________________________________

                       

            The black Corvette raced through the desolate streets, its big engine rumbling.  Kristopher Westphal had not appreciated being woken up out of a sound sleep shortly after coming off a fourteen hour shift.  He looked across the seat at his boss.

 

            "How can you be so sure it's Simon?  Could be anyone. Just your run of the mill thief out to bag some computer equipment and fence it for a few bucks."

 

            Tad Brooks flexed his hands in and out of fists.  "It's Simon.  I know it is."

 

            "I think you're giving that imbecile way too much credit, L.B."

            Tad glared at his old friend with a hardened glint to his eye.  "And I don't think you're giving him enough, Kristopher Wyatt."

 

________________________________

                       

 

            A.J. looked up from the final page he was photographing when Brendan said,  "I don't get it.  Why would someone store a blank disk in a safe?"

 

            "What?"

            The boy swiveled enough in the chair so that A.J. could see the barren computer screen.  "There's nothing here.  Nothing in the directory."

 

            The blond man paused in thought.  "Isn't there way-------to hide saved files--------if you know what you------you're doing?"

 

            "Yeah, I think so.  But I don't know much about it.  They don't teach us that kinda stuff in school."

 

            "I should------hope not."  A.J. took the last of his pictures, all the while pondering Brendan's problem.  As he was shutting the file and returning his camera to his backpack, a hunch came to him.  He limped toward Brendan with an urgency the youngster hadn't seen before.  The detective couldn't talk as fast as his brain was thinking.

 

            "Get to A prompt.  A prompt now."

 

            Brendan did as A.J. ordered, continuing to type as further instructions came forth.  "Type Taylor. The name Taylor. T-a-y-l-o-r  Then hit------ enter."

 

            Brendan cried out in triumph when file after file scrolled forth.  A.J. rummaged through desk drawers until he came across a box of blank disks.  He pulled one out and handed it to Brendan.

 

            "Save everything-------to this.  Then we get--------out here."

 

________________________________

                       

            Tad Brooks' office and bathroom were left just as A.J. had found them.   He and Brendan rushed to exit Brooks Enterprises through the same door in which they'd entered an hour earlier.  A car was slowly approaching when they rounded the corner of the building.  Before A.J. could pull Brendan back into the shadows, the boy took off running, waving one arm and calling "Hey!  Hey, we're ready!"  The detective breathed a sigh of relief when Leo wheeled his taxi into the parking lot.  By the time A.J. limped over with his zippered pack in hand, Brendan was already settled in the back seat.

 

            The cab driver turned, making conversation with his now familiar patrons.   "Did you have a productive night, boys?"

            Brendan smiled at A.J., holding his hand up for a high-five.  "Yeah, we sure did, didn't we, Dad?"

 

            Although A.J. knew his own grin would only further entice the boy, he couldn't hold back his triumph.  Not just at having his suspicions confirmed along with the additional information he'd gained, but, as well, for feeling useful again for the first time since February.  For feeling like an adult again.  For feeling like a private investigator.

 

            A.J. slapped Brendan's hand, then put an arm around his shoulders and hugged the boy close.   "Yes, son------we did.  We certainly did."

           

________________________________

                       

            Neither man riding in the Vette paid any attention to the yellow cab that zipped by them headed in the opposite direction.  Tad ran from the car before Kit even had a chance to stop it and used his keys to gain entrance into the front of the building.  He immediately rounded a corner to the janitor's closet. He opened the cover to a complex panel and found what he'd half expected, the alarm loops that monitored the doors and windows were deactivated as though the electricity was off, or as though someone had clipped the wires.

 

            Tad ran out of the closet and pointed down the hallway.  "Look in every office, damn it!  And out the back door!  He might still be here!"

 

            Kit ran down the same hallway A.J. and Brendan had made use of five minutes earlier.  Tad raced into the conference room and flipped on the light.  With no hiding places big enough to secrete a grown man, it was easy to determine the room was empty.  Tad dashed across the hall to his office, again flipping on the light switch when he passed.  Not one thing appeared to be out of place; even his chair was as he had left it, straight and with the seat tucked neatly under his desktop.

 

            Running footsteps hailed Kit's arrival.  "No one's here.  I checked every office, bathroom, closet, and the kitchen.   Nothing's been disturbed as far as I can tell.  I even made a circle of the grounds.  Are you sure there just isn't some malfunction with the alarm system?"

 

            "No, there isn't a malfunction."  Tad's eyes flicked about the room.  "I'm willing to bet if we go outside and take a look at the junction box we'll see the wires have been cut."

 

            "And you're telling me A.J. Simon could have done that?"  Kit scoffed.  "For God sake, L.B., the guy's lucky if he can tie his own shoes."

 

            "Maybe he had help."

 

            "From who?"  Kit grunted.  "His cousin's kid?"

 

            "I don't know!"  Tad exploded.  "I don't know, but someone was in this room!  I don't have it wired with a separate ten thousand dollar alarm system that rings in my home for nothing!" 

 

            The man crossed to his computer and laid a hand on top of the monitor.  He looked at his friend.  "It's warm."

 

            "What?"

 

            "It's warm Goddammit!  Someone was using it!"

 

          Tad crossed to the coat closet that hadn't been used for coats in several years now, Kit at his heels.  The blond used a small key off his ring to unlock the door.  Four shelves had replaced the round rod the closet once held, security equipment and a twelve inch TV monitor resting on them.  Tad rewound the tape in the VCR that was hooked up to a hidden camera in his office wall, and to a hidden camera in the bathroom wall.  When the tape clicked off he hit the 'play' button.

 

            Black and white images came alive before the two men.  Tad's fury grew as he watched A.J. Simon pull the bathtub away from the wall, then disappear behind it.  "The bastards!"  Tad swore at the high tech security company he'd hired three years earlier to turn his office into a fortress.  "They told me no one, no one would ever figure out where the safe was.  They're going to have hell to pay when they see this tape, that's for sure."

 

            Kit thought they had more pressing concerns than a security company's false promises as they watched A.J. spread a familiar file out on Tad's desk and capture its contents with a pocket sized camera.  Within seconds after that, the police officer knew he didn't have to wonder if Tad's computer files had been compromised.  The proof was being played out right before his eyes as the man and boy collected the evidence they needed.

 

            Tad's fist pounded into the open closet door.  "Damn!"  He looked into Kit's eyes.  "Now do you think he's such an imbecile?  Now do you think he'd be lucky if he can tie his own shoes?  Now do you think it's so Goddamn funny that he had help from a fuckin' junior high school kid!"

 

            "L.B., come on.  Calm down.  We'll take care of him.  Him and the kid both.  We'll take care of them just like we've taken care of anyone else who's ever gotten in our

way."

 

            The blond man's rage propelled him across the room where his arms knocked everything off his credenza with one clean sweep.  Amidst the crash of equipment and the shattering of glass, Lowell Thaddeus Brooks Jr. paid no attention to the smiling children on the beach who now laid in separate places on the floor, the picture that had once contained them having been torn in two by his violence.

 

            And in a Best Western motel room on the other side of town, two men and a woman continued to watch with rapt attention the early morning activity being played out at Brooks Enterprises.

 

________________________________

                       

 

            A.J. was hesitant to allow Brendan to continue his journey home by himself, but the rehab hospital was considerably closer to Brooks Enterprises than Linda's house was.  Leo tuned into the conversation in the back when he heard the boy say,  "It's stupid for you to pay the cab driver to take me all the way home, and then bring you all the way back to the hospital.  I'll be fine, A...Dad.  Really I will."

            The cabbie looked in the rearview mirror, catching the doubt on A.J.'s face.  "Sir, I'll get him home safe and sound, I promise.  I've raised two kids of my own.  I know how a parent worries."

 

            A.J. finally nodded reluctant agreement.  His detective's intuition told him Leo was a trustworthy man, and after tonight's adventure certainly Brendan was capable of riding a few miles in a cab by himself.

 

            When Leo pulled into the rehab hospital’s parking lot, A.J. handed him what he owed for the trip thus far, plus enough money to cover what it would cost to take Brendan home along with a twenty dollar tip included.  "Take good care my-------of my boy."

            "Yes, sir.  Thank you, sir.  You bet, sir."

 

            Brendan impulsively threw his arms around A.J.'s neck before the detective could climb out of the taxi.  He put his mouth close to A.J.'s ear so the cabbie wouldn't overhear.  "Thanks for lettin' me come along, A.J.  I've never had so much fun in my whole life!"

 

            A.J. laughed while returning the boy's hug.  "You're a helluva------- partner, Bren."

 

            The blond man quietly exited the taxi.  He slung the backpack over his shoulder and watched until the cab was out of sight.  He headed for the gymnasium door, smiling when he found it as he'd left it.   Unlocked.

           

________________________________

                       

            Brendan Nash's house looked like he'd left it as well, quiet and dark except for the living room light his mother allowed to shine all night behind the closed draperies.

 

            Leo didn't have to be told not to pull into the Nash driveway.  He stopped at the curb just long enough to allow Brendan to hop out.  The boy eased the car door closed without making sound.  He gave Leo a wave as the man drove off down the street.  

 

            The thirteen-year-old dug into the pocket of his jeans for his house key as he approached the front door.  If he'd decided to enter the house the same way he'd exited it two and half hours earlier, he would have seen the vehicle pulled up close to the garage door.  Would have seen the vehicle, turned on the heel of his Converse running shoes, and raced off into the night.  But because he didn't see the vehicle, Brendan didn't realize the man was in his home until he opened the front door and found himself staring up into the grim face of Rick Simon.

 

Chapter 26

 

            By now, Rick Simon knew his brother's rehab schedule by heart.  Though it was Saturday, and sessions were abbreviated so the working day for both patients and therapists came to an end at noon, Rick was well aware of exactly what first floor room he'd find A.J. in.  With his features cast in harsh stone, Rick passed two workmen wearing white hard hats and tool belts, then skirted around the big janitor buffing wax off the floor.  Rick's mind was so locked on other concerns that it didn't register with him how odd that last fact was, considering he'd been told Abby's undercover man, Edmunds, had been taken off the job of guarding A.J. weeks earlier. 

 

            The young woman who was helping A.J. with some math equations looked up when Rick barged through the door without so much as a knock.  The detective's lips formed a line so tight it was surprising he could get any words out.  "I need to see my brother."

 

            "Mr. Simon, we're not finish--"

 

            "I need to see my brother now."

 

            The woman's eyes flicked from Rick to A.J.  She immediately sensed the tension permeating between the two men like a charged current.  The therapist didn't waste any time pushing her chair away from the small table she and her patient had been seated at.  She'd heard of other staff members having run-ins with Rick Simon, and wasn't about to deal with his infamous temper.  She knew Doctor Yeager wasn't in the building this morning, so would leave a message for her regarding this incident.  The twenty-three year old looked at A.J. and shot him a tiny, quick smile that broadcast how anxious she was to make her escape.  "I'll see you on Monday, A.J."

            The blond man nodded as his therapist sidled past Rick and all-too-willingly fled the room.

 

            Rick shut the door behind the parting woman.  He allowed a few long seconds to pass before turning to face his sibling.  Though Rick kept his words low and controlled, A.J. could easily detect the burning rage boiling red hot just beneath the surface.

 

            "You know, A.J., I'm gettin' a little tired of having to make these unscheduled trips here to talk to you about your behavior. Just what is goin' on with you lately?  Huh?  What the hell were you thinking when you black bagged Tad's office and took Brendan along besides?"  Rick's words sped up and his volume increased as he rapidly lost hold of his frayed temper.  "Do you know how worried Lindy was?  For chrissake she woke up in the middle of the night to find her son gone!  She called me at one-thirty in the morning practically out of her mind with fear!"

 

            "Rick--"

 

            "Thanks to you and the little joy ride you took the kid on, Brendan's been grounded for the next two weeks!  If it hadn't been for me calming Lindy down, he wouldn't have been able to go on the camping trip he has planned with his dad.   Lindy's not gonna allow him to come here and see you anymore, and quite frankly, I don't blame her.  She's pissed as hell at you.  It'll be a miracle if she ever talks to you again!  How could you have been so damn stupid?  And what were you doing at Tad's office in the first place?  What was that all about?  Some little game you were playin' to see if you've still got what it takes?  Some ego trip you were on to strut your stuff in front of a thirteen- year-old kid?"

 

            "Rick--"

 

            "What's the problem here?  Are you jealous of the friendship I have with Tad, and this is your way of showing me that?  For Christ sake, A.J., you're not a little kid, so quit actin' like one!  Whatta ya' trying to do, ruin my chances with Troya before I even get to marry her?"

 

            A.J. shot out of his chair, his anger a match for his brother's.  "Rick-----listen me---------I have to-----talk-----"

 

            "No, I'm not gonna listen to you!  You're gonna listen to me!  You are not gonna come in-between me and Troya, you got that?   You are not gonna interfere with the friendship me and her brother share!  You're not gonna screw up the best thing that's happened to me in a helluva long time!  We're just damn lucky you didn't get caught last night.  That would have been a helluva thing to have to explain to Tad, now wouldn't it?"

            Rick headed for the door without giving A.J. a chance to say another word.  "I don't know what I'm gonna do with you!  I don't know what bee you've got in your bonnet, but you better get it outta there where Troya's concerned!  She told me about the surprise she was gonna announce at your birthday party.  About you comin' home.  Well, now I'm not so sure you're ready to come home.  All this shit you're pullin' lately is only proving to me you're not ready to live alone.  It's becoming pretty apparent that you're gonna need a full-time babysitter whether you want one or not, and don't you think for one second I won't find one for you!"

 

            The echo of the door's heavy slam was the only sound in the room as A.J. slowly reseated himself.

                   

_______________________________

                       

 

            Brendan Nash idly wandered the rooms of his home that Saturday evening.  His mother and Heather were gone, having left at five o'clock for a family birthday party.  One of his cousins was turning eleven, and the celebration was being held at Brendan's grandmother's home like all birthday parties were.  Parties at Grandma Joan's were always fun.  She was a great cook and made the best cakes, not to mention the huge in-ground swimming pool she had that Brendan knew his sister and cousins would have long been making use of by now.

 

            Brendan had thought his mother might relent on the grounding issue for just this one night considering the party was a family get-together, but she hadn't.  The only place he was allowed to go during the next two week period was his day camp.  Other than that, he was to spend his nights and weekends at home doing whatever extra chores his mother assigned him. 

 

            As the boy made a circle of the living room and kitchen he wondered how long it would be before Rick invited him on an outing again.  He'd really come to enjoy the time he got to spend with the detective, and hated the thought of it coming to an end.  It was bad enough he wasn't going to be able to see A.J. anymore. 

 

            The thirteen-year-old thought back to the early morning hours after Leo had dropped him off.  He'd never seen Rick so furious.  Even Brendan's dad had never yelled at him as loud as Rick had. 

 

            The teenager hadn't wanted to tell his mother and Rick where he'd been, but as the minutes ticked by and he came to realize they weren't going to dismiss him to his bedroom, he had no choice but to say he'd been with A.J.  That only started the yelling up all over again as Rick exclaimed with a roar, "With A.J.!  What were you doing with A.J.?"

 

            When all Brendan did was stare down at his shoes, Rick shagged him hard by the upper arm and demanded, "I want some answers here, Brendan, and I want 'em now!  What were you doing with A.J.?"

            The boy had felt like a turncoat when he'd finked on A.J., but what choice did he have?  It was obvious Rick wasn't going to leave without some sort of explanation being given, and his grip on Brendan's arm hurt.  The blond settled on offering as little as he had to. 

 

            "We------we did a black bag job," he'd mumbled, still with his eyes focused on his shoes.

 

            "A black bag job!  What the...where?"

 

            When Brendan didn't answer, Rick squeezed his arm tighter.  "Where, Brendan?"

            When there was still no answer Rick tilted Brendan's chin upward so he was forced to meet the man's stern gaze.  "I wanna know where, kid, and I wanna know right this second." 

 

            Brendan's eyes flicked from Rick to his mother, but he could immediately see he was going to get no help from her.  He looked back up when Rick exerted a minute amount of pressure on his jaw.   

 

            "Brendan, where?"

 

            "Tad...Tad Brooks' office."

 

            Rick released Brendan without saying another word, or asking another question.  When Brendan tried to tell Rick why he and A.J. had gone to Brooks Enterprises in the first place and what they'd found there, the detective turned away from him before he got out more than three words.

 

            "I don't wanna hear it."

 

            "But, Rick--"

 

            "I said I don't wanna hear it!"

 

            "But--"

 

            The teenager's mother interrupted with a firm, "Go to bed, Brendan."

 

            "But, Mom, me and A.J.--"

 

            "I don't want to hear about you and A.J.!  I said go to bed!"

 

            Brendan looked from one adult to the other.  His mother's face was as unyielding as Rick's ramrod straight back was.

 

            "But--"

 

            "Now!"  Linda shouted in a voice and tone Brendan had never heard her use before. 

 

            The boy had headed up the stairs, hazarding a glance back at the adults below, but to no avail.  Rick wouldn't acknowledge him, and his mother only glared and pointed a finger toward the upper story of the house.

 

            To make it sound like he'd entered his room, Brendan had shut his door.  He then slipped off his shoes and eased back to the head of the stairs.  His mother and Rick had moved far enough away that he couldn't hear all their words, but he did hear Rick apologize for A.J.'s behavior.  Then the teen heard Rick tell his mother he didn't blame her when she said Brendan couldn't visit A.J. anymore.

 

            The thirteen-year-old didn't go to his room until he heard Rick leave the house fifteen minutes later.  He wasn't too surprised when his mother didn't come in to check on him, but rather walked right by his closed door on the way to her own room. 

 

            Not for the first time Brendan wished he had a phone in his room.  If he did, he would have called A.J. and told him what had happened - forewarned him that Rick was on the warpath and would probably be paying him an unannounced visit.  But Brendan didn't have a phone in his room, and when morning came his mother had him up early and handed him a long list of chores.  He was alone only one time the entire day when his mother was outside helping Heather lace up her Rollerblades.  That had been at ten o'clock.  He'd dialed A.J.'s room repeatedly, but the phone just rang and rang and rang.

 

            Now it was almost ten-thirty at night and Brendan was once again trying to call A.J.  He figured Rick had been to the rehab center sometime during the day, but what had transpired there the boy didn't know.  He wondered if Rick had been more receptive to listening to A.J. than he'd been in regards to listening to him.  If that was the case, maybe Rick and A.J. were talking to Lieutenant Marsh right now.  Maybe that's why he hadn't been able to get a hold of A.J. since he'd started dialing the phone at fifteen minute intervals from the moment his mother's car had pulled out of the driveway at five.

 

            Knowing his mother and Heather would be home soon; Brendan gave up on trying to call A.J. anymore this evening.  He'd rise before the rest of his household the next morning and try again from the phone in the kitchen.

 

            The boy stood at the kitchen window for a few minutes and watched lightening flick across the sky.  It wasn't raining yet, but a storm was forecast for later that night.  When the brewing turbulence offered no more entertainment, Brendan wandered up to his room and flicked the light on.  He didn't feel like reading, or drawing, or listening to music, and there was nothing on TV.  Even Winston wasn't in the mood to provide Brendan with any fun.  The boy dangled a cloth mouse suspended from a piece of elastic in front of the cat, but the old tom did no more than open one eye before continuing his slumber on the top bunk.  When Brendan heard someone fiddling with the locked side door that opened off the driveway he exited his room and started down the stairs.  Even though he was grounded, and Grandma Joan had surely heard all about the reasons why, he knew the woman wouldn't forget him.  No doubt she'd forced his mother to bring home a big plate of cheese stuffed shells for him topped with her special tomato sauce, along with an enormous piece of birthday cake.  Maybe Grandma had even felt so sorry for him she'd sent two pieces of cake.

 

            Feeling assured it was his family at the door, and more out of habit than anything else, Brendan yelled,  "Hey, Mom, is that you?  Mom?"

            The boy stopped, his heart kicking in his chest when two men stepped out from the dark kitchen wearing ski masks to conceal their identity - identity that couldn't be completely concealed when the one with the funny eyes smiled down at him.  "No, Brendan, it's not your mommy."

 

            Brendan turned and raced for the stairs.  His mother's bedroom door had a lock and there was a phone on her nightstand.  The boy prayed the lock would keep the men out long enough to allow him to dial 911. 

 

            The thirteen-year-old never made it past the fifth step.  Two strong hands grabbed his ankles and yanked his feet out from under him.  His right tennis shoe flipped off and sailed through the air.  His ribcage slammed into the stairs so hard his breath came out in an "Umph!"  His nose was bashed against the carpeted edge of a step, blood gushing forth like water from a spouting geyser.  The boy struggled as his body was bumped down each stair.  He kicked and flailed his legs while his fingers clawed for a handhold in the thick weave of the carpet, but the adolescent was no match for two grown men.  His ankles and wrists were tightly bound with horsehair rope and his attempts at yelling for help cut off by a wide strip of silver duct tape smacked over his mouth.  Something that smelled like his mother's fingernail polish remover was held against his throbbing bleeding nose, but when he tried to turn his head away one of the men grabbed it and held it in place.  Brendan began to feel dizzy and sick to his stomach, and then the room began to spin right before his eyelids grew so heavy they felt like someone had laid bricks on them.  He fought to keep his eyes open, but within seconds succumbed to a deep state of unconsciousness.   

 

            The boy's slack body was carried out to the waiting Bronco underneath a brown wool blanket, his right tennis shoe remaining behind to lie forlornly on its side at the bottom of the stairs.

 

Chapter 27

 

            A.J. hadn't seen or heard from his brother since Rick had stormed out of the rehab center at eleven o'clock that morning.  Not that he'd necessarily expected too, but he'd assumed once Rick calmed down he'd realize how odd all the recent occurrences were and return so they could sort them out together.

 

            But then again, maybe not, A.J. thought as he put his empty supper dishes on the long stainless steel counter in the cafeteria.  He's so taken with Troya he can't see the forest for the trees.  Or at least it seems that way.  Babysitter my ass.  It'll be a cold day in hell before he prevents me from leaving here when I'm ready, and prevents me from living my life as I see fit. 

 

            A.J. knew time was of the essence now if he wanted to present the evidence he had to Abigail Marsh.  He'd been hoping he and Rick could do that together. The last thing he wanted was to tell Rick after the fact what was going on within the Brooks family, but if Rick wasn't willing to listen to him there weren't many options left. 

 

            When A.J. had entered the desolate gymnasium at quarter to three that morning he'd hidden his backpack and the tools it contained in a dark corner of the rafters in the men's locker room.   He carried the roll of film he'd used and the disk Brendan had made as he silently climbed the stairs to his room.  He had no trouble slipping across the dim hall without being seen.  At seven a.m., when things were confusing because the nurses were changing shifts, and patients were heading to breakfast, and that big janitor Mike was using a machine to put a layer of wax on the floor, A.J. made his way unobserved to Henry Sorenson's room where he taped the roll of film to the far underside of the old man's little-used work counter.  The computer disk A.J. kept with him that day in his back pocket, further secreting it by not tucking the pale blue polo shirt he was wearing into the waistband of his jeans. 

 

            The gym was always busy on Saturdays with patients and their family members making use of the swimming pool.  By the time A.J. entered it at ten-thirty that night the bustling activity of earlier had given way to silence.  The blond man headed through the doorway of the men's locker room, stopping short when he almost walked into one of the therapists.

 

            "Hey, A.J.," the man smiled.  "What are you doing in here so late? Are you going to give the punching bag another run for its money?"

            "No, no."  A.J. pointed down the short hallway that led to the showers and lockers.  "Forgot-----something."

 

            "Oh.  Okay.   Well, I've got a got a couple days off now, so I won't see you again until Tuesday."

 

            "See you Tuesday-------Phil."

 

            A.J. listened until he heard the heavy wooden double doors that led from the gym open and close.  He hurried into the locker room and climbed up on a bench.  He got on his tiptoes and reached a questing hand skyward.  When his fingers encountered nylon straps he pulled.

 

            The backpack fell into A.J.'s arms.  He unzipped it, retrieving his leather lock pick case and the flashlight. The man made quick work of closing the pack and returning it to its hiding place.  He jumped off the bench, allowed his right leg a moment to adjust to the movement, and then followed the same path Phil had.

 

            When A.J. came to the double doors he opened them a mere crack.  Because visiting hours had ended thirty minutes earlier he didn't expect to see any activity in the first floor hallway.  He wasn't disappointed; all was quiet and dim as though the hospital had gone into slumber mode for the evening.

 

            A.J. headed straight toward the lobby, then turned left down the intersecting hall.  On the other side of the wall to his left was the front of the gym; on the right were therapy rooms that faced the parking lot. 

 

            A.J. looked up and down the hall when he came to the sixth and last room - the room that housed the computers.  He knew the knob had nothing more than a push button lock.  He opened the leather case and slipped out the small tool he needed.  He slid the long thin device into the key slot on the knob, hearing the 'pop' that indicated he'd tripped the lock.  He glanced down the hall again while returning the pick he'd used to its proper slot.  He closed the case that was no bigger than a thin wallet and shoved it the back pocket that wasn't carrying the disk. 

 

            A.J. opened the door to the small computer lab, if one could even refer to the drab old room as a lab.  This was one area that was going to receive a major overhaul when all the renovations were complete.  It was A.J.'s understanding the lab was being relocated to a spacious room on the second floor where the number of computers would rise from four to twelve, each connected to their own printer rather than all sharing one, and reside within private work-stations surrounded by partial walls.

 

            The detective made sure the door was shut and locked before he flicked on the light.  Fortunately, the room's only window faced the parking lot and not the hallway from which he'd just entered.  The drapes were pulled concealing him further from anyone who might be outside.  There was another door in the room as well, one that opened into the adjoining therapy room.  This pattern was repeated throughout the six rooms that lined this hallway, making it easier for wheelchair bound patients to move from session to session, as well as making it easier for the therapists to exchange information and team teach.   A.J. made sure the button lock on the side door was pushed in as well.  The last thing he wanted was someone walking in on him. 

 

            A.J. took the disk from his back pocket and crossed the room.   A long cafeteria- style table lined the wall by the window, the computers residing side by side on top of it.   With the tip of his finger he flicked a machine on and pulled out a chair, his back now to the main entrance door of the room.  While he waited for the machine to boot up, he turned on the dot matrix printer next to it.  This was the first chance he'd gotten to look at the files Brendan had copied from the disk Tad kept stored in his vault.  If A.J.'s hunch was correct, there would be an abundance of information here Abby Marsh would be interested in viewing.

 

            When the screen came alive with a C prompt, A.J. inserted the disk, indicated to the machine he needed it to read drive A, and typed the word Taylor.

 

_______________________________

                       

 

            Tad sat behind the wheel of his quietly idling Bronco in a remote corner of the rehab center's parking lot, his discarded ski mask lying on the seat next to him.  Thunder rumbled overhead as his eyes traveled the front of the building.  He absently focused on faint light shining through the draperies of a ground floor therapy room on the north end of the structure. 

 

            "What's the plan?"  Kit asked from where he sat in the passenger seat, his ski mask also having long been removed.

 

            "We go in, grab Simon, ease him into la-la land like we did the kid, throw him in back, and take them to the Aubrey.   We'll weight their bodies down like we talked and dump them in the ocean.  If they're good boys, we'll make sure they're fast asleep before we throw them overboard.  If they're not," Tad shrugged carelessly, "if they're not then I don't suppose their deaths will be pleasant ones, but that's their problem, not mine."

 

            "You think it's gonna be that easy, huh?  Have you forgotten Simon's a little bigger than a teenage kid?"

 

            "No, I haven't forgotten.  But given his physical disabilities he's not going to be able to put up much of a fight.  Besides, by now he's probably asleep.  Between the two of us it'll be easy to hold him down and get the chloroform over his nose.  You saw how fast it worked on our little friend Brendan."

 

            "Yeah, but we also took him out of an empty house.  How are we gonna get Simon out of a hospital full of people without someone spotting us?"

 

            "Easy.  After we've got him sedated, you're going to create a distraction by pulling the fire alarm while I stand ready in Simon's room with him thrown over my shoulder.   There are only two nurses on the floor during the nightshift.  Once that alarm sounds they'll be so busy trying to get everyone rounded up that we'll be able to get down the stairs and out of the building before they even realize he's missing."

 

            "That's fine, but what about if we don't get across the parking lot with him before the fire trucks show up?"

             "We won't have to cross the parking lot."  Tad put the big vehicle in drive.  "There's a side door that comes out the gym and onto the back lawn.  We're going to park right in front of it.  Don't worry, old buddy, we'll be long gone before the first trucks arrive."

 

            "And what about the pictures Simon took and the disk he had the kid make?"

            "They have to be in his room somewhere.  After we get him in dreamland we'll search the room for his camera and the disk.  If we don't find anything, you can come back here early in the morning dressed in your uniform and go through the room again.  By then the staff and the Simon family will know A.J.'s missing.  You'll have all the freedom you need to search the entire building without anything seeming amiss."

 

            "Me?  Why me?"

 

            Tad was growing weary of Kit's nagging questions. "Because you're a goddamn cop, and you should know how to pull off something like this without me explaining every little detail to you!  And it's what I pay you for, you understand?"

 

            "Yeah."  Kit looked out at the unstable night sky through the passenger side window, hating how he'd prostituted himself to this man.  "Yeah, I understand."

 

            Tad grabbed a flashlight off the dashboard, tossing it cleanly to his friend.  He glanced over his shoulder to see Brendan's blanket covered body lying motionless in the wide cargo hold behind the back seat.  "Come on. Let's get this over with before that storm hits.  Besides, it pains me to see sweet little Brendan all alone back there.  His cousin A.J. should join him and make this a proper family affair."

 

_______________________________

 

            Troya Yeager rubbed a hand over eyes that stung and burned just like they advertised in Visine commercials.  What little sleep she'd gotten since Wednesday night had been troubled and full of images she'd rather forget.  She was in her office now, burning the midnight oil because she'd taken the day off in hopes of getting some rest and a clearer perspective.

 

            Troya had met Rick for lunch at one o'clock that afternoon at a restaurant near the Simon and Simon office.  She'd had every intention of unburdening her recent sins to her fiancé, but he appeared as tired and preoccupied as she was.   Rick had tried to say something to her three different times, but had stopped after getting only her name out.  Whatever it was he wanted to tell her seemed to be upsetting him, or so Troya perceived.  When she pressed him on the subject he took her hand, gave her a tight smile that caused deep worry lines to appear around his eyes, and said,  "It's nothing.  Forget it."  Which is exactly what happened when she tried to tell him about the incident in A.J.'s room Wednesday night.  She never got past the word, "Rick," and ended up saying "Never mind," after four failed attempts.

 

            Later, Rick held Troya's hand while walking her to her Miata.  "I've got quite a lot of work to do yet today," the detective said, referring to the cases he had in progress.  "But I'd like to see you tonight.  I've got something I...something I need to talk to you about.  It'll probably be late though.  After midnight.  Maybe even going on one or two in the morning.  Do you mind if I come over then?"

 

            "No, you have a key. Go ahead and let yourself in.   I'll wait up for you.  I...I've got something I need to talk to you about, too."

 

            The couple gave each other a kiss before parting ways that afternoon, but for the first time since their relationship had started their hearts didn't seem to be into the display of affection.   

 

            Troya worked in her garden that afternoon.  Digging her hands in the warm, damp soil while surrounded by a rainbow of blooming colors usually brought clear perspective to her problems and serene peace of mind.  But this time neither clarity nor serenity was to be found no matter how much she dug, and transplanted, and watered.  She went in the house just as the sun was setting and stood under a hot shower, letting the soothing water pelt her back for fifteen minutes.  Thinking of the night ahead with Rick, and what she was going to force herself to confess, caused Troya to lose what little appetite the outdoor work had brought her.  She walked through her house three times, but wasn't able to focus on anything from the television, to a book she'd been reading, to a medical journal she should be studying, so decided to go to the rehab center and spend a few hours catching up on paperwork.  She left Rick a note on the kitchen counter regarding her whereabouts in the event he arrived at her home before she returned.  On an afterthought she signed it,

 

            The power of love conquers all. I'll always love you, Rick, with all the love my heart possesses.

 

            The doctor sat in her office now, staring down at the financial reports she should be updating before the next board meeting on Wednesday.  The numbers on the ledger swam in front of her eyes.  She blinked, attempting to clear away the excess moisture caused by stress and lack of sleep.  She glanced at her wristwatch, seeing it was fourteen minutes after eleven.  She forced herself to focus on her work, her fingers tapping over the keyboard of her computer.  She paused, cocking her head at what sounded like the gymnasium doors being eased shut followed by the low rumble of a man's voice.

 

            Troya stood.  She rounded her desk and stepped into the hallway, walking the dimly lit path until she came to the wide lobby.  As she would have expected for this time of night, no one was occupying the big lounge.  She looked to her left toward the elevator.  The hallway that held it, the gym, and a smattering of other rooms was empty.   No light was on above the elevator door, indicating the lone car was vacant as well. 

 

            The woman shrugged as she turned in the direction of her office, certain she must have been hearing things that didn't exist.

 

________________________________

 

 

            Just like A.J. was adept at picking locks and entering places he didn't belong, so was Kristopher Westphal.  Once he had the lock tripped on the door that led from the grounds to the gym, the same door A.J. had entered early that morning after his raid on Brooks Enterprises, Kit and Tad crossed the gym to exit into the hall by the elevator.  As was the plan, they bypassed that means of transportation to instead use the stairs. 

 

            Tad barely cracked opened the stairwell door on the third floor.   From what he could tell the hallway was deserted.  He risked opening the door further so he could determine where the nurses were.  By looking straight down the hall Tad could see the two women standing at the nurses’ station, their backs to him.  Although he couldn't hear their conversation, he could tell by their body language that they were engrossed in some form of quiet, animated gossip.

 

            The blond man reached in the left slanted side pocket of his leather bomber jacket.  He felt the bottle of chloroform and the white handkerchief he'd used to cover Brendan's nose and mouth.  Underneath those items rested short, sturdy lengths of rope that would securely bind his victim's wrists and ankles.  Nestled snugly in his other pocket was a fully loaded chrome plated revolver.  He looked at Kit and pointed across the hall, indicating it was time to start the second leg of their journey.

 

            Kit nodded his understanding.  He followed in Tad's silent footsteps as they crossed the few feet to A.J.'s dark room.  Tad opened the door without making a sound and the two men slipped inside, Kit easing the door shut behind them.  They'd gone over the plan so many times they had their parts memorized.  Kit turned the flashlight on but kept it aimed at the floor.  Once they got to A.J.'s bedside he'd shine it on the man, giving Tad the light he needed to locate the position of the detective's face on the pillow.