Homecoming
by
Sally Tyler-hayes

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SALLY TYLER HAYES

SILHOUETTE



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All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
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bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author.  and all the
incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 1996 Silhouette Books, Eton House,
18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey

TW9 1SR

Teresa Hill 1996

ISBN 0:373 07700 9

18-9610 ~' Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham
PLC, Chatham Another novel by Sally Tyler Hayes Silhouette Sensation
Our Child?

I am blessed in having the most wonderful mother in the world.  She's
kind, caring, generous with her time, her support and her love.

Mum, I don't say it enough, but I hope you'll always know that I love
you very much.

Daddy, I love you, too.  And I'm so glad you are a reader and that you
turned me into a reader.  Special thanks for those Saturdays we spent
at the used bookshop.  in Lexington picking out bags full of books to
take home.  Maybe someday I'll write you a Western.

I wish you both a long, happy, healthy retirement~ Prologue 2fitllison
Jennings sat pale, still and dry-eyed in the lawyer's office while he
quickly and ruthlessly stripped away everything she had left.

Even herself.

Or at least everything she'd ever known and believed about herself.

And he did it all with a self-righteous anger that she simply didn't
understand.  ~, She had just turned eighteen, and she'd just lost her
parents in a train derailment.  That had been hard enough; but this?
This was like something-out of "The Twilight Zone."  She kept waiting
for the funny theme music to play.

Glancing up, she saw that the lawyer was glaring at her, He had to be
wrong.

There was no other explanation.  The lawyer must be wrong.  But.  what
if he wasn't?

She gripped her trembling hands tightly together in her lap and tried
not to even think about the possibility.  It would be even worse than
the accident she'd had at age thirteen, when her whole past had
~disappeared.  But she'd
 had her parents then, to help her get through the traumatic
experience.

They had filled in all the missing pieces of her past, going into long,
vivid detail about all the birthday parties, Christmases and family
vacations.

They hadn't had a lot of money, but they'd had a wealth of love.  And
slowly, as they meticulously filled in memory after memory of their
lives together, she'd come to believe the things they said.  She'd
reconstructed the days and the years in her own mind, until she
couldn't quite' tell whether she actually remembered them or not.

And what had it really mattered, anyway?  They'd been her parents.

They'd loved her, and they'd remembered.  That had been enough.

But now?

Oh, God, now?

Her stomach rolled.  She pictured her mother and father in her mind as
they had left on the train for an anniversary trip to Chicago.  They
had looked so.  happy, and so very much in love.  She'd never see them
that way again.

She'd never be able to ask them about the unbelievable story this
lawyer had told her.  She could never ask them to come here and set him
straight.

She looked up at him now, gathered what little energy and courage she
had left, then told the coldhearted stranger,

"There's a mistake."

Allison had come here yesterday, to this Indiana town where she and her
parents had supposedly lived before her accident--before she lost her
memory.

She'd hoped it would spark some recollection in her mind, give her some
new memories of her parents to help her through the years she now faced
without them.

It hit her now, as never before during this whole nightmare, that she
was totally and absolutely alone in the ~world, She ~had some cousins
somewhere in this town, and an uncle she thought.  But she had no
memory of them.  She and her parents had moved away shortly after her
accident, and they had never returned.  Bad memories, her mother had
told her, and never elaborated.

Allison hadn't pushed the issue, but now she wished she had.  Because
then she wouldn't be so alone right now.

Among her parents' possessions, she'd found a business card for this
attorney in Indiana, along with a scribbled note in her father's
handwriting about a will.  She was certain that her parents had left
what little they had to her, as their only child.  She-would need it,
if she was to have even a hope of starting college this fall.

So, she'd come here, because eight years ago her parents had made out
aw ill with their lawyer who'd now become her accuser.

"There's no mistake," he said, his tone strident.

"I'm tempted to have you locked up."

"Me?"  she cried.

"For what?"

"Impersonating someone may~ not necessarily be a crime," the lawyer
bellowed at her, "but coming in here and attempting to steal what
doesn't rightfully belong to you certainly is!"

"My parents just died," she said, her voice breaking.  "And I'm their
daughter, their only daughter.  I'm Allison Jennings."

The lawyer moved in for the kill.

"I've known Libby and Randy Jennings for years.  I handled the closing
on their first home, twenty years ago.  I was their friend.  And to
think, now that they're dead, some conniving little phony would try to
take advantage of them this way... It sickens me!"

She didn't know what to say.  She just sat there with an awful feeling
of impending doom.  Still, she'd lost her parents.  She had no one
now.

What could possibly be worse than that?

 "Why?"  she said at last.

"Why do you think I'm lying?"

"Because Allison Jennings is dead," he told her.

"She's been dead for five years."

Chapter'l Seven Years Later Federal Prosecutor Jack MacAlister's latest
case had brought him here,.  to the wrong side of Chicago, on a cold,
snowy evening, in search of a runaway shelter Called Hope House.  The
weather had even the most hardened street kids scrambling for cover.
Hope House, among other things, had a reputation for not skimping on
the heat or the blankets; and for serving the best shelter food in the
city.

Word on the street was that it also had a new director, not much older
than the kids herself, one who'd been out there on the streets in the
not-so-distant-past.  She didn't hassle kids who didn't want a hassle,
she helped the ones who were willing to accept help, and she cared for
them all.

MacAlister had to admire that particular quality in anyone who dealt
with so many hopeless cases.  Caring was a very dangerous thing.  Too
much of it
would eat a person ~ alive.  Too little, and a person couldn't do the
job the way it needed to be done.

He struggled with that himself.

He walked past the converted Xrlctorian house that held the staff
offices and those of the foundation that ran the shelter.  Next door
was an old parochial school, which now served as the runaway shelter,
among other things.  He brushed the snow out of his hair and off the
lapels of his heavy overcoat, feeling more than a little uncomfortable
while next to him kids in jeans, sweatshirts and lightweight~.  coats
stood shivering in the cold in the lengthening lines to get inside.

Jack MacAlister had never wanted for anything in his entire life, and
he worried that these kids always would.

He tried hard not to look at their faces, not when he might well see
them again all too soon, under different circumstances.  Shooting
victims, drug overdoses, kids who belonged on elementary school
playgrounds rather than the morgue--he saw too many of them, too often,
to look these kids in the eye.

It was hard enough to do his job in the U. S. Attorney's office without
recognizing the face of the next kid who didn't make it.

MacAlister stopped at the desk and asked one of the kids huddled in the
entrance way one he hoped was a regular,~ where he could find Allison
Jennings.  The kid wore torn jeans, high-tops that failed to keep out
the snow and a windbreaker.  MacAlister received nothing from him but
an~ insolent stare.

"She works here," he said, realizing the problem immediately.  Kids on
the street didn't want to be.  found until they were ready, and this
one must have thought he was looking for a runaway.

"Allison Jennings."

"Don't mean nothin' to me, man."

MacAlister shrugged and went on inside.  The heat was pumping full
blast, and it felt good.  He took off his coat and threw it over his
ann.

13 The halls-were overflowing with kids in lines snaking through the
hallways, and the noise level was deafening.  MacAlister asked two more
kids about Allison Jennings before he hit on someone who knew her.

"You mean A.J.?"  a skinny, baby-faced boy who might have been
fourteen, with the big brown eyes and skin the color of watered-down
chocolate milk, said from across the hall.

"She runs the place" he said, not knowing whether the lady used her'
initials or not.

"And her real name's Allison?"  The kid seemed to find that incredibly
amusing.

Actually, from what MacAiister had been able to find out, Allison
Jennings wasn't her real name at all.  In fact, he was betting on that.
Now all he had to do was find her and convince her it was time to
figure out what her real name was.  If he was right, she was the woman
who was going to help him keep a kidnapper in jail, where he
belonged.

"You know her?"  MacAlister asked the boy, trying not to figure out
what had made him turn to the streets.

Drugs?  Alcohol?  A parent who used him as a punching bag or worse?

Kids didn't end up this way on a whim, or because their parents
wouldn't let them stay0 ut past midnight.

"Everybody.  knows A.J.," the kid informed him.  "Know where I can find
her?"

"Who are you?  Her daddy?"  the kid said, his wiseass streak coming
out.

After all, it wouldn't do for him to be seen being too friendly with
anyone over the age of twenty, especially someone who was clearly in a
position of authority.

The other kids were staring and starting to laugh.  One with a
particularly smart mouth had started chanting, "Al-Ii-son," drawling it
out in a sing-song kind of voice.

 "You have a problem, Skippy?"  a slip of a girl in jeans and a
sweatshirt demanded as she stepped into the hallway ahead of them.

"Al-li-son," he taunted her again.

"That yo' real name, A.J.?"

"What if it is, Skippy?"  she snapped back at him.

"Oh, of course, that's not your real name, is it?  You want me to tell
everybody what it is?"

The kid threw up his hands in a theatrical gesture of surrender and
turned away.  The other kids expressed some interest in Skippy's real
name, but they didn't get anything out of the girl.

"Good," she said, nudging Skippy with her elbow as she made her way
down the hallway.

"Then you can call me A.J~, and we'll leave it at that."

It wasn't until she was standing a foot a~ay from MacAlister that he
realized she wasn't a 'teenager.  She looked the part--the worn jeans,
the Bears sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, the
thinness that it couldn't hide, the white-blond hair clipped short
around her face.  No, her appearance never would have given her away.

It was the air of authority about her that did, the voice that was
obviously used to giving orders and to being And it was the challenge
that was so clearly look she threw his way.

"If you're with the fire marshal's office, I don'-t eve~ want to hear
about it," she said, no apology whatsoever in her surprisingly husky
voice.

MacAlister decided silence was the best policy while he determined how
to handle this.  He had a badge in his pocket.  The fire marshal would,
as well.

He wondered if he could get away with flashing it under that cute
little turned-up nose of hers, maybe intimidate her into coming
somewhere away from this zoo where they could talk in peace and
privacy.

15 He wondered if anyone intimidated her.  Now that he thought about
it, he hoped not.  He needed her to be tough as nails, because he was
going to ask her to do something very unpleasant.  And, surprisingly,
his conscience came to life in that moment, as he looked at her,
standing in the midst of these lost kids.

Had she truly been one of them once?  He didn't like to think about
that, because he knew what living on the streets did to kids, knew the
risks they took and the lengths to which they went in order to stay
alive.

"Well?  Are you?"  she said, looking up at him.  If she stood on
tiptoe, she might come up to big chin.  And she did an amazing job of
trying to be intimidating, in spite of the fact that she was a foot
shorter than he.

He thought longingly of the badge, and of subterfuge.

NO way, MacAlister, he told himself.  The lady didn't take crap from
anybody.

She wasn't going to start with him.  "Am I what?"

he asked, as innocently as he could.

"In case you haven't noticed," she said impatiently, "my hotel's booked
solid tonight.  I have work to do.  Are you with the fire marshal's
office or not?"

"Why don't we go upstairs and talk about it?"  he suggested, deciding
that a little evasion was the best tactic available to him now.

Cupping her elbow in his right hand, he propelled her in the direction
from which she'd come.  "You do have an office, don't you,

A. J. "

At first, he didn't think she was going to come with him.  Bt~t he had
the distinct impression that she didn't like him touching her, and in
trying to break away from his~ light touch, she took several steps in
the right direction, took even more when he kept coming after her.

"This had better be good," she told him threateningly as they made
their way down the hallway, through the steadily filling gymnasium and
up the back stairs.

A. J. led him down a narrow hallway, then turned and headed through
an
old-fashioned smoked-glass door that was a bleary shade of
watered-down green.  Once inside, she took a seat behind the desk and
left him to struggle to find room between the chairs pushed against the
back wall and the front of her desk.

"Nice closet," he said, wondering if she ever smiled and what she'd
look like if she did.  He had an inexcusable and unexplainable urge to
tease her and see if he could find out.

"You came out on a night like this to bad-mouth my office?"  she said
as he tried to guess hey age.  The woman for whom he was searching
would be twenty-four in the spring--if, by some miracle, she was still
alive.  It was prob.  ably foolish to think that she was, but then,
MacAlister didn't have any angles left.

"What kind of a bureaucrat are you?"  she demanded when he didn't
answer her right away.

"A cold one.  It's supposed to be ten below tonight," he said, watching
in satisfaction as her lips twitched into some semblance of a smile.
And it was nice.  He saw a definite possibility that a full-blown smile
would do magical things to that face of hers.

She caught him staring,.  and quickly looked away.  Amazingly, he felt
something close to fascination with her.  Obviously, she was a woman to
be reckoned with.  Obviously; he wasn't going to be able to bully her,
which he would have done if he thought it would work and work quickly.
He'd have to try something else.

She cared, he reminded himself.  She cared about the kids~ She'd
understand what he was trying to do, and she wo~ help him.  Because,
ultimately, she d be helping the keeping them safe from the piece of
scum he had parked i~~ jail and awaiting a trial MacAlister couldn't
afford to lose.  ~ Surely she would understand that.

"Wait a minute," she said, suddenly serious.

"Has something happened to one of my kids?"

"No," he reassured her, then told himself to stop baiting her and get
on with it.

17 The "alleged" ~ kidnapper, entrusted to him by the United States of
America, had finally gotten a public defender who wasn't as green as
grass in the springtime, and the guy was making noises about actually
setting a trial date.

Jack MacAlister couldn't let the case actually go to trial, because
he'd never win.  After all, he had no evidence.  It was a miracle he'd
managed to keep the guy in jail for this long.  If he asked for one
more continuance, the judge.  would laugh him out of court for sure.

And there was no way he was letting the guy out while he tried to build
a stronger case.  So here he was.

"Well," she said.

"You wanted to talk.  So talk."

"You are Allison Jennings?"  he asked.

At the sound of the name from his lips, she sank back in the chair and
sagged downward, for just an instant, She blinked, twice, slowly and
deliberately, ~as if she couldn't believe she was hearing such a
question from him'.

And then she was back, the seemingly invincible tiger, protecting her
hopeless cases with a vengeance.

"A.J.," she insisted.

"But you're not sure about that, are you?"  he said, seeing no more
reason to beat around the bush.

She took his retort like a slap in the face, and he winced at the pain
he'd obviously caused her.

Prosecuting wasn't easy, particularly in a case as ugly as his current
one.

People got hurt.  Innocent people.  All in the name of justice.

It hurt to gather the necessary evidence, to get the testimony needed
for a conviction, to convince people to relive their worst nightmares
in front of the good people in the iury box and whoever else happened
to be in court that day, whoever might turn on the TV that night or
pick up the newspaper the next morning.

But he did it, because it was his job.  Because he believed in what he
did and because he saw the greater good that sometimes came of it, no
matter who
was hurt in the pro .

cess called justice.  Still, momentarily at least, he was ashamed.

He had a surprising urge to reach out to her again, to offer some kind
of nonverbal apology, if she'd let him.  But he quickly remembered the
way she'd drawn herself away from his touch only moments before, when
he hadn't yet given her a real reason to dislike him.

MacAlister felt a little better when her chin came up again, that perky
little nose of hers tilting regally into the air.  She folded her arms
across her chest and leaned over the desk.

"Before we talk about who I am, I think it's time you told me who in
hell you are and what you're doing here."

He reached inside his jacket, drew out his ID and flicked , it open for
her to see.  Then, in a rare attack of conscience, he wished, for her
sake, that the biggest problem she had on a night like this was the
fire marshal.

"Jack MacAlister,"

"he said.

"U.S. Attorney's office."  "And exactly what do you want from me, Jack?
" He couldn't help but laugh at the disdain she managed to instill into
her pronunciation of his first name.  And no one called him Jack.

"I'm looking for someone," he said.

"Would you~ like to give me a name?  A description?  Or do we get to
play twenty questions for another five minutes?"

"Annie," he said, watching for some flicker of emotion, and finding
it--in spades.

"I don't know anyone named Annie."

He held up his hands to silence her.

"That's not whatl asked :' " Then what?  We don't have a runner named
Annie at the moment, and even if we did, none of them use their real
names out here.  Surely you know that.  " He was losing his patience,
and that wouldn't do.  She served better than that.  But he'd been in
court all day, been 19 hounded by one too many of the high-priced
lawyers who spent their lives proving the.  theory that money could buy
anything for their clients.

And he did feeiguiltyabout this.

He was going to hurt this girl, and he didn't like doing that.  But it
was necessary, and he would do it, because he didn't see any other way
to keep that animal in jail.

"You didn't let me finish," " he said, searching for the
nonthreatening, non censuring tone that he'd use with a recalcitrant
judge.

"I'm not asking if you've seen anyone named Annie or if you know anyone
by that name.  I want to know if you a. re Annie.  Annie McKay."

She was obviously puzzled by that,~ which didn't fit at all with the
situation as he understood it.

"There's a Carolyn McKay who's the executive director of the foundation
that oversees the runaway shelter," She offered, obviously trying to
read him as carefully as he'dtry to read a potential witness to assess
his credibility.

"And her mother, Grace McKay, who volunteers here," Maybe you should
start with them.  " "Oh, hell," he muttered as the' truth hit himi and
he looked away.  He should have talked to Drew Delaney with the FBI
before he came down here.  Now he'd stumbled into something quite
sticky, and he didn't know how to get out of it.

"What do you mean, "Oh, hell'?"

He had the feeling that people didn't often surprise A. J. " and that
when it happened she didn't like it one bit.

Well, neither did Jack MacAlister, and he'd just gotten a rotten little
surprise himself.  Now he'd just have to make it work in his favor;
especially since it was too late to backtrack.  She was suspicious now.
And it wouldn't take her long to figure things out.

He might as well be the one to explain it to her.  Mayhe she'd think he
was on her side.

"They didn't tell you?"  he said, knowing damned well that they
hadn't.

 "Tell me what?"

Drew was going to kill him, once Drew found out what he'd done.  He was
stuck now.  He couldn't stop.  He couldn't back down.  This woman
sitting before him wouldn't let him--and that would be the only excuse
he had When Drew came after him.

"The girl's full name.  They didn't even tell you that?"

"The Annie you're looking for is Annie McKay?"  she said, and he
watched as the knowledge hit her.

"And Grace McKay... and Carolyn McKay..."

"Her mother and her sister," he interjected.

She didn't say anything for a moment, just sat there, still as a
statue.

This time, her face gave nothing away; it was her utter stillness that
betrayed her.  He had the feeling that he'd shocked her.

"I'm going to kill them," she said finally.  They knew I didn't want to
see either one of them, and Nick sent me over here so I could work with
them both?  " He didn't blame her for being mad, even as he couldn't
blame either one of those women for wanting to get to know her better.
It had to be torture for them to know about her, but not know her true
identity.

Grace and Carolyn McKay were searching for a little girl they hadn't
seen in nearly eleven years, and they had tea,.  son to believe that
Allison Jennings--A.  J. " as she insisted on being called--could be
that girl.

MacAlister had reason to believe that the man he had in jail was the
one who'd kidnapped-Annie McKay nearly eleven years ago.

And if, by some miracle, A. J. was Annie, she might be his only hope of
getting the man convicted.  He'd exhausted every other lead he had,
found none of the physical evidence he needed to tie the man to the
crimes.  His only eye-witness was a frightened seven-year-old girl
whose testimony hold in 21 He was banking on the possibility that,
nearly eleven years ago, the woman in front of him had been another
frightened little girl, pulled into a car and sucked into a nightmare
by the criminal he had stewing in a jail cell.  And he wanted her to
remember that, wanted her to talk about it in open court and in front
of what would no doubt be a media circus.  To say he could understand
her reluctance would have been an understatement.  But he couldn't walk
away from this.  He couldn't let her off the hook.  Too many
people--like that little seven-year-old girl--were counting on him.

MacAlister looked up at the~ woman sitting across from him.  It wasn't
cold in this tiny office of hers, but she was rubbing her hands up and
down her crossed arms in a futile effort at warming them.  He picked up
on the fine trembling of her body, the look of pure fear in his eyes.

"I can't help you," she said, standing and making her way around the
desk, coming to a halt when he didn't rise and get out of her way so
that she could leave the office.

"You have to," he said, ready to plead his case.

"You may be the only one who can.  I need to find Annie McKay.
Otherwise, I don't have a prayer of winning in court."

"I don't have time for this now," she told him when he~r first refusal
got her nowhere with him.

"It's cold as hell out there tonight, and I don't want to find some kid
frozen solid in some alley in the morning.  I don't have time."

"Make time."

"Make time?"  The words nearly exploded from her.  "Who the hell do you
think you are, meddling in my life like this?  What gives you the right
to do that?"

He didn't have an answer for her.

"You come in here, sticking your nose into what's left of my life.

You've obviously been talking to the FBI about me, maybe even Nick.

He was my therapist, for God's sake.  You don't have a right to know
anything I said to him in those sessions.  "
 -"You don't have any rights, because you haven't been accused of any
crime," he told her, his cynicism shining through.

"In this country, we only offer real legal protection to the
criminals."

"Now we're going to have Civics 101?"  she said.

"I don't believe you.

Get out!  " He considered his options, didn't like any of them, but
decided on retreat.

He'd thrown her a nasty surprise, and he could understand that she
would need some time to get used to what she'd just learned.

Telling himself there'd be other days, he rose to his feet.  "Get out,"
she repeated.

"For now," he said, not adding the obvious~ that he'd be back.

Chapter2 A. J. slammed the door behind him and locked it then leaned
against the edge of her desk, when she wasn't sure her legs could hold
her anymore and she was certain no one could see her give in to that
particular weakness.

She couldn't afford to be weak.  It was a luxury she hadn't allowed
herself in years.

"You are Allison Jennings?"  he'd said so coolly.  But you're not sure
about that, are you?  " She wanted to scream at the nerve of the man.
Who in hell did he think he was, butting into her life like this?  And
why would a federal prosecutor care what her name was?  Or whether that
was her real name?

She wished for a minute that she'd let him stay long enough to find out
why he was so interested in her, but he'd thrown her ~off-balance by
telling her the missing girl's last name.

McKay, Annie McKay, She'd been working here at Hope House, coordinating
its
programs for runaways, for almost two months now.  She and Carolyn had
struck up'a friendship of sorts.  A. J. respected her for the work she
did here.  And A. J. hadn't found the woman to be nearly as
intimidating as she'd feared.

After all, Carolyn McKay, the director of the foundation that ran the
shelter, was beautifully elegant~ polished, well dressed and
self-assured.

What could A. J. possibly have in common with her?  Yet they had found
common ground.  The work, the battle against the twisted maze of the
all-powerful bureaucracy, the kids who all too often seemed to have no
reason to hope.  But, obviously, Carolyn

"McKay had sought her out, because Carolyn thought A.J. was her
long-lost sister.

And Grace McKay's deceit hurt just as much.  Carolyn's mother had
started volunteering at the shelter a couple of weeks ago.  She made
the most incredible homemade breads and pies.  The kids were crazy
about them.  She liked to hum off-key, liked to show off her pictures
of her little boy, Billy, and tell stories about him to anyone who'd
sit still long enough' to listen.  - ~ A. J. had found herself drawn to
this.  wonderfully no-nonsense, down-to-earth woman who clearly knew
what it was to struggle and to overcome.  Life obviously hadn't been
easy for Grace McKay, but it hadn't worn her down the way it did so.
many people who knew what it was to have real problems.  Surely that
was why A. J. liked the woman so much, because A. J. had struggled so'
much herself with so many things she simply couldn't change, regardless
of how hard she tried.

And to think that all the time she'd been working here, these two women
had been so kind to her, so interested in getting to know her and in
being a friend to her, because.  ~ She shook her head back and forth.
It made her more than a little sick to her stomach, She hated
subterfuge.  Hated half-truths and omissions.  Most of all, she hated
lies, 25 She'dbeen lied to her whole life, at least all of it that she
could remember.

-And the only way she'd found to ~cope with that was to simply not
trust anyone anymore, except her friend, mentor and long-ago therapist,
Dr.  Nick Garrett.  And judging by the things Jack MacAlister knew
about her past, A. J. had misplaced her trust in.

Nick, as well.  Because he was the only person she'd ever told about
the time she'd spent with the Jenningses, and the lies she'd lived.

Surely Nick's betrayal proved she shouldn't count on anyone, shouldn't
trust anyone, shouldn't lean on anyone, except herself.

It was safer that way.

Carolyn McKay, her so-called parents, her friend Nick, this hotshot
prosecutor who thought he could just storm into her life and turn it
inside out--it didn't matter what they needed from her.

Because she didn't have anything to give them.

She saved it all for her kids.  Everything she had to give went to
them.

When it came to these kids, she held nothing back.

Jack MacAlister would just have.  to understand that.  All of the
others would, too.

She couldn't be the one to give Annie McKay back to them.  Her past was
a giant void, a black hole of sorts, and nothing was ever going to
convince her to climb back into that emptiness.

Five minutes later, after she'd calmed herself, but before she lost her
nerve, A. J. stood outside Carolyn McKay's office'.

It was late, and with the snow coming down so hard, she was surprised
to find Carolyn still here.  At the moment, she was on the phone with
someone, and A. J. stood in the doorway, "waiting for her to finish.

 She couldn't help but remember that day a few months ago when she'd
walked into this office and met Carolyn.  and Drew Delaney for the
first time.  He'd been introduced as her fiancee, but A. J. had since
learned that he also happened to be an FBI agent, Working in the
Bureau's division of missing and abducted children.

She wondered if Drew had anything to do with this ridiculous assumption
that she could be Carolyn's long-lost sister.

Looking back on that first day now, she realized she'd known even then
that something funny was going on.  Carolyn McKay had been very
emotional.  She'd been wiping tears from her eyes, and Drew had said
they'd just gotten some very good news--something about a family matter
that he hadn't explained further to A. J. But now she knew.  She'd just
shown up at their door looking for a job at the runaway shelter
affiliated with Hope House--all thanks to her friend Nick, who'd
recommended her for the job at the shelter.  When she about him sending
her here to take this job, her mother to watch her, to wait and hope
for some sign that she could be their Annie--she wanted to scream at
the jdstice of it all.

She'd trusted Nick, despite her misgivings about anyone.  And he'd
betrayed her.

She remembered when this whole ridiculous mass: had started.  Nick had
come to her weeks ago, when she returned from a conference on runaways
in Philadelphia, and told her a preposterous story about how he thought
he'd figured out who she was, that she had a family waiting for her and
he'd somehow stumbled upon them.

A. J, had stopped him right there.  She hadn't been interested in the
least.

Nick had a hard time understanding that, but it was all very simple to
her.

A. J. didn't know much about the girl he thought she used to be, except
for the fact that she was blond, had blue eyes and had disappeared
nearly eleven years ago, never to be heard from again.

27 She'd been presumed dead, but then, in a bizarre break, the FBI had
managed to find a link between the girl's kidnapping and the abduction
of a little girl named Sara Parker a few months before in one of the
neighboring states.

Sara Parker was one of the lucky ones.  She had escaped and made it
home safe to her parents.  They had caught the man they thought had
snatched her, and for some reason A. J. had never explored and had no
desire to check out now, Nick thought A. J. might be the first little
girl the man had kidnapped--Annie.

He'd told her an outlandish story about something she'd said to him
years ago under hypnosis that stuck in his mind, about something that
had clicked when Sara Parker, s kid-napper was arrested and he heard
Annie's sister talking on the evening news.  But A. J. simply hadn't
been interested in hearing about it.  Nick hadn't even told her the
girl's last name, and she hadn't asked.

She hadn't sought any details, and had refused to take any sort of
tests that might confirm or deny whether she actually was this girl.

A. J. had lost her identity twice in her life now--once after she
sustained some kind of head injury, nearly eleven years ago, and again
when the two people she'd believed to be her parents had died and she'd
learned that she wasn't their daughter.

Surely that was enough.  She wouldn't lose herself again.  She'd put
her life back together again, and it suited her just fine.  The past
was sun ply that--the past.  Anything she found out about that past
would only hurt her.

And be:-cause she could not change it, could not go back and regain the
years she'd lost, she saw no reason to explore whatever was back
there.

And even if she'd been interested in solving the mystery of her past,
she would never have dug into her own background for something like
this.  A little girl kidnapped, separated from her parents at a very
young age,
probably molested in ways.  she didn't want to imagine' who needed the
kind of grief that came from experiences like that?  Certainly not

A. J.

She looked up, startled by the sound of a voice calling to her.  She'd
been totally lost somewhere inside herself, and now Carolyn McKay was
off the phone.

"I need to talk to you," A. J. said, not waiting to be invited inside
the office tucked away high in the corner of the old Victorian house.

"Of course," Carolyn, ever the gracious lady, replied.  "Come in and
have a seat."

As usual, she was impeccably dressed in a pair of tailored slacks, a
soft, dark-colored sweater, her long, dark hair swept back in an
elegant knot on top of her head.

A. J. looked at her own Clothing and regarded her casual outfit with' a
rueful smile.  If she did have a sister, she couldn't imagine her being
anything like Carolyn McKay.  And she damned Jack MacAlister, her buddy
Nick and anyone else she could think of for making her even wonder,
even Wish for the briefest of moments that she might have a sister
somewhere out there waiting to find her, the way the McKays wanted and
waited for their Annie.

She'd been ready to blast away at Carolyn with all the anger she'd
bottled up inside her since Jack MacAlister crossed her path and showed
her how these people she'd come to know and like had been lying to her
ever since she came here.  Yet now that she was here, now that she was
ready to get this all out in the open, she found it difficult.

She didn't think she could do this calmly, as it needed to be done.

If she didn't, she was going to show Carolyn McKay just how much this
upset her, and she didn't care to reveal that much about herself to
anyone.

A. J. decided to change her mind about having a seat, because now that
she was here, she didn't feel that steady on her feet.  She looked down
at her hands, knotted together in her lap, worrying over themselves.
She willed them to be 29 still, then looked up into Carolyn McKay's
elegantly beautiful face.

Unbidden came the image of her own face.  A chin that was too angular,
cheekbones that were too narrow, a nose with a little upward tilt to
the tip.

Her dishwater-blond hair was cropped short.  She was too thin, always
had been, but it had become more of a problem after her time on the
streets, and she always had to struggle to maintain her weight.  When
she didn't, it always showed on her face first, making her look even
more like a teenager than she normally did.

She was a~ totally unremarkable woman, while Carolyn McKay was the
exact opposite.  Again she wondered l~ow anyone could think they were
Sisters.

Obviously it was merely a combination of desperation and wishful
thinking on their part.  She had no such delusions.  When she was done,
neither would Carolyn McKay.

"You should have told me," A. J. said Simply, working hard to keep her
tone even, her voice relatively quiet, when what she wanted was to rant
and rave.

"You had no right to bring me here under false pretenses, then watch me
the way I've noticed you and your mother watching me, without telling
me why you were doing this."

Carolyn was clearl~ uncomfortable, but she didn't say anything at
first.

"You had no right," A. J. cominued, her control slipping further with
every agonizing word.

Why was it so hard?  she wondered.  This woman didn't mean anything to
her.

The job did, but she could find another one.  She was good at what she
did, and there were plenty of runaway shelters in the city of Chicago.
She didn't even have to stay in Chicago.  She could go anywhere she
wanted, and.

Dammit, her hands were shaking again.

"You lied to me," she said.  In her book, that was the greatest sin of
all.

 "We didn't mean to," Carolyn replied, reaching her hand across the
gleaming surface of the dark wooden desk, toward the spot where A. J.
"s hands rested on the outer edge.  " Please believe that.  We were
desperate to see you, to talk to you, to have any sort of connection to
you.  Surely you"-- A.$. snatched her hand away, no doubt looking like
some wounded animal in Carolyn McKay's eyes.  And A.J. didn't care for
weakness, especially a weakness in herself that was displayed for
anyone to see.

"You had no right," she repeated," standing up to leave.  She'd said
her piece.  The rest, the details, it was all inconsequential.  She was
getting out of here.

"Wait," Carolyn said, coming around the desk to stand between her and
'the doorway.

A. J. backed up against the desk and looked longingly the door.  She
should have moved faster.  Don't beg me, she thought.  Don't ask me for
things I simply don't have to give.

"Please don't go," Carolyn said.

"Please.  Let me try explain."

It was A. J. "s turn to be silent.  What could she say?  What kind of
sound could she get past her throat, cofisidering howl tight it was at
this moment.

"We-never meant to hurt yore" Carolyn told her~ Then who had?  Wouldn't
the Jenningses have told her much the same thing?  We the~er wanted to
hurt you, Alii-son.  She could just imagine.

"No matter what you intended, that's what you've done."

"Try to understand, please," Carolyn said.

"We've waited so long.

We'd given up, and when Drew received that call from"-- " From my
therapist?

" That was the worst betrayal of all.  " Surely you've heard of
doctor-patient confidentiality.  Surely you understand that he had no
right to tell you about me.  " 31 "He cares for you very much," Carolyn
said.

A. J. opened her mouth to say something to that, then thought better of
it.

Nick cared for her?  She'd known that, of course, although she'd
carefully avoided giving him any opportunity in which he might fully
explain to her exactly how much he cared.

She didn't have much to do with men, and Nick knew that.  He had to
realize that she wasn't at all interested in changing that fact.  Yet
he'd remained her friend, even after he realized that was all he could
ever be to her.

Still, he did care for her, and she supposed that explained why he'd
done.

this--because he thought he was helping her.  Well, she would just have
to set him straight about that notion.  She might not know her own
name, might aot have any idea who she was or what had happened to her
all those years ago, but she was more than capable of making her own
decisions now.  Nick would have.  to respect that.

A. J. looked up, startled, then realized she'd been lost in thought.

"I'm not here to discuss Nick with you~" "Of course~" Carolyn said,
obviously uncomfortable.  "Could I just tell youabout.Annie?"

"I'm not your sister," she stated quite firmly, knowing she couldn't
allow this to go on.

"I'm sure you'd like to believe that she's still alive.  Ihope for your
sake that she is, but I'm not her.  " And that's something you and your
mother are going to have to accept.  " Determined to escape this time,
she once again turned toward the door, praying that Carolyn would get
out of her~ way.

The woman looked heartbroken, and A. J, tried not to notice that.  When
she still didn't move, A. J. added, "I can't help you."

"Couldn't you let us help you?"  Carolyn put her hand on A. J. "s arm
as she said it.

 A. J. felt the touch like a burn, felt a funny little flutter in her
stomach, then pulled away, unsure what to make of her reaction.

She would figure it out later, when she was alone and she had managed
to calm herself.  There was a way to handle this, and she would find
it.  She'd handle Jack MacAlister and his unreasonable demands, as
well.  And she would not let either of these people force her to do
anything she didn't want to do.

"I don't need your help," she told Carolyn.

"I don't need anyone's ~help.  I was fine before you and your mother
and that man Jack MacAlister ever showed up.  And I'd thank the three
of you for leaving me alone from now on."

"Jack MacAlister?"  Carolyn asked, genuinely puzzled.  "The
prosecutor?"

"Yes~ the prosecutor."  She didn't want to explain any more of this.

She didnrt owe Carolyn McKay anything.

"He was just downstairs, and he seems to know a great deal about my
life that he has no business knowing.  And that makes me very angry."

"I'm sorry," Carolyn said again, and suddenly A. J. was ashamed of
herself, as well.

She worked with runaways, and she'd seen more than her share of parents
desperate to find their missing children.  Unfortunately, their
desperation often had a way of blinding them to reality, of robbing
them of all their common sense at the time when they most needed it,
Hope was at once a very fragile and a very powerful thing.  Taking away
someone's hope, especially that of a parent whose child was missing,
was the cruelest thing she could imagine.  Yet at times it was
necessary.  Surely this was one of those times.

She was relieved when Ricky Davis, one of the shelter workers, stuck
his head around the side of the blocked door.  "Found you," he said
to

A. J.

"What's going on?"  she asked.

33 "I thought you'd want to know.  It's in the single digits outside
already, feels colder than that with the wind blowing the way it is,
and Trini still hasn't come in."

A. J. glanced at her watch.  It was nearly seven, and Trini had been on
the streets long enough to know that on a night like this, every
shelter in the city would be full to overflowing.  She should have come
in by now.

Hell, she shouldn't be on the streets at all.  She was fourteen years
old, and seven months pregnant.

"I'll be down in a second, Ricky.  And thanks for coming to find me."

He disappeared around the side of the.  door A. J. had no choice but to
turn back and deal with Carolyn.

"I suppose I need to find another job," she said.

"You don't have to decide anything tonight," Carolyn told her.

"And please don't let this situation keep you from doing your job.
You're very good at it, and the kids... they need you."  "One of them
needs me right now," she said2 Outside, in the cold and the snow, Jack
MacAlister sat inside his dark sedan with the heater running full
blast.  He'd just finished a very unpleasant phone call to FBI agent
Drew Delaney when he saw A. J. come outside and get into a rather
worn-looking van with the Hope House logo on the side.

He'd been waiting in front of Hope House, trying to decide what to do,
berating himself for handling the situation badly and making his
apologies to Drew, when he saw her, Where in the world was A. J. going
on a night like this?  he wondered.

He knew from Drew that her job at the shelter was a live-in position;
she had a room somewhere in the old house.  So what would she be doing
out by herself on such a horrible night.

The snow was falling-in golf-ball-size flakes, coming down so thickly
it was hard to see ten feet in front of the car.

 The wind was howling, as it almost always did in Chicago.  The
streets had been slick when he drove over here; they'd have grown worse
in the hour he spent arguing with A. J. and then sitting in the car
trying to figure out how to salvage something of the situation.

He waited while she started the van, then came out to scrape the snow
off the windows.  Then she climbed back inside and took off into the
cold and the snow.

As the van's taillights flashed red in the distance, then disappeared
off to the right, he made his decision.  He was going to follow her.

And when she arrived at wherever her destination was, he was going to
make her sit still long enough to hear him out.

He'd bungled his first attempt badly; he couldn't afford to screw up
the second.  Waiting would only give her time to grow more angry at
him, more determined to avoid him.  And he couldn't let her do that,
because he had to know if she was Annie McKay.

Chapter3, A. J. huddled in her red wool coat and banged her fist
against the van's heater.  She was afraid it had picked tonight to turn
temperamental on her once again--tonight, when it was supposed to be
well below freezing and one of the shelter regulars was missing.

Paused at a stoplight, with the Van just managing to idle strongly
enough to keep from dying in the cold, A. J. rubbed her gloved hands
together and watched the way each breath turned to a stream of white
when she exhaled if it was that .  cold inside the old van, outside
must be horrible.

She looked up into the spill of light coming down from a lamppost,
watched the thick puffs of white floating to the ground and felt her
sense of desperation grow.  Trini had no idea what it was like on the
streets of Chicago in winter; she hadn't been-here long enough.  It was
already February, and the city hadn't yet seen its first major storm.
The season, so far, had been impossibly mild, leading many of the newer
kids to believe that they could make it outside.  This would be the
storm that convinced them they were wrong.

 A. J. hoped all of them would survive to learn the lesson.

She was particularly worried about Trini, a fourteen-year-old girl from
somewhere in Alabama who was.  about seven months pregnant.  The girl
had yet to see a doctor.  More than likely she wouldn't go until the
day she delivered.

A. J. had told them all yesterday about the coming snow-storm and
warned them to get inside early.  All the shelters would be overcrowded
tonight.

Some would be turning kids away, and with the wind chill the way it
was, they'd have a hard time making it from one shelter to another if
the first one they tried was full.

A. J. had tried several of Trini's known hangouts, with no luck.  She'd
telephoned three of the closest shelters before she left Hope House--no
one had seen Trini tonight.  Her street family, two fifteen-year-old
girls and an older boy, hadn't seen her since around noon.  But they
claimed she'd been feeling fine at that time.

A car behind A. J. honked.  She looked up and noticed that the light
had turned green.  When she pressed on the accelerator, the van made a
coughing, hiccuping noise, then died on her.  She shifted into neutral
and tried to start it.  No luck.  It just churned.  Behind her, the car
honked again, then swung around her and through the intersection.  She
was deep into the South Side, three or four miles from Hope House,
which wasn't in the best of neighborhoods itself.

Instinctively she started looking around for a pay phone, though she
seriously doubted she'd find one that was operable in this area.  She
cranked the ignition again.

Ricky and a couple of the other staff members hadn't wanted her to come
out alone on a night like this, and normally she would have listened to
them.

But the shelter was packed.  They never had enough hands on a normal
night, let alone a night like this one.  She couldn't ask one of them
to come with her, when she knew how much work there was to be done at
the shelter.

37 And she'd wanted to be alone.  She hadn't wanted to talk to anyone.
No doubt the whole place knew about Jack MacAlister coming to visit her
tonight.

She didn't think they knew why he'd come, but they definitely wanted to
know something about his visit.  A. J. had no intention of telling
them, and she didn't want to play twenty questions, either.

So a few hours spent in the van, even if the heater didn't work, hadn't
seemed so bad.  The engihe, however, was another story.

Outside, the snow was coming down in sheets, and the wind was howling.
Ten below, they'd predicted.  People froze to death in this kind of.
weather ' And Trini was out there somewhere.

A. J. looked up and down the now deserted streets.  There.  was a pool
hall two blocks west of here.  She was sure of that.  She'd lived on
these streets herself at one time.  She could make it that far, and use
their phone.

She looked around the inside of the van, checking for anything of value
that she could stuff in her pockets and take with her.  The van was old
enough and worn enough that it might still be here when someone made it
Out to get it tomorrow, but she wouldn't take any chances.

As she turned back to the door, it opened from' the lout-side'.  The
cold wind blasted inside, making her gasp as it hit her cool skin.  The
snow flurries streamed inside, as well, for a moment, then cleared.

enough' for.  her to see an all-too-familiar face scowling at her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing out here on a night like
this?"  Jack l~lacAlister growled at her.

Dumbfounded by the sight of him here, by the knowledge that he must
have been following her--what else would he be doing here on a night
like this?  --she didn't say anything at first.  Obviously he was very
angry.  But why?  She couldn't imagine.

She wasn't anything to him, except a potential witness.  And surely he
didn't
make a habit out of following potential witnesses around in the middle
of blinding snow-storms.

Not that it mattered in the least to her what he did with his witnesses
or his time.  But, thinking of herself and of Trini, she realized he
might be just what she needed.  After all, he .  was here, and if she
couldn't change that fact, she might as well take advantage of it.

"Do you have a car?"  she said, thinking that he would have.  a
wonderful car, one with a heater that blasted blessedly warm air even
on a night like this, one with the best snow tires money could buy, one
that wouldn't dare die on him in the middle of a cold, ~nowy night in
one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city.

She would put up with 'anything to I~ warm again, even' an evening in
the company of Jack MacAlister.

"A car?"  He frowned, as if he couldn't possibly have heard her
correctly.

"No, I have Ructolph and the rest of the reindeer pulling my sleigh.  I
thought we'd make better time in the snow that way, I guess you did
notice it's snowing like hell tonight."

"Nearby?"  she dared to ask.  After all, if he could make jokes on a
night like this, so could she.  And she could almost feel the heat even
now.

"The sleigh?"  he said, proving the depths of his ira pertinence "Right
behind you."  A.J. grabbed her flashlight, her keys, then checked the
doors to make sure they were locked.

"Wishful thinking," he told her, locking the one on the driver's side
for her.

"What if it is?"  She stepped out of the van.  It was a long way down,
'and when her feet finally hit the slushy mess on the streets, they
nearly slid out from under her.  They would have, if Jack MacAlister
hadn't been so close, so quick and so surprisingly strong.

He braced himself with his shoulder against the door of the van, then
grabbed her around the waist.  Granted, there 39 wasn't much else he
could have done to save her from going down in the mess of ice and
snow, but when he caught her to him with one hand, she found herself
flush against his body.

He hadn't bothered to button his coat, and now both sides of it came
around her, shielding her from the wind and the blowing snow,
enveloping her in the incredible heat coming off his body.  His coat
left her warm, the wind muffled slightly, blocking the sight of
everything but a crisp white dress shirt, a striped tie now pulled
loose, a strong jawline in need of a shave, eyes the color of the lake
on a dark winter night staring down at her.  He was big and strong and
solid, thoroughly male, absolutely threatening to her Men as she wished
she could stay right here and soak up a bit more of him warmth.

Shaken as she hadn't been in years, A. J. shoved hard against his chest
and found some breathing room for herself.  She suclmd.  in the night
air't as so cold it burned all the way down into her lungs--and that
was enough to clear her head and to steady her.

MacAlister was breathing hard himself.  Those dark; dark eyes of his
narrowed as his gaze bored into her own, told her that he was searching
for some meaning to the way she had just reacted.  A. J. looked away.
Let him wonder what had just happened between them.

Let him figure it out for himself if he could.

"Is that all you're taking with you?"  he said, glancing at the
flashlight that had somehow remained in her right hand during the whole
mess.

She nodded and turned toward his car.  MacAlister's hand slid into the
crook of her arm, gripping it tightly.

"It's at least half ice out here," he said, seeming to dare her to pull
away from him.

She willed herself not to do so.  She could do that if she really
tried.  She
could free herself from his hold, if she absolutely had to, and 'that
knowledge alone kept her from fighting against him.

The car was maybe ten feet away.  She measured the distance carefully
in footsteps, meticulously counting them down in her head.  Six more to
go.

Then five.  Surely she could endure the touch of a man's hands for that
long.

He'd left the car running, and the heater was hard at work.  She'd been
so cold outside that the-heat actually burned when it hit her chilled
skin.

She huddled in the warmth while he climbed inside, closed the door and
put on his seat belt.  When he didn't say anything, she dared to look
over at him.

"Nice-sleigh," she said.

MacAlister looked as if he were ready to explode.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here for a woman alone?
And on a night like this?  Especially in that piece of junk you were
driving?"

"I used to live on these streets, Mac Mister There's nothing you could
tell me about them."

"Then you ought to know better than to be out on a night like this.
What would you have done if I hadn't" -- "Been following me?"

"Yes, if I hadn't been following you, what would you have done?"

She gave him points for not even trying to deny it, then shook off that
thought.  Surely-she wasn't coming to admire the man?

"I would have walked to the pool.  hall two blocks over, .

and hoped it was open," she replied.

Clearly he was aghast at that idea.

"It's not such a bad place," she told him,

"They'd slit your throat for the price of a cup 9f coffee around here,"
he said.

She doubted that, though She didn't carry a purse for that very reason.
She had a little cash, a few coins and her keys 41 in the pocket of her
jeans.

She had no need to carry anything else.

She also didn't need this man following her.  Didn't need him lecturing
her or reminding her of the dangers surrounding her and the kids out
here.  But she did need someone to help her find Trini before it was
too late.

Did she dare-ask this man to help her?  She caught her breath at the
thought, and remembered all too clearly what it had felt like to be
caught up against those broad shoulders of his, the flat stomach, the
powerful arm muscles.

He was entirely too big, too strong, too threatening to her.  He
towered over her, making her feel absolutely inconsequential next to
him.  Except for the fact that he was a federal prosecutor and a very
determined man, she knew nothing about him.  Alarm bells were going off
inside her head.  Just not the usual ones.

A. J. blinked twice, as if she-couldn't' quite' believe what she was
seeing and thinking and feeling--that she was alone in the dark and the
cold with a stranger who'd burst into her life not four hours ago and
turned it all upside down.  And what was she doing?  She was
remembering all too well what it had felt like to be caught up against
him.  She opened her eyes once again, looN just to her left to see him
sitting beside her, watching and waiting.  But for what?  What did he
want from her?

A. J. shook her head in wonder.  It had been a strange night indeed,
and it wasn't over yet.

Much as she hated to admit it, she needed help.  Trini needed help.

And he was the only one here, That made the decision much easier.

She didn't ask why he'd been following her or what he'd intended to do
once he caught up with her.  She didn't need to.  Jack MacAlister was
obviously a man who didn't know how to take no for an answer.

She'd just have to enlighten him about a few things--namely, her
stubbornness later.

 For now, she was in the unenviable position of needing his help.

"I'm betting that if you don't have anything better to do on a night
like this than to follow me around, you have time to help me with
something," she said, sinking into the leather of her seat.

"Help you with something?"  he said.

"Yes."  Why was that so hard for him to understand?  "I've got a
missing kid out here somewhere.  I was looking for her when.  the van
gave out."

"You have one kid who didn't happen to show up at the shelter, and that
sent you out alone in that piece of junk on a night like this?"

She didn't bat an eyelash.

"Lady, are you nuts?"

"Does it matter?"  she said.

He looked thunde~rous at that.  Curiously, she wasn't afraid of him.

Not exactly, anyway.  She didn't fear him physically, though his size
made her uncomfortable.  She had the distinct impression that it would
be difficult to convince Jack MacAlister that he'd have to try his case
without her help.  She didn't think she'd be able to get rid of him
soon enough to save her hard-won peace of mind.

"Look, MacAlister," she said, '~you said it yourself.  It's ten below
tonight, snowing like crazy.  Someone will likely freeze to death out
here before morning, and I'm going to make damn sure it's not one of my
kids.  You 'can either help me or let me off at that pool hall on
~Jefferson.  Of course, if someone slits my throat there, it would just
make more work for you in the end, right?  You might have to prosecute
the guy.  " She had to fight with all she had in her not to smile at
the scowl that spread across his face at the thought.  Maybe she had
pushed him too far.

But why should it be so irresistible to her to torment him this way?
She felt something that 43 bordered on shame for enjoying butting heads
with him this way.

"What do you want to do?"  she said, in as non-confrontational a tone
as she could manage.

He didn't say anything for a minute, but that didn't make her nervous.
There was no way he was going to put her out on the street tonight. She
was certain of that.

"You're not the only one who wants something," he said, still thinking
about that precious case of his.

"You son of a" -- "Hey," he jumped in, looking a bit wounded.

"I'm one of the good guys, remember?"

"I'm looking for a fourteen-year-old who's seven months pregnant, and
you're so worried about getting what you want that you're trying to.

bribe me now?  " she challenged.  " I'm worried about one of the kids.
" "Lady, what do you think this is about, my ego?  This bastard I'm
about to turn back out onto the streets kidnapped a seven-year-old girl
nearly four months ago.  We think over the past ten years he snatched
four others, none of whom have ever been seen or heard from again.  So
don't make me out to be the bad guy here."

She felt a definite twinge of conscience at that, and she wished with
all her might that he hadn't told her about the missing children.  Not
that 'it mattered.  She couldn't help' him.  But then, he didn't have
to know that right this minute "What do you want from me?"  she asked,
prepared to bargain.

"Fifteen minutes of your time."

"After we find Trini," she said.

"Of course."

"Done.  Now drive," she demanded.  She could do that--just listen to
him--for Trini's sake.  But she wasn't going to do anything else.

 They drove for hours in silence.  The snow continued to fall, the
wind to howl.  On the streets, the stuff turned to slush first, then a
dangerous sheet of ice.

MecAlister still couldn't believe A. J. had gone out alone in this
storm.

He couldn't believe she relied on that beat-up van for transportation,
or that she didn't even have a car phone in it--for her own safety.

They used his to call the shelter, where they learned that no one had
seen Trini, then called three other shelters with similar results.

Shortly after 2:00 a. m. " about a mile from Hope House, when he was
getting ready to tell her they'd have to give up--the streets were too
much of a mess, and visibility was a joke--they spotted something
moving in the mass of white and shadows on the ground near an abandoned
building.

"Stay here," he warned her, thinking that it might be nothing more than
something blowing in the fierce wind or that it might be something much
worse.

He grabbed her flashlight and climbed out of the car.  The night was
eerily quiet, save for the howl of the wind.  It was as if the whole
city were inside and asleep tonight.

He was amazed at A. J. "s determination.  She was doing all this for
one kid, he thought.  Would She do it for any one of the kids who
passed through the shelter?  he wondered.  Surely not.  She couldn't
afford to care that much about thaem all.  She'd never last in this
business if she did.  A person could take only so many disappointments
and still go on, In order to do his job properly, he had learned to
protect himself.

He wondered who protected the woman sitting in his car tonight,
wondered what would have happened to her if he hadn't decided to follow
her into the snow.

He didn't like the image that brought to mind at all.

Up ahead, the shadow moved again.  A cautious man by nature, he watched
his back, his sides, and the huddled figure in front of him.  It
moaned.  Either that, or something caught the wind just right.

MecAlister brought the light up toward what he thought was a head.  A~
gloved hand motioned helplessly, and another moan came to him through
the dhrkness.

He knelt beside the figure, brushed away the snow, moved the tattered
rag wrapped around the face, then cursed with all the breath he had
left in his body.

He'd expected a bum, a wino, the weathered, well-lined face of a drunk
who lived on the streets, but he found the smooth, unlined features of
an adolescent.  She rolled over stiffly at his urging.  A small,
rounded mass at her stomach confirmed his suspicion.

"Trini?"  he said.

She looked confused--dazed, actually.  He wondered if it was the cold,
or something else.  At that moment, 'she went stiff in his arms, her
face scrunching up in pain.

Damn, A. J. was right.  She'd been certain the girl knew better than to
get caught outside on a night like tonight, sure that something had to
he wrong with her to keep her from coming in out of the cold.

Scooping the girl up in his arms, he carried her back to the car.

Unless he was mistaken, Trini was in labor.

It was nearly five in the morning when Trini gave birth by cesarean
section to a three-and-a-half-pound baby boy with a sluggish hear theat
and irregular breathing.  Still, considering the way his mother lived
dufihg'her pregnancy, her age, her poor' nutrition 'and his early
arrival into the world, the doctors thought the baby was in pretty good
shape.

Through the glass enclosure in which the baby lay, MacAlister watched
its tiny arms and legs flail about, watched the way its chest heaved up
and down
with every breath.  The baby's face was nearly covered by the light
blue cap that adorned a head that seemed too big for the frail body to
support.

He didn't want to think about what would have happened to the~ baby or
his childlike mother, if they'd been left in the snow, couldn't imagine
how the woman standing beside him handled the enormous responsibility
she'd taken on to see that "her kids" were safe.

One woman couldn't do that.  The job was simply too big, the potential
for heartbreak perilously close at all times; He couldn't begin to
understand how A. J. managed to do so, hated the idea that he was going
to add to her burden.  Standing here beside him in the hallway, she
seemed incredibly fragile.  He knew what she'd been throfigh in the
not, too-distant past--Parts of it, at least.

She couldn't possibly be all that fragile and still have survived on
the streets.

Yet she seemed just that tonight, fragile, a little lost, maybe even
defeated.  He read the pain in her stance, her one shoulder against the
wall, her head bowed, her artifs curled in around herself, and he
thought about going to her and trying to comfort her in.  some small
way.  But he wasn't sure she would welcome that from him, and he
doubted she wanted anyone to see her the way she was right now.  So,
though he turned back to the baby, his thoughts stayed with A. J. ~ How
had she done it, he wondered?  She could so easily have ended up like
Trini, half-frozen in thee snow.

A. J~ had managed to come so far from that.  Drew had told him that she
had gone to Northwestern on scholarship, finishing in three years at
the top of her class with a. degree in counseling.  And she'd stood her
ground with him tonight in a way that some of the attorneys he'd faced
in court would' envy.

But she couldn't do that much longer.  It was nearly dawn.  He knew she
was exhausted and emotionally drained.  What in the world was he going
to do with her?

47 .  He had an absurd idea to take her home with him, feed her, let
her soak in his whirlpool for a while, then put her to bed and dare her
to get u-p before dark tonight.  His place had more than enough room.

He'd bet his last dollar that if he took her back to Hope House, she
wouldn't sleep until tonight, and the hot water would be long gone by
the time she got there.

Put that way, it almost sounded like his civic duty to take her home
with him.

But it wasn't a sense of duty that was pushing him on right now.  She
reminded him of someone, someone he had loved a long time ago~ Someone
he had lost.

He hadn't thought of Miranda in years, hadn't felt guilty over her
death in so long.  But she'd been a lot like A. J. " taking the weight
of the world on her shoulders, and she hadn't been strong enough to
manage that task.  No one would have been.  He only wished someone had
convinced her of that sooner.  He wished he'd been the one who made her
see that she couldn't be everything to everyone, that others' problems
were not her own, that she was only human, that she had her
limitations.

Miranda had found her own limits the hard ways she taken her own
life.

Someday, )k.  J. " would find her own limits.  He wondered what 'would
happen when She did.

After visiting Trini, A. J. stood in the hallway and looked at Jack
MacAlister, beyond the swinging doors.  Why he was still here, she
couldn't say.  Couldn't imagine.  Surely he wasn't going to demand his
fifteen minutes of her time to-night--or rather this morning.  It was
nearly dawn, after all.

He shouldn't be here.  She hadn't asked him to stay, had repeatedly
pointed out to him that there was nothing to keep him here.  Yet here
he was.

A. J. shook her head in anger and in wonder as she felt something
curiously
close to need for him, this stranger who'd bane led into her life,
helped her save Trini and the baby, yet come so close to destroying her
hard-won peace of mind.

How could she need a man like that?  She didn't even know what to do
with that particular feeling.  Especially now that her energy was
waning low, her hope, her enthusiasm and her drive, coming close to
deserting her.

Tonight, when he caught her to him outside the van, when his coat
flared around her and the heat of his body flamed toward her, she'd
imagined what it would he like to let go of all her problems, all the
kids' problems that became her Own, and let him shoulder them all for
just a while.

He could carry the load; she'd felt the strength in him.  And she would
be able to rest.  Just for a little while.

It was an incredible thought for her, the woman who leaned on no one,
needed no one, trusted no one except herself.

It was the hour; she told herself.  Nothing but that dangerous,
vulnerable' window of time between the darkest-of the night-and the
breaking of day.

Everyone hit a low point right there, in that hour or so before dawn.
It didn't mean anything.

Jack MacAlister might have charged into her life today, leaving chaos
in his wake, but he would he gone tomorrow.  Her kids, her work, would
still he here, and she would forget him, no doubt as easily as he would
forget her.

Chapter C

just have fallen.  asleep, the movement of the car lulling her into a
false sense of security.  Her world had turned all warm and cozy, her
exhaustion taking over when she should have remained alert and aware.

With her eyes still closed, her brain caught in that instant of
emerging from a deep, deep sleep, she experienced the sensation of
movement very different from that of the Car.  The cold penetrated her
dreamless sleep for an instant, then was gone.  Voices followed,
laughing, joking voices.

Groggily she opened her eyes, then squeezed them shut as the light,
blinding at first, invaded,

"Take it easy," a smooth, deep voice coaxed.  It was a little rough,
husky and strangely familiar.  It sent shivers 'up her spine, and not
the kind caused by the cold.

The voice snapped her out of the awful lethargy that had invaded her
body.

When she opened her eyes again, the light wasn't nearly as bright, and
she discovered she was in Jack MacAlister's arms.  Either that, or she
was dreaming.

"Almost there," he said.

 She watched his lips move, felt the raspy, stubble-covered skin of
his jaw against her forehead as he turned his face toward h~r as he
spoke.

Doors swung open--elevator doors, her brain registered--and he started
walking down the hallway, carrying her as he went.

She wasn't dreaming.

A. J. pushed with all her might against the broad chest her head had
been leaning against only moments before.  She caught him unawares, and
she suspected that was the only reason she managed to break away from
him, because he was very strong.  She landed on her feet, but
off-balance enough that she fell hard against the wall.

He cursed, putting out his hand to steady her.  She made a ridiculously
large effort to evade his touch, surely making a fool of herself all
over again.

As she stood with her back to the wall, she saw that he was watching
her, dissecting her, digging into the heart of her and trying to find
out what was inside her.

What did he see?  Some pitiful woman huddled against the wall--all
because he had reached out to steady her.  And this when he'd already
had his hands all over her while he carried her from the car.

She swallowed hard at the thought of being in his arms, being held
against his big, hard, thoroughly male body, remembered the slightly
rough feel of his jaw against her forehead, the sound of his voice so
close to her ear.

Clearly she had made a fool of herself in front of him.

Her cheeks burned at the thought.

"Are you all right?"  he said.

She ignored his question and tried to get her bearings.  She couldn't
help but stare at him, standing in the hallway in his big wool coat,
the very end of his tie hanging out of one of his pockets, his shirt
open at the collar, his perfect hair actually out of place right now.

He had a very rumpled look about him--as if he'd been out all night.

51 Which, of course, he had.

With her.

Even under the most innocent of circumstances, it seemed much too
intimate a thing to be with him this early in the morning, after having
spent the whole night 'together.

A. J. didn't spend the night with men.  She didn't spend time with them
at all, unless it was through work.  And she liked it that way.  She
was comfortable with that, and she saw no reason to change it.  She
didn't have to explain.  or justify her feelings to Jack MacAlister or
anyone else.

"Where are we?"  she asked.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

The last thing she remembered was the two of them in the hospital
parking lot.  She'd come out of Trini's room; she hadn't been able to
hide the fact that she was quite upset, but she hadn't told him
anything, either.  She'd intended to catch the El or a bus or something
to get her back to Hope House, where she had a mountain of work waiting
for her, but he wouldn't hear of that.  He'd insisted on driving her
back to the shelter, and she'd been too tired to argue.

That had been a mistake.  She should have made good her escape when she
had the chance.

She glanced at her watch--6:55 a. m. " nearly an hour after she'd come
out of Trini's room.  She'd lost an hour with this man Anything could
have happened in an hour.

He was calmly pressing numbers on a keypad at the door across the hall.
She heard a beeping sound, then watched as he opened the door.

' "My place," he said,.  gesturing for her to precede him through the
doorway.

In another lifetime, maybe.

A. J. sometimes wondered if there would be another lifetime for her.

If she might show up back on earth at' some point as a normal,
well-adjusted, happy woman.  If she might stay out all night with a man
like him and walk
into his apartment at this hour with no worries, no fears about what
might happen inside.

There were times when she couldn't help but wonder about her chances
for a normal life, times when she saw a man and a woman together, so
caught up in each other, so obviously comfortable with one another, so
happy together.

But, though she'd wondered, she'd never done anything about it.  She'd
never pushed herself to see just how much she could take from a man
without fear taking over.

"Was it because she'd never found a man who was worth taking such risks
for?

Because she'd never been so tempted?  She suddenly found it hard to
breathe.

"A.J.?"  he said.

She didn't budge as she tried to pick up the threads of the
conversation.

"I asked you a question," she said, with as much indignation as she
could muster.

"And I answered.  We're at my place."

"Why?"

"Because you promised me fifteen minutes of your time as soon as we
took care of Trini."

She 'couldn't believe this.  Just when she'd decided he might be a nice
guy.

Dangerous, but with a nice streak in there somewhere.  After all,
without him she didn't think she ever would have found Trini.

And now it seemed he was only in this for what he wanted--a victory in
this precious case of his.

"MacAlister, I'm dead on my feet," she protested.

"So are you."

"Which is why I'm prepared to be reasonable about this.  I want some
food, a shower, and about four hours' sleep, not necessarily in that
order.  I thought you might appreciate the same thing."

"Here?"  she said, stunned.  No way was she staying here alone with
him.

53 "Them, for me'" he pointed to the left, then to the right "--and
over there for you.  Two bedrooms, two baths, down that hallway.  I'll
wake you up around one o'clock.  We'll order some lunch, and we can
have our talk."  ~ She was speechless, and feeling something close to
panic.  She didn't even want to be in the same room with him, and he
wanted her to stay here in his apartment, sleep here, shower here and
eat here, with him?  And he thought this was be' rag reasonable?  The
whole idea scared her to death.  Of course, her pride wouldn't let him
see that.  She'd already made it painfully obvious to him that she was
scared to have him even touch her.  And she was trying desperately to
figure out exactly what he meant by the suggestion that she stay
here.

Nothing, she told herself.  It meant absolutely nothing.  Looking down
at her old jeans, her wrinkled sweatshirt, knowing she had a wrung-out,
dog' tired look about her, she understood this had nothing to do with
any sort of sexual urge he might have.  Still, she couldn't help but
feel uneasy.

He was flat-out gorgeous.  Tall, broad, strong .  sexy, she supposed,
though she wasn't an expert on that subject.  She certainly didn't
spend her time gazing at strange men and catalog' rag their assets:
Still, there was something about him that left her uneasy.  as a woman.
How long had it been since she'd thought of herself as a woman and been
law are of someone else as a man?  Truly, she couldn't remember the
last time that had happened.

A. J. had never felt comfortable around men.  It had to do with the
fact that she'd lost the first thirteen years of her life.  Those
feelings 'stemmed-from that lost period of time, and it didn't take a
genius to figure out why.

Obviously, something had happened to her then, something that made her
uncomfortable around men.  And she'd never gone out of her way to
figure out all the horrible details.  Why would she?  Why would
anyone?

 It was there.  It had happened.  It was a fact of her life.  She
could not change it.  Nor did she have to dwell on it.

It was buried deep inside her, and she saw no reason to dig up all that
grief.

She'd dealt with the fact that she was uncomfortable with men quite
effectively by staying away from them, except on a professional
level.

Why should this he any different?  she asked herself.  Why did he have
to make this different?  After all, Jack MacAlister was simply working.
 Of course, he'd also asked her to spend the night at his apartment.

He might simply be offering her a kindness, but that was hard to
accept.

They were strangers.  Surely he didn't bring exhausted women to his
apartment on a regular basis and offer them a place to sleep, shower
and eat.  True, A. J. knew little about men, but she doubted that many
of them behaved this way.

Could it he pity?  Did she detect the slightest hint of that in him?

She wasn't sure.  He had to know, from the way she'd behaved at the
hospital, that she was fighting with all she had to hold herself
together right now.

She'd been certain that she'd lost Trini for good, and the baby, as
well.

And she would have--without his help.  So she supposed that meant she
owed him.  something.  But what in the world did he want from her?

Whatever it' was, he would simply have to understandm she didn't have
it to give.  There were probably' thousands of women in this city who
would have no hangups about giving him whatever he wanted.  After all,
she was nothing to him except his last hope for this case.

Surely he wasn't looking at her as a woman.  Surely he wasn't
responding to her as a woman.

"Hey, don't make a big deal out of this," he said casually as he
shrugged out of his expensive.  coat and threw it across the back of
what had to be a very expensive leather chair.  His suit jacket, also
very expensive, followed.

55 A. J. swallowed hard, wondering what he was going to remove next.

"I

have a bed," she pointed out.

"My own bed, at Hope House, and that's where I'm going."

"Power's out," he informed her, with just enoughlglee that she wondered
for a minute if he was lying.

"Not here, of course, but all over the South Side.  It was on the car
radio.

Water main busted.  The repair crew cut some sort of cable in their
haste to stop the leak.

It's crazy down there.  " "Then they'll need me even more at the
shelter," she said, ticking off in ~her head the things that would have
to be done, thanks to this complication.

"You're dead on your feet," he said.

"You told me so yourself.  That place was packed last night, it'll be a
zoo this morning.  You won't get a bit of sleep if you go back there
now."

She'd taken a step backward, putting her just outside the doorway,
but-now she paused.  What he said was absolutely true.  She wouldn't
sleep.  The place would he a zoo, and everyone would want to know all
about Trini and the baby.  She wasn't sure she was up to recounting the
tale for anyone.  They'd want to know how the baby was, what his
chances were, how he looked, what in the World she was going to do with
the baby and with Trini.  All of a sudden, that guest room of his
sounded very tempting.  She hated to admit that even to herself, but it
was tempting for that reason alone.

Still, staying here?  With him?

"I can't," she said.

"If they don't have any power at the shelter, ~he place will he
absolutely crazy.  They'll need me, and I can't just..."

She looked up at the sound of footsteps coming closer to her, couldn't
help but pull herself up a little straighter, bracing herself for some
imagined danger lurking here, within the walls of his apartment.

 He stopped two steps away, far enough that she saw no threat from his
presence, and she tried to figure out where she'd left off in the
explanation she was giving him.

She couldn't remember.  It was as if someone had robbed her of all her
thought processes.

How did he do that to her?  Rob her of the power to think coherently
and to speak?  He'd cast some spell on her.  He'd bewitched her, like
some modern-day warlock.  Because even though he frightened her, he
tempted her, as well.  She'd never felt this way, never had her
curiosity grow as strong as her inborn instinct to flee--not where a
man was concerned.

"They need me," she protested again, as he moved toward her once
more.

Whether it was obvious or not, she had to move away.  She broke out of
her lethargic spell and took one step back 'for each of his steps
forward, until the whole thing became ridiculous and she stopped.  He
did not, she noted with growing alarm.

"They do need me," she said, chin held high, eyes warily watching
him.

He reached out a hand.  She tensed even more.  His palm settled against
her cheek, cupping it, stroking it, almost, setting off alarm bells in
her head and making it hard for her to breathe.

His touch was light and gentle, his hand warm on her face, the fingers
splayed along her jawbone.  She closed her eyes so that she didn't have
to look into his dark, dark eyes, so that she wouldn't try to read what
was in his expression.

His hand moved along her face, coming down to the point of her chin.

She fought--harder than she'd ever fought for anything--against tilting
her head a fraction of an inch, bringing it closer to his hand.

She held her breath and opened her eyes, waiting, though for what she
didn't know.  Nothing happened.  His hand fell to his side, and her
knees nearly buckled with a strange '57 mixture of relief and regrets.
Then his hand was back, stroking the other side of her face this
time.

"MacAlister?"  She nearly choked on his name.

"What~.if you don't have anything left to give them right now?"

Her heart was racing, and emotions were welling up inside her.  Trini,
that tiny baby, the -killer storm, this man's ludicrous insinuation
that she could once have been a poor little girl named Annie McKay--it
was all too much for her.

Her eyes flooded with tears that sat, hot and heavy, against her
pupils.

What came next?  she wondered.  Did the tears just spill over?  She
couldn't quite remember how the whole process worked, because it had
been so long since she'd given in to that particular weakness.  But it
couldn't be that complicated.  People cried every day, bucketfuls of
tears.  She Was afraid that was what would happen to her.  That letting
go right now would unleash the floodgates inside her, that seven years'
worth of tears were just waiting to get out.  She couldn't let that
happen now.  She couldn't fall apart right here, in front of this
beautiful, self-assured man.

Her chin still in his hand, he tilted it to one side for a second, and
in that instant, all his attention was focused on her.

What did he see?  she wondered.  What was he looking for inside her?

Just when she thought she couldn't stand it anymqre, he backed away.

She closed her eyes as his hand dropped away, and breathed in a shaky
breath as she felt, more than heard, him take one step backward as
well.

A. J. wrapped her arms around her middle, not caring how vulnerable
that made her look.  MacAlister backed away several more steps.

"Look, don't make this into something it's not," he said evenly, from
what she could only consider a nonthreatening distance.

"I'm tired.

You're tired.  There's more than enough room here for both of us.  "
 A. J. hesitated, wondering if she'd imagined what just happened in
the apartment.  She couldn't have, she told herself.  She wasn't so
paranoid or so out of touch that she didn't know that something very
powerful had just passed between them, that she'd escaped it only
because he allowed her to escape.

And now he still wanted her to spend the night?  It seemed ludicrous,
and it frightened her all over again.

Being in his apartment alone with him, sleeping in the bed across the
hall from him.  she wasn't sure she could do it.  But she didn't know
how she could get away without telling him things that were none of his
business.

And she did have some pride, though it had taken a beating in the past
twelve hours or so.

Jack MacAlister kept his distance.  He considered it an exercise in
self-control.  He was sure A. J. had no idea how lost she looked, how
frightened~ how absolutely vulnerable.

Did no one ever touch her?  How could that be?  She was a grown woman,
and this was the nineties.

He didn't remember a time when he'd wanted so much to simply put his
hands on a woman, her cheek, her chin, her neck.

How long had it been?  He'd been working constantly lately, and at
times the job left little time or energy for anything else.

Obviously, it was time to find someone.  He'd gone a little crazy
tonight and this morning, makingA:J.  very uncomfortable, and that was
the last thing he needed to do.

After all,.  this was business, he reminded himself.  With luck, she
would be a material witness in a case he was prosecuting, and there
wasn't any room here for personal involvement.

59 If he found her fascinating in some way, then he'd just have to live
with that.  He'd have to forget about it, because this whole situation
was complicated enough.

There she stood in front of him, obviously wary, but determined not to
show it.  And she had to be exhausted.  God knew he was.

Once again, she reminded him of Miranda.  Once again, he remembered the
guilt he'd felt over her death.

He'd met Miranda while in college.  They'd dated for about six months,
and he'd loved her--as much as any twenty-year-old male was capable of
loving a woman.

She'd been having some problems at home, with her parents, but he
hadn't understood the depths of those problems And he hadn't pressed
her for information on them.  He'd been too busy trying to keep his
grades up so that he could graduate at the top of his class and get
into one of the countr~'s best law schools.  He'd been selfish, where
she'd been generous and understanding.  And he simply hadn't paid as
much attention as he should have when things went from bad to worse for
her at home.

Then it had been too late.  She was dead, and he was left with nothing
but guilt.

A. J. was like Miranda, in that they both had a way of taking on other
people's problems and making them their own.  He couldn't imagine where
this urge to help A. J. had come from, unless it all went back to
Miranda.

Maybe he could make amends in some small way.  Maybe he could be the
one to help this young woman who carried the weight of the world on her
shoulders.

He wanted to know who'd hurt her so badly and left her in this shape.

He would have liked to be the one who prosecuted the bastard.  Or at
least beat the man to a pulp.

She'd lived on the streets; she'd told him that herself, last night.

But either he'd conveniently forgotten what it could be like out there
or he hadn't looked at it as anything more than a piece of information
about this
mysterious young woman.  Of course; at the time, he hadn't thought of
her as anything more than the person who could help him get a
conviction in this case that had come to be so important to him.

And now.  now he had an irresistible urge to help her in some way, to
shield her from the ugliness of the world those kids of hers lived in,
to spare her the pain he knew it would cost her to remember her past as
Annie McKay--if she actually was Annie McKay.

Amazingly, he found himself hoping, for her sake, that she wasn't, even
as he fought to keep any of that from showing in him face.  If he
wanted to keep her here, he had to play this exactly right, and pity
was the last thing she wanted from him or from anyone else.  He was
certain of that.

MacAlister backed up; giving her the space she so obviously needed from
him, and tried to be as nonthreatening as possible.  He couldn't help
but wonder if she saw all men as a threat, or if it was just him.

Did he remind her' of someone she'd much rather forget?  Or had he done
something ~that she found threatening?  The thought that he had somehow
added to her fear was distasteful to him.

He~turned, not wanting to see that particular emotion on her face, and
walked down the hallway toward one of the guest rooms.

"There's a lock on the door," he told her.  "Use it, if it makes you
feel any better.  There's a phone in both bedrooms, if you want to
check in with the shelter and let them know where you are,.  or if you
want to leave the number with the hospital, in case anything happens to
Trini or the baby."

He dared to glance back, thought she might have taken a step or two in
his direction, couldn't help but remember a frightened doe he'd seen
once, on vacation in the woods in Wisconsin.  The way she held herself,
the way she seemed poised to run at the slightest indication of danger,
the way those big, serious eyes watched everything around her so
carefully.

61 "I just want to talk to you, A.J. That's all.  And I'd mt~eh rather
do it while I'm half-awake."

She took one hesitant step over the threshold, then stared off to her
right, to the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed an incredible
view of Lake Michigan.  When she turned back toward him, he saw that
her gaze was steady, and her head was held high.

He had won this round, at least, and he barely suppressed a smile,
ignoring altogether how much it meant to him that she hadn't gone
running off into the early-morning snow to escape.

Chapter 5 Amazingly, she slept.

Exhaustion took over, drawing her down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She ~!  idn't so much as open an eyelid for the next.  Could it really
have been ten hours?  She blinked at the red-orange glow of the digital
clock on the nightstand.  The room was dark, the sky outside the
oversize window the same.  The clock read 6:00 p. m~ She'd slept the
whole day away.

In Jack MacAlister's apartment?  Now that she wasn't dead-tired or
determined not to let him see that the idea of simply sleeping in his
guest room frightened her badly, she knew exactly what she had to do.

She had to get out of here.  Fast.

Entering the connecting bathroom, A. J. showered in minutes, dried her
short hair in seconds and called the man a saint because he'd been
thoughtful enough to provide a new toothbrush and some toothpaste for
her.  With only a mild sense of distaste, she dressed in the clothes
she'd worn the day before and gave herself one more minute to brace 63
herself, in case she found him awake and standing between her and the
door.

She unlocked the bedroom door, flinching slightly at the sound of the
lock clicking back into place, and told herself that he already knew
she'd locked the door this morning.  He knew she'd been afraid.

Part of the reason she'd stayed was simply the need to prove to herself
that she could do it.  Part of it was to prove to him that, even if she
was scared spit less at the thought of simply sleeping in the same
apartment as a grown man, she could do it.  ~And she had.

Now, if only she could get away unscathed.

Walking into the huge living room, she found him in the corner, at his
desk.

He was on the phone, and giving somebody hell about something, Seemed
she wasn't the only one who brought out that attitude in him.

A. J. couldn't help but smile at that.  She thought longingly of
coffee, and something--anything--to put into her stomach with it, but
the idea of rummaging through his kitchen, like someone who belonged
here, was too much for her.  She headed for the windows, instead,
because she didn't have the guts to walk right past him and out the
door.  Besides, she was sure he'd follow her.

Outside, the lights were coming on in the high-rise apartment buildings
that lined the shore.  The lake was a big streak of shimmering black
that blended so well into the night sky, she couldn't tell where one
ended and the other began; It was like her own memories, she decided.
They went back so far, and then, somewhere in the distant past, the
memories ceased and the lies began.

She didn't know where.  The Jenningses had filled her head with the
memories of a beautiful little girl named Allison, and A. J. had
trouble distinguishing between what had really happened to her with the
Jenningses and what was simply the memories of Alii-son that they had
put into her head.

 Of herself.  the real person .  A. J. simply had nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

How hard could that be for Jack MacAlister to understand?  She simply
could not help him.

"Sorry," he said, hanging up the phone and turning his attention to
her.

"The office.  I had a million things I was supposed to do today."

"So did I," she retorted, determined not to notice that he looked even
better today than he had yesterday.  He was wearing a suit and a crisp
white dress shirt, but his hair was still damp.  He wore it short and
pushed hack from his forehead.  His eyes were just as dark in the
daylight, his shoulders were just as broad.  All in all, he was a very
imposing man.

Had he slept the whole day away, as well?  Or waited here while she
slept in the room down the hall?  She didn't like that idea at all.

~"I tried to wake you," he said.

She felt a wave of heat climb from her neck to her cheeks before she
remembered that she'd locked her bedroom door.  He hadn't actually been
in that room while she slept.  He must have just knocked on the door.

"I guess ... I guess I needed the sleep," she admitted, then wondered
how to get out of the apartment.

A knock sounded on the front door, and MacAlister turned to answer
it.

"I ordered dinner when I heard you turn on the shower.  I'm starved,
and I figured you would be, too."

She watched helplessly as he accepted a bag of take-out food from the
kid at the door, then walked back toward her, to the elegant dining
table in the corner.

She would have protested.  She had the words on the tip of her
tongue.

But the tantalizing aroma of Chinese fried rice hit her right then.

Her stomach rumbled in anticipation, and Jack MacAlister gave her a
killer smile.

"You are hungry," he said.

She couldn't lie about that; she was once again very neatly trapped
into spending even more time with this man.  i Would she ever escape
him?

"Coffee?"  he said.  ~ "Please."  She would have begged for that if
necessary.  "Have a seat.

I'll get the coffee and some plates.  " For a moment she considered her
determination to leave, but she decided there was no contest between
that and her desire for any sort of food available.

But fried rice and a cup of fresh coffee?  She would have sold her soul
for those two things.

She walked over to 'the gleaming table, which seated six.  She doubted
Jack MacAlister had Chinese take-out often.  A. J. unpacked the brown
paper bag, finding carton after carton of food.  It smelled wonderful,
and there was enough to feed a small army.

He was back in no time with the plates and black coffee-sheer heaven to
taste--and offered her a choice of a fork or chopsticks.  She took the
fork, as did he, and they both dug in.

"I don't remember the last time I was this hungry," she said, trying to
do nothing more than make polite conversation with him.  But she did
remember days like that.

Unbidden came the image of herself, on the streets, never knowing where
her next meal was coming from.  Food never tasted so good as it did to
someone who'd gone without, and this, her first meal in more than
twenty-four hours, reminded her of those days.

Looking at the man~ seeing the casual elegance that encased him, this
huge apartment on the lake that he called home, she knew he had never
gone hungry in his life, had never worried about where he would sleep
at night or whether he could find someplace safe, for just a few hours,
in this crazy world of theirs.

He had no idea how she'd lived, or why she'd lived that way.  He would
never understand.

 They were worlds apart.

Not that it mattered at all.  She was nothing to him.  As soon as she
convinced him that she couldn't help him with his case, he'd be gone
for good.  She would never see him again.  Their paths, so completely
opposite from one another, would never cross again.

She found that incredibly reassuring.  Maybe it would be enough to get
her through the rest of the time she had to spend with him.

They finished their meal in blessed silence, cleared the table together
and stacked the dishes in the dishwasher.  She noted with wry amusement
that he didn't give a thought to saving the leftovers.

Instead, he dumped two cartons that they hadn't even opened down the
garbage disposal.

No, she told herself, he would never understand where she'd come from
or how she'd lived.  NOt in a million years.

"I'm never here," he explained when he caught her staring.  "I usually
grab something on the way to work and something on my way home."

A. J. said nothing, but she thought it was such a waste.  He had all
this space, this magnificent view, and he was never even here to enjoy
it.

"I guess you're anxious to get out of here," he said, wiping down the
already spotless counter with a dish towel.  Oh, yes.  She needed to
leave.

"I'm sure there's a lot of work waiting for me," she told him.

He walked back to the desk, closed the file he'd been flipping through
when she came into the room, then walked back to the oversize sofa and
sat down.

"This won't take long," he said.

She intended to make sure it didn't.

With some trepidation, A. J. walked over to the sofa, then took a seat
in the big chair sitting at a ninety-degree angle to it.  He moved to
the corner of the couch and placed the file on the coffee table in
front of them both.

67 "I told you yesterday," she began, "I don't see how I can help
you."

He took his gold watch off his wrist and pushed a series of buttons,
then placed it on the table beside the file.  "Fifteen minutes," he
said.

The watch was ticking those minutes off like a stopwatch.  He was going
to demand his time.

"Fine."  She surrendered.

"What exactly do you know about these kidnappings?"  he asked, before
flipping open the file.

"As little as possible."  She hadn't let Nick tell her anything about
Annie, because she hadn't wanted to know.

"It's been all over the TV and the papers," he said, obviously having a
hard time understanding how she could know so little about it.

Well, it hadn't been that hard.  She'd been out of town at a conference
when the man was arrested, so she'd missed most of the media frenzy
over the ease.

She didn't have a TV in her room at the shelter, and the one in the
common areas the kids shared seemed to be stuck on MTV.  The one in the
staff lounge was most often blaring some soap opera.

Newspapers depressed her--and the politicians featured most prominently
in them angered her--so she didn't read a lot of news, either.

She lived in her own little world, and that suited her.  MacAlister
stared at her for a moment, but she remained silent.  Once he realized
she wasn't going to explain anything more on this particular subject to
him, he went on.  He pulled a color photograph from the file in front
of him, one of a darling little dark-haired girl, maybe eight or nine
years old, smiling into the camera.  A. J. found herself strangely
drawn to the picture, the way some people lean over and crane their
necks for a better view of a ghastly accident on the highway.

The girl had on a green plaid skirt and a crisp white blouse with
embroidered
flowers on the collar that matched the flowers stitched into the green
sweater.  A. J. could just imagine the hands of the girl's mother
pushing and pulling the needle through the material to make those
little flowers.  She couldn't help but wonder if the' girl's mother
still had that sweater, if she ever took it out and sat in some
darkened corner of her house and wept into the soft green material.

A. J. turned away, cursing Jack MacAlister as she did.  "What's the
matter?"  he asked, and she had a sense of what it would be like to
face him in court.

"Do you know her?"

She shook her head.  She would never forget the child's face now.  Not
as long as she lived.

"The kidnapper took her."  She managed to get that much out.

"And this one."  He tried to push another picture in front of her face,
but she shoved it back at him, then jumped to her feet.

She was shaking badly, so she didn't go far, just stood beside the
chair, with her head turned toward the lake.  "What kind of a man are
you?"

"I'm the man whO's supposed to put away the bastard who snatched.

these little girls.  All five of them.  I have photographs of the other
three, if you'd like to see them.  " A. J. closed her eyes and tried to
breathe.  In the silence that fell between them, she heard his watch
ticking off the seconds and knew that she would he lucky if a full
minute had elapsed yet.  She wondered whether he would try to stop her
if she made it to the door.

Remembering the tone of his voice just now, she decided he probably
would.

"I can't look at those pictures."

"Fine," he said.

"But could you live with yourself if you let that man go free?"

She whirled around and wished she had the nerve to slap his beautiful
face.

"I am not going to let anyone go free.

69 None of this is my responsibility, and don't you dare try to make it
mine!

" "If you are Annie McKay, you're probably the only chance I have of
getting this man convicted.  And if I can't, he's going to be walking
the streets again.  He's going to find another little girl, and
another, and another.

Until someone manages to stop him."

"I couldn't help you, even if I wanted to," she said, slowly and
carefully.

"Don't you understand that?  I don't remember anything about my life
from the time I was thirteen years old.  So how could I possibly help
you?"

"If you're Annie, the memories are there somewhere inside your head.

We'll get them out some way.  " "Think about what you're saying."  She
was almost begging him now.

"Think about what that man did to Annie and those other little girls.

And ask yourself why anyone in her right mind would want to remember
something like that.  " That seemed to get to him for a moment.  Maybe
even shamed him into looking away and backing off.  He'd stood up when
she thought of bolting from the room, and now he sat again.

"Please," he said, gesturing for her to take her seat, as well.

"No more pictures," she insisted.

He nodded.

"I know this must be frightening for you," he said, his words giving
her the strength she needed to look him in the eye.

"But you have to understand what I'm fighting for, why I'm pushing so
hard.

If you were fighting for one of your kids, you'd do the same."

A. J. felt something akin to pity for the defense attorneys who had to
match wits with him.  He knew just where to hit, just how hard.  How
could she ever hold out against this man?

 "We don't have to fight about this," he said.

"No one's seen or heard from Annie McKay in nearly eleven years.  I'm
certainly not naive.  I know the odds against finding her alive and
well."

"Then why are you doing this to me?"

"Because if there's the slightest chance that you're Annie, I have to
check it out.  A.J."  it's so simple to verify something like this
these days.

Annie's mother is there at your shelter.  All I need is a blood sample
from her and one from you, and we'll know.  All of us will know for
sure whether you're Annie.  " "I can't."  Hadn't he heard her?

"Why?"

"You would never understand."

"You don't have to decide right this minute.  Just think about it," he
urged her.

"Odds are, you aren't Annie.  And if that's the case, I" -- "You'll
what?"

"I won't,..  hound you about this anymore."

She wondered what he'd been about to say before he caught himself.

"Think about the blood test," he said.

"Surely it would be worth it to get me off your back."

"All right," she said.

"I'll think about it."  It wasn't exactly a lie.  She wouldn't be able
to put it out of her mind anyway, and if he felt better thinking she
was considering going through with it, if it gave him the reassurance
he needed to let her walk out of this apartment, then it was well worth
it.

She stood, feeling as if she were actually going to escape.  "Is that
all?"

He glanced down at the watch, picked it up, then pushed a button on the
side to stop its seemingly incessant noise.  He showed her the watch
face.  Only four minutes had elapsed.  Eleven minutes left.

"Maybe I'll save them for another day."

71 She held her tongue, letting him think there'd be another day when
she'd be willing to sit down and listen to him.  .

"I'll get your coat," he said, turning away.

She felt herself go weak in the knees at his words.  She'd done it.

She'd survived a night and day with him, and now she was free to go.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he said, frightening her all over again.

"I

called someone from my garage to go and get your van.  They checked it
over this morning.  Do you want the grim details, or the final verdict?
" "Just the verdict."

"It's hopeless."

"We'll see about that," she said, just imagining what his mechanic's
opinion was going to cost her.

"I know some-one who works wonders with beat-up old vans."

tAJ.  you can't drive around the city at night in that thing.  " She
was intrigued by his concern, and tired of butting heads with him,
especially over things that were none of his business.

"Why, Jack, I didn't know you cared."  She said it just as Trini had
said it to countless staff members around the shelter, sugary-sweets
yet at the same time dripping with cynicism.

She expected him to respond.  in kind, and for that to be the end of
it.  But it wasn't.

He suddenly turned all serious on her.  His eyes took on an intense
look as he stared down at her.  She felt the tension escalating moment
by moment, surrounding them and holding her in place when she wished
she could flee.

Suddenly she was aware of every move he made, every flicker of emotion
that crossed his, face.  He took a step closer to her, then another,
invading the space she always tried to keep between herself and
others.

"I realize this isn't any of my business," he said.

"But I have to know."

 He held out his hand to her, fingers spread wide, pall flat and open.
Moving slowly, obviously trying not to frighten her, yet doing it in
spite of the care he took, he reached for her hand, captured it, pried
open the fingers and laid her pall flat against his.

He didn't try to hold it there in any way, just let it rest there, her
palm against his.  She seemed to be caught up in some spell he'd
conjured.  She couldn't have moved if her life depended on it.  And it
felt as if her very life did depend on what she did in the next few
seconds.

"Is it just me?"  he said.

"Have I done something?  Said something to frighten you?  Or do you
react this way to any man who touches you?"

A. J. shivered.  She glanced around the apartment, taking in the dark
gr~n leather sofa that had creaked and crackled when he sat down, the
antique rug, the breathtaking view of the lake.  She tried very hard
not to look at the man, not to think of the way it felt to have her
hand lying in his, the heat of him seeping into her whole body.

He would never understand her world, or the things that had made her
the way she was today.

Never.

"A.J.?"  His other hand came up to stroke the back of hers--down her
fingers, one by one, across her knuckles, over the flat, smooth back of
her hand.  His touch was as gentle and as easy as the brush of a
feather, the pads of his fingers smooth and maybe even a little
soothing.

She snatched her hand away when, amazingly, that gentle stroking
started to feel good.  Too good.

"Men don't touch me," she told him.  Let him make of that what he
would.

MacAlister thought about going after her, but he was too stunned by the
way she'd run out of his apartment, too surprised by what she'd told
him.

Men don't touch me.

73 Never?

Thinking of the possible reasons enraged him.  He had to sit down, to
call down.  Leaning forward in his chair, he put his elbows on the
coffee table in front of him, folded his hands and rested his forehead
on them.

He wanted to go and find her, to bring her back here and.  and what?

Tell her that she didn't have to be afraid of him?  That she could
trust him?

That he would never hurt her, the way someone obviously had?

And he wanted her back in his arms again, the way she had been when he
carried her in from the car.

How would she react if he explained to her the old-fashioned need he
had to shield her and to protect her as best he could?  He could just
imagine.

She'd call him a caveman and tell him she didn't need anyone or want
anyone to take care of her.

How wrong about that she was.  Everyone needed someone.

MacAlister shook his head.  He'd known the woman for twenty-four hours,
and he'd decided that he wanted to be the one she leaned on?

How could that be?  He knew hundreds of women, none of whom feared the
mere touch of his hand, none of Whom had ever fled his apartment the
way she had.

And none of them had brought out this overwhelming protective streak in
him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd brought a woman to his
apartment to hold hands, couldn't ever remember the simple touch of a
woman's hand lingering in his mind this way.

What in the world had happened to him?  He couldn't get involved
with'A.  J. With any luck, she could be the key to his case.  It would
be irresponsible of him.  And that was just the beginning of the
reasons he had for avoiding her.

Chapter 6 She'd fled from his apartment.  There was no other word to
describe it, A. J. thought, settling herself in a cab.  Thankfully, he
hadn't tried to stop her.  She'd run out of the elevator, across the
lobby and outside, where, by some miracle, a cab had been waiting by
the curb.

It was still bitterly cold, the wind coming off the lake making it even
worse, but the snow had given way to light flurries.

The driver did a double take when A. J. gave him the address of the
shelter, and they spent the next five blocks negotiating over someplace
he could drop her where she'd be able to catch a train and he wouldn't
feel as if he were taking his life into his own hands by simply being
there.  Even if he didn't take her the whole way, it was going to cost
her a fortune to get from MacAlister's Lako Shore Drive neighborhood to
hers.

They were simply worlds apart, yet he'd held her hand in his and
stroked it, the way a man might try to soothe some small wounded
animal.

75 Was that how he saw her?  Wounded?  That was what she was, wasn't
it?

One of the walking wounded?  This city was filled with people just like
her--battered and bruised in some way.  Doing the work he did, he
couldn't be oblivious of that.  What could one more wounded woman
matter to him?  she thought.

Yet, somehow, something inside her knew that it did matter, that she
mattered, to him.

It was the most insane idea, yet she kneW it to be true.  When she told
him, in t. hat split second of blinding honesty, that men didn't touch
her, she'd thought she was going to cry again.  Because she'd told him
the absolute truth--men didn't touch her.  But there he'd been, running
his fingers so gently over the back of her hand.  And it had felt.  She
had to breathe deeply for a moment.  " It had felt good.

There--she'd admitted it to herself.  It had felt good' to ha4e him
touch her that way.

Was it just him, he'd asked, or did she react this way to all men?

And his question hadn't had anything to do with ego.  It had been
genuine and earnest, and he'd asked as if the answer meant a great deal
to him.  Which was crazy.

For how could a man like Jack MacAlister care about her?

She didn't even know him, for God's sake.  But a part of her.  Oh,
Lord, a part of her wanted to know him better.

She finally made it to the shelter around eight-thirty.  As usual the
place was packed.  She waded into the mess like a general taking
charge, snapping orders at anyone on the staff who wanted to know where
she'd been, what had happened to Trini and where the van was.

Carolyn left around nine, but not before coming to find A. J. and
asking
very softly if she was all right.  A. J. assured her she was fine,
then heard from Carolyn that her friend Nick was in the shelter looking
for her.

She did a quick round of the shelter, finding everything running as
smoothly as was possible when they were stretched to the limit like
this, then made her way to the administrative offices, where Nick and a
few other health professions who volunteered here had an office that
they all shared.

Quite deliberately, A. J. let herself remember the instant when she'd
realized that only one person could have revealed the kind of
information about her that Jack MacAlister had, and that that person
was Nick.  She'd been furious, and she wanted that feeling back.  She
wanted Nick to see it, wanted to dump the anger and frustration onto
him, where it rightfully belonged.

Dr.  Nicholas Garrett was the closest thing she had to a friend here.

He'd been working at another shelter farther west of here when she
first arrived in Chicago; and for some reason, she'd trusted him.

She'd told him more than she'd told anyone else about what she knew of
her own past.  No one but Nick could have told the authorities about
her.

If not for Nick, Jack MacAlister wouldn't know about her.  He would
never have come looking for her, and she wouldn't have all these
mixed-up feelings to deal with right now.

When she arrived at the door to.  his makeshift office, she didn't
bother to knock.  He didn't deserve that small courtesy from her.  She
opened the door and found him sitting at his desk, jotting down some
notes 'on a yellow pad.

"Be right with you," he said without looking up.

She let him take his time, using the moment to assess him as she hadn't
in the longest time, as a man.  She guessed Nick was in his early
thirties, and that Jack MacAlister would be as well.  They were both
tall, strong, with dark hair and dark eyes.  Both deeply committed to
their work, driven to succeed, hardworking.

77 Yet why did she find Jack MacAlister so fascinating, so infuriating,
so.

different from her friend Nick.  Why did she still remember exactly how
the touch of his hand had felt to her?

She'd never had feelings like that for Nick, though she worried that he
had feelings for her that went beyond friendship.

"A.J."  He stood and let the pad of paper fall to the desktop, then
started to come around the side of the desk.

"I can't believe you did this to me," she said, the words fueled by
remembered anger and the humiliation of being blindsided about her own
past by a total stranger, one' who nearly turned her whole life upside
down.

Nick said nothing.

"How could you tell him those things about me?  What gave you the
right?  I could get your license pulled for this, and you know it,
Nick, so" -- She nearly lost it then.  The anger drained away as
quickly as the words flow out of her mouth, deserting her, even though
she wasn't nearly done with him.

Left in its place was nothing but a tightness in her throat, a heavy
feeling in her eyes that left her vision blurring.

Given the state of her knees and her trembling limbs, A. J. decided
that sittin.  g was a good idea.  Nick sat down again himself, watching
her: He had a way of watching everyone intently, as if he could look
inside people's hearts and tell whether they were being straight with
him.  God knew, he'd always managed to do that with her, somehow.

who was she kidding?  He'd always been great with her, and to her.  If
he hadn't stayed on her the way he had, she might still be living on
the streets today, if she was still alive.

She owed him her life.  And she'd trusted him more than she'd allowed
herself to trust anyone in years.

"How could you do it?"  she asked again.

"I'm sorry," he said.  She found it totally inadequate, considering
what he'd done.

"But you can't run from your past forever, A.J. I've always told you
that.  I think, deep down inside, you know it.  All that crap from the
past--it's going to catch up to you, and you're going to have to deal
with it."

"And you think it's up to you to decide when I do that?"

"I tried to talk to you about the McKays, but you wouldn't listen,"

he said.

"Which is certainly within my rights," she shot back at him.

"I'fia mad as hell at you."

"I think you're scared as hell."

"Well, thank you for that analysis, Dr.  Garrett.  How much do I owe
you for this session?"

"Don't, A.J. Don't try to pull this act on me, because it won't work.

I know you too well.  I know this is important to you.  I know you're
furious, and I know you're scared.  Can we deal with that first,
because that's the heart of it?  "~'~ " Wait a minute," she said.

"I'm not in therapy here."  ~ He swore softly.

"I'm the best friend you've got in this town, A.J.

Who else are you going to talk to?  " She was at a total loss.  I-Ie
hadn't treated her this way since she was seventeen years old.  She
couldn't was doing it now.

"You have no right to interfere," him.

"Sure I do.  If I don't, who will?"

"I can't do this," she said, standing abruptly.  "Why not?"  ~ "I just
can't."

"What is your gut instinct telling you?"  he asked.

are you so afraid?  " She didn't sit back down, but she didn't walk
away, tiler.  She silently damned him to hell and back instead.

"I think somewhere, deep inside you, you already know,~ These people
are your family, and some part of you reeog,: nizes that.  The only
problem is, you've got a whole lot Of lousy memories standing between
you and them.  And you can't get to those wonderful memories of your
family 79 without plowing right through those lousy memories~ as
well."

"You've got to be kidding," she said, praying that he was.

He shook his head.

"That's why you're so mad at me, and that's why you're so afraid."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because !  know you."

And then she wanted to cry.  Except she never cried.  "Nick..."

"Look, I'm sorry about this prosecutor barging in here and throwing all
this stuff at you the way he did," he said.  "I never meant for that to
happen.  I certainly never told him anything you and I discussed about
your past.  And I never thought he'd try to pressure you into
testifying like this."

"You talked to someone," she said, not ready to let him off the hook.

"Just Drew.  And not for the FBI.  For Carolyn.  I heard her on TV one
night, A.J. I saw her, and I saw the picture of her little sister.

Did they show you the picture?  Of Annie McKay when she was thirteen
years old?  " She shook her head.  The girl MacAlister had shown her
had been much younger.

"It's you."

She found that impossible to believe.

"Yofi'put me through all this because you think I bear a resemblance to
some eleven-year-old picture of a missing kid?"  "Sit down" he said,
his tone daring her.

"I'll tell you exactly why I did it, if you can take it."

She could have slapped him.  for that.  There were times when she
thought he was' the most arrogant man in the world.  Then, when she saw
him working with some lost little kid, when he was so kind and so
gentle, she thought he was the most wonderful man on the entire earth.
And she didn't understand how he could possibly be both those men at
the same time.

 past forever, A. J. I've always told you that.  I think, deep down
inside, you know it.  All that crap from the past--it's going to catch
up to you, and you're going to have to deal with it.  " "And you think
it's up to you to decide when I do that?"

"I tried to talk to you about the McKays, but you wouldn't listen,"

he said.

"Which is certainly within my rights," she shot back at him.

"I'm mad as hell at you."

"I think you're scared as bell."

"Well, thank you for that analysis, Dr.  Garrett.  How much do I owe
you for this session?"

"Don't, A.J. Don't try to pull this act on me, because it won't work.

I know you too well.  I know this is important to you.  I know you're
furious, and I know you're scared; Can we deal with that first, because
that's the heart of it~ -' "Wait a minute," she said.

"I'm not in the rap He swore softly.

"I'm the best friend you've got in this town, A.J.

Who else are you going to talk to?  " She was at a total loss.  He
hadn't treated her this way ii since she was seventeen years old.  She
couldn't believe 1~, was doing it now.

"You have no right to interfere," she told.  him.

"Sure I do.  If I don't, who will?"

"I can't do this," she said, standing abruptly.  "Why not?"

"I just can't."

"What is your gut instinct telling you?"  he asked.

"Wh~r~; are you so afraid?"

She didn't sit back down, but she didn't walk away, either.  She
silently damned him to hell and back instead.  ~ "I think somewhere,
deep inside you, you already know, These people are your family, and
some part of you recognizes that.  The only problem is, you ve got a
whole lot of lousy memories standing between you and them.  And you
can't get to those wonderful memories of your family 79 without plowing
right through those lousy memories~ as well."

"You've got to be kidding," she said, praying that he was.

He shook his head.

"That's why you're so mad at me, and that's why you're so afraid."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you."

And then she wanted to cry.  Except she never cried.

"Look, I'm sorry about this prosecutor barging in here and throwing all
this stuff at you the way he did," he said.  "I never meant for that to
happen.  I certainly never told him anything you and I discussed about
your past.  And I never thought he'd try to pressure you into
testifying like this."

"You talked to someone," she said, not ready to let him off the hook.

"Just Drew.  And not for the FBI.  For Carolyn.  I heard her on TV one
night, A.J. I saw her, and I saw the picture of her little sister.

Did they show you the picture?  Of Annie McKay when she was' thirteen
years old?  " She shook her head.  The gh'l MacAlister had shown her
had been much younger.

"It's you."

She found that impossible to believe.

"Yofi'put me through all this because you think I bear a resemblance to
some eleven-year-old picture of a missing kid?"  "Sit down," he said,
his tone daring her.

"I'll tell you exactly why I did it, if you can take it."

She could have slapped him.  for that.  There were times when she
thought he was' the most arrogant man in the world.  Then, when she saw
him working with some lost little kid, when he was so kind and so
gentle, she thought he was the most wonderful man on the entire earth.
And she didn't understand how he could possibly be both those men at
the same time.

 Unbidden came the image of Jack MacAlister, the tenderness in his
eyes, the intensity to them, when he'd bent over her hand, stroking it
so gently, asking if she was afraid of all men, or just him.

But Nick was here now.  He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed
in front 'of his chest, one of his hands visible on his forearm.

How would it feel to have him touch her?  He'd done it before,
casually--testing her, she thought.  She'd failed each and every test,
and he'd retreated again and again.

How would it feel to have him touch her the way Jack MacAlister had?

She trusted Nick, more than she trusted any man.  And he cared for her
in some way that had nothing to do with the work they shared or the way
he'd helped her in the past.

She could trust him now.  She could find the answer to Jack
MacAlister's question, which had' so unsettled her.  Was 'it just
him?

Or did she react' that way to any man who touched her?

Of course, he didn't know the half of it.  It had unsettled her,
frightened her a littte~ But there was more.  She liked it, too, when
Jack MacAlister touched her.  She'd felt drawn to it, soothed by it,
comforted.  And she had no idea what to do about that.

"Well?"  Nick said.

She shook her head, uneasy at~he turn her thoughts had taken, unable to
recall the last thing she'd said to Nick.

"You remember when you let me hypnotize you that one time?"  he said.

"Don't," she warned him.  She'd come out of the hypnosis abruptly.  It
had been like awakening in the midst of the worst nightmare, made even
more frightening by the knowledge that it was all too real.

She'd known that whatever demons had surfaced during that session were
real.

And they were inside her, buried somewhere, just waiting for the chance
to attack her again.

81 Why in the world would anyone think she'd give those demons another
chance at her?

"Someone took you, A.J. Someone snatched you away from your mother and
your father and someone else you obviously loved very much.

That's where we were that day I hypnotized you.  That's why you came
out of it so frightened.  " "I don't want to hear it," she said.

"Believe me, I hated hearing it myself.  I'll never forget it.  It's
haunted me all these years."

She didn't want to hear Nick's reaction to what had happened that day.
He'd seen and heard more than his share of horror stories, and if hers
had made such an impression on his mind, it must have been terrible.

"A.J."  it's time.  You're so much stronger now.  You can face it now,
I promise you that.  And you have a mother waiting for you now.  " "You
don't know that," she said.

"Even Jack MacAlister admits that it's a ridiculous long shot."

"We don't have to guess,"

" he said.

"It's there, inside you somewhere, and someday it's going to come out.
I know you can handle it now, A.J. I'll be with you every step of-the
way."

"Oh, Nick."  She had never felt so bad about seeing him as nothing more
than a friend.  She was angry at him for what he'd done, but she
believed him when he said he would stand by her.  He would not let her
down.  And if she'd finally turned some corner in her life, finally
decided that she might be ready for some kind of a relationship with a
man, why couldn't it be with a man like him?

She would be safe with him.

"I'm sorry," she-said, knowing he would take it as an apology for a
totally different thing, but saying it anyway.

"Think about it.  But before you go, I have to warn you--about Jack
MacAlister."

"What about him?"

 "I talked to some people around the courthouse."

Nick was often called upon to provide testimony as an expert witness in
cases involving just about every lousy thing that could happen to'a
child.  He also worked with prosecutors in preparing children to
testify in court cases.

"And?"  she prompted.

"A.J."  it's a big case.  I doubt you realize just how big.  It's the
kind of case that can make or break a prosecutor's career, and Mac/
Mister has to know that.  " "So?"

"I hear he's catching all kinds of hell from his not having this case
ready to go to trial."

"My heart bleeds for the man," she said, with as much~ sarcasm as she
could muster.  She wasn't ready to anyone the mishmash of feelings she
had for.

Jack Mister.  And she certainly didn't want Nick offering alyze those
feelings for her.

"All kinds of hell," Nick repeated, "and it looks going to get worse.
That means you have to be very From what I hear, Mac Mister a very
ambitious don't know what he might be willing to do to What would he do
to win it?  she interest in someone like her?  She felt a little sick
at the " What are you telling me?  " she asked."

"Watch out for yourself."

"I always do."

In the next instant, the phone on Nick's desk rang.  answered it with a
dipped "Hello," then explained to

"I've been' waiting for this.  I need to take it.

But will think about what I've said."

She nodded.

"And think about taking the DNA test, A.J.

wrong," he said, reminding her of Jack Mac Mister " It would be so easy
to do.  And if you're so.  wrong.  " Then it shouldn't bother her in
the least.

83 She would love to do it--prove Nick and Jack Mac Mister wrong at the
same time.

There was only one problem.  She was scared to death that there was a
chance, even a slight chance, that they might be right.

 Chapter C

hat evening, when A. J. had a minute, she called the hospital and spoke
briefly to Trini, who was much better after having slept for about twe!
,v.  e hours.  And the baby was: holding his own.  They couldn t ask
for much~ more than.  that.

About an hour later, someone from the front to her.

"Need you up front, A.J."

"Can't it wait?"  she called out from down the hall, wber~ she was
rummaging in a closet, trying to find just one more blanket.

"Can't you handle it?"

"I think you need to see this for yourself, girlfriend," said Betsy,
one of her streetwise teenage volunteers.

"Beca~ I'm sure my eyes are playing tricks on me."

A. J. glanced at her watch.  Nine-forty.  Although she'd~ slept the
entire day away, she was exhausted~ And yet she went on.

"Coming, girlfriend."

There was a crowd gathered around the shelter opening, and A. J. worked
her way through it.  At the entrance, she found Betsy, who held a
package, obviously wrapped by 85 someone who made a career out of
bow-making, in her hand.

"That's it?"  A. J. said.

"That's what you called me down here to see?"

Betsy shook her head and smiled, then pointed to the street in front of
the shelter.

A. J. turned back around.  Through the crowd of bodies gathered at the
entrance, she saw what all the fuss was about.  Illegally parked at the
curb was a brand-new white van with a Hope House logo on the side.

A. J. looked from the van back to the crowd gathered there, then to
Betsy and her package.

"It's for you," she said, holding out the keys and an envelope - "What
is?

"All of it?"

"Someone sent me a van?"  she said stupidly, thinking of the limited
number of people who' knew the shelter's van had given out the night
before and been declared officially dead this morning by an uptown
mechanic.  She thought about the severely limited number of people she
knew who could afford to donate new vans to charities, not sure whether
Jack MacAlister was among them.

"Guess nobody ever ~told him about sending something simple, like
flowers or candy," Betsy added with a smile.

"Al-li-son," the group of kids behind her started chanting.  No doubt
they knew all about-the mystery man who'd been l~ere the night before,
looking for Allisc~n Jennings.  She wondered if they were also aware of
the fact that she'd been gone all night and all day.

Probably.  The kids always seemed 'to know things before she did.

A. J. looked at the van.  It was all shiny and clean, not a dent or a
scratch on it.  It would run like a dream, and the shelter desperately
needed it.

Still, a van?  She ripped open the envelope and pulled out the card.

 "Be safe," it read.  Then she saw a scrawl that.  must have been his
signature, then a couple of phone numbers that she could barely make
out.

The man had sent the shelter a brand new van.  She was dumbfounded.

"Don't forget this," Betsy said, holding out the package to her.

She wasn't that' scared of the package.  It was small enough to fit
into her hands, after all.  How expensive a~nd inappropriate could it
be?  She fought with the big gold ribbon and finally won, then pulled
off the pretty flowered paper.  Inside, she found a tiny cellular
phone, the kind very important people carried around in little leather
bags.  Be safe.

He'd been shocked that she didn't have one in the van so that she could
at least check in with the shelter, or call 911 if she needed to.  And
now she could.

A. J. couldn'thelp but remember that strange look in his eyes when he'd
told her she couldn't go driving around the city at night in that
beat-up old van.  He'd said it without the arrogance that was evident
in so many things he said.  He'd said it without making it seem like a
command--and that was another annoying habit of his.

She'd have sworn it was born of nothing more than simple concern for
her safety.  Of course, this went way beyond simple concern.  "So who
sent it?"

Betsy said.

"I don't think you've been introduced."  '~ "The dude who was here last
night?"  someone called out from the crowd behind her.

A. J. colored profusely.

"He was one fine-lookin' man," someone else added, in case.  anyone had
missed him.

"Well," Betsy said, "do we get to keep it?"

"I'll have to think about," she said, knowing he'd made it nearly
impossible for her to refuse without making an even bigger impact on
the whole shelter staff and all the kids here.

87 He'd boxed her quite neatly into this corner.  She'd have to see
that it wasn't so easy for him in the next round.

A. J. tossed the keys to Betsy and asked her to find someone to park it
in the lot around the side so that it wouldn't get towedjaway, then
took her new phone inside, working her way deeper and deeper inside the
shelter, until she found a little privacy.  Finally she figured out how
to make the phone work, then dialed one of the numbers scrawled on the
card.  She heard MacAlister's answering machine click on, heard a
clipped message from him.  His voice was brusque, not at all as warm
and appealing as she remembered it.

Surely it hadn't been as tempting as she remembered it.

She dialed the other number.  Judging from the way he barked his last
name into the phone, she decided, he must be at work.

"We got your present," she said, feelihg every bit as awkward as she
had at his apartment earlier, still remembering that last, shocking
confession she'd made to him.  "You don't like it?"

She bit her tongue.

"I didn't say that."

"They had one in blue, if you'd prefer that.  I thought the old van'
must have been white it one time, but it was so beat up, I couldn't
tell for sure."  ~ "It was white?~' she told him.

"Are you out of your mind?"

"You wouldn't have liked the blue?"  He sounded so smug.

"I can't believe you sent us a van."

"And a phone?  Did you get the phone?"

"Yes, the phone came, too.  I'm using it now.  The only problem is, I
don't know what to do with it, or the van "Sure you do.  Your van died.
You need another one.  And the mobile phone is an absolute necessity,
if you're going to be on the streets alone."

"This 'is none of your business," she said, growing more and more
irritated with him.

 "It's no big deal, A.J."

"You give away vans and mobile phones all the time?"  He laughed at
that.

She'd never heard him laugh so freely or so easily.  It sounded
incredibly appealing.  She couldn't help but wonder if there was some
other woman who made him laugh.

"I give away all sorts of things all the time to worthy causes.
Wouldn't you say Hope House is a worthy cause?"

"The worthiest."

"What was that?"  he asked.

"I must not have heard you correctly.  You're agreeing with me."

"Don't be an ass, Jack."

"Didn't Itell you?  Nobody calls me Jack."

"But I'm sure it's not the first time someone's called you an ass."

He roared at that, and it occurred to A. J. that she was having a
lovely time sparring with him.

"It's no big deal, A.J. Send me a receipt for my taxes.  Believe me, I
can use the deduction."

"I didn't know prosecutors were so well paid."

"We're not," he admitted.

"I made my money the old-fashioned way.  I inherited it."

"Oh."  Even better.  Not only was he incredibly handsome and entirely
too unsettling, he was wealthy, as well: She couldn't have found a more
unsuitable man if she'd

"Keep the van, A.J.," be said--as if he had any doubts that she
would.

"You knew there was no way I could turn it down."

"There's no reason you should turn it down, is there?"

She couldn't think of a one that sounded even remotely reasonable.

"I'll be in touch," he told her.

And before she could tell him not to bother, he hung up.  He'd gotten
in the last word once again.

The man just wouldn't stay away.  He showed up around midnight, when
she'd finally finished sorting through the 89 mess the day had brought,
when she was once again feeling exhausted and vulnerable and totally
inadequate when it came to dealing with him.

Was she doomed to always feel this way around Jack MacAlister?  Was she
cursed where he was concerned?

He'd told her he would be in touch, and she supposed that should have
been fair warning.  She should have been prepared, but she wasn't.

A. J. had been making one last check with the person manning the front
door, with the intention of turning in for the night.  Suddenly, there
he was--walking through the slush and ice as he made his way toward the
shelter.

There were snowflakes in his dark hair and on his coat, and there was a
wary smile on his face.  And she was afraid that she was actually glad
to see him.

Part of it was sheer curiosity.  Could he actually be as sinfully
attractive as she remembered?  Could he set her on edge, somehow bring
all her senses alive, just by walking into a room?

She'd been sure that part was simply her imagination.

Now she had her doubts.

' Damn, she was glad to see him.

"You're not closed for the night, are you?"  he asked, A. J. wished,
for the sake of her sanity, that they were.  She held the door open as
he walked through, then stood back as he brushed off the snow.

"What in the world are you doing here?"  she said,

"Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?"

She shook her head.

"How about I was desperate for coffee and thought you might take pity
on'me?"

"No one's ever pitied you in your whole life, Jack MacAlister."

"One cup?"

"It'S almost midnight.  How will you sleep tonight?"  she said, then
instantly regretted it.  She didn't want to know how or where or when
he would sleep, and especially not with whom he might be sleeping.

"One cup," she said grudgingly.  Walking with him into the staff
kitchen, she saw that there was none left.  She'd have to wait until
another pot brewed.

A. J. put her back to him and sorted through the cabinets until she
found what she needed to start the coffee.  "How's Trini?"

he said.

"She slept most of the day, which isn't surprising.  But she sounded
better when I talked to her, a couple of hours ago."

"And the baby?"

Did he care?  She couldn't help but wonder about that.  She wanted to
know what made him tick, what had brought him all the way across town
tonight to find her.

"The doctors are cautiously optimistic about the baby's chances."

"So what's going to happen to the two of them now?"  She emptied the
coffee into the filter, then poured in the water, which left her
nothing to do but face him again.  The snow still clung to a few
strands of his hair, his eyes were still too dark for her to read
anything in them, and he was watching her.  Why did he always seem to
be watching her this way?

"I don't know what's going to happen to them."  She thought about that
for a moment, and then her conscience' forced her to add.

"You saved their lives."

"I was just following orders--yours."

"I don't think I would have found them on my own."

"A.J.-, I think you can do anything you set your mind to."  She dropped
her eyes and felt a rush of blood to her cheeks.  That sounded
suspiciously like a compliment--something she hadn't expected at fill
from him, and guilty accepting, considering what she was about to do.

"I am grateful for the van," she said, also grudgingly.  "We needed it
desperately... but then, I guess you knew that."

He nodded.

"Do I make you that uncomfortable?"

91 "Yes."

He seemed to like that, because he came one step closer.  She had
visions of them playing that awful cat-and-mouse game again, the way
they had in his apartment this morning.  She couldn't allow that.

She put out her hand to ward him off.

"Look, MacAlister" -- "I'm not such a bad guy," he said.

Taking a breath, she held it to the count of three to calm herself.

If it worked when dealing with small children, surely it would work
with a grown man, as well.  "I don't know what you're doing here, but"
-- "Would you believe I was worried about you?"

"No."  At least she didn't want to believe that.

"That I simply wanted to see you again?"

"No."  Oh, please, don't let it be that.

He gave a long, low whistle.

"I guess I have my work cut out for me."

A. J. swore as the color burned in her cheeks.  Why'was he doing
this?

And then she remembered what Nick told her.  MacAlister was a very
ambitious man.  And he wanted something from her, something she didn't
intend to give him.  And that something had nothing to do with.

anything he might feel about her personally.

That had to be it.  That was so much easier to believe than the idea
that he might be attracted to her.

"Someone told me you'd do almost anything to win a case," she said,
stopping him cold.

His chin came Up.  He settled himself back against the cabinets and
crossed his arms in front of his chest, then watched her for a long
moment.

"Someone isn't far from the truth."

She was taken' aback for a second.  She hadn't expected him to admit it
so easily.

"And he told me that this is a very big case you're working on, the
kind that could easily make or break a prosecutor's career."

"And naturally you'd believe anything this someone tells you, and
nothing that comes out of my mouth?"  He looked angry then.

"Spill it, A.J. If you're going to accuse me of something, go ahead and
do it."

She flinched at the icy calm that had come over him, the rock-solid
quality to his voice as he dared her to finish what she'd started.

She looked around the room, then into the hallway, aware now, as she
hadn't been before, that it was very late, that there was no one from
the staff near here at this hour, that she was once again alone with
him.

She wasn't afraid of him.  Not exactly.  Not in the traditional way a
woman might fear a man.  She was afraid he-cause he tempted her.

And now she'd dared him to bring this whole thing out into the open.
But her pride wouldn't let her drop it.  "I'm saying that you're a very
ambitious man."

"I wouldn't argue that with you."

"That it's a big case," she continued.

"An important one."

"And that you'd do anything to win."

"Almost anything," he told her.

"And now you want to know if I'd stoop so low as to come on to a woman
because ] needed something from her, some kind of help on a very
important case I'm working on?  Is that what you're asking me, A.J.? If
this has to do with the damned case that means so much to me?"

She was sure he'd be furious at her response.  Sure he'd come back with
some blistering retort.  But he didn't.  Instead, he seemed a little
saddened.  He looked off to the side, then up at the ceiling, then
shook his head.

And then he was back to looking at her--looking right through her, it
seemed.

"Do you think so little of me?"

93 She could have sworn she'd hurt him with her accusation, but then,
before this she would have sworn that nothing could hurt him, that very
few things ever touched him in such an elemental way.

"Do you?"  he repeated.

"Or is the problem something else altogether?"

"I don't know what you mean," she retorted.

"I don't believe you doubt me nearly as much as you doubt yourself,
A.J. Do you really think so little of yourself that you can't imagine a
man who's honestly interested in you as a woman?"

At first, she was sure she hadn't heard him correctly.  Then she could
only wish she hadn't.  Her back went ramrod-straight, and she had to
fight to look him in the eye.

There was nothing she could say.  Absolutely nothing.  Never in a
million years would she believe a man like Jack MacAlister could be
attracted to a woman like her, It seemed so obvious to her.  Surely it
was to him, as well.

Did she think so little of herself?

She simply didn't think of herself at 'all in those terms.  There'd
been no reason to do so.  Until now.  Until he'd come barreling into
her life and turned it upside down.

"I think you should go," she said, unable to look him in the eye a
second longer.

He hesitated for a moment, just enough to totally unnerve her all over
again, then said, "All right.  This time, I will."

 Chapter Cays later, Jack Mac Mister slammed the: phone down in
disgust, jerked his tie loose from his throat 'for the third time, then
started to tie it once again, in hopes of finally getting it right.

Then the doorbell rang.

"Coming," he called out impatiently, still fooling with the tie and
wondering who could have gotten past the doorman.  without him hearing
about it first.

For a moment, he thought about the person he'd most like to see on
the-other side of that door.  The woman face he saw morning, noon and
night, the one who thought he was a perfect ass and made him feel like
ten different kinds of a fool.

How long had it been since he'd felt so foolish with woman?

Jack MacAlister didn't have trouble with women.  He knew all sorts of
women, and he enjoyed them.  He flirted with them, dated them, took
them to bed.

Beautiful women, ambitious women, sophisticated women.

95 He'd fallen in love once in his life, and so far that had been more
than enough.  He didn't lead women on.

And he'd always been able to find a woman interested in the same things
he wanted in a relationship: a little companionship, a few~aughs, good
sex: Until now, that had always been enough.

But those other women weren't nearly as fascinating, as complex, as
tough--or, at the same time, as fragile--as A. J. He didn't see their
faces first thing in the morning before he even opened his eyes, didn't
think abbut them late at night before he fell asleep.

He didn't spend precious time he couldn't afford to waste dreaming up
excuses to see them again.  He didn't feel something close to a
murderous rage at the idea of another man hurting them so much that
they couldn't stand to have his hands on them.

As he saw it, he was in trouble.  And he was greatly disappointed when
he opened the door to his apartment and saw that the woman on the other
side was not A. J. "Hi, Jack."  Kitty gave him a quick kiss 'on the
cheek,.  then headed for his bedroom.

"Sorry I'm running late.  It took longer than I expected to get
everything ready for the party tonight, and the catering staff is
giving me fits.  You don't mind if I shower and change here, do you?
That would save some time, and I can't be late."

"Help yourself, Kitty," he said to her back as she walked into his
place as if she owned it.

He found himself mildly annoyed.  It wouldn't be the first time she'd
showered and dressed here, yet he felt uneasy about her doing so now.

"Someone's sending over my dress and my makeup.  The doorman's bringing
it up as soon as it arrives," she called from inside the bedroom.

He came to stand in the doorway, then saw that she was already inside
the bathroom.  She hadn't bothered to close the door, and he could see
her
reflection in the mirror 6vet the vanity.  She was shedding her
clothes quite rapidly.  He looked away.

"I haven't seen you in forever, Jack."

He looked back, relieved to see that she'd wrapped a big towel around
her and was doing something to her long blond hair.  His gaze caught
hers in the mirror, and he noted the mild censure there.

"I've been busy at work," he said, even though he didn't owe her any
explanations.  They didn't have the kind of relationship that required
explanations or excuses.

She walked out of the bathroom, her.  hair piled high on her head, the
towel looking none too secure in the way it was wrapped around her
body.

He knew her body well.  He'd known her for years, thongl~ they were
more friends than anything else.  Friends and sometime lovers.

How long had it been since they'd been sometime lovers?  He found he
couldn't remember, realized he hadn't missed that particular aspect of
their relationship at all.

She stood in front of him now, and took the ends of his tie in her
hands and started to fix it.

"You never could get these things right," she said with a smile,
standing too close for comfort.

"I don't know how you've managed without me."

He looked down at her, his gaze settling on the generous curve of her
breasts, which were barely covered by the towel.  It was going to fall
to the floor any minute.

"Kitty," he said, disentangling himself from her, "we need to talk."

"Do we?"  she said, dropping the towel.

"I thought you might get in the shower with me."

She had an incredible body; he couldn't deny that.  In the next minute,
she 'had her hands all over him, and he was pushing her away.

He simply didn't feel anything for her.  He had no desire to take her
into his bed.  And he was in serious trouble.  If he 97 hadn't realized
it before, he did now.  All he could think about was

A. J.

A. J. paused at the entrance to the main ballroom of one of Chicago's
most elegant hotels, trying not to feel so out of place in the richly
appointed room.  It was useless, but she tried.  She hated these
things, though she suspected it was better to be here, surrounded by
people, then in her room at the shelter, brooding.

She had tried to keep her mind off Jack MacAlister, and everythiag else
except her work, but the rest of the world was not cooperating with
her.

Carolyn McKay was at the shelter every day, as was Carolyn's mother, so
A. J. tried to stay out of the administrative offices and the
kitchen.

Her friend Nick was still pushing for her to at least take the DNA test
that could tell them whether she was Grace McKay's long-lost child, but
so far she had refused.

Trini was almost ready to be released from the hospital, and the baby
would come soon after her.  A. J. kept thinking that if it hadn't been
for MacAlister, the girl and her baby never would have made it.

Now that she'd heard a little about the case Jack MacAlister was trying
to prosecute, she seemed to see news of it everywhere--on TV, in the
newspapers, even on the radio.  She couldn't keep herself from looking
for stories about the string of child kidnappings that had been
attributed to Ray Williams, the man MacAlister was trying to prosecute.
And it all left her feeling very uneasy, even a little sick to her
stomach.

She couldn't be part of this case.  How could they ask that of her?

And yet they did, continuously.  MacAlister kept calling her on the
mobile phone he'd given her.  He'd let a few days go by; she'd finally
start to feel comfortable answering the thing again, and then she'd do
so and find him on the line.

 He wanted her to think about the case, think about the kids and the
blood test.  She'd done little else but try not to think about it.  He
wanted to show her the rest of the pictures of the missing girls, but
there was no way she was going to look at those.

So, they were at a standoff, and she was stuck coming to this party.

It was early February, time for the Valentine's Day Have-a-Heart
fund-raiser, an annual event that raised money for a number of
children's charities, including Hope House.  In a weak moment, A. J.
had agreed to attend on behalf of the foundation that ran the
shelter.

She hated things like this, and always felt out of place with all the
society types in their glittery ball gowns, their spike heels and their
elaborate jewels.  Nick was supposed to come and suffer through it with
her, but was called away on an emergency at the last minute.

So, here she was by herself in the crowd, hating the whole ordeal.

A. J. followed a group of people to a corner next to the bar and
ordered a ginger ale for herself, because it would give her something
to do with her hands.  And when she backed away from the bar, she found
herself face-to-face with 'the last person in the world she wanted to
see tonight.

Jack MacAlister, in a black tux, a black tie and a killer grin. Damn.

"A.J.," he said softly, the grin even more devastating now.

She didn;i want to think about what the sound of her name on his lips
did to her, but she had an idea why he was so happy.  She'd have bet
her last dollar that he'd known she was going to be here tonight, that
it would give him another chance to pressure her into doing what he
wanted.  With any luck, they could at least avoid all talk of anything
personal.

"Jack," she said, as sweetly as she could manage, because he'd told her
no one called him Jack.

"What in the world are you doing here?"

99 "It's a worthy cause, wouldn't you say?"

Oh, he was the very image of the devil himself.

"Yes, I think it's a very worthy cause.  Hope House is one of the
beneficiaries of the fund-raiser."

"Oh."

"As if you didn't know already."  She wasn't about to let him off the
hook.

"Me?"

"Give it up, Jack.  You don't have an innocent bone in your body."

"I've been meaning to call you."

"I'll just bet you have."

"I hear Trini's getting out of the hospital."

That surprised her--that he'd obviously been checking up on Trini, that
he still cared.

"She'll he out of the hospital in a couple of days."

"And the baby?"

"Holding his own.  Trini was very lucky.  He doesn't have any major
health problems."

"So, what's going to happen to her and the baby when they're released
from the hospital?"

"The most amazing thing happened the other day.  She agreed to call
home and tell her mother about the baby."

"She's going home?"

"Not exactly.  Her mother's involved in an abusive relationship.

That's why Trini left, and she could never take the baby back into a
situation like that.  But her mother's sister, after hearing about the
baby, offered to let Trini and the baby come live with her.  And I
think it's going to work out.  " " That's wonderful,"

She nodded.

"You could go back home, too, A.J."

'~Don't push it, MacAlister.  I was just starting to think you were a
nice guy,"

"I am a nice guy."  ~.

"As long as you get your way," she said.

 "Okay, so I never learned to lose gracefully.  It's not exactly
considered a virtue in a prosecutor."

"But it is in a man."  A. J. wondered what he'd make of that.  Would he
think she was interested?  In him?  As a man?  Surely not.  Still, she
was thinking of some way to back herself out of that corner when an
incredibly beautiful woman walked over to the two of them.

"Darling, there you are," the leggy blonde, who was wearing a glittery,
flame red dress, said to MacAlister as she slid her arm into the crook
of his elbow and plastered herself to his side.

"I:ve been looking all over for you."

The woman pouted prettily and tilted her head toward him, dismissing A.
J. with one glance.  A spray of diamonds in her ears, at her neck and
on her fingers glittered and danced in the light with every move she
made.

A. J. wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.  She'd
actually been worried that MacAlister might think she was interested in
him, when he had someone like this hanging on his arm?

"I came to say hello to a friend of mine," MacAlister said to the
pouting blonde.

"Kitty, this is A.J. She's the director of the runaway shelter at Hope
House.  A.J."  this is Kitty Whittaker.  She helped organize the
fund-raiser.

" A. J. had no option but to shake the woman's hand, once Kitty managed
to force herself to let go of Jack MacAlister long enough to offer
it.

"So nice to meet you," the woman said, reminding A. J. of a cat about
to pounce.

"The party's lovely," A. J. offered, then remembered she was here
representing Hope House.  She had to be nice.  Turning back to the cat
she smiled.

"I can't tell you how much all of us at the shelter appreciate all the
hard work that goes into this, or the money that comes out of it.  We
need it desperately."

The woman purred.

"And you actually work there, with those... poor, unfortunate
children?"

101 "Yes," A. J. said, wondering if the woman would faint if she knew

A. J.

had once been one of those poor unfortunates.

"How... interesting."

"Yes, it is.  Now, if you two will excuse me, I... see someone !  need
to speak with."

And then she escaped, pretending not to hear MacAlister calling her
name.

She hid behind a huge potted fern and sipped her ginger ale while she
tried to tell herself that there was no reason to be upset.  He was a
man, a gorgeous one, a rich one.  Naturally women would be crawling all
over him at any opportunity.  That should come as no surprise to her.

And the cat with the big red claws and the killer
dress--Kitty--obviously had some claim to the man.  She had her hands
all over him, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm, leaning into
his side, pressing the side of her breasts against his biceps.  A. J.
got the she-cat's message loud and clear--hands off.  She was surprised
the woman saw fit to even post the warning, surprised that Kitty would
see her as any threat at all.

A. J. was fine with that.  After all,~ she certainly had no claim on
Jack MacAlister.  A night in the snow and at the hospital with him, a
day spent in the bed in his guest room, an evening meal at his
apartment, a new van for the shelter and a phone for her, lots of
accusations, a few confessions and a mountain of doubts--that was not
the stuff of which relationships were made, Even A. J. " who knew
nothing of relationships with men, understood that."

Still, she continued to hover behind the potted plant as the party
swirled on around her.  And she couldn't take her eyes off Jack and the
cat woman The music started.  Kitty plastered herself against him, and
they slowly circled the dance floor.

 Sick with fascination and what she could only describe as envy,

A. J.

watched every move they made.  They were a stunning couple, looking as
if they belonged together.  And surely they did.

A. J. tried to remind herself that she wanted nothing to do with the
man, and that more than likely he wanted only one thing from her: help
with his case.  And if he'd decided to play some sort of mind game with
her--namely flirting like the devil and then, when that didn't work,
trying to make her think she was incredibly insecure in believing he
wasn't actually interested in her--it only showed that he'd do anything
to win this case.

Yet she continued to watch them circle the dance floor.  She remembered
what it felt like to be caught against MacAlister's big, powerful body.
What would it feel like to have his arms around her that way?  To have
her body brushing against his as they slowly moved in time to the
music?  To have his cheek come down and nuzzle against hers?  To have
his mouth settle over hers?

A. J. turned away in disgust at the path her thoughts had taken.  She
was going crazy.  He was making her crazy.  And she simply couldn't get
thoughts of him out of her head.

It took MacAlister a good fifteen minutes to escape from Kitty and find
A. J. again.

He had been meaning to call her, but he'd wanted to see her again, as
well.

And his reasons had nothing to do with business.

He followed her through the ballroom, admiring her trim figure, encased
in a pair of silky black trousers and a shiny red vest that left her
arms bare and a hint of the curves of her breasts exposed.

It was a very simple outfit, one that had no doubt cost a fraction of
what most of the elaborate gowns worn by the rest of the women in the
room had.

Leave it to her to find something totally different, and to 103 look
fantastic in it.  The outfit suited her perfectly.  And he thought it
was sexy as hell.

"Wait a minute."  He finally caught up with her as she slipped into an
alcove just outside the main ballroom.  He wished he could just reach
out and grab her by the arm, but he remembered her reaction the last
time he'd done so.

And he'd never forget what she'd told him right before she ran out of
his apartment.

Men don't touch me.

"A.J.," he called out, worried she'd slip away from him.  Finally, she
turned around and stopped.

"Don't run away from me again," he said, counting on her pride alone
being enough to keep her here.  He thought she might try to deny the
fact that she'd been avoiding him, but she didn't.

"Did-you lose something, Jack?"

"What?"

"That woman hanging on to your arm.  How did you ever manage to
escape?"

He smiled.  She actually sounded jealous.  ~"Kitty had some business to
take care of."

"Oh.  She's... lovely."

"She works very hard at it.  Puts in amazingly long hours to
achieve-that look."

That won a smile from 'her, and a catty "I'm sure she does."

"In case you're wondering, I've known her since she was six.  Her
parents are good friend with my parents."

"How nice for you."

"She asked me to come to this thing with her," he added.  "I didn't
invite her."

"In case I was wondering?"  She seemed outraged by the thought.

"Believe it or not, I have better things to do with my time than wonder
about which woman you're dating at the moment."

"Since when did dating become a crime?"

 "It hasn't."

"I try to date a wide variety of socially prominent women," he said.

"It gives my mother hope, and it keeps her off my back."  t

"You expect me to believe that you see that woman just to keep your
mother happy?"

"I love my mother very much," he declared.

"But when Kitty asked me to the dance, I only agreed to come because I
thought you might be' here That did it.  He'd scored a hit with that
one, managing to throw her off-balance and make her blush't he same
time.  He didn't know women still did that.

"You wanted to talk to me about something?"  she said~ taking a step
backward.

He wasn't about to let her get away with changing the subject now that
he had her on the run.

"I wanted to talk about you.  And me."

She opened her mouth, but closed it again.  He watched the delicate
muscles in her throat and her neck as she swallowed hard and tilted her
head to the side, couldn't help but look down into that enticing bit of
curves and shadows at the V neck of her glittery vest.

She caught him doing it, too, and he wasn't sure that was such a bad
thing.

She turned nearly as red as her vest.  Clearly, he'd succeeded in
throwing her off-balance.  Of course, that hadn't been his main
objective.  He'd simply wanted to let her know that her confession that
night i~.  his apartment hadn't made a difference in the way he felt
about her.  He was still interested, definitely interested, and she
might as well get used to it.

She could try to put him off with this smoke screen about him coming
after her for no other reason than to get the information he needed for
the trial, but it simply wasn't true.  He wasn't that ambitious.

She'd just have to figure that out on her own, in time.

105 But he didn't see a reason to be anything but up-front with her
about the fact that he was interested, if he could do so without
scaring her off.

"I don't know what you mean," she finally said.

"I mean that I haven't been able to get you out of my mind."

She looked even more uncomfortable at those words, and took another
step backward.

He wasn't that close to her, he told himself.  Not enough to send her
scrambling to get away.  But then, she wasn't any woman.  She was A. J.
, and he couldn't be sure how deeply the scars of her past still
haunted her today.

"I told you," she said.

"I mean... I thought you understood."  She took another step, putting
her back against the wall.  Her chin came up a notch.

Again he watched her throat as the muscles moved with every breath she
took.

He didn't think he'd ever been so fascinated by a woman who obviously
hadn't dressed to call attention to herself.  He was certain she had no
idea how sexy she was in that outfit, certain she never would have
dressed to create such a look.

"I heard what you said at my apartment; and I think I do understand.

But surely you're not going to live your whole life alone, A. J. Surely
there'll come a day when you meet someone you want to get to know
better " " And you've decided you're that man?  " "I think I'd like to
be."

He watched as she looked away and smiled incredulously.

"You think'a lot of yourself, don't you?"  she asked.  "No.  I told
you, I've been thinking a lot about you."  He was absolutely serious.

"A.J."  I mean it.  This isn't a line I throw at women.  It isn't a
game, because I don't play games with women.  And it doesn't have
anything to do with the trial.  "
 -"Oh."  It was a small, breathless sound, and it told him that he'd
broken through the teasing and the flirting.  He meant what he'd said,
and he thought she finally believed him.

Unfortunately, she was also afraid.  And he hated the idea of her being
afraid of him.  He decided it was definitely time to back off.

"I'm sorry," he said lightly.

"We don't have to settle this tonight.

I can be patient.  " "Oh, really?"  She was bouncing back.

"I am capable of being patient~ I don't like it, but I can do it."

"At least you're honest about that."

"I'll be honest with you about everything."

"And I thought you just wanted to talk about the case."  She sighed
heavily.

He watched as some of the fight seemed to drain out of her and she
relaxed just a little.

"Damn," he said softly.

"What?"

"I do have some things I need to tell you about the case."

"I knew it," she said.

"I told you I'd be honest with you.  Well, I am.  This case is an issue
between us.  It's just not the only one."

"So, tell me."

He couldn't help but feel he'd just confirmed her worst fears about
him, couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so clumsy and so foolish
around a woman.

"We don't have to do this tonight," he said, offering her an out.

"You're here.  I'm here.  We migh't as well get it over with."

He'd bet she thought she'd never have to see him again.  He'd have to
show her how wrong she was about that.

"You should know," she said, "I haven't changed my mind about the blood
tests, or anything else."

He put his hands in his pockets, thinking it might ease her mind a bit
if she didn't have to worry about him touching her.  His attraction to
her was complicated enough because she was a potential witness, but
this obvious and real fear of hers.  that should have been more than
enough to tell him to back off.  Trouble was, he didn't know if he
could,

"I found out some things this week and I thought you should know."  He
forced his mind back to the business at hand, where it should have been
all along.

"I dug through some old records.  Want to know what I found out?"

"I'm sure you want to tell me."

"No, A.J."  I don't want to tell you.  I don't want to frighten you, or
make you any more uncomfortable than you already are.  But I have a job
to do, a very important job.  I think you can understand that, and I
wish you'd try not to dislike me so much because of it.  I'd hoped it
wouldn't cause a lot of problems for us, but I guess I was wrong.  "
"MacAlister, there is no us."

She didn't give an inch, and that made him mad.  He thought about
calling her a liar right then and there, because something was
definitely going on between them "There was something you wanted to
tell me?  she said.  " About the case?  " ' " Fine," he said,
struggling to control his temper, wondering how this conversation had
ever gotten so out of hand.  " We'll talk about the case.

First, those pictures I showed you?  " "Yes."

"There was nothing disturbing about them.  Nothing that should have
caused you to become so uncomfortable.  Why did they make you
uncomfortable, A.J.?"

She shrugged, her shoulders coming up a little and the vest shifting
and settling again around her body.  He tried his best not to notice.

 "Those were photos of the girls," she said.

"The ones who are still missing, right?"

"Right."  ~' "You wanted me to look at them and remember their faces
and feel guilty because I wasn't doing what you wanted me to do.  Well,
that was a rotten thing to do."

"I didn't show you their pictures for that reason," he said.  At least
not for that reason alone, he added to himself.  "Could you' have seen
any of those photos before?  Did you recognize any of the girls?"

She shook her head.

"Where would I have seen them be-ford?"

"Think about it.  It's important.  Why did the pictures upset you so
much?"

"I just... I don't like photographs."  "Why?"  ~ "I never have."

"Never?"

"For as long as I can remember."

"A.J."  did anyone ever take pictures of you that made you
uncomfortable?  " He hated what her answer might mean, hated even
asking her to consider it.

"I don't understand."

"Yes~' you do," he said softly~ "I've just never liked having my
picture taken.  I don't know what else I can tell you."

"The man I have sitting in jail is a photographer."

"I know."

"If he's the man who took those five girls, and I'm convinced that he
is, then I'm willing to bet he photographed those girls while he had
them."

Suddenly her eyes took on a frightened look.  Then her gaze turned
almost pleading, and he thought that any minute she might turn and
run.

109 He felt like a complete bastard, At the moment, he hated this
impossible job of his, and he hfited the idea of hurting her even more
than she'd already been hurt.

MacAlister held out his hand to her, hoping the action wouldn't
frighten her more.

"Hold on to me," he said, thinking to steady her.

He held his hand out in the space between them.  Magically,
miraculously, she took it.  With a touch as light as a feather, she
laid her palm across his.

His fingers curled around the back of her hand, squeezing it once, and
suddenly he felt about ten feet tall.

She did trust him, at least a little bit.

"That's not all I found, A.J."

"Of course not," she said, resigned to his revelation.

"I told you he was a photographer.  That's how he found the girls.  He
came into their schools and photographed them all."  MacAlister
squeezed her hand again.

"Eleven years ago, he photographed Allison Jennings."

Her face turned paper-white, and her hand clenched his in a death grip.
If he'd thought she would allow it~ he'd have hauled her into his arms
right then and there.

"Steady," he offered instead.

"Are you sure of your information."

He nodded.

"The real Allison Jennings?"

"Yes, the one who drowned."

"You have done your homework, counselor."

Of course he had.  He was a careful, conscientious, thorough
investigator.

But he wished at the moment that he hadn't been quite so thorough.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm still standing," she said, and he couldn't help but admire the
woman.

"There's more."  He squeezed her hand again.

"With you, there's always more."

 "The Jenningses lived in Indiana their entire lives.  But one summer,
in August, they packed up everything they owned and left.  Why did they
do that?"

"I don't know."

"Do you have any memory of being in Indiana?"  "No, just Wisconsin."

"They never talked to you about why they left?"  "No."

"The first records," he went on cautiously, gauging her reaction as
best he could, "at least the first I can find, showing the Jenningses
in Wisconsin, were from October, nearly eleven years ago.  They showed
up there about two months after Annie McKay disappeared."

He watched as A. J. took the information in.

"It doesn't mean anything," she insisted.

He doubted she believed it herself, even as she said it.  "Don't be so
quick to dismiss this, A.J. You said there wasn't any connection
between the Jenningses and this kidnapper.  Well, I just found one?"

She struggled with that.  He felt the fine trembling in the hand he
still held, saw the way the light caught her eyes and reflected the
tears held stubbornly in check there: "Just think about taking the
tests," he said.

"That's all I'm asking you to do right now."

She nodded.

"I'd help you, A.J."  if you'd let me.  I'd be with you every step of
the way, and I'd do anything I could to make this situation less
painful for you.

" She looked at the floor, at the ceiling, at the party going on in the
next room, anywhere but at him.

"I don't want to hurt you," he added.

"Then don't ask me to do this."  She was almost pleading with him.

"I'm sorry."  What else could l~e say?

"Damn you.  You can't make me do this."

111 "No, I can't."  He gave it one last try.

"I'm asking you to do it for the children, for the ones this guy's
going to grab next year and the next and the one after that, if we
Can't convict him.

I'm asking you to do it for Sara Parker, because there's no way ghe'll
hold up on the stand as a witness.  But that's wrong of me, too.  Maybe
you should be doing this for yourself."  And with that last remark, he
released her hand and walked away.

A. J. watched him go, and tried to figure out whether she was relieved
by his departure or not.  She had wanted to force him to stop [evealing
these things, to stop making demands on her that she couldn't satisfy.
But she hadn't wanted him to let go of her.

Imagine that.  Her welcoming ~e touch of a man's hands.  Would Jack
MacAlister never cease to amaze her?  And he'd found a link between the
Jenningses and the man who'd taken those little girls.

Up until this point, she'd been certain that the possibility of her
being Annie was just wishful thinking on the part of Carolyn and Grace
McKay.  And she could understand their hopefulness.  She knew people
became desperate when their children were lost.  They would grab at
every little piece of hope, and hang on to it for dear life.

But this .  this was something more.  At some point in her life, the
real Allison Jennings had crossed paths with the kidnapper.

Could that be nothing more than a coincidence, as well?  The Jenningses
had arrived in Wisconsin, with A. J. " two months after Annie
disappeared.

That was truly unsettling.  There was only so much she could blame on
coincidence.

She was going to have to stop running from the secrets of her past.

She'd have to face the real truth one day; Jack MacAlister was going to
make sure of that.

What else would he push her into?  she wondered.  He'd said he'd missed
her,
said he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind.  What did a woman
say to a man who'd confessed such a thing?  A. J. had no idea.  This
was totally out of her range of experience with men.

What could MacAlister possibly want from her?  A date?  A kiss?  To go
to bed with her?  What?  She couldn't imagine.  It was all so
ridiculous, anyway.  A man like him would never be interested in a
woman like her.

He had Kitty with her fancy gowns, her socially prominent parents and
her charity balls.  And A. J. had no business spending her time
thinking about him.

Now that he was gone, she looked down at her hand, once so safely
enclosed by his.  Could she have gotten used to the touch of his hand
so quickly that she already missed it?  Because, for reasons she
couldn't begin to explain, now that he was gone, now that he wasn't
here beside her, she felt absurdly alone.

It was absolutely amazing.  She'd spent the past seven years of her
life almost totally alone.  She'd gotten used to it, and she'd come to
feel safer that way, with no one to depend upon except herself.

Could MacAlister have taken that away from her already?  And what else
would he take from her before this case was over.

Chapter9 He wanted lunch.

A. J. was certain that there was much more to his request than that,
but for now, Jack MacAlister claimed he simply wanted to share a meal
with her.

And he'd practically dared her to turn him down.  * So she'd agreed to
lunch.

How much could that involve?  They would share a meal, downtown, near
his office, with hundreds of other people around them sharing meals.
How dangerous could it be?

A. J. had no idea.  She hadn't gone on a date since high school, back
in her other life, when she'd believed herself to be Allison Jennings.
Football games, dinner at the pizza place, a trip to the movies, with a
boy.  That was what she knew of dates.

But Jack MacAlister was no boy, and they weren't going to a football
game.

A. J, had agonized over what to wear.  She'd fussed with her hair,
though it was too short for her to do anything really different with
it.  Though she'd
chosen to put on some lipstick, she'd chewed it off on her way
downtown to meet him.

He'd picked a new Chinese restaurant that he'd recently discovered, and
she found him just inside the door, wearing his lawyer attire and
looking a little stern and very intimidating.  Then he smiled, making
her even more uncomfortable than before.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said.  "Neither was I."

"I'm glad you did."

The hostess interrupted then, saving A. J. from having to reply.  With
a very deferential attitude and several inquiries as to Mr.
MacAlister's preferences, the woman led them to a booth in the back.

A. J. took her time getting settled, finding a spot for her purse,
arranging her napkin, looking around the room, only to find her
attention drawn back to the man across from her.  He was watching
her.

What was it about the way he looked at her that made her feel as if
someone had turned the heat in the room up a notch too high?

"Comfortable?"  he asked.

"Hungry?"

She picked up her menu.  Luckily, it was tall, and totally blocked out
his face, making her feel better for a moment.  Was this how men
treated women they dated?  she wondered.  Was this how they affected
them?  She didn't remember this part from high school.  And she was no
good at this.

Putting down her menu, she blurted out, "Why are we here,
MacAlister?"

"I thought you liked Chinese food.  That night at my apartment, you
couldn't wait to dig into the fried rice."

"I was starving," she said.

"You don't like Chinese?  Because we can go somewhere else."

"No."  Was the man deliberately misunderstanding her?  "I mean us,
together.

Why are we here together?  Why did you ask me to come here today?  And
what do you want from me?"  "Do I have to answer all that on an empty
stomach?"

She glared ?  t him.  He could be so obtuse at times.  -"Come on,

A.J.

You're here.  I'm here.  i'm hungry.  We might as well eat.  And we can
work out the rest of it over lunch, all right?"

The waitress arrived before she could come up with a rebuttal.  A. J.
thought about the time--shortly after noon.  Her alarm had gone off at
5:30.

She'd eaten something on the run earlier, and she was very hungry,
despite her nervousness.  "She ordered Moo Shu pork and fried rice,
then, regretfully, gave her menu to the waitress and looked for
something else to hide behind.  But there was nothing left, He was
directly in her line of vision, so she had no choice but to look at
him.  The room was definitely too warm.  She chewed on her lip for a
moment, but that only made her realize again that her lipstick was long
gone.

"Do I make you that uncomfortable, A.J.?"

It was a loaded question if she'd ever~ card one.  She decided to go
for honesty.  He'd probably recognize anything less than that, and
challenge her on it.

"Yes," she admitted.

"I was surprised that you came."

"I was surprised that you asked.  And I'm still wondering why you
did."

"I wanted to see you again."  His words sounded sincere'.  "Try again,
Jack."

"I'm giving it my best shot," he said.

Oh, no.  He really did want to see her.  He'd made that more than clear
at
the party the Other night, but she'd thought she'd made it equally
clear that she didn't want to start any kind of relationship with any
man.

Obviously, he wasn't going to let that stop him.  What in the world was
she going to do about that?  Already she felt color flooding her
cheeks, felt little butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.  And
all they were doing was sitting across the table from one another.

She decided to start with "I don't know if this is such a good idea."

~' "Tell me why," he shot back.

Who was asking, the prosecutor or the man?  She had no idea.  "Why?  "
"Why you're so afraid of me.  Or any man.  What happened to you,

A. J.

All I heard was a bizarre story about how the Jenningses raised you and
convinced you that you were their daughter, and that you didn't find
out otherwise until the couple had died.  " She swallowed hard, then
reached for her water glass.  She hadn't told anyone that story except
Nick.  She wondered if she could repeat it to this man, v~ondered if it
would hurt as' much as ever, even after all this time.  She wondered if
that would be enough for him, if he would leave her alone then.

Could she tell him?  Could she do it without falling apart?  Could she
prove to herself that it didn't hurt that much anymore?

"There's not that much to tell," she said.

"Tell me anyway.  What's the first thing you remember about being with
the Jenningses?"

That was hard.  She'd heard so many stories about Alii-son Jennings.

The little girl's memories had been, planted in her head, and it was
difficult to figure out where A. J. "s real memories ended and Allison
Jennings's began.

"I remember the new house, the one in Wisconsin, the day we moved in.

I remember being in the pickup truck before that.  And I remember Mrs.
Jennings holding me and 117 crying over me.  I remember crying with
her, but I'm not sure why I was crying.  " "And before that?"

"I remember being frightened."  More frightened than she'd ever been in
her life.

"And that's it, There's nothing before that."

MacAlister shifted in his seat to lean across the table to-' ward
her.

"So this couple--they lost their daughter in an accident, then somehow
got a hold of.  you and tried to convince you that you were their
daughter."

"They did convince me.  I believed every word they said."  That
realization had left the most lingering pain.  She'd believed them with
every fiber of her being, and they:d lied to her, every day she'd spent
with them.

"How did you find out the truth?"  he asked "After the Jenningses died,
I went to see their attorney, and he wanted to have me thrown in jail.
He thought I was sortie one who decided to try to grab what was left of
their money and run with it.

He didn't believe a word I said to him, because he already knew the
truth.

Allison Jennings was dead.  She had been for years by then.  " "He told
you, just like that?"

She shrugged helplessly, the pain just as deep as it had been that day
so long ago.

"Of course I didn't believe him," she said.

"Who would have believed him?"

"What did you do?"

"I decided to prove him wrong, except.I couldn't.  I went to the town
courthouse, and found the death certificate.  Allison Jennings drowned
when she was thirteen.  I went to the library and looked up the story
in the newspaper.  The Jenningses were at the lake, and Allison had an
accident.

She hit her head on the side of the dock and fell in.  The water was
deep there, and it had been raining the day before.  The sediment in
the water made it murky.  No one found her until it was too late.

 "That's what the Jenningses told me, that she--that I--fell and hit
my head on the dock and nearly drowned.  Nearly.  And when I woke up, I
didn't remember anything."

The waitress returned at that moment, pulling A. J. back to the
Present.

MacAlister waved the woman away, and A. J. tried to pull herself
together.

"What did you do then?"  he said, his voice low and steady, almost
mesmerizing.  She wondered if he used that tone in court, wondered if
people told him anything and everything when he talked to them, that
way~ He was a very dangerous man.

"I still didn't believe it," A. J. continued.

"Who would have?  But I went to the junior high school and looked up
her yearbook picture from the year before she died.  And once I saw her
picture, I.knew.  I'd seen her picture before."

"Where?"

"In the family photo album--the Jennings's photo album.  They had tons
of pictures of her when she was little, and then there was a gap of
several years when there weren,t any.  Later, there were more, except
the pictures were of me."  A. J. shrugged, trying to ease away some of
the tension building in the muscles of her shoulders.

"I guess I should have known there was something strange about that,
but I didn't see it while I lived with them.  Allison and I had the
same coloring--our hair, our eyes.  I guess it wasn't that hard to pass
her baby pictures off as mine.  But as she grew older, it would have
been more obvious.  So they must have hidden those pictures away."

"It's a bizarre story," he said.

She nodded.

"What did you do then?"

"I found her grave.  And then I couldn't lie to myself anymore.  I
wasn't the Jennings's daughter.  I had absolutely no idea who I was.

That's when I ran away.  " "Did the Jenningses ever hurt you?
Physically, I mean?"

119 "No.  They were very kind, very loving.  I couldn' tm It sounds so
silly to say, but I couldn't have asked for better parents.  The only
problem was that they weren't my parents."

"Do you think they could have been mentally ill?  That the trauma of
losing their daughter was just too much for them?"

"I don't know."  She looked down at her hands, clasped together in her
lap, the thumb of one hand busy worrying the thumb of the other, and
willed her fingers to be still.  "I've thought about it a lot over the
years, and I felt like Mrs.  Jennings believed what she was telling me.
She wasn't being treated for depression, and she wasn't on any
medication that I knew of, but she was always very emotional, maybe
even manic-depressive.  I don't know.  I try not to think about it
anymore."

"You've buried it all, you mean."

A~J.  wanted to growl at him, but she stopped herself in time.  It
would only let him know that he'd gotten to her again.  She fell back
on what was almost a reflex for her--sarcasm.  "Thank you for that
expert opinion,~ Dr.  MacAlister.  I think we're making great progress
with my therapy, don't you?"

He swore softly.  ~"You really think I'm an ass, don't .  you?"

A. J. held her tongue, with difficulty.  Much as she'd have loved to
say yes, she didn't see how that would be fair, because she honestly
didn't know what she thought of Jack MacAlister.

'~If One of your kids was in trouble," he continued, " you'd fight just
as hard as I am to save them.  Don't even try to tell me you wouldn't.
Yet you're ready to condemn me for doing the same.  Darlin', I don't
think you're being fair.  " "Life isn't fair, MacAlister.  Didn't
anybody tell you that?"

He swore again.

 "Why did you ask me to come here today?"

"Two reasons," he said.

"I did want to see you again."  She tensed at that, believing him.

"And the second?"

"You know, I wasn't sure if I could do this.  !  didn't think I could
be as hard or as unfeeling as you've decided I am.  I'm sorry, A.J."

"About what?"

"The little girl in that booth over there."

A. J. looked toward the front of the restaurant.  She saw a little girl
of six or seven, dressed in her Sunday best, a red bow in her hair and
shiny black Mary Janes.  on her feet.  She was sitting very close to a
woman A. J, suspected was her mother, and looking a little uneasy.

"See her?"

"Theone with the red bow?"  A. J, said,

"Yes: That's Sara Parker."

A. J. recognized the name.  She'd heard it before, though she wasn't
sure where.  Then it came to her.

"She's" -- "The girl Ray Williams grabbed off the sidewalk near her
house and kept for four days.  She and her parents are meeting me at
the jail later.

We're going to see if Sara's willing to pick him out of a lineup.  She
fell apart the day we asked her to ID.  his photograph.

This will be even harder for her.  Then I'm going to decide whether I
can stomach the idea of putting her on the siand to try to get him
convicted, or whether I might as well spare her the experience.

Because even with her testimony, I don't think there's any way I can
win the case.  " "That's why you brought me here today," she said,
hating him in that instant.

"You wanted me to see her and feel guilty about what she's gone
through, that she's going to have to testify.  That's the only reason
we're here today, because you knew she was going to be here."

"Believe that, if it makes you feel any better.  Or if it makes you
feel safer.  But you and I both know it's not the only reason we're
here today."

121 And then he stood up and left.  A. J. watched him stop at the
little girl's table briefly, watched Sara Parker huddle closer to her
mother and look up at him with a sad expression.

MacAlister said something to the girl's parents, handed some money to
the passing waitress, then left the restaurant.

A. J. propped her elbows on the table, laid her head in her hands.  She
wanted to believe him, ~wanted to believe that he did want to see her
again, that their being together was about more than his job.  Still,
she cursed him with every step he took.

A. J. wasn't sure whether she was in the hands of a master manipulator,
a down-and-dirty street fighter or a truly dedicated man wrestling with
his conscience.  But she still found herself at the county jail that
afternoon.

MacAlister,s name opened all sorts of doors for her.  She just kept
telling everyone that she was meeting him this afternoon to pick
someone out of a lineup, and they took her deeper and deeper inside the
facility, until she was standing in a corridor outside the observation
room.

She wondered if he would gloat over his success in getting her here, or
worry that he'd pushed her too far.  She didn't know.  She seemed
totally incapable of reading the man.

But she hadn't come for him, anyway.  She'd come for the little girl.

Her friend Nick did a lot of work preparing young children to' testify
in court, so she knew what Sara faced.  More than likely she'd be put
through the agony of testifying, only to have the judge or the jury
decide she wasn't a credible witness.  Either she would be considered
too young to be trusted, or someone would decide she might not
understand the difference between the truth and a lie.

 So A. J. was here, mostly for Sara Parker, but partly because she
wanted to be done with Jack MacAlister.

If she could simply look Ray Williams in the face and show MacAlister
once and for all that she didn't recognize the man, that she had no
recollection of ever having seen him, the whole mess would be over.

MacAlister would have to understand then that she could not help him
with his case.  Maybe then he'd give up and leave her alone.  He
claimed he didn't have the evidence needed to take Williams to trial
and have a prayer of winning.  And he seemed to think she was his last
hope.  Well, if this was what it took to take that last hope away, A.
J. could do it.

All too soon, the door opened.  She heard low-pitched but urgent
voices.

MacAlister's was clear, and easy to distinguish from the others.  A. J.
thought she might recognize one other voice, but she couldn't place it
right away.

Sara Parker's father came through the door first, carrying his
daughter.  The little girl was wrapped around him, her arms around his
neck, her legs clutched tight around his waist, her head buried in his
shoulder.  A. J. was glad she couldn't see the girl's face.  Mrs.
Parker followed close behind.  And then A. J. watched in surprise as
Nick walked out of the room.

A. J. wondered if she'd been set up again.

"We, ll talk tomorrow."  MecAlister finally came through the door after
Nick.

They were talking in the corner when the little girl's mother
interrupted.

"I don't think she can do this," Mrs.  Parker said, wiping tears from
her eyes.

"I don't see how her dad and I could put her through it."

"It would be difficult, at best," MacAlister said.

"But you have to consider one thing, Mrs.  Parker.  How are you going
to feel if the man is walking the streets again?"

He cut right to the heart, A. J. thought, like an arrow piercing a
target.

Nick gave him a murderous look and A. J. saw what it cost Sara's mother
to hear the words.  Yet she couldn't blame
Jack MacAlister.  What he'd said was absolutely true.

He had a rotten job to do, and he knew that even if a parent was
reluctant to' have a child testify in a case such as this, that same
parent would be ready to crucify him for letting a man like Ray
Williams back on the streets.

Sara Parker's parents needed to think about their decision, because if
the situation was as desperate as MacAlister made it out to be, Ray
Williams might actually walk.

A. J. understood all that.  So she gave him the benefit of the doubt
with the Parkers.  But could she be as generous with him where she was
concerned?

"Think about it tonight," MacAlister said to Mrs.  Parker.

"We can talk tomorrow."

The poor woman wore a dazed look as she turned to Nick for help, but
Nick was staring at h. J. She watched as her friend pulled himself back
to the woman at his side.

"Take Sara to the interview room we used before, and I'll follow in a
minute.

We'll talk this thing out."

A. J. watched the Parker family leave She waitexl for Sara's head to
pop up off her father's shoulder, waited to give the girl a little
smile, some small sign of reassurance, but she never had the chance.

The three of them disappeared around the corner without Sara ever
lifting her head.  "A.J. ?"

Nick said.

"What are you doing here?"

She looked from Nick to Jack MacAlister.  The first man looked honestly
surprised, the second guilty as hell.  She decided Nick wasn't in on
this one.

"Why don't you ask him?"  she said to her friend.  Nick glared at the
man at his side.

"You son of a" --/~ "Wait a minute, Nick."  She grabbed his arm and did
her best to turn him back toward her.  It wasn't like him to fly off
the handle.

She wondered again if she hadn't totally misread the depth of his
feelings for her.

"I can handle this by myself, okay?"

"Do you know who's in that room?"  He pointed to the one they'd just
left.

 "Ray Williams, among others."

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to do this?"  he said to her,
before turning back to MacAlister.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me you were going to bring her here?"

"I didn't see the point," MacAlister said, looking from one of them to
the other.

"You saw the point perfectly.  You knew that I'd never let her do
this," Nick said.

"Hold it."  A. J. was sick of them acting as if she were ten years old
and they were going to decide what was best for her.

"I don't need a keeper, and I'will decide what I do and what I don't do
today.

Understand?  " MacAlister looked happy, Nick exasperated.

"You wanted me to try to remember," she reminded her frien& "This isn't
the way to do it," he said.

"You should have come to me, A.J. Come with me now, and I'll help you.
But don't do this.  Not without any kind of preparation."

Though some part of her was afraid, she still didn't believe she was
Annie McKay.  And if that was the case, then Ray Williams didn't have
any power over her.  Confronting him wouldn't hurt her at all.  As she
saw it, it would only help.  It would get Jack MacAlister off her
back--and out of her life.

"Come on, A.J.," Nick said.

"I have to go talk to Sara and her parents, Come with me.  We'll go
over this when I'm done with them."

She looked from one man to the other.  She trusted Nick, but, in a
funny way, she trusted Jack MacAlister as well.  Most of all, she
trusted herself.  And she wanted this whole thing to be over.

"I want to be done With this, Nick.  Surely you can understand that."

He swore and, before walking away, turned to MacAlister.  "I hope you
know what the hell you're doing."

Chapter C

. J. took a deep breath.  She'd made her choice.  But that didn't mean
she wasn't still angry at the way she'd been pushed into making it.

"Isn't this what you wanted?"  she asked MacAlister bitterly.

He weighed her question in his mind for a second.

"It's what I need."

"Then let's do it."

He turned and stepped inside the room for a moment, said something to
one of the officers, then turned back to her.

"Come this way."

A. J. felt every bit of courage she had desert her, and that was quite
odd.

She honestly believed that there wasn't anyone or anything he could
show her that could trigger the memories locked inside her.

She'd buried them so deeply for nearly eleven years now, and she had no
desire to remember.  And still there was this certainty that she wasn't
Annie McKay.

So what if Annie's disappearance and A. J. "s appearance with the
Jenningses had come within two months of each other?  It was sheer
coincidence.  What if this man, this Ray Williams, had once
photographed the real Allison Jennings; it didn't have to mean a
thing.

But that didn't explain why she'd gone weak in the knees all of a
sudden.

"A.J.?"

She sensed more than heard the question and, looking up, found Jack
MacAlister watching I~er with what she would have sworn was concern.

"Come inside."

Still, she hesitated.  Her heart rate kicked into high gear, and her
breathing became shallow and agitated.

"The room's empty," MacAlister told her.

"I sent an officer to have someone bring the men back, but it's going
to take a few minutes."

Reassured by the thought of having time to prepare herself, A. J.
stepped through the doorway.  MacAlister closed it behind her, and they
were alone in a small rectangular room with what looked like a long,
narrow window along the front of it.  A. J. stepped up to the glass and
put one hand against it.  It was smooth and cool to the touch, to all
appearances an ordinaryj window.

What would it be like to look through something like this into her
past?  To have the mere sight of a man dredge up all those memories she
was so determined to leave buried forever?

She heard MacAlister moving around behind her, felt his presence at her
right side, braced herself for a touch that never came.

"Are you sure about this?"

He was close enough that his warm breath stirred the hairs on her neck,
something she found oddly unsettling and reassuring at the same time.
She didn't trust her voice to speak, so she just nodded.

"There'll be five of them.  They'll walk in from the door on the right,
stand under the numbered squares and face 127 you.  Take your time
looking them over.  This is special glass.  They won't be able to see
you at all, they won't be able to get to you.

There's no reason to be afraid.  " A. J. searched for something,
anything, to take her mind off what was going to happen.  Sara Parker,
she thought.  Little Sara must have been afraid at the thought of doing
this.  Surely A. J. could do this--for Sara Parker.

The door in the other room opened, and A. J. had the sudden urge to
scream.

But all she saw was a police officer coming into the room.  He closed
the door behind him.  She made one desperate grab for air.

"They're ready, A.J."

"Go ahead."  Her voice sounded pathetically weak, even to her own ears.
Like a coward, she closed her eyes the second the door started to open
again.  The sound of her own heartbeat pounded in her ears, blocking
out nearly everything else.

She was afraid--desperately, blindingly afraid.  But of what?

She felt MacAlister's hand against her back and willed herself to stop
shaking, but she couldn't have made herself pull away if her very life
depended on it.  She wanted to move even closer to him.

If only she could get out of this room.  It was much too small and
narrow.

She looked at the wall to her side, then behind her, and finally hung
her head in desperation.  MacAlister came one step closer and placed
his arm around her waist, his tall, solid body against her side.

"They're in front of you, A.J."  He said it softly, with his lips
nearly against her ear.

Just look at them, she told herself.  " Just look.  They couldn't see
her, couldn't touch her, couldn't hurt her.  There was nothing on the
other side of the glass capable of hurting her.

She took a deep breath and looked.  Like a magnet homing in on metal,
her
gaze was drawn to the man under the number 4, although at first glance
there was nothing at a~ remarkable about him.  He was short, balding,
rounded in the stomach, a totally un memorable man.

Yet the other men in the room were remarkably similar to the man she'd
been drawn to.  Why him?  she wondered.  What was it about him that
affected her so?

A. J. forced herself to look into his eyes, and felt as if the
temperature in the room had suddenly dropped ten degrees.

Mac Mister pulled her against his side, no doubt to keep her from
falling.

She didn't even think about objecting.  "Talk to me, A.J. ," he said.

She broke her gaze away from the evil eyes and found herself breathing
as if she'd just run a marathon.  Realizing she was practically in Jack
MacAlister's arms, A. J. stepped away shakily and held on to the
windowsill to steady herself.  She concentrated on the crevices in the
textured wall covering, staring at it until she could no longer see the
man's evil eyes.

Evil.  She could have sworn that she'd felt it, like a tangible
thing.

She was inhaling it with every breath, smelling it, tasting it.  She
gagged, then covered her mouth with her hand.

"Get 'era out of there," MacAlister said harshly into the speaker that
sounded in the other room, then came to stand in front of her.

He took each of her hands in one of his own.  "Hang on to me."

She did.  If she'd thought she had the power to move on her own, she
would have flung herself into his arms.  Let him make whatever he
wanted to out of that; at the moment, She didn't care.

She had no idea what had just happened.  She just hung on to Jack
MacAlister until the world steadied around her,.  the temperature in
the room returned to normal and she didn't feel as if she were going to
choke on the next breath she took.

129 Once she convinced herself to let go of him, he pulled a chair over
and helped her sit down.  She was grateful she hadn't fallen on her
face.  She hadn't actually hyper ventilated hadn't actually cried or
screamed--proof that she was still able to exercise some
self-control.

Jack MacAlister was sitting beside her, looking shaken.  Her reaction
must have been pretty bad, to affect him like that.  A. J. tried to
remember whether she'd actually said anything to him.  For a moment,
everything had simply faded to black.  - MacAlister handed her a cup of
something hot--coffee, she realized.

Maybe it would kill the metallic taste in her mouth.

She took the cup and sipped, burned her tongue, then heedlessly took
another sip.  She needed it.  And when she sat the cup down in her lap,
her hands wrapped around it, she noticed the ends of a man's jacket
around her.

"You were shivering," MacAlister said as he put his chair directly
opposite hers and sat down again.

A. J. remembered shivering, but not having him put his jacket around
her.

She looked around the room--still that same claustrophobic rectangle of
a room.  At least she knew they hadn't moved.

"Can you tell me what happened?"  MacAlister asked.

She cleared her throat, then took another gulp of coffee.  "I don't
know any of them."

MacAlister swore with the gusto of a Chicago street punk.  "I don't,"

she insisted.

"Then why are you so afraid?"

"I don't know."  She felt ridiculously close to tears then, and
reminded herself that she never cried.

"I swear to you, I just don't know."

A. J. wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to hold herself
together.

It sounded crazy, She knew that.  But it was true.  She had no
recollection of ever having seen that man before in her life.  And yet
he'd scared her to death.

 "Did you ever have a really bad dream," she began, "when you were so
scared you couldn't move?  You could barely breathe, you couldn't even
scream?  You knew something awful was going to happen to you, but you
couldn't break out of the paralyzing fear soon enough to stop it?"

"And you can't really see who or what is after you, but you know it's
coming and you're not going to get away?  It comes closer and closer,
and you just lie there, terrified?"  She doubted he truly did
understand.

"Go on, A.J."

She tried.  She fought against the fear that she could still taste.

"It's always the same.  The minute the monster grabs you, you wake
up.

You jump up out of bed and can finally scream.  You know it was a
dream, but that doesn't help at all--you're still terrified.  And the
worst part is, you don't even know why you're so afraid.

"That's what it was like, Jack.  I was scared, and I didn't know why.

But I swear I saw something evil in his eyes.  " A. J. risked looking
up at him then.  She doubted he'd accept her account, but it was the
truth.  She couldn't explain it any better.

"One of those men scared you, " he said.

She nodded.  She should have known he'd pick up on that.  "Which
one?"

A. J. held up four trembling fingers, then looked away.  She didn't
need to hear his reaction to know she had just picked Ray Williams out
of the lineup.

The room started spinning, the lights blinding her, the dark beckoning.
She felt MacAlister take her hands in his.  "Hold on,"

he said.

"Hold on to me."

She did.  She shivered in the cold, in the midst of the fear and the
revulsion.

She knew that man.  Oh, God, she knew Ray Williams.

"Look at me," MacAlister said, in the tone of a man used to giving
orders and to having them obeyed.

She looked at him, found him hunched forward in his chair, found his
face inches from her own, found herself unable to look away.

"Steady," he said.

She nodded.  She would try.  Concentrating on nothing but his dark eyes
and his commanding voice, she steadied herself.

"Can I hold you, A.J.?  Would it help?"

"I... I don't know."

"Would it hurt?"

"Why don't we find out?"

He came forward slowly, giving her time to back away if she wanted to.
But she didn't.  She watched, fascinated, as he inched closer.

He put one hand beneath her knees and the other around her back.

"Hang on," he said, then lifted her into his arms and settled her on
his lap.

She leaned into him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Her head fell to his shoulder, and she heard his heart pounding beneath
her ear.

His arms were like bands of steel around her;' surely she would be safe
within this embrace.  And surely that wasn't such an awful thing to
want--to feel safe for just a minute because a man had his arms around
he~r, a man who wouldn't hurt her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

And she knew he was sincere, knew the situation wasn't one of his
own.

making knew it was hopelessly complicated and terribly unfair.

But that was the world.  It wasn't him.

So she lay trembling within his arms, trying to make sense of the whole
mess.

She'd recognized Ray Williams, a child kidnapper, maybe even a
murderer.  No wonder she was so afraid.

 Jack MacAlister cursed himself over and over again for having left A.
J. alone in the viewing room.  He'd known she'd been terrified of Ray
Williams, and he felt like the scum of the earth for putting her
through that lineup.

But, honestly, he'd just been trying to help when he left her there for
a few moments.  He'd been sure her friend Dr.  Garrett was still in the
building with the Parkers, and he'd thought the doctor might be.

able to help.  God knew MacAlister didn't know what to do, except hang
on to her for a while until she stopped shaking.

Dr.  Garrett had cursed him all the way from the interview room to the
place where he'd left A. J. " and he knew he'd deserved it.  Once she'd
finally stopped shaking, A.J. had taken on a dazed expression.  She'd
frightened him, and he knew she needed help, knew he'd pushed her too
far and that she was suffering the consequences.

And now she was gone, When he and Dr, Garrett returned to where he'd
left her, A. J. hadn't been there.  That had been twelve hours ago.  It
was now nearly two in the morning.  No one had seen her since.

MacAlister didn't think he'd ever been this scared.  Bone-deep and
mind-numbing scared--over a woman.

He'd only known her for a few weeks, yet he'd come to care about her so
much in such a short time.

And he had never hated his profession more than 1~ did right now.  God
knew he'd hurt people before in the name of his job, and still been
able to sleep at night.  Because he hadn't taken any of these cases
personally.  He hadn't seen the people involved in them as anything
more than witnesses, victims or criminals.

A. J. was different.  A. J. had gotten to him on a deeper level, and he
didn't want to lose her.  He couldn't lose her.

They had started something, something very fragile and very special.

They needed time to figure out what it was, 133 time to nurture it and
watch it grow.  And MacAlister was going to find that time for them, as
soon as they could put this trial behind them.

He didn't want to think about what the trial would do to her, or about
what price she was going to pay if those memories came back to her.
He'd felt sick inside when he saw her reaction to Ray Williams.

He simply hadn't known what to do to help her.  It was like being with
Miranda all over again.  Then, he'd missed the signals, hadn't
understood how upset she was or what she might be planning io do.  And
one night.  Miranda had swallowed a bottle of pills.

But A. J. wouldn't do anything like that, he told himself, though that
had been his first, irrational fear.  A. J. was much stronger, braver,
more determined.  She would come through this.  And he was going to
stand by her.

He was going to help her, if she let him.

She could be anywhere in the city.  Anything could have happened to her
by now.

He'd been at Hope House earlier, and he'd caught all kinds of hell from
everyone there.  He wondered if she realized how many people were
worrying about her tonight, if she had any idea how sorry he was for
what had happened.  f She wouldn't run away again, he told himself. She
had done so before, but she'd been a teenager then.  She wouldn't run
now.

So where the hell was she?

MacAlister drove the streets of that godforsaken part of town she
called home for the longest time, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

And then he gave up, because it was almost morning and he knew what he
had to do.

He still hadn't had time to totally examine the myriad of feelings he
had for her, but three things were uppermost in his mind.  He was
scared to death that something terrible might happen to her, he was
angry at himself for ever
leaving her alone this afternoon, and he ~felt something close to a
murderous rage for Ray Williams.

MacAlister could scream when he thought about A. J. at thirteen, about
Ray Williams finding her, grabbi~/g her, taking her away from anyone
and everything she'd ever known, and then.  then.  He closed his eyes
and tried not to imagine the rest.  He tried not to remember the almost
frantic way she'd avoided the touch of his hands at one time, the
pride--mingled with something else he hadn't been able to identify--in
her voice when she'd told him that men didn't touch her.

He could kill Ray Williams, coldly, ruthlessly, without any regrets,
either through the legal system or with his own two hands.  He could do
that.  In fact, that had been his first thought.

And then he'd considered the price A. J. would pay.

He found himself unable to think about the whole situation from
anything but her point of view, because she had become his first
priority.

What did she need right now?  What could he do to help her?

He had a meeting scheduled for early tomorrow regarding the Ray
Williams case.  And now MacAlister knew he was going to walk into that
meeting and tell everyone that he was dropping the charges against Ray
Williams, thereby leaving the man free to walk the streets again.

And he was doing it because, at this point in his life, a woman had
become more important to him than the case on which he was working.

He was doing this for A. J. And he hoped to God that one day he'd be
able to explain that to her and make her believe him.

Chapter C

ac mister was crucified by the local media the next day.  A. J. watched
in horror as the cameras rolled, the headlines screamed and the people
of Chicago registered their outrage on talk radio.

The governor was furious, as was the mayor.  People were scared to have
their kids walk the streets in broad daylight, which was nothing
unusual in some parts of the city.  But this had the people in the
'burbs worried, too, and they weren't taking it well at all.  Ray
Williams was going to walk, and the people of Chicago wanted someone to
pay for that.  A. J. knew exactly who would pay, and couldn't help but
feel a little guilty.

She was scared, too.  She didn't want Ray Williams loose on the
streets.  The possibility that any minute she would come face-to-face
with him on the sidewalk filled her with fear.

She'd spent the night walking the streets, talking to some kids,
thinking about the terrible urge she had to run away from everything.

But she'd come to terms with that at some point during the night.  She
was too old to run, and it wouldn't solve anything anyway.

A. J. had slipped into the shelter around 5:00 a. m. " with no one
seeing her, and then she'd hidden out in her room sleeping away most of
the day.

She'd simply been too exo hausted to deal with anyone that morning.

When she woke up, it seemed the whole shelter was in an uproar over
where she'd been, Carolyn and Grace included.  She hadn't been sure how
to handle that, not being used to having to explain her actions to
anyone, and definitely not being accustomed to having people worry over
her.  It felt strange, a little uncomfortable, but not altogether
bad.

After she'd done her best to calm down everyone at the shelter, she'd
found out the whole city was up in arms over what Jack MacAlister had
done.

Funny, he'd threatened to do that very thing--let Ray Williams go--but
she hadn't actually believed be'ddo it.  She'd heard enough about him
from Drew, from Nick and from some of the friendlier cops she knew to
feel certain that MacAlister wouldn't give up.  If there was any way to
keep that man in jail, MacAlister would have found it.

Obviously, when he told her he was desperate for her help, he'd meant
it.

Now that she'd seen Sara Parker in person, she understood how
desperate.

A. J. couldn't help ~but feel she'd let Sara down, that she'd let
MacAlister down as well.  And she felt guilty, especially listening to
some of those crazy people on the radio who were ready to lynch him.

She'd never thought She'd feel protective of Jack MacAlister, but she
didn't know what else to call it.  She wanted to make sure he was okay,
maybe even tell him she was sorry.

And because she hadn't come to realize that until nearly ten o'clock at
night, and because she didn't want to wait until morning, what else
could she do but go to his apartment It wasn't as if she hadn't been
there before.  He couldn't read anything into her visit.  Still, she
was as nervous as a sixteen-year-old about to embark on her first
date.

In a way, Jack MacAlister was her first date, She'd bet he'd get a kick
out of that idea, and she was smiling when she heard that low, rumbling
voice of his answer the intercom, telling the doorman to send her right
up.  She was still smiling when the elevator opened and, to her
surprise, he was waiting for her there, instead of inside his
apartment.

A. J. thought for a moment that he might sweep her into his arms and
forget all she'd ever told him about her reluctance to be touched.

His eyes looked even darker than usual.  She thought she could drown in
them.

And there was something so.  sexy about the way he looked at the end of
the day, when he started to come unbuttoned, untied, un-tucked.  Lord,
she was in trouble.

He took one step toward her before he caught himself, then put out a
hand to hold the elevator doors open until she stepped into the
hallway.

His shirttails were hanging out, the top buttons of his shirt were
undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.  He looked tired
and rumpled and very.  sexy.

"I've been worried about you, darling'."  He extended a hand, and she
placed her palm in his.  He slid his fingers through hers, then held on
tight.

And his touch, the feel and sight of him, broke through every defense
she'd struggled to build in the past thirty hours or so.

"I've been worried about you, MacAlister."

MET' He tugged on her hand and led her down the' hallway to the open
door of his apartment.  They went inside, and then A. J. led the way to
the windows.  He came with her, still holding her hand.

She looked down at the lights and the darkness, and it all seemed so
far
away.  It seemed as if nothing could touch hell " from up here, as if
nothing and no one could hurt her.  Or maybe that was because she was
with him now.

"Why were you worried about me?"  he asked.

"Last I heard, someone on the radio was advocating shooting you on
sight and asking questions later.  Most of the other callers were
agreeing with the guy."

He shrugged.

"It's not the first time.  I'll lie low for a while.

Believe me, it'll blow over.  " "Your boss was on the radio, too,
tonight.  He sounded like he was as outraged by what you'd done as the
man with the gun.  He sounded like he'd have your job for it."

"Makes him look like a reasonable, responsible man to the public, and
he's very conscious of his public image."

"Jack, he's your boss."

"And he's just telling people what they want to hear.  He knows as well
as I do that it would have been a waste of our time and the taxpayers'
money to take Ray Williams to trial right now.  There's no way in hell
we'd win."

"I knew you said that... but I guess I didn't think about what that
would mean to you."

He stepped directly into her line of vision.

"You really are worried about me.!"

"I guess no one ever worries about a big strong man like you?"

He shrugged.

"I really hadn't thbught about it."

She couldn't tell if she'd offended him, or simply surprised him--or if
he was thinking that she didn't have any worrying rights where he was
concerned.

,TII be fine, A. J," he said.

He seemed to mean that, and she wondered if she was overreacting to
this situation.  Was it possible that the job simply didn't mean that
much to him?

But that couldn't be right.  She knew his job meant a great deal to
him.

Maybe he simply didn't think he was in any danger of losing it.

"And Sara Parker?"  she asked.

"What about her?"

139 "Her parents didn't want to put her through the trial.  I couldn't,
in good conscience, encourage them to do that.  She's barely seven
years old, and her testimony's shaky.  How could I make her take the
stand, when I believed the man was going to get off anyway?"

"She's bound to be so scared right now."

"She and her parents are going away for a while.  And if they come
back, the police will be watching them.  Ray Williams won't get to
her."

"I don't know what I'd do if he did."  She shivered at the thought.

"It's not going to happen."

She closed her eyes and tried to hold on to that thought.  "I wish I
could believe that.  I wish I could have done something more...
anything... to help."

"Daftin', you were right all along.  It wasn't your responsibility to
see ~at Ray Williams was convicted.  It was mine, and I couldn't do it.
It was the job of the FBI and the state and local police to get me
enough evidence to convict him, and they couldn't do that, either.

None of that is your fault.  " "I recognized him, on some level I don't
even understand."  There, she'd admitted it to herself and to him, and
the world hadn't caved in around her yet.

"I know you did."

"Maybe... maybe if I worked with Nick... maybe we could figure out
why."

"Do you think you're ready for that?"

"I don't know if I'll ever be ready, but maybe it's time."

"Don't do it for my sake," he said.

"And don't do it for this damned trial."

"You wanted me to remember.  You and Carolyn and Grace McKay, even
Grace's son, Billy.  I didn't tell you, did I?  He walked up to me the
other day and asked me if I was his sister."

"He's a cute kid."

 "He's Carolyn and Drew's son.  Drew ambushed me in the hall one day
at the shelter and told me the whole story."

MecAlister paused, then gave a long, low whistle.  "Damn, how about
that?"

"Billy doesn't even know."

"They're engaged now, right?  So what happened to them?"

A. J. shrugged helplessly.

"Drew said everything turned a little crazy after Annie disappeared,
that everything just fell apart.  I didn't even think of that--how
Annie's disappearance would have touched so many lives.  All I thought
about was myself, and what I believed was best for me."

"That's what you have to think about, because no one in this world is
going to do it for you."

She shook her head helplessly.

"But there are all these other people's lives involved.  I can't just
ignore that."

"Look."  He turned her toward him.

"If you want to dig back into your past and figure out who you are,
I'll do cry thing I can to help you.

But you can't do it for Billy or Carolyn or Drew or Grace.  You can't
do it for Sara Parker.  Do it for yourself, A. J. " Did she want it for
herself?  Or for him?  She felt something for Jack MacAlister,
something totally foreign to her, something that was exhilarating and
frightening all at the same time.  She wanted a relationship with him,
a man-to-woman relationship, with all that it entailed.

This was the first time she'd ever wanted that with a man.  She
wondered if he wanted the same.  How did one go about asking a man such
a question?

"A.J.?"  he said, catching her attention again.

"Is this what you really want?  Do you want to remember?"

She sidestepped as best she could.

"Nick says I can't run away from it forever.  He says someday it's
going to come out, whether I want it to or not, whether I'm ready or
not."

"Are you in love with him?"  he blurted out.  "What?"

"Are you in love with the good doctor?"

"Why in the world would you ask me something that?"

"Because I thought he was going to deck me at the yesterday, when he
found out how upset you were and you'd taken off."

"He's a little protective where I'm concerned."

She thought he muttered something to the effect of am I," but she
couldn't be certain.  This conversation becoming more interesting with
every passing minute.

"He's protective as hell where you're concern~ MacAlister said.

"Okay."  She could accept that.

"But are you in love with him, A.J.?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to know.  Isn't that a good enough son?"

As she saw it, he was being downright unreasonalale~ she was prepared
to humor him.

"I care for Nick.  I always have.  He's the best frie have, and he was
the only one I had for the longest time helped convince me to get off
the streets, found me a [ to stay temporarily, then pulled a lot of
strings to get me NOrthwestern.  I don't know what I would have done
hadn't been accepted there, or if I hadn't received a pa
scholarship."

MecAlister shook his head in frustration.

"But are in love with him?"

As she saw it, she cofild have easily fallen in love, Nicholas Garrett.
And she would have been safe with t secure--coddled, even.

But that wasn't what she wanted would always have had more power over
her than she would have over him.  He'd been her teacher, her r Mtor .
her savior, even.  And she'd fought with every thinE had against
falling in love and making herself even r dependent on him than she
already was.

It frightened her to think that she could have just as
one-sided a relationship with Jack MacAlister, that he would always
have more control and more power over her than she would have over him.
That she would always have more at stake than he did.

Of course, she wasn't going to explain any of that to him right now.

But as he shot her an absolutely murderous look, she decided to put him
out of his misery.

"No, Jack, I'm not in love with him."

"Good."

"Is that good?"  She was teasing him, but she was a little afraid, as
well.

"Yes, A.J."  as far as I'm concerned, that's very good.  Did you ever
consider the possibility that he might be in love with you?  " A. J.
had been certain that she was reading this all wrong--that this wasn't
a case of a man making his intentions known to a woman, that this
wasn't a man making sure no other man stood in his way.

"Right now," she said, "I'm considering the strong possibility that
this is absolutely none of your business."

"And you'd be wrong about that."

She opened her mouth to tell him just how arrogant she thought he was,
but he silenced her quite effectively by touching a finger to her lips.
She felt a shiver work its way down her spine.

Oh, damn.  She was in trouble.  He was definitely.  interested.  What
in the world was she going to do about that?

"Tell the man how you feel about him, A.J. Make sure there aren't any
misunderstandings between the two of you regarding your feelings for
one another."

"Why?"  she said, her lips still tingling.

"Because if you don't, he's going to punch me one day soon.  Either
that or I'm going to punch him.  I don't think you want it to come to
that, do you?"

"Jack MacAlister, are you jealous of Nick?"

143.

"Do I have a reason to be jealous?"

"No."

"Good.  Tell the man how you feel."

She couldn't believe how happy that made her.  Ridiculously happy.

Giddy happy, silly happy, like a schoolgirl whose best friend has just
told her that the cutest boy in school is going to ask her to the
dance.

"Well," he demanded, "you will tell him, won't you?"

"Should I salute, or would a simple "Yes, sir' suffice?"  He was
fuming.

Served him right, as far as she was concerned.  He really was the most
arrogant man.  Dictatorial, too.  They would have to work on that.

"Are you going to him for' help in trying to get your memories back?"

MacAlister said.

"What if I do?"

The man seemed insanely jealous.  Because of her friendship with
Nick?

She wanted to laugh, wanted to tell him again that it was none of his
business, even though she liked' the idea of him insisting that it was.
And suddenly all things seemed possible.

"Go to him, if you want," he said.

She fought the urge to tell him she didn't need his permission,

"I may do that, Jack."

"Is it what you want?  To remember, I mean?"

She supposed they'd danced around that topic long enough.

"I'm not sure."

"You need to be sure,

"A.J."

She sighed.

"For the longest time, I didn't think any of that could hurt me if I
had no conscious memory of it.  But now I'm not so sure."

"Don't do it unless you're sure it's what you want for yourself."

A. J. could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"You sound like you're trying to talk me out of doing this."

"I don't want to see you hurt."

"It is going to hurt," she said.

"I won't even try to kid myself about that."

"I don't ever want to see you as afraid as you were yesterday."

He sounded dead serious; he sounded like a man who cared very much
about her and how she felt.

"Have you forgotten your job--if you still have one?"

"I promise you, I still have a job.  And don't try to change the
subject on me, because it's not going to work.  This is too important
for that.  Do you want to remember?"

She supposed he was right.

"If I do, and if I'm Annie, you could win this case and put Ray
Williams back in jail by putting me on the stand to testify."

"It may not come to that," he said.

"I'd fight with everything I have in me to keep it from coming to that.
I promise you."

And she had no doubt that he was telling her the truth.  Jack
MacAlister would fight for her as best he could.

She closed her eyes tightly and squeezed his hand.  She felt as if
she'd just been given an incredible and totally unexpected gift.  He
was going to protect her, to look out for her--and she was going to
trust him to do so.

The idea that he would be there for her, that she could count on him,
felt incredible.  No longer was she absolutely alone.

A. J. laughed-softly, then felt her eyes flood with tears.  Someday she
was going to figure out this crying business.  But she was a little
afraid that~ once she started, she'd never stop.

"A.J.?"

She put her hand up to her cheeks.  No tears there, although her eyes
burned with them.

"I don't know what to say."

"You believe me?"

"Do you think I could kiss you?"

Her lashes flew up, and her gaze locked with his. Her heart did a few
somersaults in her chest.  Her back was against the wall of windows,
and the panes of glass were cool against her much-too-warm body.

MacAlister guided one of her hands to his waist and slid his hand down
her forearm, to her elbow.  A. J. brought her chin up a notch, even
though she was dying to look away.  She could easily feel the heat
coming off him through his unbuttoned shirt, and she was finding it
increasingly difficult to breathe.

"All right?"  he asked as he placed her other hand at his other side.

She nodded.  It was all she could manage to do.

He smiled: ~"Do you trust me, A.J.?"

"Good."  He took one step closer to her.

"Just say the word, and I'll stop.  I promise."

She was drowning in his dark eyes.  She could see stubble on his cheek
that told her it was very, very late.

How would it feel to touch his face?  His hair?  His lips?  At the
thought, heat flooded her cheeks.

"What are you thinking?"  He was teasing her now.

She liked that.  She liked his soft, sexy voice, his positively wicked
grin, the twinkle in his eye.  She liked the way his skin felt beneath
her hands, and the way he was careful not to frighten her by pushing
too hard, too fast.

"I was thinking about you," she said, avoiding any reference to
anything more specific.

"Good, because I've been losing sleep over you."  Instantly, she
thought of him in bed, and that reminded her that they were in his
apartment, alone, late at night.  She was suddenly very nervous.

"Jack..."

"There's something I have to tell you."

When she didn't say anything for the longest time, he added, "I'm
listening."

 "I don't know anything at all about men."  She'd blurted out the
first thing that came into her head, the guts of her whole problem.

Nothing?  "She shook her head miserably.

"Nothing at all?"

"No."

He froz~ for a moment.  A flicker of something she recognized as pain
crossed his face.

"I know you ran away when you were a teenager, A.J.

I know you were on the streets for a while.  I realize what goes on out
there--how young girls survive.  " "Not that."  She was quick to
correct him.

"I never did that."

He considered for a moment.

"Someone raped you?"

"A couple of guys tried one night, not long after I came to Chicago.
But they didn't get very far.  They just grabbed me and tried to pull
me into an alley.  A couple of friends of mine stopped them fairly
quickly."

"So you've b~n cautious around men ever since.  That's to be
expected,

A. J. "

"Cautious?"  What a delicate word.

"Not exactly.  I just... I haven't had anything to do with...
anyone."

"You must have dated in high school."

"Dated.  Football games, the pizza place, the movies--that kind of
dated."

"Oh."  He was obviously considering his words carefully.  "And after
you got off the streets, when you were in college?"

She shook her head.

"After you graduated?"

She shook ~her head again.

"No one?"  he said incredulously.

"No one."

"Why?"

She shrugged helplessly, wishing she'd never started this
conversation.

"I told you ... I'm uncomfortable being touched."

"Do you want to tell me why?"

"It's something... inside me, something that must have come from that
time before I lived with the Jenningses.  Even with them, I wasn't that
comfortable being close to anyone.  I don't know why.  I can't remember
anything about the time before I was with them, and it didn't really
matter, anyway, until..."  She closed her eyes, which helped, a little.
"Until..."

Lord, why didn't she just bare her entire soul to this man?

Was there no end Io what she would tell him?

"Until now?"  he prompted.

Until Jack MacAlister had come into her life and brought out all these
feeling she'd never known before.  She nodded.  "Until now."

Then he gave her a beautiful, blinding smile, and she knew she'd done
the right thing in trusting him and telling him all of this.  Taking
her hands in his, he brought them to his lips.

With a touch as soft as a butterfly's, his' mouth pressed against her
hands, the backs, the sides, the fingers; across one hand and then the
other.  He bowed his head over her fingers, nuzzled them with his nose
and his warm breath.

"And now it matters," he said, opening her right hand and placing one
soul-searing kiss against her palm.

She gasped as a tingling mass of energ~ shot into her body from the
spot he'd kissed so tenderly.  So this was it, she thought.  The magic,
the power, that intangible thing between two people that had proved to
be absolutely elusive to her before.  She hadn't even dreamed about it,
because she hadn't seen the point in dreaming about something she would
never have.

 "Yes," she told him with a lfiugh, admitting it to him without one
regret.

"All of a sudden, it matters a great deal."

Still holding her hands, he kissed his way down to each of her
fingertips, making her whole body a tingling, quivering mass of
nerves.

"I'll tell you a secret," he said, and smiled.

"I've kissed a few hands in my day."

"I'll just bet you have."

"It doesn't usually feel like this, A.J."

She didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

"This" -- he kissed her hands one more time "--feels absolutely
incredible."

She smiled again, feeling as if all things were possible.  "Now," he
said, "what else do I get to kiss?"

He looked so serious, and she decided he was talking about a serious
kiss.

She looked down at her hands, which were still encased in his.

~ Did he know what he'd done to her?  With nothing but the touch of his
lips against her palm?

"Come over here and kiss me, darling'," he said, tugging on her
hands.

He pressed them against his chestwhis bare chest.  His skin was warm;
she'd known it would be.  She spread her fingers wide and pushed them
through the dark curls covering his chest.  The texture, the feel of
him, was So different.  She felt muscle beneath the warm flesh, felt
his heart thudding inside his chest; that gave her confidence to go
on.

He seemed so much taller, so much broader, so much more imposing than
ever before.  All he wanted was a kiss, she reminded herself.  Just
one.

His mouth seemed like it was a million miles away.  She had to stand on
tiptoe, bracing one hand against his chest; then she took her other
hand and pulled his head down to hers.

149 She kept her eyes open, watching his face.  His eyes had turned
smoky and mysterious, his jaw rigid, his lips .  She ran a trembling
finger across the bottom one.  They opened slightly at her soft
caress.

And then she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his.  Again,
she felt the touch right down to her toes.  His hands came up to her
arms, holding her in place, close, but without anything except their
lips touching.

His grip was strong and tight, and she couldn't tell whether he was
trying to keep her from coming any closer or keep her from running
away.

But she had no desire to run away.

His lips were soft and smooth, his cheek was rough against hers.  His
mouth opened, his tongue working magic on her lower lip.

"Don't stop," he said, his 'commanding tone gone, and something
different, but just as compelling, in its place.  She had no intention
of stopping.

With her hands on his wonderful shoulder muscles, her body imagining
what it would be like to have every inch of her pressed against every
inch of him, she opened her mouth completely to his.

He stroked the inside of her mouth.  His tongue thrust inside her mouth
in a wickedly sexy rhythm that had her imagining the two of them in bed
together, his body rocking smoothly and deeply inside hers.

She could see it.  She could see the two of them, could imagine how it
would feel.

A. J. ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair, then pressed her
palm against the roughness of his cheek.  She thought he was going to
devour her right then and there, the way his mouth was plundering
hers.

Her pulse was hammering, and she could barely breathe.  Suddenly, the
situation seemed to have gotten out of hand.

He was holding her so tightly.  She tried to back away, just a
fraction, and she couldn't.

 "Jack?"  she said against his lips, unable to keep the sound of fear
out of her voice.

He backed off instantly.  His lips spread into a smile, and his
forehead came down against hers.  "Scared you?"

"A little."

"Sorry."

She tried to shrug, but he still had hold of her arms.  His hands
kneaded the muscles there for a moment.  She noted with great
satisfaction that she wasn't the only one breathing hard at the
moment.

"I guess I got a little carried away," he said.

"It's all right.  I... I know this is silly of me.  I'm a grown woman
after all, and it was just a kiss..."

"A.J."  you don't ever have to apologize tome for the way you feel, all
right?  " Relieved, she nodded.

"But don't you dare try to tell me that was just a kiss."

"I wouldn't know," she said mischievously.  "I would."

And then he smiled at her, and she knew everything was going to be
okay, for now at least.  He had the most beautiful smile.  Wicked and
wild, something to make a woman sure he was up to no good.

She couldn't believe how good he was being to her, how understanding,
how patient.

She'd never expected something like patience f~from a man like him.

"So," she said.

"It was a good kiss?"

"Oh, darling'..."  He caught her hand and held it against the pulse
point on the underside of his neck.

"You think just any woman can do this to me?  With a kiss?"

"I told you, I wouldn't know about that."

"Then you'll just have to trust me on this.  And, A.J. ?"  "Hmmm?"

"Don't get any ideas about going out and practicing on some other man.
It just wouldn't be the same."

He didn't need to know that the thought hadn't even crossed her mind.

"You're sure?"  "Positive."

' But.  " "Are you trying to make me mad?"  "Jack, I would never do
that."

"Like hell you wouldn't."

And she couldn't tell then whether he was actually worried that she
might go find some other man to kiss or was just trying to lighten the
mood because he knew she'd been frightened for a second.

What in the world was she going to do with him?  She didn't want it
ever to end, but she didn't think magic ever lasted for long.

And this was pure magic.

 Chapter C

wo weeks later, A. J. and MacAlister were on their way back to Hope
House after an incredibly boring reception for a prosecutor who'd just
been named to a judgeship.

MacAlister had apologized in advance for dragging her to such a dull
event.

In truth, it hadn't been that bad.  She'd gotten into a wonderful
argument with an ultraconservative politician who, if he had his way,
would take away every bit of public funding Hope House had, then lock
up all the kids on the streets.  A. J. had shown admirable restraint in
telling the man what she thought of him.

"I'm sorry it was so dreadful," he said.

A. J. smiled and held her tongue.

She and Jack MacAlister were.  dating, she supposed one could call it,
for lack of a better term.

"Well, I guess if you have to go to such boring parties, I'd rather go
with you than have you take someone else."

It was a risk on her part to say it, but this was the best chance she'd
had to find out whether he was seeing anyone 153 else.  She kept
picturing him out with the cat woman it had her losing sleep at
night.

A. J. felt him watching her as they pulled to a stop at the curb near
the entrance to Hope House.  He put the car in gear, but left it
running because it was still near freezing outside.

He unbuckled his seat belt and turned so that he was facing her.

"In case you have any doubts, I'm not seeing anyone else but you."

She closed her eyes and tried to hide her smile.

"I'm sorry, da ding I didn't know I had to say that.  I thought it was
clear."

She shrugged helplessly, looking for a way to make light of his
confession.

"I thought... for your mother's sake ... to give her some hope..."

He roared.  ',I guess Ineed to take you home to meet my mother.  " "No,
you don't."  A. J. could just imagine what his mother was like--the cat
woman thirty years from now, all grace and no claws.

She could just imagine the woman turning up her nose at A. J. and
asking Jack what in the world he thought he was doing with a woman like
her.

"I suppose we could wait a little longer," he said.

A. J. couldn't tell whether he was serious.

"Of course," he said, "it's a risk.  If we wait too long, and she hears
about you, she might come looking for you."

"Looking for me?"

He nodded, quite seriously.

"She wants grandchildren and, unfortunately, I'm an only child, her
only hope."

"Oh... and you don't... like children?"

He leaned closer.

"I'm still looking for the right woman."  "Oh."

It was dark in the car, so his features were more in shadow than in
light.

She had an impression of dark, dark eyes, a wide, generous mouth, a
cheek she longed to touch.

 He was going to kiss her again.  Her breath caught in her throat in
anticipation.  She could sit here all night kissing Jack MacAlister.  ~
She put her hand on the hard line of his jaw, felt him smile in
response.

She ran her palls over the slightly roughened skin of a cheek in need
of a shave, knowing exactly how it would feel against her skin.  She
wanted to feel it again, right now.

"Go ahead," he said.

"Kiss me."

Her lashes fluttered downward, the breath left in her body deserting
her.

Kissing him scared her just a little, because the feelings were so
powerful, so immediate and so intense.  She woke up dreaming about
kissing him, went to bed with the thought playing in her head.  The day
before, he'd driven all the way across town at midnight because he said
he didn't want to let another day go by without the touch of her lips
on his.

It was heady stuff for a woman who hadn't been kissed in years.

She touched her lips to his now, and they opened without any urging.

He was impatient tonight, nipping and sucking and licking at her lips,
drawing them into his mouth, trying to devour her.

She couldn't get close enough to him, because they were still in the
car, and it made her impatient, and more than a little frustrated.

During the past two weeks, he'd done nothing besides kiss her.  And, as
steamy as those kisses' got he'd always held himself tightly under
control, At least that was what A. J, thought.  But if he felt the same
things for her that she felt for him, he must have incredible
self-control.

Either that, or he didn't want their relationship to go any further.

That was what she contemplated late at night, when he was gone, when
she was alone with all her insecurities.

She fought those thoughts off throughout the day, only to have them
return full force again every night.

He kissed her one last time, then pulled away.

i'You're going to hear about this tomorrow," he said.  " What?  " He
nodded over her shoulder.

"I think two of your regulars just walked by, and we hadn't been at
this long enough to steam up the windows yet."

"Oh," she said, the power of speech once again deserting her.

He just sat and looked at her in his special way that made her feel
feverish.

A. J. had a million questions she wanted to ask him, a million doubts
she needed to admit.  But she couldn't find it in herself to voice even
one more of them tonight.

"I guess I should get inside.  It's late, and I'm sure you have a long
day,"

she finally said.

He nodded.

"Meet me downtown for lunch?"

"I might be able to get away."

"I'll come looking for you, if you don't."

He pulled the car forward until it was right in front of the main
entrance to the shelter.

"Kiss me good night, A.J."

Their good-night kisses were slow and sweet, without all the heat, but
still enough to set her to trembling.

"Good night, Jack."

A. J. knew all about having her feet knocked out from under her.  She
knew all about the way life ran along smoothly for a time, lulling
people into a false sense of security, then jerked the rug right out
from under them.

Her life had been going along remarkably well.  She'd agreed to take
the blood tests that would likely prove beyond a reasonable doubt
whether she was Grace McKay's child.  And she'd resumed her 01d
arm's-length friendship with Grace and Carolyn McKay.  They'd even
managed to keep the secret that she might be Carolyn's long-lost sister
Annie.

She wasn't quite ready to go public with that bit of news, and in
truth, she
was trying to put the whole thing out of her mind.  There was no sense
in worrying over something that might not be true.  If it was true,
she'd deal with it.  If it wasn't, she'd be sorry for Grace and
Carolyn, because they wanted Annie back so much.

Whatever the outcome of the blood tests, she would go on with her life,
and she would work to find out whatever she could about her past. She'd
gone back to Nick and started therapy again, although they hadn't dug
very far into anything yet.  He wanted to take it slow, and they had
plenty of time.

At least she thought they had time.

And she and Jack were still seeing each other.  Quite often, they met
for lunch downtown, because he always worked late and her most hectic
time at the shelter was in the evenings.  And the schedule suited them.
It saved her what she was sure would have been those awkward moments
alone in his apartment at the end of the night, when she'd be unsure
what he expected or needed from her or when she'd be ready to give it
to him.

They had plenty of time, he told her, and he was more than willing to
wait for her.

It all seemed much to good to be true--and, of course, it was.

One night, about two weeks later, A. J. walked by the staff lounge and
noticed many of the staff members huddled around the television,
watching the evening news.

A little girl's picture flashed across the screen, and A. J. was
riveted by it.  The girl was eight years old, the news-caster said,
from Abbington, Illinois, and she'd been missing since early this
morning, when she hadn't shown up for school.

Two blocks, her sobbing mother told the cameras.  It was only two
blocks from her house, and it had been a beautiful, unusually warm
spring day.

She'd let her little girl walk to school, and she'd been able to see
her nearly all the way.  But something had happened to her.  Someone
had taken her off the sidewalk, not two blocks from her own home.

157 A. J. felt as if someone had smacked her in the face.  She stood
frozen to the spot, horrified, waiting for the last piece of
information.

That man.

Ray Williams.

She'd recognized him that day in the lineup.  There was no other
explanation for her reaction.  She'd recognized him, and she hadn't
been able to face up to that.  At the time~ she hadn't pushed herself
to remember and given MacAlister the information he needed to keep that
man in custody.

And now look what he'd done.

Ray Williams's face flashed across the television screen.  A. J. stood
there, paralyzed, for a moment, as the anchor team chatted among
themselves about the FBI having had the man in custody, only to have
the U. S. Attorney's office let him go last month.

A. J. ran for the door.

MacAlister wasn't at his office.  She used the fancy phone he'd given
her to try to call him there, and when he didn't answer, she called his
apartment and still got no response.  Figuring that, since he didn't do
anything besides work and sleep, he had to be on his way home, A. J.
raced toward his apartment in the new van he'd given the Shelter.

It seemed like forever before she got across town, past MacAlister's do
oman up the elevator and to his apartment.  MacAlister opened his door,
took one look at her and steered her toward the sofa.

"I'm so sorry," she said, sitting down.  She didn't want to think about
how much she'd needed to see him, to be with him right now.

"About what?"

"The little girl."  She could barely get the words out.

"I couldn't believe it when I heard, and... I just had to come and tell
you how sorry I am."

 "About what, A.J.?  What's happened?"  he asked, sitting beside
her.

"That little girl from Abbington who's missing."  She couldn't believe
he hadn't heard.

"What about the little girl?"

"Ray Williams" -- She choked on the name.

"He took her."  "No, he didn't."

He seemed so sure of himself, and she wanted to believe him.  But her
heart was going ninety miles a minute, and she couldn't erase the
memory of that little girl's face.

"I saw her," she insisted.

"On TV.  I saw Ray Williams's picture, too."

"And someone said he took her?"

She almost jumped right in ~nd said yes, but the fact was, she'd been
so upset at that point that she wasn't listening carefully.  Could it
really not be true?

"They showed his picture' on TV, right after the girl's, and they said
he'd been in custody but that you'd let him go.  I just... I was sure
that he took her."

"Oh, darling'..."

He grabbed her hand, then pulled her closer, so that her head was
resting on his shoulder.  She didn't even think of resisting.

"I was certain that he took her."

"No.  I knew he couldn't have done that, but as soon as I heard about
that little girl, I checked with the FBI.  Williams is under constant
surveillance.  He didn't go anywhere this morning, and there was no way
he could have taken that little girl."

A. J. leaned into him, her face buried in the side of his neck, his
big, strong arms around her.  She'd gotten used to him touching her
like this.

She'd come to welcome it, to crave it.

How had he come to mean so much to her in so short a time?  What would
she ever do without him?

"It'san right," he said.

159 "No, it's not.  He could have been the one who took her."

"Not the way we're watching him."

"Come on, Jack."  She felt strong enough now to sit up straight and
look him in the eye.

"The FBI's lost a few criminals in its day.  Ray Williams could get
away tomorrow and grab some other child, and you know it."

"They know what kind of man he is, and they're not going to lose
him."

"What if they did?"  she insisted.

"What if he grabbed another little kid?  I don't think I could handle
that kind of guilt."

"Guilt?  Over what?"

"Letting him get out."

"We've been over this," he told her, in his most intimidating
prosecutor's voice.

"If Ray Williams grabs another kid, then Ray Williams is the guilty
party here.  Not you."

"I'm the only one who can stop him."

" She felt a crushing weight settle on her chest as she admitted it, to
him and to herself.

"I

have to do it.  I have to remember.  everything, so that man will never
have the chance to hurt anyone again.  " "You're trying to remember.
You're working with Nick."

"But it's not enough.  And it's taking so long.  We haven't gotten
anywhere yet, and it's been two weeks."

"So," he said, "it's been nearly eleven years since you lost all those
memories.  You can't expect them to come back in two weeks, darlih'.
Don't push yourself so hard on this, and don't you dare blame yourself
for anything Ray Williams does."

"I would," she said.

"I wouldn't be able to stop myself.  If he ever hurt another child like
that, I'd never forgive myself."

He paused for a second, looking worried.

"A.J."  I need to tell you' something It's about someone I used to
know, a
woman.  I probably should have told you about her a long time ago, but
I was sure you'd read something into it that simply isn't true.  " She
forced her chin up a fraction of an inch, though all she really wanted
to do was hang her head.

"Go on."

"Her name was Miranda.  I met her in college, and we dated for a
while."

Dated?  She was sure this wasn't about someone he'd just dated.

"Were you in love with her?"

He shrugged off the question.

"It was ten or twelve years ago."

"And you were in love with her."  She was certain of iL-"Yes," he
admitted.

"I suppose I was in love with her."

And did he still love her?  Still miss her?  A. J. felt as if she'd
been blindsided.

She'd gotten so close to this man, so fast-.  ~She felt as if he'd
opened up a whole new world to her.  And she couldn't imagine trusting
another man the way she'd let herself trust Jack.  Couldn't imagine
baring her soul to another man, explaining her insecurities and
idiosyncrasies to him.  She didn't think anyone else could possibly be
as understanding and as patient as he'd been with her.  And she didn't
want to find out.  She wanted Jack, and no one else.

So this Miranda, this woman from his past, had her scared to death.

"What happened to her?"  she managed to ask.  "She died."

"How?"

"She killed herself."

"And exactly why are you telling me this, Jack?"

"Because you remind me of her."

"Oh."  The sound was more a long, low sigh than anything else.  She
couldn't help it.  She felt as if someone had laid a ton of bricks on
her chest, and she could barely breathe, let alone think.  She reminded
him of this woman 161 he'd loved and lost?  A. J. supposed that
explained quite a number of things.

She'd wondered why a man like Jack would he interested in a woman like
her.

Now she knew.

"Wait a minute, A.J. Let me explain this to you."

She nodded.  It was all she could manage to do.

"She had this way of taking the whole world's problems onto her
shoulders, especially her family's problems.  And her family had
serious problems.  Her stepfather was abusing her little sister.  I
think he abused Miranda, as well, but I'm not sure~ She never told me,
not about any of this.  It only came OUt later, after she died.

"She felt responsible for what happened to her little sister, because
apparently her stepfather didn't come after her sister until Miranda
went away to college.  She made 'it out to be her fault, instead of her
stepfather's.

"A.J.?"  He took her hand in his.

"You can't take the.  whole world's problems and make them your own.
You can't be responsible for anyone's problems but your own.  ~And you
can't blame yourself for the bad things that other people do.  If Ray
Williams gets off on this kidnapping charge, it won't be your fault."

"I know I shouldn't, but ... if I had done everything I could to make
sure he stayed in jail..."

"It's not your responsibility," he insisted, "I tried to make it yours
in the beginning, and I was wrong.  I'm sorry I pushed you like that. I
get a blind spot sometimes, when I'm heavily involved in a case, and I
just can't see anything else but what it will take to win.  But, as I
said, I was wrong."

"I understand why you did it," she said.

"I can be the same way when I'm fighting for something for the shelter.
I'd do just about anything for the kids down there."

"I know, but, darling', you have to be careful there, too.  You can't
solve all their problems.  You can't save all those kids, and you can't
tear yourself up about the ones you lose."

 "I care about them, Jack."

"Too much."  "Someone has to care about them.  They don't have anybody
else."  She didn't seem to be getting through to him at all.

"Jack, I'm not going to kill myself because of something that happens
to a kid who shows up at the shelter."

"I didn't say you were.  I said you remind me of Mir-," and a, because
you care so much for other people and because you want to hold yourself
responsible for things that are totally out of your control.  " And she
couldn't very well argue with that, because most of it was true.

"You must have loved her very much," she said~ changing the subject.

"Mostly I felt guilty as hell because she died."

"Because you didn't see it coming?  Because you couldn't stop it?"  ~'
"Because I must have been the most selfish man in the world, so caught
up in my own life, my own problems, that I didn't have a clue as to
what was going on inside her' head."

"And now you're going to make up for that in some way by watching over
me?"  It all made sense now.  And it hurt like hell.

~"No, dammit," he said.

"I knew you were going to make this connection.  That's why didn't tell
you sooner."

"It has to be connected, Jack."

"i considered it at first," ; he admitted.

"A.J."  I told you I wouldn't lie to you about anything, and I won't.
I've turned this over and over inmy mind, and I'm certain of it.

This thing between you and me isn't about Miranda.  " "I can't believe
that."

"Then I'll just have to make you believe it."

"Jack " "Worry, sure.  I worry that you're going to get your memories
back, and that you'll need me and I won't know 163 what to do to help
you.  I worry that you're so damned independent that you won't let me
help you.  But that's it, A.J. That's where the similarities end.  I
swear."

He waited.  She said nothing, and he made one final plea.  "Please try
to believe that."

" " I will.  " She could promise to try, even if she didn't see how she
could ever manage it.

"And don't shut me out."

"I'll try not to.  But I still have to try to remember.  I have to do
what I can to stop Ray Williams."

"If that's what you have to do.  Will you let me help you?"

 Chapter C

ac Mister took her back to Hope, Illinois, the little town where Annie
was born and raised, the place where she was last seen alive.

Nick had argued vehemently against it, and he'd refused to try to take
her back to that time through hypnosis.  He didn't think she, was
ready, and he wouldn't do it, despite her threats that she'd find
another therapist who would.  And then, because she Couldn't imagine
going to someone new and having to tell that person everything Nick
already knew about her, she backed down and settled for a trip to Hope
instead.

Mac Mister didn't think she was ready to go back to that little town,
but A. J. had stood firm on that point.  She didn't know what else to
do to try to jog her memories.

And she had to remember.  She felt a new urgency about the situation
that frightened her.  Something bad was going to happen, something very
bad, and she had to stop it.

She and MacAlister had driven alone in his car--she hadn't allowed
anyone else to accompany them.  Nick had wanted to be here.  Carolyn
and Grace had both wanted to 165 come, as well, but she'd known it
would be difficult for them, and she thought they'd make it more
difficult' for her.

A. J. tensed a little when they passed the first sign for the town
limits, and she couldn't help but think of the irony of a place that
had been the home of so much grief for the McKays having a name like
Hope.

The place had a small-town flavor that made it very different from
Chicago.

She took in a car dealership and a big chain grocery store, both of
which looked too new for Annie to remember.  The downtown area had
obviously been refurbished recently, with freshly painted storefronts,
fancy tiled sidewalks and ornate black lampposts reminiscent of days
gone by.  But none of it looked familiar to her.

"Do you want to go by the house or the park first?"  MacAlister said.

Fortunately for them, the McKays had lived in the same house for
thirty-five years, until a few months ago, when Grace and Billy had
moved to Chicago Their old house was still for sale, so A. J. could see
it much the same way it would have been when Annie was growing up
there.

A. J. knew the park was a few blocks away, and that Annie had been
walking from the park to her house that day in August when she
disappeared.

No doubt the park would hold the scariest memories for Annie, and A. J.
was getting more and more nervous with every passing mile.  She wanted
this over with as quickly as possible.

"The park," she said.

MacAlister turned right, and A. J. glanced' out the side window at row
after row of old houses, lovingly cared for, with wide front porches,
window boxes that she imagined full of color, big shade trees hanging
over the road.

Was one of them Annie's house?  She couldn't bring herself to ask.

MacAlister knew where he was going.  He'd been here months ago,
interviewing
people about Annie's disappearance and trying to find anyone who'd
seen or heard of a man named Ray Williams.

He found the park with no trouble, and pulled into a parking space.

A. J. waited until he got out and came around to her side of the car to
open her door.  She gave him her hand, holding on to his tightly, and
managed to get out of the car.

It was the middle of March, still cool, the wind making it bitingly
cold, the sky a gloomy gray.  The park was deserted.  There was a small
playground with swings and slides, a few benches, a wide-open field,
and a walking path surrounding the whole park.  Then she saw the line
of trees.  A. J. looked around at the bare branches of the trees,
ghostlike on this gloomy, wintry day, and at the occasional evergreens,
the only touch of color.  There were fallen leaves that no one had
bothered to rake from the previous autumn, now trampled down to a
washed-out brownish color, and a beaten path leading from the open
field into the woods.

"Annie went through there?"  she said, hating the thought of going
there now.

"Yes.  They were having some sort of town picnic that day, here in this
open field.  Annie's mother forgot something, and she~ asked Carolyn to
walk back to the house and get it.  Carolyn ran into Drew, and Annie
ended up going back to the house instead."

A. J. had never asked for the specifics; it seemed so sad now, sad for
everyone involved.

"How old was she?  Carolyn, I mean."

"Seventech.  I think her mother didn't quite approve of her seeing
Drew, so they'd snuck off somewhere while Annie went back to the
house."

"She must have felt so guilty," A. J. said.

"I hadn't even thought of that.  It would have been torture for her.
And Billy's almost ten years old, so she must have either been pregnant
then or gotten pregnant shortly afterward.  Drew 167' said he never
even knew about Billy, so he must have left town shortly after Annie
disappeared.  What an awful mess."

They stood there in silence, and A. J. felt ashamed of herself for
having made those poor people wait so long to find out whether she was
Annie.  This whole thing was so much more complicated than she'd ever
imagined, and it had touched so many lives.

Could it.  ever be made right again?  If she was Annie, she had no
memory of that.  Would it all come back in a rush?  And if it did,
could she just step into this ready-made family Because she was willing
to bet that was what they would want her to do.  And they were
expecting the old Annie back, the innocent little thirteen-year-old.

A. J. couldn't be that girl for them.  Too much had happened to her.

Too much time had passed.  She wondered' how they would all manage to
deal with that.

"Annie?"  someone called in their direction.

A. J. turned and found a woman, about her age, may he older, stepping
off the walking path and moving toward them.  Her eyes were wide, and
her expression was one of disbelief.  She looked as if she'd seen a
ghost.  Or 'as if she believed she'd seen aghost.

"Oh, my God!"  the woman said.  She looked around, found no one in the
park but the three of them, then cautiously stepped a little closer.

A. J. didn't know what to say.  MacAlister came to stand beside her and
put a hand around her waist.  She leaned into him, in an action that
had become so automatic, it should have frightened her.

"Is it really you?"  the woman asked.

MacAlister stepped in and saved her from answering.  He extended his
hand toward the woman and said, "I'm Jack MacAlister."

The woman took his hand, but didn't take her eyes off A. J. "I'm
April," she said.

"April Thomas ... but that's my married name, so you wouldn't remember
it.  I used to be April Jacobs."

The name meant nothing to A. J. "I'm sorry," she said.  "I don't
remember you."

"I was a good friend of Carolyn's, and you look so much like her
sister, Annie."

"I'm sorry," A. J. said helplessly.  She hadn't anticipated anything
like this, though she supposed she should have.  After all, Nick had
picked up on the resemblance right away, and he'd never known Annie as
a child.

"I've been hearing the most outlandish things around town, ever since
Grace McKay and her little boy left town.  But I didn't see how they
could be true," the woman said, refusing to let go of the subject.

"We really need to be going," MacAlister said.

"It is you, isn't it?"  the woman said.

"You disappeared from this park-- What was it?  Ten years ago last
summer.

I'll never forget that day.  I was here for the picnic.  The whole town
was.

And all the mothers were too scared to let their kids out of their
sight that whole summer."

MacAlister took A. J. by the arm and turned her toward the woods.

"You're going to have to excuse us," he said, as he and A. J. began to
walk away.  ,

"But" -- the woman sputtered.

"Wait a minute!  It is you, Annie, isn't it?"

A. J. never turned around.  MacAlister kept walking, and, the way he
was half holding her up, she had no choice but to keep walking, as
well.

They made it to the edge of the woods before they stopped.  A. J.
finally allowed herself to turn around and look behind her.  The woman
was still there, still watching them but, thankfully, not following
them.  "You okay?"

"MacAlister said.

A. J. could only nod.

"Damn busybody," he said.

"Let's get out of here," she told him.

169 He looked back, then forward.

"We could cut through the woods."

"Is that what Annie did that day?"

"Maybe," he said.

"She either cut through them on her own or someone dragged her into the
woods.  They found her mother's house keys and a man's footprint
there."

"That's it?"

A. J. said.

"Nothing else?"

"Not a thing.  Until you."

She looked up at him, unsure how.  Io take his comment, and still
shaken by what the woman had said.

"I don't know what to think anymore."

"Do you want~ to be Annie?"  he asked her.  "I don't know."

"I realize you're frightened of' what happened to her when that man
took her, and I understand your apprehension.  But look at what else
you'd have, if you were Annie.  You'd have a real family, A,J.  The
McKays are good people.

Wouldn't you like to be a part of a family like that?"

She shrugged helplessly.

"I'd like to be Annie, for their sakes, because I know how much it
would mean to them.  They want her back so much.  But how would they
handle it if, after getting their hopes up 'like this, I'm not
Annie?"

"What about you?"  MacA!  ister said.

"I know Annie's family wants her back.  I know you'd like to give Annie
back to them.  But what about you?  What do you want for yourself?"

"I want my memories, my past."  And she wanted him.  She wanted to come
to him knowing every deep dark secret held within her.  She wanted to
be whole again, to be free of the ghosts of her past, for him.

And she wanted to start over, for the fourth time in her life.

Now there would be a new beginning, her life come full circle, all the
pieces fitting together, all the possibilities spread out before her.
She wanted it for Jack.  She wanted to be with him, in ~very way
possible, wanted to spend
the rest of her life with him.  Of course, that was still just a
dream.

She couldn't confide that in him now, when neither of them knew what
this trip might reveal.

Part of what she was doing was for Sara Parker, and for that little
girl taken a couple of days ago.  But she couldn't lie to herself.

Part of what she was doing was also for her-self--and for Jack.  She
wanted that new beginning for them.  And she was prepared to go through
hell to get it.

They walked hand in hand along that path through the woods where Annie
had disappeared.  They came to a small white cross stuck in the ground
beneath an' old oak tree.  The inscription on the cross read Annie
McKay--Gone but Not Forgotten.

A. J. closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the wind blowing
through the trees and thought about what it must have been like for
Annie.

She remembered Ray Williams when she'd seen him in the lineup that day.
She remembered the feeling of evil that had pervaded the room.

Was it here, as well?  Would she feel it just as strongly as she had
when Ray Williams was in the next room?

But she didn't feel it now.  She felt sad for Annie.  " but she didn't
recognize this place, she wasn't frightened of it.  Nick had told her
not to expect miracles, that memories buried so long and so deep didn't
just come flooding back at once.  They would probably come slowly, in
bits and pieces, like small clips of a movie flashing through her head.
He'd said she would never know when one would start running or when it
would end.

Nick had told her to take her time, to look carefully at every little
detail, to see if anything~ smelled familiar or sounded familiar, to
see if she knew things that only someone who'd been in this town before
would know.

So far.  " she'd found nothing.

"I don't... There's nothing here, nothing that I remember."

MacAlister pulled her to his side and held on to her for a long moment.
He wasn't sure whether he was relieved or saddened by the fact that, so
far, nothing was coming back to her.

He didn't want her hurt any more.  He wanted to stand between her and
everything in this world that had the power to hurt her.  He wondered
if she'd even have thanked him for that.  She was, after all, a
fiercely independent woman.

He was scared about what they were going to find in this town, about
how-she would handle it and how he would handle it.  He didn't care
what anyone had done to her in the past--it wasn't going to make a
difference in the way he felt about her.  Mostly he worried that it
would make a difference in how she viewed herself.  He knew that some
victims irrationally blamed themselves for things that had happened
through no fault of their own.

If he could take her pain upon himself, he would: That was how far over
his head he was for the woman.  Yet these feelings between them that
had grown so strong were still so new, The whole relationship was so
fragile.

Reluctantly he loosened his hold on her and stepped back.

"You all right?"

She nodded.

"Say the word, and we'll be on the road back to Chicago, okay?  This
town isn't going anywhere.  It will still be here when you're ready to
do this,"

"It's never going to be easy, Jack."

~"I know, but you don't have to do this right now, either."

She pulled completely out of his arms, though he wished she'd stay
right there.  She straightened her shoulders, stuck that cute little
nose of hers up in the air and tried to erect that invincible air of
hers--damned stubborn, independent woman that she was.

 "A.J."  give it a week or so.  A few days, at least.  " She shook her
head.

"The house isn't far from here, is it?"

"A few blocks."

"We can walk?  Through the woods?  The way Annie would have that
day?"

"Sure."  At least they wouldn't risk running into that woman from the
park again.

"Let's go."

The walk didn't take long.  A. J. timed it by the watch on her wrist.

Five minutes.  Imagine that--losing a child in the space of five
minutes.

People waited that long for elevators.  Waited that long in lines at
the grocery store.  Did a million mundane things in that time span.

MacAlister walked briskly down the sidewalk, past old but
well-maintained houses and lawns.  He paused at the wrought iron gate
to a two-story home with a For Sale sign in the front yard.

A. J. looked up at the place.  It had a wide fgont porch.  She wondered
if there'd ever been a porch swing there, if Annie had ever sat init.

What would it have looked like with a tricycle on the front lawn-and
toys scattered on the porch and in the grass?  She couldn't imagine,
although the McKays had lived here for thirty-five years.

"Well?"  MacAlister said.

"Nothing.  Can we get in?  Do you have a key?"  "Carolyn gave me
one."

They walked through the gate, down the path and up the steps to the
porch.

"Are you ready for this?"  he said, the key in the door.  A. J. waited,
hoping the house would somehow speak to her, that she would feel some
sense of homecoming.  But she didn't, not yet.

"Let's go inside," she said.

173 He turned the key, then took her hand.  She absolutely loved the
feel of her hand in his, thought she could get through anything if- he
was at her side.  And she wondered if she'd ever find the courage to
tell him that, if she'd ever feel clean and whole and capable of giving
to him as much as she knew he would give to her--if they ever managed
to have the kind of relationship she wanted from him.

She wouldn't settle for less.  If she never answered-these questions
about her past, never knew what terrible things had happened to her
when she was little, she didn't see how she could trust herself to
enter into any kind of relationship.  It simply wouldn't be fair.

They walked across the threshold and were surprised to see some
personal items still in the house.  A comfortable-looking old sofa, two
chairs beside it, some photographs still on the walls.  She glanced
into the kitchen; it was small, old-fashioned.  It looked like the kind
of place where someone would still make homemade bread, something Grace
McKay did very well.  She could see the woman working here, could
imagine Billy playing in the backyard in the tree house she glimpsed
from the kitchen window.

"Why would they leave all this behind?"  she said.  " "Their home? It's
about fifteen miles from Ray Williams's house, for one thing."

"Oh... I didn't know that.  I was talking about all their furniture,:'
" I think they've bought a duplex in Chicago, but the sale hasn't gone
through yet.  I supposed they left some things here, rather than put
them in storage while they were in their smaller apartment,"

MacAlister said.

"Plus, when they moved out, they already knew about you.  I think they
wanted Annie to be able to come home one last time."

A. J. put her hand over her mouth.

"How incredibly sad."  "You need to be prepared for something else."
"What?"

 "Annie's room.  It hasn't been touched.  It still looks the way it
did the day Annie disappeared."

A. J. took in that bit of unsettling news.

"Well'... I guess that's where we need to go."  She headed down ~the
hallway to the right, then turned back to MacAlister.  "I don't have
any idea where it is."

"That's all right.  I do."  He turned and headed up the stairs: - A. J.
held the railing in a death grip.  She couldn't say why.  It was just a
room, after all.  A lost little girl's room.  And if the memories were
there, well.

that was what she wanted.  In the end, that was what needed to happen.
She had to push through the bad ones to get to the good.  And obviously
there had been a lot of good times in Annie's life.  There were still
good memories to be made--memories of a loving mother, a sister, a
little boy raised to think of himself as Annie's brother.

She knew~ from working with the kids at the shelter, that a loving
family was a very precious thing, and not something to be taken for
granted.  How would it feel to have a family again?  A real one?

"Here.  it is."  He paused in the doorway.

"Sure you're ready?"

She nodded and he opened the door, Pink was every-where--pink ribbons
and pink flowers on the old-fashioned bedspread, stuffed animals
sitting on the bed and against the wall.  The furniture was off-white
wood with burnished gold trim.  There were hair ribbons draped over the
side of the mirror, and pictures of other kids stuck into the sides of
the mirror.

It was such a sweet room, a little girl's dream room.  And A. J. didn't
remember a thing about it.

In a daze, she walked over to the bed and sat down.  She grabbed a
white stuffed bear, because it was closest to her, and held it in her
lap.

Her throat felt funny, and her vision had become blurred.  MacAlister
dropped down on one knee in front of her so that he could look her in
the eye.

"What is it?"  he said gently.

"Nothing" -- She choked on the word.  She'd been so sure this would do
it, and so sure she was Annie.  The McKays were so certain, she'd
almost come to believe them.  That was why it was so hard to admit,
both to herself and to him,

"I don't feel a thing."

"Wait.  Just sit there.  Give it a minute.  Remember what Nick told
you.

Look at the details.  Smell the smells.  Touch the little things.  Feel
them in your hands.  Listen to the sounds around you.  " She shook her
head.

"There's nothing."

"A.J."  it's been more than ten years.  You didn't expect that you'd
walk into this room and everything would come rushing back, did you?  "
"I 'thought ... if I could make myself do this... come here... that it
would.

It sounds so silly now.  But I thought it would just come back to
me."

A. J. ran her hands over the bedspread of pink flowers threaded through
with pink ribbons, then walked over to the closet and looked at a few
of the dresses.  The shoes were there, too, worn-out 'sneakers,
scuffed-up party shoes.  It looked asif Annie had been a tomboy.

She pulled one of the hair ribbons through her fingers.  Annie had had
a ponytail, as well.

And then she picked up a small silver chest with the daintiest legs.

It ~was heavy.  She wondered what kind of treasure a thirtee~~year-old
would keep inside.  She wondered what else-- MacAlister's beeper went
off, reminding her that he was still in the room.

"Sorry," he said, turning it off and checking the number.  "I need to
get to the car and use the phone.  Will you be all right while I'm
gone?"

 "I'll just come with you," she said.

"Are you sure?  This will only take a few minutes.  Or it can wait. The
world's not going to fall apart if I don't return a phone call within
two minutes."

"What?"  She said.

"I must' not have heard you right.  You ignoring a phone call?  And
thinking that your office can do without you for that long?"

He smiled--she suspected because he knew she needed to smile as well.

"You work just as hard as I do.  And you're the one who thinks the
shelter's going to collapse if you're not there for one night."

"I do need to call them," she said, determined to ignore the things
left unsaid about the house and her nonexistent memories.

"Why don't we just go check into t~e hotel?"  "You're sure?"

She shYugged.

"We'll be here tomorrow.  If I need to come back, I can do it then."

She'd been so sure there would be something here that she would
remember.

Some little thing that would trigger a memory that would let her know,
in her own heart, that she was Annie.

But there was nothing.

The message on his beeper indicated that Drew had called, but
MacAlister couldn't get through to him, because the phone lines were
busy.  So they drove to the bed-and-breakfast where they had planned to
spend the night.

It was a beautiful house, huge, whitewashed, with porches and balconies
and lots of windows.  A. J. didn't remember it at all.

They checked into separate but adjoining rooms on the top floor of the
house, then went out to dinner.  A. J. didn't eat a thing.  And she
couldn't help but feel as if half the people in the restaurant were
staring at her.  She heard the 177 whispers behind her back, saw the
heads turn toward her, then quickly turn away when they were caught
staring.

Finally, a waiter they hadn't seen before came to their table to offer
them an after-dinner drink, then knocked over a glass and broke it when
he got a good look at A. J. "Let's go," she said.

"Now, please."

"Of course," MacAlister said, reaching into his pocket, finding him
keys and handing them to her.

"Go out to the car.  I'll be there in a minute, as soon as I pay the
check."

Grateful for the chance to get away, she took the keys and left.  She
thought every eye in the room was on her as she made her way through
the restaurant and to the car.

She climbed into the vehicle, turned on the ignition so that she could
start the heater, then sat there in the darkness and tried to calm
herself.  All those people seemed to be staring at her, whispering
about her--she hadn't even thought of encountering anything like that.
Did she look that much like Annie?  Was it that obvious for anyone to
see?

So why didn't she feel like Annie?  Why hadn't the house Or that spot
in the park triggered any memories for her?

The car phone rang, and she gave a start.  MacAlister hadn't come out
of the restaurant, and she knew he still hadn't gotten in touch with
Drew.

She picked up the phone.

"Hello."

"A.J.?"

"Yes."

"It's Drew.  Ineed to talk to Jack.  I've been trying to get him for
hours.

Is he there?"

"He's on his way.  He should be here in a minute.  Do you want me to
have him call you?"

"I beeped him, about three hours ago, and I've been waiting to hear
from him."  He hesitated.

"It's important, A.J."

"Something's happened, hasn't it?"

Again he hesitated.

"I need to talk to him."

"About me?"

 "About a case we're working on."

"Ray Williams's case?"

He took a deep breath, then let it out.

"Yes."

A. J. felt a nasty shiver work its way UP her spine.  The car door
opened, and she jumped again, then realized it was Jack.

"What is it?"  he said.

She got out and stood on shaky legs, then handed him the phone.

"Drew, for you."

A. J. leaned against the car and crossed her arms in front of her, then
hung on for dear life.

She knew what was coming.  She'd felt it that day she saw Ray
Williams.

She'd known that something bad was going to happen, that she had to
hurry and remember everything, because she was the only One who might
be able to stop it.  And now it didn't matter anymore.  It was too
late.

Jack leaned against the open doorway.  She heard him swear, once, then
again.

"How the hell did that happen?"  She closed her eyes tight.

"When?"  Jack said into the phone.

"And no one's seen him since?"

No one's seen him since.

It wasn't what she'd feared--that he'd snatched another child.  But it
was still bad.  And it was something she hadn't even considered.

A. J. looked around her, into the night, and the' town seemed unusually
dark and quiet to her, The shadows had turned menacing, the peaceful
quiet now utterly eerie.  ~ Ray Williams was loose out here
somewhere.

Chapter C

he couldn't sleep that night.  She tried soaking in the bathtub,
reading, counting sheep.  Nothing worked.

Finally, sometime after midnight, not caring how cowardly it was of
her, not even caring if she looked like a clinging, helpless female,
she knocked on the connecting door between her room and Jack's.

He opened it quickly enough that she knew he'd been awake, too.

"Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head.

"We could not sleep together," he suggested with a sly grin.

"That's the best invitation I've had all night."  She took the hand he
offered and walked into the room.  Only once inside did she start to
feel a little uncomfortable.  A huge antique four-poster bed dominated
the room.

MacAlister was only half dressed.  His shirt was completely unbuttoned.
She took one quick glance at his powerful chest, then blushed and
looked away.

 g She hadn't seen him this way since the night she'd confessed
exactly how little she knew about men.  And she couldn't say that she'd
learned a lot since, except that kissing him was better than chocolate.
And A. J. had a serious thing for chocolate.

She made her way to the window that overlooked the now deserted street
and asked, "Have you heard anything?"  "No."

Looking into the moonless night sky, she asked, "You said he doesn't
live far from here?"  - "About twenty minutes."

Her breath came out in a long, unsteady rush.

"A.J."  I know where he's going.  We all know where he's going.  He has
a cabin somewhere in the woods of southern Illinois or Indiana, and I
bet there's enough physical evidence there alone to convict him, If
he's smart--and I think he is--he's gone there to destroy that
evidence.  " "Which means he'll go free."  That thought made her sick
inside: "No," he said.

"We're fairly certain we know the approximate area where the cabin is,
but there are tons of them down there.  And I can't get a search
warrant to go through them all.  But we have cops all over those woods.
We're 'going to find him, hopefully right after he leads us to his
cabin.  And 'then we've got him."

"I don't know," she said, laying her forehead against the coolness of
the glass.

"I've had such a bad feeling about this... ever since I saw him that
day.  I knew something awful was going to happen.  I thought for the
longest time that it was what he'd done to Annie so long ago or to me,
that I was going to remember it, and it would be just awful.  But now
I'm not so sure.  Do you believe in premonitions?"

"No."

That was just- like him--practical, logical man that he was.

181 "I do," she said.

"I think something terrible is going to happen."

He came to stand behind her.  Slowly he settled himself against her
back, putting his arms around her.  A. J. rested her head against his
shoulder, feeling better than she had all night, now that she was safe
and in his arms.

How had she ever made it without him for so long?  And what would she
do if she ever lost him?

"Nothing bad is going to happen here," he said.

She wished she could believe that.

"He's out there, somewhere.  He could be right across the street, and
we'd never know."

"Think about it, A.J. Why would he come here?"

"Because I'm here."  That possibility hadn't hit her until the past
hour.

"Williams doesn't even know about you," Jack said.  "You're sure?"

"We've been very careful to keep this quiet.  If the TV people had any
idea that one of his victims might have gotten away from him years ago
and been located again, that person wouldn't have had a minute's peace.
You wouldn't have had a minute's peace.  So believe me, we've been very
careful with this information.  Ray Williams has no idea who you are or
where you are."

"The people in this town know.  I bet that woman we ran into at the
park went home and called everyone she knows and told them Annie was in
town today.

And you saw how all those people were staring at me at the restaurant
tonight."

"Do you want to leave tonight?"  he said.

"No ... I just ... I want you to hold on to me tonight, and not let
go."

It was the closest she'd ever come to telling him how much she needed
him.

She held her breath, waiting for his response.

 He only held her tighter.  She soaked in the warmth of him, the
strength, the solidness.  It was heavenly, in the face of all her
irrational fears.

"I know it's silly," she said, "but I'm just so scared."  Jack kissed
her cheek, then put his lips against her ear.  "You need to understand
something.

He'd have to kill me to get to you."

And he meant it.  She knew he did.  She'd never thought she'd take
comfort in the fact that one man might take the life of another to
protect her, but she did.  Right then, she took great comfort in
that.

~"Oh, Jack..."  How had it ever come to this?  A madman on the loose,
her in a town only minutes away from him and in love with a man she
didn't think she could ever have.

She was in love with Jack, she realized.  She loved him for his
strength, his determination, the way he had of making her laugh when
there was nothing funny about anything.  She-could even overlook his
incredible arrogance and his tendency toward bossiness.

Because she loved him.  She needed him desperately'.  She wanted him in
her life, today and every day.  Forever.

His arms pulled her even closer.  He kissed her cheek once again, and
his voice was slightly unsteady as he told her,

"I'm not going to lose you now."

A. J. caught her breath.  She wanted to know exactly how he felt, but
was afraid to ask.  She didn't think she was up to hearing the
answer.

When they were like this, when he talked to her like this, the
possibilities seemed endless.  But when she was alone at night,
thinking about the kind of life he led and about how different his past
was from hers, she didn't see how anything could come of this
relationship.

Could she even call it a relationship?  He hadn't done anything more
than kiss her and hold her like this.  And she found herself wanting
more.  At times, when she felt particularly brave, she wanted much,
much more.

. But as she saw it, men like him had either sexual relationships or
pure friendships.  This thing between them didn't fit into either
category.  And if he wanted it to be more than it was, he~d never told
her or shown her.

So she could only assume that he didn't want anything more from her,
and she still had enough insecurities about her past to think she knew
why.

She couldn't say for sure, of course.  Only he could, and in order to
find out what he thought, she'd have to ask.  She didn't think she had
the courage.  And she'd thought they would have all this time to sort
these things out.  But now that man was out there somewhere.

What if they didn't have any time but now?

What if these feelings she had--these premonitions of evil, of
danger--came true?  What if they came true tomorrow, and this night was
all she had with him?

She'd want to spend it with him.  It was as simple, as exhilarating and
as frightening as that, She wanted to be with' him, tonight.

How would a woman with experience go about that?  Would she show him
somehow?

A. J. shied away from that.  She could just tell him.  They could be
perfectly' rational about this.  Surely it didn't have to be that
complicated.  "Jack?"

"Hmm?"  She still had her head against his shoulder.  He still had his
lips next to her ear, and she shivered with pleasure as his warm breath
settled against the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Do you think... we might..."  She took a deep breath and forced
herself to go on.

"I mean... I was wondering..."

"What, da ding

"If you might want to make love to me.  Tonight?"

It sounded ridiculous to her own ears, and she closed her eyes and
wished she could take back the words and just stay here in his arms all
night.

 She felt him go still behind her, felt what she thought was a smile
creep across his lips.

"Is this a trick question?"

"Don't you tease me now, Jack MacAlister."

"Okay," he said, then had the nerve to laugh.

"I must not have heard you correctly."

"You're a rat, Jack."

"And you want to know if I might want to make love to you."

"Tonight," she added.  That part seemed vitally important.

"Darlin'~ I don't see how you could possibly have any doubts about
that.  You want to explain that part to me?"

Not really.  A. J. swallowed hard and wondered how much courage she had
left.

"So you do?  Want to, I mean?"

Again, he laughed, then turned quiet enough to really worry her.  One
of his hands moved downward, coming to rest flat against her abdomen.

The muscles quivered and clenched beneath his palm.

"Be still," he said.

His voice had taken on a low, husky tone that she didn't think she'd
ever heard from him before.  It did funny things to her.  Her cheeks
flooded with heat, her knees went weak, her breath caught in her
throat.

She felt him settling himself carefully behind her, bracing himself
with his legs wide apart, then pushing her back against him with his
hand still over her abdomen.

He pushed her back until her hips were flush against him, and then she
felt it.  She felt him, big and hard against her.

A streak of pure, unadulterated sexual attraction shot through her,
from that point where their bodies pressed so intimately together.  It
spread through every inch of her being.

Her skin felt different, ultra sensitive The hair on the back of her
neck was standing on end, and she wasn't sure she 185 could have stayed
on her feet if he hadn't been holding her so tightly.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered against her neck.  "I'm not," she
insisted.

"You are, but there's no reason to be."

"But you're..."

"Aroused?"  He seemed to take delight in the fact that she wouldn't say
it herself.

"But we don't have to do anything about that."

"What if... I wanted us to do something about that?"  "Wait a
minute."

He backed away from her, then turned her around to face him, still
holding her by the arms.

"Let's get something absolutely clear between us.  I swore to myself I
wasn't going to pressure you in any way to do anything you're not'
ready for."

,I know.  " "And you took that to mean that I didn't want you?  Is that
what you're telling me, darling'?"

He looked incredulous, and she wondered if she hadn't actually misread
the whole situation.  She'd told him she didn't know anything about
men~ Maybe she knew even less than she thought, she decided
miserably.

"And here I thought I was being such a gentleman," he said.

"Oh, Jack.  I'm sorry.  I don't" -- "How could you think I didn't want
you?

Why, A.J.?  I think that's the real question here.  Why would you think
I didn't want you?"

She was even more miserable than before.

"I think I need to sit down."

"Okay."

She sank into the chair by the window.  He sat on the wide edge of the
windowsill and faced her.  "Could we turn out the lights?"

"If you want."

 She nodded.  Not having to look him in the eye right now sounded
pretty good.  She felt more vulnerable than she ever had in her life.

He clicked off the overhead light and came back to sit on the
windowsill.

"Why would you believe I didn't want to make love to you?"

"You think I'm Annie," she said, hoping that would be enough.

"Go on."

"You know what happened to her.  Surely we can both make a pretty
accurate guess.  Surely I don't have to spell it all out for you."

"I think you do."

"I feel so dirty," she said, nearly choking.

"No."  Jack said it like a curse, feeling as if he'd been blindsided.

I feel so dirty.

That heartfelt confession made him feel like a heel.

She was ashamed about something over which She had no control,
something that had happened to her when she was just a child, something
that in no way was her fault.  Yet She was still ashamed.

Jack wanted to break something.  He wanted to smash something into a
million pieces, wanted to hear it shatter.

He wanted to break Ray Williams apart.  If he could find the man, be
would do it.  But this wasn't what A. J. needed right now.  She didn't
need to hear about how angry the situation had made him.

"I could understand," she said, "if you didn't want to be with me,
because of what that man did to me."

"No, darling', no."  He put his hands against her lips.  Then he fell
to his knees in front of her and took her face between his hands,
leaving her no choice but to look at him.  "I never thought that.  I
never felt anything remotely like that."

187 And then Jack knew that she had no idea what he felt for her.  He
wondered if she'd let him tell her tonight, wondered if she was ready
to hear it.

He turned away for a moment, trying to get hold of himself.  He didn't
have a lot of experience with love.  He'd certainly never gone looking
for it.  Not too long ago, he hadn't even been sure he believed in
it.

He understood honesty, commitment and trustwsurely they were the basis
of most of the relationships he'd seen, the ones that had lasted, at
least.

But what else was there?  What was this elusive thing called love He'd
thought he loved Miranda, but that had been so long ago.  He hadn't
been nearly as Cynical back then, or as jaded.

Now there was A. J. " and in the space of a couple of minutes she'd
told him that she would understand if he didn't want to make love to
her, and that she felt dirty because of something she couldn't even
remember.

There was a burning sensation in his throat and his eyes, a pressure
that had settled into them.

"Oh, darling', what am I going to do with you?"  He caught her chinin
his hand and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

And then he didn't know what to do.

He wanted to keep her, forever.  He wanted to love her and take care of
her arid pamper her, lock her away somewhere so that no one could ever
hurt her again.

He wanted her to be his and to belong to no one but him.  He would
gladly give himself to her in exchange.

His throat was even tighter than before, and his vision had gone
blurry.  He wasn't sure what was happening at first, and then he felt
the wetness of tears on his cheek for the first time in years, probably
since he was a kid.

"A.J."  -- He choked on her name.

"I had no idea you felt that way.  I swear it.  And if I ever did
anything to
make you feel like that" "No," she said.

"It's not you.  It's me."

"I'm so sorry, darling'."

A. J. watched the tears form in his beautiful, dark eyes, as they had
in hers.  And then she watched those tears spill over onto his
cheeks.

She was amazed as she watched him, this big, powerful man with tears on
his cheeks because of her.

She was struck by that.  It seemed a terribly intimate and powerful
thing, to see them and to know that they were for her, that they.

somehow indicated how strongly he felt about her.

Something shifted inside her, some deep-seated and monumental thing.

He'd always had a way of loosening the grip she maintained on her
emotions, and he'd done it again now.  '~ A. J. put her hands on his
face and followed the path of his tears with her fingertips.

"I don't want to hurt you," he told her.

"Not ever, not for anything in this world."

"I know that," she said.

"We need to get some things straight," he said, then stood and pulled
her up beside him.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

He moved to the bed and threw back the covers.  Then he situated
himself in ~he middle of the enormous bed, his back against the
polished mahogany headboard.  Come and sit with me?  " She eyed the bed
warily.

"Do you trust me?"  he asked.

"Yes," she replied, climbing onto the bed.

He pulled her close, her head against his bare chest, her side pressed
to his, his arms around her, the covers pulled up for added warmth.  He
ran his fingers through her hair for a moment, then kissed the top of
her head.  She shivered yet again, not knowing at all what to expect
from this.

189 "A.J."  there's nothing you could possibly find out about that man,
about anything he might have done to you, that's going to change who
you are or what you are.  Surely you know that.  " Maybe she knew that.
Maybe she could reason it out that way in her head.

Her feelings were another matter altogether, and they had nothing to do
with logic or reasom

"He can't hurt you anymore, claflin'."

And then, miraculously, she started to cpj.

She brought a trembling hand up to her cheeks, amazed by what she felt
there.

She wiped the moisture away, only to have the tears fall faster than
she could catch them, They spilled down her cheeks, onto his chest,
catching in the fascinating curls there.

She tried to wipe them off his skin, then realized that she'd been
looking for some excuse to touch him.

"I didn't think you ever cried," he said.

He caught her hand flat against his heart.  It was pounding, she noted
with great satisfaction.

"I haven't cried in years," she said.

"I didn't think I could anymore."

"Darlin', you can do anything.  I promise you that."  She smiled
through her tears.

"How is it that you seem to know exactly what t Say to me?  Exactly
what I need to hear?"

"I'm telling you what I believe in my heart.  No matter what happened
in your past, it doesn't have any power over you except what you give
it.  Don't let it hurt you any more."

"I,..  I'm trying not to, but it's hard.  Nick told me the same thing,
and" -- "Wait a minute," he said.

"Could we leave good old Nick out of our bed, please?"

A. J. laughed.  Jack always knew when she needed to laugh.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous, Jack."

"You know damned well I'm jealous."

 She supposed she'd hoped he was, though it had seemed like a lot to
hope for.

"You really don't have any idea how I feel about you, do you?"  he
said.

"I know that you care about me."

"That's putting it mildly, t.J."

And that scared her so much, she decided there was nothing left to do
but change the subject.

"But I know you're uneasy about my past.  What man wouldn't be?"

"I think you're changing the subject, darling'."  "We can't ignore
it."

"We can't ignore how I feel about you, either," he insisted, pulling
away so that he could see her better in the near darkness of the
room.

"But if you don't want to know..."

She was afraid to know, and some of that must have shown on her face,
because he was watching her even more intently now.  His hand came up
to her face, to tilt it up toward his.

"A.J."  would it be so terrible for me to fall in love with you?  " She
thought her whole heart was lodged in her throat.  It seemed to have
lurched inside her, then started pounding.

And she couldn't say anything.  She could barely breathe.  "A.J.?"

He could be so gentle at times, could lose all that cockiness, that
teasing tone of his.  He touched her so gently, so softly, held her so
tightly, made her feel so safe and so at home with him.  She'd never
thought she'd find that with any man.  And if she did find it, by some
miracle, she didn't see how it could possibly last.

"Don't say any more," she begged him.

"Please, don't."  He looked as if he were about to argue with her, but
in the end, he didn't.

"All right.  What is it you do want to talk about?  Tell me why this
can't work."

191 She cleared her throat with some difficulty.

"My past.  I know you're... uneasy about my past."

"Darlin', you are the one who's uneasy about your past."

"You can't tell me that it doesn't mean anything to you, Jack.  Don't
lie to me about that."

"I'll never lie to you: Never."

"I'm sorry.  I do know that."

"We're back to sex, right?"

She nodded.

"You think I don't want to be with you, because of whatever that man
might have done to you.  Is that it?"

"You can't tell me you don't have some reservations about it ."

"Okay, yes, I have some reservations.  But I don't think we're talking
about the same things, A.J. Tell me about yours, and then I'lltell you
about mine."

She closed her eyes and searched her heart for the worst of her
fears.

"I'm afraid it's going to bring back bad memories for me, that I won't
be able to separate in my mind what he did to me and what you and I
will do, even though I know they're totally separate things."

He pulled her back toward him, pushed her head down to his chest and
held her tightly.

"So maybe it's going to take some time to work it out.  We have time,

A.J."

all the time in the world.  We'll stay in this bed until we get it
right, until it feels as incredible to you as I know' it's going to
feel to me.  " ' She smiled, in spite of herself.

"We'll stay here until we get it right?"

"Believe me, I'm more than willing."

"I love you, Jack MacAlister."  She hadn't meant to say that.  It had
just come out, but it felt so right.  And then she looked up and
pressed her fingers against his lips.

"Don't say anything, please."

"A.J .... "

"Please.  You said you'd give me time."

 "But I wasn't talking about time to tell you how I feel."

"You promised," she said.

"And you said if I told you about my reservations, you'd tell me about
yours."

"Okay," he said finally.

"First, I don't want to frighten you.  I don't want to push you into
anything you're not ready to do.  I don't want to bring back any bad
memories for you.

And I'm worried that I won't know how to help you, if this does upset
you."

"That's it?"  she asked tentatively.

"I want to make this good for you.  I want you to enjoy it as much as I
will.

What else did you expect me to say, A.J.?"

"That man... We don't even know what he did .... " "We don't have to
know what he did.  We know what you did, A.J. And you haven't done
anything wrong.  You don't have any reason to be ashamed about
anything."

But shame wasn't something logical, she decided.  And she couldn't seem
to believe it was all so cut-and-dried to Jack either.

"It has to have some bearing on your feelings for me," she said.

"It does.  I just told you about them.  I told you everything except
this.

Whatever that man did to you, it doesn't make me want you any less."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Oh, Jack."  She wanted to believe him, She wanted that so bad.

"I

don't know what to say.  " "I do.  I want you in my bed, whenever
you're ready, and we can do whatever you think you're ready to do.  I
can wait for that, A.J. I'll wait as long as it takes."

He was too good to be true.  Patient, kind, generous.  What more could
she want in a man?

She wanted him.  She'd wanted to be with him for a long time, but she
hadn't known how to tell him that, hadn't been sure she had the courage
to go through with this.

193 But she trusted him.  She'd trust him with her life, and with her
deepest, darkest secrets--once she figured out what those were.  And he
said it didn't matter to him, anyway.  Maybe she could get to the point
where it didn't matter to her, either.

"I guess you didn't notice," she said, "I'm in your bed right now."

"Believe me, I noticed."

"I think I'd like to stay."

 Chapter C

. J. felt Jack tense.  She couldn't help but be conscious of the fact
that they were safely locked away from the rest of the world, in this
room, in his bed, together.

She was scared, but impatient.  She wanted to do this} wanted to get
past this first time, which she thought was certain to be awkward at
best.  She wanted to get past all that, to the laughter, the joy, the
love, that she thought was waiting on the other side of this void in
her memories.

"A.J.?"  Jack said, his hand on her head, stroking through her hair,
then working through some of the tension in her shoulders.

"Hmm?"

His hands were big, warm and strong.  She couldn't help but shiver at
the thought of the pleasure those hands could give her, by doing
nothing but stroking slowly along her body the way they were doing now
to her back.

"If you change your mind, at any time, tell me to stop, and I will."

"I know."

195 "You don't have to be afraid."

He slid down the bed, lying now instead of sitting, and eased her
on-top of him, She was surprised by just how much bigger and stronger
he was than she, how easy it would be for someone of his size to
overpower her.  But she wasn't afraid of him.

"So... are you going to tell me what to do?"

He laughed huskily.

"There are lots of things we could do.  Why don't you tell me what
you'd like to do?"

"Uh... I'm not sure.  I really hadn't thought about it."

"Then I must he doing something wrong."

"Okay," she said.

"Maybe I've thought of a few things."

"Name one."  ~ "You could kiss me.,"

"Where?"

She pointed to her cheek, His lips touched her, softly, slightly.  She
shivered, and he pulled the covers up higher around her shoulders.

"I'm not cold," she told him.

"Neither am I, darling'.  What else can I kiss?"

She worked up her nerve and set her lips against his, felt his harshly
drawn-in breath, felt his hands shift to her arms and pull her a little
closer, his tongue slip inside her mouth, his taste as sweet and as
intoxicating as the finest wine.

Her breasts felt strange--full and heavy, her nipples puckering into
little points that pressed against his chest.  She wondered what it
would feel like to lie against ~him this way, with absolutely nothing
between them.  And the thought excited her.

He kissed her again and again, deeper, stronger, faster, as if he
couldn't get enough of her.  His hands were in her hair, then on her
face.  His breathing was suddenly as unsteady as hers, and he shifted
his legs, opened them, and once again she felt his arousal.  Pressed
this way against her, she couldn't help but wonder how he would ever
fit inside her.

"What's wrong?"  he asked, picking up on her tension.

 She felt utterly ridiculous for asking.

"Are you sure it will fit?"

He smiled against her lips.

"You're going to have to trust me on this one, darling'.

And she did.

"Kiss me again," he said.

And she did that, too.  He kissed her back, kissed her cheeks, her
eyes, her ears, her neck.  She couldn't help but moan aloud when he
came to the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

"That's good?"  he said.

"That's very good."

He did it again, and pleasure shot through her body.  He rolled onto
his side, taking her with him.  His hands moved down her back until
they cupped her hips, and he fit her to him, then rocked gently against
her.

A. J. felt a strange tension building inside him, felt a heat, a
heaviness, an insistent throbbing at the juncture of her thighs, felt
an answering response in his body.

She struggled to get even closer to him.  His lips were moving downward
now, along her collarbone, along the upper curve of her breasts.  She
buried her hands in his hair, urging him closer, urging his mouth
lower.

He took her nipple into his mouth, through her shirt, and the tension
was more than she could stand.  Her body jerked in a bewildering spasm
over which she had no control, and she cried out in surprise, in
pleasure, and held on to him.

She felt~ for a second as if the whole world had fallen away every
problem she had, every fear, every insecurity-leaving nothing but
pleasure so intense she'd never known it existed.  There was nothing
but the pleasure and Jack.

She opened her eyes, noted that he'd gone still beside her, and that he
was smiling like the devil himself.

"Was that-- ?"

He nodded, still smiling.

197 "Just like that?"

He laughed.

"I mean, I knew that happened, sometimes, to some women... " Darlin',
let me tell you something.  This isn't going to be as difficult for you
as we thought it would be.  " "Oh."  And then she smiled, too.  Then
she laughed.  She'd never thought she'd find herself in bed with Jack
MacAlister and laughing.  It felt wonderful.

"I'm so happy."  "So am I, darling'.  So am I. And, A.J.?"  -- "Hmm?"

"It gets better."

It did get better, much better.  He stripped her naked, and the look in
his eyes when he saw her that way for the first time was enough to set
her whole body trembling again, His breathing wasn't as steady as it
had been, and it became even more ragged when she undressed him and
started exploring.

t. J. felt a heady thrill of sheer feminine power when she realized
that this was affecting him as much as it was her.

Somehow she'd assumed that he would be the one with all the power here.
She was relieved to find out she'd been wrong about that.

She ran her hand along his shoulders, through the dark cloud of hair on
his chest, then lower.  The muscles of his stomach clenched, and she
heard him moan.

Curiosity driving her on, she moved her hand still lower, stroking him
lightly with her fingertips, She felt his whole body stiffen in
response.

"Are you sure this is all right?"

"All right doesn't begin to cover it," he said.  " She smiled, loving
the feel of him in her hand.  She used her fingertips, then the palm of
her hand, then let him show her what he liked.  To her surprise, she
found it as arousing touching him as having him touch her.  She was
starting to understand exactly what it meant to make love with a man.

 And she wanted more.  She wanted everything.  Her body was starting
to demand it, and Jack must have sensed her need.  His hands were all
over her again, stroking, teasing, finding the warm, wet, aching spot
between her legs.  She forgot all about what she was doing to him,
couldn't think about anything but his hands down there, between her
legs, stroking her that way.  She felt the tension 'building within her
again, knew this time what that meant, and soon she went spinning out
of control all over again.

The feeling was stronger this time, sweeter, even more intoxicating,
than before, when she hadn't known what to expect.

She came back down slowly, a smile spread across her lips, which he
kissed again and again.

"You are an amazing woman," he said, rolling on top of her.

Her thighs parted automatically as she welcomed him~ He nuzzled her
neck and shoulders for a minute, giving her time to come back down
before they started again.

How many times could they do this?  she wondered.  How much pleasure
could one woman take in a single night?

"Still want more?"  he said.

"In the top drawer, in the nightstand, there's something I think we're
going to need."

"Oh," she said, all flustered, when she found a small foil packet.

"I

forgot all about that.  " She fought the urge to ask him when he'd
bought them--or, worse, for whom he'd bought them.

"A man has to have hope, A.J.," he said, showing again that uncanny
ability to read her mind.

He took the packet from her hand, and she waited while he put it on.

"You're sure?"  he asked again.

' "Yes."

199 She felt the weight of his body settle heavily over hers, felt him
draw in a long, unsteady breath.  Obviously she wasn't the only one
eager for this to happen.

His mouth came down on hers, hard and insistent.  She writhed against
him, trying in vain to get close enough to him.  And she clung to him,
praying that the day would never.  come when she had to let.  him go.

She felt him nudge her legs apart, felt the blunt tip of his arousal
poised against that aching emptiness of hers.  "Don't be afraid," he
said.

She put her hands on his hips and urged him closer.  She felt the
pressure, slight at first, then stronger.  It did frighten her a
little.  She tensed.

He backed away.

"What's wrong?"  she said.

"Nothing."  He kissed her mouth.  His fingers were inside her by then,
stroking and opening.  She forgot to be scared, because it felt so
good.

Just when she thought she was going to come~ apart again in his arms,
he stopped.  She cried out in frustration until she felt him position
himself above her again.  This time, it was going to work.  She was
determined that it would.  And she wanted him inside her, all of him.

Still, A. J. felt the resistance in her body return.  He started to
pull away again, but there was no way She was going to let him.

"Don't you dare stop now," she said, putting her hands on his hips and
pulling him to her.

The pressure continued, enough to make her uncomfortable, but not
enough to make her back away.  "Wait a minute," he said.

"No.  Don't leave me, Jack."

"I won't.  I..."

And then the resistance was gone.  He surged forward, burying himself
completely inside her.  And it felt.  it felt so good.

 He didn't move at first, and she thought she'd done something
wrong.

Her body started to move beneath his.  She rocked back-and forth,
tentatively at first, then with greater confidence.  He let her know
just how much he liked that.

She'd thought she understood the power, the urgency, the depth, of the
desire, that a man had for a woman.  But what she'd felt before was
nothing to compare to this.  He was on top of her, his arms around her,
his mouth on hers, his body joined together with hers in the most
intimate way possible, and still she wanted more.  She needed more.

She felt him tense again above her, saw his jaw clench, his eyes close,
then realized how greedy she'd become.  "Don't," she said.

"Don't stop."

"A.J."  He groaned her name, then ground his hips against hers in long,
deep strokes, faster and faster, until she thought she couldn't stand
it anymore, She sank her fingernails into his back, fighting him for
something she didn't even understand.  Then she felt a deep, heavy
throbbing inside her; it was him~ his body reacting in just the way
hers had before, the way hers did again.  She felt him shatter in her
arms, and then she followed him down into a well of pleasure unlike
anything she'd ever known.

In spite of his gruffness, his tendency toward bossiness, the
self-assurance that bordered on arrogance, Jack MacAlister had a
definite tender side, one he was showing her in abundance.  Cradling
her in his arms as if she were made of the thinnest, most fragile
glass, he stroked her, crooned to her, kissed her tenderly, all while
she cried her eyes out.

It took her forever to convince him, through uncontrollable tears, that
nothing was wrong, that nothing had gone wrong, that what he 'was
seeing was nothing more than relief.

201 Making love to him had been unlike anything she'd ever imagined,
and it hadn't brought back any dire memories for her.  Not a one.  She
felt cleansed by the whole experience, freed by it.  She felt whole
again, strong again, in control again.

She felt incredible, and so relieved that she simply could not stop
crying.

"God, you nearly scared me to death," he said, once she'd finally
explained it all to him.

"i'm sorry."

He kissed her briefly.

"It's all right.  I'm not worried about me.  I'm concerned about
you."

"I'm fabulous."

"Yes, Miss Jennings, I'd have to say that you are."

She found she could still blush quite easily, where he was concerned.

"I can't believe how easy it was and how wonderful it felt.  I was sure
that if anything made me remember, it would he' this."

"No bad moments?"

"No."

"A.J."  did I hurt you?  " "No, why?"

"You were so... tight."

"I was nervous."  She couldn't understand what he was getting at.

"Darlin', it wasn't a case of nerves.  You were ready for me.  I made
sure of that."

"Then... I don't understand."  Had she done something wrong?

"You liked it."

"I loved it."

"But there was a problem?"

He took her face in his hands and smiled down into her eyes.  She felt
marginally better.

"No, darling', not a problem."

"Then what?"

 His face wore a silly grin.

"I'm no expert on this... but... da ding I don't think you've ever done
this before."

"I told you I hadn'f."

He turned his head to the right and laughed a little.

"We're talking pure as the new-fallen snow, A.J."  "Pure?"

"Innocent.  As in... virgin."

She didn't move for a second, didn't even blink an eyelash.  "Me?"

He nodded.

A. J. thought her heart had just stopped beating.  She'd never
considered that.  Never.  She'd been so sure that .  that she was Annie
McKay.  and that man had taken Annie, and he'd.  surely he'd done
that.

"I don't understand," she said.

"How could that be?"  "I don't know, darling'."

"Oh."  And then she just sat there with her mouth hanging open, not
knowing what to say.  A few minutes later, she had even more tears
running down her cheeks.

"Hey," he said, wiping them away.

"I thought you'd be happy about this."

"I am."  She struggled helplessly.

"I'm... I can't believe it."

"Believe it, A.J. Whatever that man did to you, he didn't rape you."

"I was so sure.  And this... this takes some getting used to."  "I
know.

Did I mention that you happened to be incredible in bed?"

She shook her head.

"You don't have anything to worry about on that score.  And the rest
of.  it, whatever it is, we'll handle it, A.J. I promise."

She believed that she had come to him as pure as the new-fallen snow,
as he'd put it.  And she would have loved to believe that she was
fabulous in bed, and that they could handle absolutely anything that
happened from this.

point on.

She prayed, as she hadn't prayed for anything in years, that Jack
MacAlister loved her with the kind of love that endured forever,
because she couldn't imagine going through this without him.  It
frightened her how very much she'd come to lean on him, to trust him,
to need him.

How many men could possibly have been so understanding about her past?
So kind, so caring, so absolutely sure that she could handle this?  She
needed that from him, needed it desperately.

And she was scared of losing it.

When she woke up the next morning in his arms, after they'd made love
again sometime shortly before dawn, she couldn't have been happier.

He showered, dressed, then went downstairs in search of coffee and
something for them to eat.  She soaked in the tub and dressed, all the
while dreaming of staying with him in this room, locked away from the
rest of the world, forever.  Surely their life would be perfect.

And then he came back upstairs and showed her the latest edition of~
the local newspaper.

Annie's picture was on the front page, next to a photo taken of an
unaware A. J. sometime yesterday afternoon.

The headline read: Annie McKay--Home At Last?

She didn't bother to read the story but Jack told her the highlights of
it.

From the innkeeper he'd learned that the woman who'd spotted them in
the park yesterday afternoon was the daughter of the mao who owned the
newspaper.

Someone from the paper had been calling the inn all last night, but
Mrs.  Adams had refused to put the call through to A. J. "s room.  Of
course, A.J. hadn't been there anyway.

"It gets worse," Jack warned.

 "How?"

"I gave Drew a Call this morning while I was downstairs.  He said
apparently someone from the paper here started calling the papers in
Chicago to get information on the status of the Williams case, and once
they explained why they needed it, the Chicago papers got interested in
the story, too.  You made the Chicago front page, too."

"Oh.  So leaving town isn't going to help."  She walked to the window,
spotted a satellite truck with a television-station logo and half a
dozen people milling around outside, two of them with cameras.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"When we came here, I didn't even think about people recognizing
you."

"It's not your fault," she said.

"I didn't think of it, either."

"It's going to be even crazier in Chicago."

"I know."  She looked longingly around the room, taking in the big, old
bed that had held such magic, the lock on the door that she had thought
could hold the world at bay}.  Couldn't they have had one more day? One
more night?  "Do we have to go back?"

"Not today.  But we can't stay here."

"I could have stayed here forever," she said.

"Believe me, darling', I had plans for us in that bed.  But they're
going to have to wait."

"It's ... it's so unfair," she said.  They had just for the first time
last night, had just figured out that worst fears about her past simply
were not true.

No man had ever touched her the way he had.

no demons waiting in her past to ruin what the two of them had found
together in this room.

And she wasn't ready to leave.  She wasn't ready to let reality intrude
upon this precious time she had with him.

It was too new, she warned herself.  Too fragile She still hadn't
worked up the nerve to ask him exactly what all this: meant to him,
wasn't ready to hear him say that he-was 205 falling in love with her,
when she would still have so much trouble believing his words.

And things were so crazy that she simply hadn't had time to sort out
her own feelings.  She was still getting used to the idea that she'd
come to him as innocent as the day she was born.

"I don't want to go," she said.

"I know.  Neither do I. But we can come back someday.  Or we'll find
another inn just like this one, where no one knows us.  We'll turn off
the car phone and refuse to tell anyone where we're headed."

She thought for a moment that she was going to cry again.  The tears
came so easily now, she couldn't seem to stop them.  And she hated the
idea of turning into a helpless, weeping, clinging woman.  ~ "Hey,"
Jack said, cupping her chin in his hand and turning her face to his.

"We have the rest of our lives to lock.

ourselves away.  Besides, you still have a lot to learn.  " " Oh, I do?
" He grinned.

"And I can't wait to teach you."

She smiled back at him, but couldn't help wondering if ~ this was some
novelty that would wear off in time.  How long could innocence be that
seductive?  How long could she hold' on to him?

She still saw them as worlds apart.  She'd seen the kind of women who
inhabitated his world.  Beautiful, sexy, full of self-confidence,
raised in the mansions along Chicago's Gold Coast, their mothers
friends of his mother, their fathers with social and political
connections.

What if Jack had some political ambitions of his own?  She could see
one of those women by his side, but she couldn't see herself there.

She imagined that one day she'd go back to her world--the South Side
and her kids, .  and he'd go back to his, the penthouse on the lake.

"A.J.?  You're a million miles away."

 She shrugged with as much nonchalance as she could manage.

"And I don't think I'm going to like-hearing what's going through your
head right now."

"It's nothing," she said, wondering if he had any idea how much she
needed him, and how she hated needing anyone this much.

"I guess we have to get out of here," she said.

"Not this instant," he replied, reminding her that he made his living
prying information out of people.

She decided to try telling him a half-truth, hoping he wouldn't see it
as such.

"I don't want to leave this room, all right?  I'm not ready for this to
be over."

"Darlin', this isn't over by a long shot."

She closed her eyes and prayed that it wasn't.

"I'm so angry that... that man is intruding on my life this way."  "I
know,"

he said.

"Anything else?"

Her back to him, she looked out the window at the people outside.

There were more of them now.

"Damn," she said.

"I guess we do have to be going.  I don't want to answer anyone's
questions, and I don't want my picture taken, or one of those cameras
filming me for the evening news."

And then she put everything together.

"Oh, God, Jack.

I didn't even realize until just this minute, but"-- He was beside her
in an instant.

"What?"

"If I'm in all t~he papers."  my name, my picture.  " " What?  " "Ray
Williams got away yesterday.  He knows now.  He knows all about me.

What if he decides to finish what he started?"

Chapter C

Much as she hated to let him go, she did.  While he made arrangements
to get them out of the inn without A. J. having to walk past all those
reporters, she hid behind the room's locked door.

Alone with her irrational fears about Ray Williams.  Jack promised
that, once they got away from here, he wouldn't let her out of his
sight until the man was caught, and she believed him.  She also
believed him when he said Ray Williams would have to kill him to get to
her.

And yet, she was still afraid.

Her premonition that something terrible was going to happen was growing
stronger.  Ray Williams was loose now, and if he'd read any paper, seen
any newscast, he knew who she was.  If he wanted to find her, he
could.

And the only way to get him off the streets was to give Jack the
information needed to put Williams behind bars.  And only she had that
ability.

 She wanted to be free to worry about nothing but herself and Jack and
how they were going to spend the rest of their lives.  She couldn't
live in fear of her past any longer.

There was only one way she could get the information to help convict
that man.

And she was afraid.

They ended up sneaking out the delivery entrance.  The innkeeper was
kind enough to loan Jack her car for a few hours as his was parked out
front.

They walked out the inn's back entrance and climbed into the woman's
car without being seen.  Luckily for them, the-reporters hadn't yet
grown into such a mob that they were covering all the exits to the
building.

"Can we go back to the house today?"  A. J. said.

"Annie's house?"

"I don't see why not, as long as it's not surrounded.  Did you
'remember something?"

"No, not yet.  But there has to be something inside that house that I
remember."

A few minutes later, they arrived at the house, happy to find it as
deserted as the day before.  Jack wanted his own car back, so that he
would have his mobile phone, so they had stopped at the corner and made
arrangements for the innkeeper to meet them at the McKay house to trade
cars.

As a precaution, they parked in an alley behind the house and went to
the back door.

"Did you hear anything about Ray Williams this morning?"  she asked
Jack as he unlocked the door.

"Nothing, but I haven't checked in with anyone in Chicago in the last
hour and a half.  I'll stay down here and watch for Mrs.  Adams, and
when she brings the car, I'll make my calls."

She ~nodded.  Once inside, A. J. went upstairs and, without hesitation,
walked into Annie's old room.  She examined every item there carefully,
picked up each of the stuffed 209 animals on the bed, then went through
the jewelry box, the clothes in the drawers, the shoes in the closet,
everything.

And she found nothing.

Defeated, A. J. left the room and went into the one next
door--Carolyn's old room, she guessed from the soft rose color on the
walls and the white furnishings.  Tired, frustrated, scared and angry,
A. J. sat down on the bed.

Her gaze wandered around the room.  Carolyn had said she'd left to go
to college in Chicago, then taken a job there after graduation.  So
she'd never come back here to live.  A. J. gathered that some sort of
tension between Carolyn and her parents had developed when Grace took
Billy to 'raise as her own son.  She wasn't sure of all the details,
and she hadn't asked about them.  But now, as she sat here in Carolyn's
old room, A. J. thought it was all So-sad--the image of Grace
McKay,never changing her house, waiting for her two girls to come
home.

A. J. looked around, noting that there were still a few girlish thing
sing the room, She walked over to a bookshelf-full of mementos, saw a
worn-looking doll with long brown braids, a stuffed bear, a little
ballerina figurine encased in a water-filled globe.  Picking it Up, A.
J. turned it upside down and watched as the glitter floated down from
the top imitating falling snow~ She ~found it fascinating.

And the figure inside wasn't a ballerina, as she'dfirst thought.  It
was a skater on a pond.

"A.J... ?"  she heard Jack call

"Upstairs," she said, turning the snowball over and finding a crank
that she suspected made the figurine skate.  She wound it and was
surprised to hear music playing as well.  She turned the globe right
side up again, and the fake snow began to fall.  The skater twirled
around the surface and the music played--the "Starlight Waltz."

A. J. dropped the globe.  !  t shattered as it hit the floor. Starlight
Waltz.

"A.J.?"

 Suddenly Jack was there beside her, questioning her.  She wasn't sure
what he was saying, and she felt strange.

"I don't like that song," she told him, as if that explained
everything.

"What song?  What happened?"

Then she realized the song wasn't playing anymore.  "The "Starlight
Waltz,"

" she said, feeling a little sick to her stomach.

"I turned the crank on the bottom, and I thought it would make the
skater skate, and she did.  But it made the music play, too.  And... I
didn't like the song."

She bent down to pull the figurine from the mess on the floor, and
scraped her hand on a piece of broken glass.  "Careful,"

Jack said.

Curiously, it didn't hurt at all, though she saw blood pooling on her
finger.

"Let me see," Jack said, taking her hand.

"You're trembling.  Come and sit down, while I find something to put on
that cut and something to clean up this mess."

He led her to the bed, and she sat.  She was a little dizzy, a little
disoriented.

"Jack?"  she said, anxious all of a sudden.

"I'm here," he replied, back at her side.

"The medicine cabinet was cleaned out, but I found some tissues in the
bathroom."

She held out her hand to him, and felt a little better when he took
it.

"It's just a scratch," he said.

"Hold the tissue on it tight until it stops bleeding, okay?"

She nodded.

"A.J."  tell me what happened.  " "I didn't like the song," she told
him again.  If she could just figure out what that meant, surely
everything would fall into place.

She was scaring him; she could tell by the way he was watching her,
waiting.

"I'm going to clean up the glass.  You stay put, okay?"

She nodded.  That seemed the safest thing to
do--stay there on the bed, stay quiet, try not to work too hard at
figuring this whole thing out.

So she waited.  It seemed as if she waited forever for Jack to return.
Where was he?  Why didn't he come back?  "Jack?"  she called out.

"I'll be right there, as soon as I find the broom and the dustpan."

"It's beside the washer and dryer, in the closet under the steps."

And then she waited.  Her finger hurt now, she noted curiously.  It
hadn't before.  She took the tissue off for a second,.  but she was
still bleeding.

Replacing the tissue, she pinched her finger so tight it hurt.

"Jack?"  She looked up to see him standing in the doorway, a broom in
his hand and the oddest expression on his face.

He propped the broom against the doorframe, then made his way carefully
around the glass on the floor until he reached the bed.

"My hand's almost stopped bleeding," she told him when he continued to
look at her strangely.

"What?"

He sat down beside her and drew her into his arms, pressing her face
against his chest.

"What is it, Jack?  Something's wrong.  I know it is."

"Think about what you told me, A.J."

"About the song?  It frightened me.  I don't know why."

"No," he said.

"After that.  The broom.  I looked all over the house for it, in three
different closets."

"I don't" -- "You knew exactly where it was, darling'.  How did you
know?"  "It's always been there," she said, asif that explained
everything.

"How did you know, da ding

"I just knew."

 "How?"

"I don't know."

And then she felt him wiping the tears from her cheeks, felt him tuck
her closer against him, felt his hands on her head, pressing ~it close
enough that she could hear his heart beating beneath her ear.

A broom.  After all this time, the first thing that had come back to
her was the place where the broom was kept.

It had always been there in this house.  in Annie's house.  in her
house.

She was finally starting to remember.

A. J. thought all her memories would come tumbling back to her right
then and there, but it wasn't that easy.  Nothing else in the house
sparked a recollection, though she did find herself drawn to a
photograph of Henry McKay.

"He died just last year, didn't he?"  she asked Jack when he found her
sitting in the living room holding the picture, which showed the man
and his two daughters.  "Sometime in the Spring."

"Carolyn said he was wonderful."

"Anything else?"  ~he said, reft erring to her elusive memories.

She shook her head, then looked down at the man in the photograph, one
girl on each knee.

"I just missed seeing him again.  It hasn't even been a year since he
died."

"Do you remember him at all, A.J.?"

"No?"

The house seemed a good place to hide out and wait, so they stayed
there.  At times, they saw cars with television station logos driving
by slowly, but they must have been satisfied seeing the empty driveway,
because no one came to the door.

Jack called Carolyn on his portable phone and learned that Hope House
was surrounded by television reporters and photographers, all looking
for the girl wh9'd seemingly 213 come back from the dead.  They were
sure she would be the star witness.  against the man accused of
kidnapping at least five little girls and suspected of murdering three
of them.  There was nothing new on Ray Williams.

"Do we have to go back to Chicago?"  A. J. said later.  "I think the
people in my office could manage one more day without me," Jack
replied.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere but Chicago."

His beeper went off then.  A. J. couldn't help but tense.  What else
could possibly happen today?  How much more could she take?

She was still coming to terms with the fact that she knew where things
were kept in this house, mundane things like the broom and the vacuum
cleaner.

And that snowball of Carolyn's, playing that song she couldn't stand.
She was sure she wasn't supposed to touch that snowball--that the
thirteen-year-old Annie hadn't been supposed to touch it.  It must have
been something Carolyn treasured.  And the song.  she couldn't begin to
understand why that song affected her so.

Just thinking about it was enough to push her up off the Couch and send
her pacing around the living room.  Annie McKay's memories were
somewhere inside her head, where they'd been buried for nearly eleven
years.

What could have happened to her that was so horrible, Annie had been
totally wiped out of A. J. "s mind?  The man had taken her, but he
hadn't raped her.  What else had he.  done?"  What was she so afraid of
remembering?

It was tied up with that snowball, that simple little toy.  Why else
would she have such a reaction to it?

A. J. stopped pacing and turned as Jack walked back into the room.

"Ray Williams?"  she said.

"Maybe.  We're searching the outskirts of the national forest, as best
we
can, and the police think they've found a couple of fishermen who
might have seen him earlier today."

"Where?"

"A couple of hours southeast of here, somewhere in the 'woods.  He's
probably hiding out at that cabin of his, which we still haven't been
able to find."

A couple of hours.  Thank God he was that far away, at least.  But the
more she considered it in her mind, the more certain she was of what
she had to do next.  "I want to go there," she said.

"No?

"What if I'm the only one who can take you there?"

"I don't even know where he is.  That forest covers thousands of
acres."

"We can go to the general area at least.  Maybe that's all it will take
for me to remember."

"Darlin', I know you're scared of this man.  I know you want him behind
bars.

Believe me, so do I. But don't put yourself through this.  Coming back
to this town was hard enough, but" -- "Coming here was what made me
remember anything at all."

"Think about the way you reacted to that song, A.J. It was just a
song.

What if we do find this cabin of his, and it's the place where he took
you?

What do you think that is going to do to you?"

"I don't know," Her stomach was rolling, rebelling at the mere thought.
But did she really have any options?

"I've been so afraid of my past that I never even tried to find out who
I was, Jack.  I can't live like that anymore.  I don't want to live
like that."

"Are you sure you want to go there?"

"I want him caught.  I want him behind bars.  I don't think I'm going
to feel safe until that happens."

X The Hoosier National Forest was a sprawling area drifting south from
Bloomington, Indiana, all the way to the Ohio River, the border with
Kentucky.  There were parks, lakes, rivers.  It was full of tiny,
sparsely populated areas, and a multitude of little roads seemingly
leading to nowhere.

Ray Williams had gone down one of those little roads and disappeared.

So had Annie McKay and three other unfortunate girls.

A:J.  pulled Jack's map OUt of his briefcase.  The land, so flat in
much of the state, had finally given way ~to a few gently rolling
hills.

She.  imagined herself disappearing into the trees, being swallowed up
by them.

Except she had made it out of there.  And she was going back now, of
her own free will.  She was stronger this time.  She wasn't powerless,
as a thirteen-year-old girl would have been against a grown man.

He would not hurt her this time.  And he would never hurt anyone again,
once Jack MacAlister got through with him in court.

"See anything on the map?"  Jack said.

"No."

"Anything along the road that looks familiar?"

"Not yet."

"It's going to get dark soon.  We'll have to stop for the night."

With Ray Williams nearby?  She hated the idea.

"We can look for another hour or so, can't we?"

"Sure."

They kept driving, but found nothing, heard nothing from the other
people searching.  They drove through a dozen little towns, then
stopped for dinner at a rustic roadside cafe.  The waitress was big,
round and chatty.  A. J.
was only half listening to the woman as she and Jack were finishing
their meal, when the woman asked if they were
heading to the lake at the end of the road.

"There's a lake?"  A. J. said.  She was surprised she hadn't noticed
the signs on the way in, but she'd been drifting off to sleep when they
stopped.

"A beautiful lake," the woman said, "and a lodge, if the two of you are
looking for a place to stay.  The Starlight Lodge is the nicest one
around here."

Starlight?

"What's the name of the lake?"  she said, seeing the glitter-snow
falling on the figure of the skater, hearing the m~u-sic in her mind
now.

"Starlight Lake, of course," the woman said.

Suddenly the room started to spin, and Jack picked her up in his arms
and carried her out of there.

"What is it?"  he said, when they got outside and he set her down on
her feet by the parked car.

"I can't... breathe," she gasped.

Scooping her up, he placed her on the hood of the car, then pushed her
head down between her legs and held her there so that she wouldn't
fall.

"I'm more worried about you passing out on me, at the moment."

She felt better in a little while, and tried to get up.  "Stay down,"

he said.

"Give it another minute or two."

Somehow, she ended up with her arms aroufid him, her head on his
shoulder.

"It's the lake."

"What about it, darling'?"

"He took me to the lake.  Starlight Lake.  He told me it was a magical
place, because the stars came down and danced on the surface of the
water.  And I would sit there staring at the water and thinking about
Carolyn's snowball with the glitter inside lt raining down on the
little skater while the "Starlight Waltz' played."

It came to her so clearly now, just that instant in time, nothing more.
But for a moment, she felt it all, the emotions as strong and as
frightening as if the whole thing had happened yesterday.

She'd been scared to death in that instant.  And this was just the
beginning, she told herself, just one moment out of endless frightening
moments.

A. J. looked up into a cloudless sky filled with a million stars.  He
was here.  Those same stars were shining down on him now, as well, and
they had to find him.

She had to hold herself together and lead everyone to him.  It was the
only way she would be safe again.

"He took me to the lake," she said.

"That's where he is now.  That's where the cabin is, somewhere on
Starlight Lake."

 Chapter C

ack MacAlister was scared.  A. J. was surprised to realize that,
because it was so unlike him to be frightened of anything.  He'd begged
her to let him take her somewhere else while he came back to help find
this man.  She'd refused.  She could be as stubborn as he was, and it
was long past time, he realized that.

Then he'd said he'd come with her, stay with her until Ray Williams was
located.  It might be a while, because the lake had twelve miles of
shoreline.

"He's destroying the evidence right now," A. J. told him.  "You said
that's what he'd do.  That's why he came here, to get rid of anything
linking him to the kidnappings."

"We'll find him, and we'll get what we need," Jack said.  "He won't
ever go free after this."

"I'll testify," she said, hating the thought.  ',"I don't care what
kind of evidence he destroys.  I'll still be here, and I~11 testify."

That will be enough, won't it?  " "He's going away, A.J. I promise you
that."

219 "He has to," she said, keeping a death grip on Jack's hand.

"Because otherwise I couldn't stand it."

"Are you sure it's him?  When you remembered the lake, could you see
his face?"

She nodded.

"I don't know how I ever forgot his face."  Jack called in every favor
any law-enforcement agency in Indiana owed him.  He called the local
police and the state police, and Drew, to get the FBI involved.  They
set up roadblocks on the three routes leading to and from the lake,
then started searching at four different points along the shoreline,
with each team working its way clockwise around the shore.  They were
going to find Ray Williams.

A. J. sat in the car outside the Starlight Lodge, where a makeshift
command post had been set up.  Jack wanted her to try to sleep, but
that would have been impossible.  So she sat in the car, because it was
quiet and she could be alone there.  Because all those men knew all
about her, and she didn't want them looking at her with that strange
mixture of pity and curiosity anymore.  She supposed she might as well
get used to it,~because she'd probably be seeing a lot of those looks
in the future.

Things were coming back to her now, s19wly, in brief snatches.  She
remembered Hope, Illinois, remembered a kitten she'd had when she was
six or seven, remembered the elderly woman who'd lived next door and
made the most incredible cakes from scratch, remembered her father in
his fishing clothes.

She cried a little rdmembering an afternoon spent sitting on the banks
of the creek with her father.

If only she'd made it back a little sooner, she could have seen him
again.

He could have known that she was all right.  She wondered if he knew
now--prayed that he did.

She remembered her mother, remembered Carolyn, remembered the first
time Carolyn had ever gone out with Drew, remembered that awful fight
Carolyn and her parents had had the first time Drew Delaney came to the
house.

 All those years, she thought.  So much she'd missed.  How would they
ever catch up on all of it?

MacAlister was swimming in paperwork from the county assessor's office.
He was looking over deeds to the property here.  Someone had to own the
property where Ray Williams was staying, someone who paid taxes and
whose name appeared on the tax rolls.  If not Ray Williams, someone he
knew, maybe someone related to him.

He would have liked to go out with one of the groups searching along
the shoreline, but he hadn't talked' A. J. into leaving yet, and until
he did, he wasn't going to let her get more than twenty feet away from
him--not while that bastard was still on the loose.

Williams had to be half-crazy by now, had to know that he was trapped
here, that he was going to prison and never coming out again.  A man
like that was capable of anything.

MacAlister glanced out the front window of the room, to where his car
was parked, to where A. J. was sitting.

He hadn't wanted to let her get that far away from him, but she'd
insisted, and he'd picked up on the way everyone in the room was
watching her.  He knew she would hate that.  He wished he could have
done more to protect her from that sort of thing--bell, from
everything, past and present.

He hadn't been there at all in the past, though he was going to help
her deal with it as best he could.  He would gladly have done anything
to.  keep her out of this whole situation right now, but it had all
blown up in his face.

He should never have let her talk him into bringing her to Hope.

But then, she was one determined woman.  Brave, strong, dedicated to
her work, and extremely sexy.  How had he ever gotten so lucky as to
wind up following her out into the snow that night?

221 He looked out the window, had to wipe his hand along the pane to
clear it of the fog, so that he could see the car, so that he could
see.  Nothing.

Nothing but the empty car.

A. J. was gone.

He tore out of the room, opened up the car and searched it, even though
he could easily see that she wasn't there.  He walked around the lodge,
walked down to the lake, and found nothing.

Then he screamed her name.

No answer, at least not from her.  Men from inside the command center
came barreling around the.  side of the lodge.  He calmed down enough
to tell them what had happened, then turned around and looked out over
the water.

The sun was just coming up.  It glinted off the surface of the water,
blinding him for a minute.  He thought he saw something off to the
right, maybe nothing more than a reflection, where something caught the
sunlight at just the right angle, but that would have to be enough, It
was all he had.  He took off running.

He ran for about five miles; he judged the distance by how exhausted he
was at the end.  Normally, three was his limit; and that wasn't three
miles running over leaves, roots~ rocks and anything else that happened
to be sticking out of the ground.  He must have passed her; she
couldn't have come this far this fast.

He took comfort in that, until he realized she could have covered
the.

distance easily in a car, that she would have had no choice in the
matter if someone forced her to get into a car.

Ray Williams wouldn't get away.  The lake was surrounded; there were no
roads out that the man could take and not get caught.  He would not get
away with

A. J.

 He had had her.  for how long now?  Forty minutes or so?  More than
enough time to do.  whatever he wanted to with her.

Jack felt sick at the thought of that man getting his hands on her.

He'd promised her Ray Williams would have to get through him to get to
her, he'd told her he felt capable of killing Williams with his bare
hands.

And he did.

Given the chance, he might well do that this morning, if that man did
one more thing to hurt A. J. Jack paced back and forth.  He had to
think.  Thinking would get him through this.

Had she remembered something?  If Ray Williams hadn't found her, had
she found him?  He didn't see what other explanation there could be for
her disappearance.

And now that he was thinking a fraction more rationally than before, he
knew there was no way Ray Williams would have come to the lodge, not
when it was surrounded by law enforcement.  He wouldn't have come into
the parking lot and grabbed A. J. out of a parked car in front of their
command center.  It would be suicidal and absolutely impossible.

So, if he hadn't taken A. J. " she must have left of her own free
will.

She must have remembered something.

He rubbed his forehead, looked out over the lake and wondered if she
was staring at if now, again, as sl~e had all those years ago.

I'm coming, he told her silently, praying that somehow she would hear.
Hang on, because I'm coming.

And then he ran back toward the lodge.

Luckily, he met one of the search teams on his way back and caught a
ride with them.  When they arrived back at the lodge, no one there had
found a trace of her.

"Mr: MacAlister?"  a man in uniform standing in the doorway said.

"Yes?"  He motioned the man over.

The man handed him a manila envelope.

"You dropped these when you left."

It was the tax records showing who owned property at the lake.  He had
the urge to crumple them into a ball in his hands, but he resisted.

Glancing down at the list of property owners, his gaze hit on one
name.

Jennings.

According to the county tax commission, a Marvin Jennings owned
property at' the lake.  He knew from digging into A. J. "s background
that the man who raised her had been named Randall Jennings and that he
and his wife had lived in a small town in Indiana called Norfolk before
moving with her to Wisconsin.

Marvin Jennings had his tax bill sent to a Norfolk address.  It
couldn't he a coincidence.

"Where's that cabin?"  MacAlister said to one of the local officers,
pointing to the address listed next to Jennings's tax bill.

"Somewhere down this main road."

"Let's go."

They took the road, in hopes of finding some kind of marker on the
turnoff to the Jennings place.

It seemed to take forever.  Half of the cabins weren't designated by
any name or number.  MacAlister figured A. J. had been gone for about
an hour.

before they finally found the place.  At!  east they thought this was
it.

Two driveways back, they'd seen a sign for the Ryan cabin, and the tax
rolls showed the Ryans two lots away from the Jennings cabin.

They walked down a path that barely seemed wide enough for a vehicle,
through eerily silent woods.  MacAlister, someone from the FBI and two
local deputies walked into the clearing.  There was no car, and no sign
of life anywhere around the cabin.  One of the deputies tried the
door.

 "Locked," he said.

"Break it down."

"Did you get a search warrant while I wasn't looking?"  He hadn't even
considered it, and there was no way he was going to wait for one.  To
hell with the case.  If the evidence in that cabin got thrown out of
court because of what he was about to do, he didn't care.  That man
had

A. J.

"Either break it down," he told the deputy, "or get out of my way while
I break it down."

"Be my guest," the deputy said, stepping aside.

The door gave way easily, the wood splintering around the padlock, and
clattered to the floor.  There was no one inside the three-room cabin.
He did find a mailing address on a fishing magazine that told him he
was in the Jennings cabin.  So where the hell was Ray Williams?

And where was A. J. He went around to the back of the cabin, catching a
glimpse of the lake through the woods, but there was no trace of A. J.
or Williams, Frustrated, and more frightened than he'd ever been in his
life, he called out her name.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he did it again, and again, in
every direction around the cabin.

"Jack?"

He turned to the left.  Had the voice come from the left?  Had she
called his name?  He called to her again, and he was sure this time
that she answered him.

Once again, he took off through the woods, with the three ~other men
trailing after him.

There was no path that he could find, nothing that he could see through
the trees.  The un raked leaves of the previous fall rustled at his
feet as he ran, the tree branches scratching at his arms and his face
when he couldn't push them out of the way fast enough.

He called her name again, and before she could answer him he broke
through the trees into a small clearing, saw the remains of an old
abandoned cabin.

225 This was Williams's place.  It had to be.  Why the hell couldn't he
have found it weeks ago, before it ever came to this?  Before A. J. had
to see this place again?  Before this monster of a man could get loose
and make it back here?  "A.J.?"  he called.

He went left, motioned for the two deputies to go right.  The man from
the FBI followed him.  As they rounded the second corner of the cabin,
he saw her.  She had to be all right--she was standing on her own two
feet.

And then he saw Ray Williams grab her from behind, lock his arm around
her neck so that he was half choking her, then pull a huge hunting
knife out of his pocket.

"Stay back," he warned them.

Jack's gaze locked on A. J. "s, willing her to stay calm, to be still,
to let them get her out of this.

Steady, he told her silently, and told himself the same thing.

"Get hack," Williams said as' the four men tightened their circle
around him.

"She's mine, and you're not taking her from me this time."

"Drop the knife, Ray," Jack said, drawing ~the man's gaze, giving the
deputies on the other side of him time to draw their guns and take
aim.

"There's no way out of here.  if you don't let her go in the next five
seconds, the deputies behind you are going to start shooting.

Understand?  " Williams whirled around, knocking A. J. off-balance as
he turned her with him, then saw the two deputies, guns drawn and
pointed at him.

He touched the tip of the knife to A. J. "s throat.

"Tell them to get back," he told her.

A. J. opened her mouth, then closed it again.  He saw her grimace, saw
the revulsion on her face.

Hang on, he told her.  Just hang on.  Then he forced his attention back
to Williams.

"They know what you've done, Ray.  They could shoot you right now, and
still
sleep like babies tonight.  And they might be doing you a favor,
because one way or another you're going to die.  If not today, then
after the judge and I get through with you."

"You can't just shoot me," he said.

"Who's going to stop us?"  MacAlister said, wishing the man would give
them an excuse.

"Let her go.  Let her go now."  ~ For a moment, he thought Williams was
going to do just that.  Then the man sank the tip of his knife into A.
J. "s throat, drawing blood.

"Get back!"  Williams screamed.

Jack screamed, as wells and ran for the man, but A. J. was quicker.

Williams was startled by the noise, by the confusion of the four men
closing in on him, and A. J. took full advantage of that.  Getting her
hand free, she elbowed him in the stomach, then bit the arm he held
around her neck.

The knife fell to the ground.

Ray Williams fell to his knees.

A. J. kicked him in the face and knocked him flat on the ground.

"You bastard," she said, then kicked him again, this time in the
groin.

Jack came up behind her and pulled her back, away from Williams.  She
fought him for a minute, screaming at the man, still trying to get to
him.

He tried to turn her around, but she wouldn't let him.  She refusexl to
take her eyes off Ray Williams.  She was shaking, full of nervous
energy, all her attention focused on the man on the ground.

"It's all right, darling'," he said, waiting for the words to sink
in.

The deputies pulled Ray Williams to his feet, none too gently.  They
searched him, read him his rights and handcuffed him.

"He kidnapped me," she said as she watched the deputies lead the now
sobbing man away.

227 "I know."  Jack slid his arm around her waist from behind and held
on to her.  Her neck was bleeding slightly.  He kept telling himself it
couldn't be much more than a superficial wound.

"He took pictures of me," she said, her voice filled with pain.

Jack knew exactly what she meant.  And it didn't surprise him.

"He was trying to get rid of them," A. J. said.

"He was getting rid of everything.  He was burying everything in a hole
back there."

Jack held her tighter, and put a hand over the cut on her neck.  He had
come so close to 1osilig her today.  Dear God, if he had lost her.
"We'll get all the evidence we need," he told her.

"We've got him now, A.J. He's never going to hurt you again."

"I wasn't the only one," she said.

"Those other little girls."  he took them, too.  He told me about them.
And they didn't get away.  I think they're back there.  I think I saw
one of their graves.  " And then she started to cry.

He held her, and knew he might never be able to bring himself to let
her go.

If they hadn't found her, if that knife had gone in another half inch,
if she hadn't been strong enough and smart enough to get away from that
man.

Oblivious of anything else around them, he closed his eyes and locked
his arms around her.

"It's all over," he told her, knowing that eventually she'd calm down
enough for the words to sink in~ And maybe soon he'd calm down enough
to understand that he had her back, that she was safe, that this whole
nightmare was over.

He was going to take her away from here, take her back to that inn in
Hope,
to that room at the top of the old house, the one with the big
four-poster bed, and barricade the door.  There would be nothing and no
one in the world but the two of them.

Chapter 18 Two weeks later, the furor still hadn't died dowm A. J. had
taken refuge in Jack's parents' house, if it could be called a house.
It was more like a mansion, but that wasn't the most appealing thing
about it for A. J. She loved it for the brick wall surrounding it, for
the private security gate that kept the rest of the world out and kept
her safe inside.

Sometimes she wished she could stay here forever.  Jack's mother had
been wonderful, even if A. J. did find her incredibly intimidating.
Mrs.  MacAlister had been born to money, her grandfather having built
half the city, She lived in a fifteen-room mansion on Chicago's Gold
Coast, entertained the mayor, the governor and the richest men in the
city on a regular basis, served on all the most important social
committees.

A. J. had expected to have nothing in common with the woman, expected
her to turn up her nose at A. J. and let her know in no uncertain terms
that she was absolutely wrong for her son.  But she hadn't.

She'd been kind, and quite considerate.  The only fault that

A. J.

could find with her was that she was quite comfortable sticking her
nose into everyone's business, especially Jack's.  The woman
desperately wanted grandchildren, and she seemed to think A. J. was
going to give them to her.

A. J. had no idea what to say to that.  She certainly hadn't talked to
Jack about the subject, and had no intention of bring it up.

After all, what could she say?  Your mother is so desperate for
grandchildren that she thinks I'd be acceptable as the mother of your
babies?

She loved Jack MacAlister, of course, although she hadn't admitted that
to his mother yet.  She just stayed safe behind that brick wall, slept,
soaked in the tub, avoided the television newscasts and the newspapers
at all costs, refused to take phone calls from journalists, and from
any number of people she really should talk to: Her mother, Carolyn,
Nick .  they kept calling, and A. J. had the housekeeper tell them she
was resting.  More often than not, it wasn't a lie.

She was vegetating in the lap of luxury.  She planted herself in one of
the chaise longues by the pool and Stared at the sky, or curled up in
the library with a book.

She didn't want to move or talk or see anyone.  She wanted to think
things through, to try to make sense of it all, to get ready to step
back into her life and get on with things.  Why couldn't anyone
understand that?

She remembered almost everything now.  Her memories of the time at the
cabin were still foggy, but they probably always would be, because
she'd more than likely been drugged.  At least that was what Jack
thought.  Nick tended to agree, from what she'd told him about her
recollections.  It seemed likely that Ray Williams drugged A. J. when
he took her.

She remembered her feelings from that time--terror, bewilderment.  She
remembered Williams telling her that her parents were dead, that there
was no one left to take care of 231 her except him.  And then he'd told
her in great detail the things he planned to do to her: And then
something had happened.  Someone had come to the cabin.  The
Jenningses, maybe?  Ray Williams had known them somehow, having stayed
at a man named Marvin Jennings's cabin at the lake.

But how had the Jenningses ended up with her?  And why had they kept
her?

Why hadn't they given her back to her parents?  They had to have known,
at some point, that her parents and the FBI were looking for her.  So
why wouldn't they have taken her home?

A. J. heard a knock on the door and knew right away who it was.  No one
knocked on her door except the servants, and they never came this
late.

"Come in."

Jack walked in, his coat thrown over his shoulder, his tie hanging
loose around his neck.

"Hi, daftin', I'm home," he said, like an old married man, then leaned
over to kiss her softly on the lips.

She glanced at the clock; it was after ten.

"You must be exhausted."

He'd been spending his days working on the Ray Williams case, and his
nights with her.  She'd protested at first--what would his parents
thi~k?

That I'm worried about you?  he'd suggested.  That I'm obsessed with
you?

That I can't possibly be away from you for any length of time?

And then he'd reminded her how big the house was, how far her bedroom
was from his parents', and that there was nothing in the world that was
going to keep him away from her now.  So she'd given in.  She needed
him desperately, as well, even if he just held her in his arms while
she slept.

"Miss me today?"  he asked, kicking off his shoes.  He threw his coat
over the chair, and after removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt,
he situated himself on the bed beside her.

 A. J. curled into his side.  The world as she knew it settled into a
wonderful, predictable order.  He was back, with her, where she
desperately needed him to be.

"I may have given you a thought or two.

How did it go?  " "I think we're going to take the plea.  We can get
him put away for life with no parole.  He's willing to take that,
because he's afraid of the death penalty.  What would you think of
that?"

She shivered and snuggled closer to him.

"I'm not sure how I'd feel about it."

"It means no trial.  None of the evidence would ever have to come out.
No one would have to testify in open court."

"I know.

Believe me,-that part is tempting.  " "It would be all over, A.J. Time
to move on, instead of dwelling on the past until we could get it to
trial and finish it.  And the appeals in a death-penalty case can drag
on for ten years or more."

"I know.  Did you talk to the parents of the girls?"  They'd found two
bodies buried near the cabin, but had found nothing regarding the third
girl.  There was no telling what had happened to her.  Ray Williams
wasn't talking about her, either.

"The parents are thinking it over right now.  I'll let you know what
they decide."

She nodded.

"I have some other news for you," he said.

"What?"

"I told you Ray Williams was using a cabin owned by a man named Marvin
Jennings, and that he lived in Norfolk, Indiana."

"Yes."

"Marvin Jennings is Randall Jennings's uncle.  Turns out Ray Williams
is Marvin's illegitimate son."

"So they did know him," she said, stunned.

233 Jack nodded.  "I found this."  He held out a letter to her, one
with her name on it in what she could have sworn was Randall Jennings's
scrawl.

She was afraid to even touch it.

"Go ahead," he said.

"I've already read it."

No doubt in an effort to protect her.

"I don't understand.  Where did you get it?"

"From Marvin.  He was the Jenningses' closest living relative, and he
inherited everything under the terms of the Jenningses' will.  Said he
hadn't heard from them in seven years at the time they died, and he
never did understand why, until he was flipping through some of his
nephew's private papers and found this letter."

"I don't want to read it."

"Of course you do.  Marvin tried to find you, after he read it.  But it
was too late.  You'd disappeared, and he had no idea where to find
you."

"It's too late now.,"

"A.J."  this is the last piece of the puzzle.  " She eyed it as if it
were a bottle of pure poison.  What could Randall Jennings possibly
have to say to her after all this time that would make any difference?
They'd taken her.  They'd kept her from her family.  They'd filled her
head with the memories of a little girl who'd drowned when she was
thirteen years old.  They had let her wonder all that time about the
fear that was always in the back of her mind, the fear that she never
quite understood.

Maybe she did need those answers after all.

She held out her hand for the letter.  He rearranged some pillows
against the headboard and leaned back against them, pulling her back
against him.  Once again, his big, strong arms encircled her.  She
could face any demon if she was within the circle of his arms.

She removed the letter from the envelope.  The pages were obviously old
and worn.  She started to read.

 My dearest Allison, If you're reading this letter, then I must be
gone.  I can't imagine finding the courage to say these words to you
myself, but I knew you'd find out the truth once your mother and I
passed away and that I owed you an explanation.

I'm truly sorry that we kept you away from your real family all these
years and that I was too selfish and too much of a coward to put things
to rights long before this.

You see, we just loved you so much.  We needed' you so badly.  Please,
if you believe nothing else that I'm going to tell you, believe that.

We loved you, Allison.

By now you know that there was another Allison before you, that we lost
her that day by the docks.  Nothing was ever the same after that; If I
could have gone in her place, I wofild have gladly done so.  And I
thought about going with her, about taking my own life.

But I didn't know what would become of your mother.  It seemed so
selfish to leave her alone.  She was never the same after our Allison
died.  Over the years, our family doctor told me she needed help, the
kind he couldn't give her, that she might need to be put in some sort
of institution.  But I could never bring myself to do that to her.

We thought, after a couple of years, that it might be easier to live
somewhere else, where the memories weren't so strong.  Where we
couldn't drive down the street and see the places we'd been and
remember the things we'd done with our Allison.  So we sold our house,
I left my job, and we packed our things into the truck and headed for
St.  Louis, because I had cousins there who said they'd help me find
work a~nd help the take care of your mother.

We wanted to do one last thing in Indiana before we left.  A picture
frame was broken as we were packing, and it held the last photo ever
taken of our Allison.  The picture was scratched, and we couldn't stand
the idea of losing it.  But I knew who'd taken it--my uncle's boy,
Ray.

I put off going to see him until the last minute, because I never liked
Ray.

By now, I'm sure you know why.  I caught him once doing things he
shouldn't be doing with another cousin of his, and to be 'honest about
it, I didn't even know what he was doing at first.  I didn't want to
believe that I actually saw what I did, and when I tried to tell my
uncle and the boy's mother, they didn't want to hear it.

I should have tried harder, right then and there, to make them believe
me and to get some help for' that boy.  But I didn't, and I've had a
terrible time trying to live with that all these years.

Anyway, we were ready to leave town, and we still hadn't managed to
find Ray.

We'd gone to the house several times and missed him, and finally his
mother told us he'dgone to that old fishing cabin Marvin had on the
lake.  We went there on our way out of town to find him.

And that's when we found you.

I didn't know what to do.  Marvin had told me years ago that Ray had a
daughter somewhere, and I thought at first you were his little girl.

And I knew he'd hurt you.

I beat him half to death that day, thinking I might knock some sense
into that boy.  I never went back to find out.

You tried to run away from Ray when we got there, and you fell and
banged your head on one of the rocks.  When you came to, you couldn't
tell us anything.  You were crying and clinging to my wife.

 There was no way I was going to leave you with Ray.  I didn't know
what else to do.  The boy was sick.  Someone should have helped' him. I
should have made sure of that, but everything got so complicated later.
 And I couldn't stand the idea of losing you.  But I'm getting ahead of
myself.

We took you with us and left Ray there.  Libby started talking crazy,
like I'd never heard her before.  She Started calling you Allison, had
you and her both convinced that you were our daughter.  It scared me.

I knew it was time for me to put her in an institution, and I didn't
see how I'd go on without her.  I told myself that as soon as we got
settled in Mt.  Louis, I'd call Marvin and find out where you belonged,
that once Ray was taken care of and once I knew you'd be safe, .  we'd
send you back home.

I didn't find work in St.  Louis, and we ended up in Wisconsin
instead.

Months went by.  I kept trying to tell Marvin what Ray had done, but he
didn't believe me.  And later I found out one of the reasons why.  I
was telling him that Ray had hurt his little girl, but you weren't his
little girl.  Marvin kept trying to tell me that, and I just didn't
believe him.  I thought he didn't want to hear the truth, that he was
kidding himself, the way I kidded myself about what I saw Ray do to one
of his cousins when he was younger.

Anyway, we'd had you for about six months when I saw your picture on
the TV one night, when I realized that you weren't Ray's little girl,
that you belonged to someone else.  And I got scared.  The FBI had all
sorts of people looking for you.  I thought they'd put me in prison,
and again, I couldn't imagine what would happen to your mother.

She believed it when she told you that you were our Allison.  It nearly
killed her when we lost our daughter, 237 and I knew she'd never make
it through something like that again.

You were so sweet, so kind and gentle.  We loved you so much.  We
needed you.

I started fooling myself, telling.  myself that those other people must
not have been looking out for you the way they should have, to let Ray
snatch you.  I told myself that you needed us, just as much as we
needed you, that no one could take care of you and love you the way we
did.

I told myself sometimes that I'd give us one more week with you, one
more month, that I'd find a way to turn myself in and explain
everything so that somebody would believe me.

And I never did it.  Weeks went by, months, years now.  I couldn't
bring myself to give you back.

It was selfish of me and cowardly.  I know what I did to your other
family, because I'd lost a daughter myself.  I knew exactly what they
were going through.  I've suffered with my conscience all these years,
and it's in God's hands now.  He will be the one who decides how I'll
pay for.  what I've done wrong.

I do have to ask one more thing of you, though I. have no right to do
that.

Your mother.  Allison, she believes in her heart that she is your
mother, and if I'm gone, she'll have no one.  Please, blame me, not
her.  Please don't make her suffer for things she simply can't
understand.  Please watch out for her and love her, the way she's
loved' you all these years.

And please, let me tell ~you one last time how much I loved you.  That
part was never a lie.

A tear fell from her cheek onto the paper, which was already stained
with too many tears.  And not all of them were hers.  The ink had bled
in places and smeared; he'd been crying himself when he wrote the
letter.

 She looked at the date, noting that it was a few short weeks before
his death.  A. J. wondered if he'd had some premonition about the train
wreck that had taken his life and that of--her other mother.

"This is bizarre," she told Jack.

"I know, but I believe him.  I think he walked into the middle of this
mess someone else created, and didn't know how to get out of it.  I
think he loved you, A.J."

She looked back down at the letter.  That part was never a lie.

She wanted to believe it.  She needed to believe it.

"They were good people.  They were kind to me."  Enough time had passed
that she could admit that.

Jack held her close.

"Does it help, a little, to know why they did it?  How it all
happened?"

"I'm glad you found the letter and that you brought it to me.  I'm glad
you're here, Jack.  I don't know what I would have done without you
these past few weeks."

He turned her face to his.

"I don't know what I'd ever do without you.  A.J."  !  "-- She put her
fingers across his lips.

"A little longer, please.  Just give me a few more days."

"What are you so afraid of?"  he said, working hard at controlling his
frustration.

Loving him, losing him--that summed it all up quite nicely.

"Everything's happened so fast.  Everything's changed, Jack.  My whole
life, and I ... I need some time.  Do you think we could talk about
something else?"

He didn't like it, but he went along with it.

"How'S the pool?  I hear you've turned lazy on me."  "I love the
pool."

"How's my mother?"

"She's a trip.  She tried out baby names on me today."

239 "Did you two come up with anything?"

"Baby names?"  She couldn't believe she'd brought this up with him--and
all because she was so intent on changing the subject.

"Well?"  he said, sounding totally serious.

"Babies have to have names."

"We're not having a baby," she said.

"I could make a liar out of you by morning."

That left her absolutely speechless.

"Hey."  He took her by the chin and tilted her face up to his.

"I've been patient, A.J. Give me that, at least.  And tell me one
thing.~Why are you so scared of having this conversation with me?"

"About babies?"

"About us."

"We weren't talking about us, Jack, we were talking about what your
mother wants to name the grandchildren she wants you to give her."

"Okay."  He turned serious.

"Let's talk about babies.  Make my mother a happy woman, A.J. Be the
mother of my children.  Come and live with me.  Love me.  Grow old with
me.  We'll sit on the porch in our rockers together and laugh about the
good old days, and I'll love you as much then as I do now."

She swallowed hard.  Dammit, she hadn't been able to stop him before he
went and said it.

"Hey," he said when she turned her face away to keep him from seeing
the tears on her cheeks.

He wiped them away, the pads of his fingers caressing her cheeks as
they followed the path of her tears.  "I love you, darling'.  Surely
I'm allowed to say that now."

She shook her head.  The tears wouldn't stop falling.

"And I know you love me, too," he insisted.

"Don't even try to deny it."

"You are the most arrogant man," she said.

"And you're stubborn as hell.  What of it?"

 She stopped to take a much-needed breath, then another.  What was she
going to do with him?

"I know you love me," he said.

"You already told me so, but it's been too long since the first time.
Tell me again."

"Is that some kind of an order?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Why should I tell you that I love you?"  He already knew it, after
all.

"Why should you tell me?"  he repeated incredulously.  She nodded.

"Because I need to hear it."

"Jack" -- She started to argue, then thou grit better of it.  Could he
really wonder about that?  She thought she'd made it more than obvious
to him that she would do anything in the world for him.

"Dammit, A.J."  I almost lost you out there in the woods.  That man had
a knife at your throat.  " He ran his hands over the faint scar from
the wound.

She'd almost forgotten that he'd had to watch her struggle.  If she had
to watch Ray Williams hold a knife to his throat.  "I thought I was
going to go out of my mind when I walked out of the command center and
found the car empty."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I never should have left the car.  I just had to walk around for a few
minutes.  And then, all of a sudden, he was there and dragging me away.
I'm sorry, Jack."

"That's not an issue anymore, darling'.  You keep trying to put
distance between us and I can't let you.  Whatever~reason you have for
pushing me away like this, you might as well give it up right now.

Because it's not going to work.  I'm not going anywhere.  I'm not going
to let you go, and since you're stuck with me, you might as well marry
me.  " 241 She couldn't help but smile at that.  It was the most
outlandish reason she'd ever heard for getting married.

"Jack, I had no idea you were such a romantic."

He scowled at her.

"You want me on one knee?"

"On the bed?"

"You want candles, soft music, flowers--what?  Name it.

It's yours?  " Just like that?  She closed her eyes and counted to ten,
before she just blurted out to him what was in her heart.

"I feel so... out of touch with reality," she said, "I feel like I've
been caught up in a whirlwind, like my whole life has been turned
upside down."

"It has, darling'."

"Jack, I didn't even know you two months ago."  " Do you have any-
doubts about the way you feel about 'me now ?  " " No.

"And she should have known better than to argue with him, because he
always won.  If, by some miracle, she got to spend the rest of her life
with him, she'd have to go to law school to learn to fight with words
the way he did.

" Jack, it's not that.  " "Then you must doubt me and the way I feel
about you.  Why is that?"

She tried to tell him; but c9uldn't.  The words just wouldn't come
out.

"A.J."  whatever it is, just tell me.  We'll work it out, I promise
you.  " "I do love you, Jack."

He grabbed her and crushed her to him, then covered her mouth with his'
and kissed her soundly.

"Thank God for that."

A. J. held him tight.  He was trembling, too, just as she was.  Maybe
he had needed the words just as much as she did.

"Now," he said, pulling back just a little.

"What's the problem?"

 The problem?  Where did she start?

"Everyone I've ever loved, I've lost."

"Okay, let's think about that for a minute.  The McKays didn't leave
you" he said.

"They never stopped loving you, never stopped trying to get you back.
You can't blame that on love."

"I don't."

"And the Jenningses died, A.J."  but they did love you.  Remember what
he wrote--that part was never a lie.  " She might even be able to
accept that.

"But I still lost them."

"You'll never lose me," he promised.

"I'll never leave you.  I won't hurt you, and I'll do my damnedest to
see that no one else ever hurts you again."

That sounded even better to her than a marriage vow.  She couldn't ask
anything more of him than that.  But.  "I'm still scared," she
confessed.

"Hell, so am I."

"Jack, you're not scared of anything."

"I'm scared of the way I feel about you.  Of how much I want you.  How
much I need you.  When I think about coming here day after day to see
you, about the way we can't talk about so many things because you're
not ready to hear what I have to say... I imagine all these things that
could be wrong.

"I think one day you're going to tell me you need some time alone, that
you're going to walk out that door and never come back.  I think maybe
you're going to put your life back together and find that the reis no
room for me, or that you don't need me the way you thought you did or
that you just don't want me anymore.

"A.J."  it scares me to death.  " She put her hand over her mouth and
tried not to cry.

"I didn't know.

I had no idea.  " "The risk runs both ways, darling'.  You share in the
risk, ~ you share in the rewards.  And you have to believe that 1ov-
243 ing someone doesn't have to mean hurting.  It doesn't always end
that way."

She wanted to believe that.  She wanted to live it.

"And right now," he said, "you're keeping me on tenterhooks because I
just asked you to marry me and you still haven't said yes."

She'd honestly never thought of it that way--that anyone in love
assumed a degree of risks, that trust was essential in being able to
love someone.

Sometimes she thought she and the kids at the shelter were the only
people in the world scared to trust anyone, scared to depend on any
ones Maybe everyone else was afraid, too.  Even Jack.  "Do you trust
me?"  he asked.

"Yes."  Absolutely.

"And you love me?"  - "That's all we need.  Those are.  the only
assurances any two people ever have."

She couldn't believe how he'd turned the argument around so neatly in
his favor.  Would she spend the rest of her life losing every argument
they got into?

"Did they teach you this in law school?"

"How to propose?"

"How to talk anyone into anything."

"Can !  take that as a yes?"

He'd been teasing before, and she'd been trying to do the same, and
then the conversation had taken on earth-shattering proportions.

He wanted to marry her.  He meant it.

"Take my hand," he said.

She laid her palm across his, and held on for dear life.

"I won't let go, darling'.  I won't let you go.  I won't stop loving
you, and I won't stop begging you to marry me."

"Jack MacAlister, you never begged for anything in your whole life."

 "You do want me on my knees, 'don't you?"

"No."

"Well, I want you--in my arms, in my bed, in my house.  I want my
babies growing inside you.  You want that, too.  I dare you to say that
you don't."

"I do."

"What?"

"I said I do."

"Those are the magic words, daftin'.  It's always a risk.  And the only
guarantees you'll have are that I love you and that you love me.  What
else do we need?"

She took a'minute, just to make him squirm, then smiled.  "I might want
you on your knees."

He looked murderous, but down he went.  He pulled her down with him and
put his arms around her.

"Satisfied now?"

"I might want a ring."

"I'll buy you a rock, something other men can see a mile away." "You're
so kind."

"I've been trying to tell you that all along.  I'm a damned nice
guy."

"I love you, Jack."

Epilogue E

on ths later.  A. J. was hiding upstairs in the bride's room at the
back of the rapidly filling church.  She still couldn't believe Jack's
mother had talked them into a big church wedding with all the
trimmings.

But the woman had put up a solid argument.  She'd waited this long for
her son 'to marry and, certain he would marry only once in his life,
was determined they do it right.  And they might as well put the female
population of this city on notice that Jack MacAlister was
off-limits.

A. J. couldn't argue with her future mother-in-law's reasoning.

"You're not nervous, are you?"  Carolyn said from her seat in the
corner.

A. J. hadn't sat down in hours.  She had too much nervous energy to
work off.

"No, of course not," she lied.  "Were you ?"

 Carolyn laughed.  She and Drew had finally tied the knot two months
ago, and the two of them were ecstatic.  A. J. knew the only thing that
could make her sister happier was if Billy knew the truth--that he was
Drew and Carolyn's son.

And maybe he would, someday, when the time was right.  For now, it was
more than enough that the whole family was back together again.

A. J. looked at her watch.  Thirty endless seconds had crept by since
the last time she'd looked.  She didn't even know why she was nervous,
anyway--she loved Jack, and he loved her.

As he kept telling her, it didn't get any better than that.  There were
no guarantees in love.  And maybe she'd stopped needing one, an~ way At
first, this whole thing seemed so unreal to her.  He seemed too good to
be true.

But the months had gone by, and he'd never wavered in his support for
her, his understanding, his kindness.  He said this would be forever,
and she'd come to believe that.

She believed in him, in love, and in their future together.  Someone
knocked on the door.

"Maybe they finally found the bride's bouquet," Carolyn said, and
checked the door.

A. J. wasn't paying much attention, but she did look over when she
heard Carolyn arguing with the l~rson at the door.  Then Carolyn gave
in and said, "It's for you."

She'd barely opened the door two inches, and when A. J. looked through
the opening she saw a dark-haired, masked man in a tux,

"Who're you, the Lone Ranger?"  she said.

"And what arc you doing here?  You're not supposed to sec me before the
ceremony.  Didn't your mother explain any of this to you, Jack?"

"I can't sec you," he said, grinning below the mask.

"But she didn't say anything about kissing you."

247 He pushed his way through the door, closed it behind him and
grabbed her.

A. J. was laughing so hard, it was difficult to kiss him at first.

"I don't think this is what they had in mind when they said the groom
shouldn't see the bride before the ceremony."

"You want to go check with Miss Manners first, darling', or do you want
to kiss me quick, before my mother catches me in here?"

"If you two will excuse me for a moment, I'll guard the door,"

Carolyn said.

A. J. pretended to think about his offer for a moment, then found
herself soundly kissed.  Heedless of her gown, her veil and her makeup,
he nearly crushed her, he held her so close.  She felt that quick stab
of desire that cut right to the heart of her every time he touched
her.

He kissed her again and again, making her hungry for the night they had
ahead of them.

He moaned--it was a deep, low sound of pleasure--and slowly pulled away
from her.

"Still curls your toes, doesn't it?"  he said smugly.

"What if it does?"  she replied, "You are the most arrogant man."

"And you love me anyway."

"What are you doing here, Jack?"

"I came came to make sure you're going to walk down that aisle in
fifteen minutes."

She liked the sound of that.

"You're not worried, are you?"

He swore and yanked off the mask, then stood staring at her for the
longest time.

She still hadn't gotten used to the way he saw her.  He thought she was
beautiful.  He made her feel beautiful.  He could curl her toes with
just a look from those smoky brown eyes of his.

"You look incredible, Mrs.  MacAlister.  Don't you dare back out on me
now."

 "You are worried," she said, surprised as she always was when he
voiced any of the same doubts she felt.  There were still times when it
all seemed too good to be true.  Yet here she was, ready to walk down
the aisle to him.

"You do look beautiful," he said.

"And don't you dare make me cry."  She blinked back a few tears.

"Now, what are you really doing here?"

"I thought I told you.  No, I thought I showed you.  I couldn't wait
another minute to kiss the bride."