavenward and breathed. "Couldn't we have had them one at a time?"

Carter's gaze went to Maura's expanding girth, and he added silently, Please, not triplets this time.

He tugged the little boy from under the azaleas, lifted him into his embrace, and put his arm around Maura who had a good hold on Claude's hand. Carter looked through misty eyes at his family and knew he was the luckiest man alive.

* * *

Less than two blocks from the campus where Dr. Hartmann was taking pictures of Carter's family, a man watched a young girl who'd stopped her bike at the window of a candy store and gazed longingly at the array of chocolates.

The man slowly approached the window and stood beside the girl. "Those chocolates look mighty good, don't they?" he asked.

She didn't look up. "Uh-huh. Mama loves chocolates."

"Which ones? Those in that box with the pretty red velvet bow on top?"

She nodded and sighed. "Mama would like those. It's her birthday." The girl got back on her bike, ready to leave.

"Wait." The man touched her arm. "How'd you like to make ten bucks and buy your mama that box of candy?"

She looked up at him then with big suspicious eyes. "What I gotta do?"

"Do you know Mrs. Carter Boyd? She owns SkyBarr--?

"I know her. Everybody knows Dr. Boyd and his wife."

"If you'll take this note to her, I'll give you ten dollars for your trouble." He held out a sealed envelope with Anna Maura Barrett written across the front.

The girl hesitated but took it when he extracted a ten dollar bill from his billfold and folded it around the envelope.

The man walked to the curb, got into a car and drove off.

The girl stood looking after him with narrowed eyes. She shrugged, stuck the envelope in

her jeans pocket and went into the candy store. Minutes later she came out with the box of chocolates. She mounted her bike, put the candy in the basket and took the envelope from her pocket. She looked at it a moment before she ripped it open and read the note.

Anna Maura,

You ARE somewhere you shouldn't be!

The little girl walked her bike to a curbside trash can and tossed the envelope in, then rode off. "Hey," she said to herself, "I never promised."

She rode past the University and waved at Dr. Hartmann, Carter and Maura. "Miz Boyd," she called. "Those are the cutest little boys."

THE END

(RECIPE FOR LES OREILLES DE COCHON)

PIG'S EARS

1 cup flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

About 1/4 cup water

Vegetable oil for frying

1 12oz. can cane syrup

½ cup chopped pecans

Combine the flour and salt in a mixing bowl. Stir in enough water to make a stiff dough. Divide the dough into 12 equal parts and roll each into a ball (the size of a walnut) with your hands. Roll out the balls, one at a time, on a floured surface into thin circles about three inches in diameter. Pour about three inches of oil in a heavy, deep frying pot. Heat the oil to 350 degrees. Drop each pastry circle, one at a time, into the hot oil, and using a long-handled fork, stick the tines into the center of the pastry and twist quickly. Hold the fork in place until the dough sets. This will give it the appearance of a pig's ear. Cook until golden brown, rolling it around in the oil. Drain on paper towels Repeat the process until all the dough is used. Bring the syrup to a boil in a heavy saucepan and stir until it reaches a ball stage (as in making candy). Put the pig's ears on wax paper and pour the syrup evenly over the pastries. Sprinkle with pecans.

Yield: One dozen.

(Recipe taken from Louisiana Life magazine - Autumn 1995

HARKNESS/WHITE AZALEAS LIST OF CAJUN WORDS AND PHRASES USED:1

Marchandises seches - dry goods Biere creole - beer made of ripe

Fais-DoDo - country dance pineapple, pineapple rind, raw

Bourrée - cajun card game rice, brown sugar & cold water

Mon Dieu - (literally) my God! Betasse - dolt, blockhead

but used by Cajuns to mean Etre en amour - to be in love dear me! again

Comment ça va? - how’s it going? C’est une pichouette - she’s a

Oui, c’est moi - yes, it’s me bad little rascal

Mon ami - my friend Bébé - baby

Un bébé chétit - a delicate baby Sur le naut du jour - very early

Maman - mama Gris-gris - (plural) charms,

Mais non - (literally) but, no spells against evil

deux - two, twins Gri-gri - (singular)

Il y a bien des choses que j’ai Merci beaucoup - thanks a lot

besoin - there are many things (literally) thank you very much

that I need Cassine - black tea-like drink

Pas une miette - not at all hallucinogen

Malchance - misfortune Ju-ju - magic

Il y a du micmac dans cette Bien des chimeres - many

affaire - (literally) there is foolish ideas

something underhanded going on Voudou - rites consisting of

2

Padnat - buddy, pal enchantment, charms and

Mûre d’arbre - fruit of the red witchcraft

mulberry tree Traiture - healer, doctor

Merci beaucoup - thanks a lot Mais jamais - but, never

(literally) thank you very much Pas du tout - not at a

Elle est une voudou - she is Tres bon - very good

voodoo Viens avec moi - come with me Cocodrie - crocodile Les petits - little one

Loup-garou - werewolf Le Bon Dieu - the good Lord, or

Un, deux, trois - one, two, the good God

three Boucaniere - smokehouse L’Appé vini - He is coming Les chiens - the dogs Mort - death Pourquoi - why Cabane - house (or cabin)

CODE TABLET WORDS AND PHRASES:

(A) (F)

ADOPT - steal FEVER - ruddy

ALIAS - bigger FIRE - knowledge

ANDERSEN - fairytale FORBID - jagger

(B) (G)

BETRAY - kill GREED - hunger

BRAIN - dangle GREEDY - bite

BRAIN TEASER - dungle (H)

(C) HANG - make example

CHANGE - hanger HIDE - wait

CLOAK - cowl HIDDEN - altered

CODE BREAKER - bogger (J)

COSTLY - deep JUDAS - goat

(D) (L)

DEAD BODY - carcass LAB - dingle

DEADLY - bloody LOCKED - secure

DESTROY - slay (M)

DO - act MEASURE - jigger

DOLLAR - gain MEDICINE - potion

DRAGON - menace MIDAS - diller

(E) MIMIC - jogger

EVIDENCE - new wine MINUS - minor

(N)

NIGHT CREATURE - dracula

NOURISHED - drank

(O)

OBSCURE - muddy

OLD SKIN - unbranded

OLD WINE - sacrifice

OWL - person of authority

(used twice, same message, big boss)

(P)

PASSWORD - bagger

PLUS - major

PROFIT-pocketful

(R)

ROCK - hinger

(S)

SING - tell

SMOKE - thin

SPACES - words

SPELLING BEE - message

STORM - mighty wind

(W)

WRONG - make right

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

Adopt - Steal

Alias - Bigger

Andersen - Fairy tale

Betray - Kill Old Wine - Sacrifice

Brain - Dangle O wl - Boss

Brain Teaser - Dungle

Password - Bagger

Change - Hanger Plus - Major

Cloak - Cowl Profit - Pocketful

Code Breaker - Bogger

Costly - Deep Rock - Hinger

Dead body - Carcass Sing - Tell Deadly - Bloody Smoke - Thin

Destroy - Slay Spaces - Words

Do - Act Spelling Bee - Message

Dollar - Gain Storm - Mighty wind

Dragon - Menace

Wrong - Make right

Evidence - New wine

Fever - Ruddy

Fire - Knowledge

Forbid - Jagger

Greed - Hunger

Greedy - Bite

Hang - Make example

Hide - Wait

Hidden - Altered

Judas - Goat

Lab - Dingle

Locked - Secure

Measure - Jigger

Medicine - Potion

Midas - Diller

Mimic - Jogger

Minus - Minor

Night Creature - Dracula

Nourished - Drank

Obscure - muddy Old Skin - Unbranded