Murder in the Choir Room - Chapter 3

Chapter Three

by Toni Walker

I thought I was going to make an early night of it, but Delilah McQuade's death put a damper on my plans.

I don't know why I was surprised to find Delilah's body shoved into a dumbwaiter, but I was. You think I'd be used to it by now. Dead bodies just seem to find me. I was beginning to think I was cursed. But how dumb with that curse be? You're cursed to trip over dead bodies and solve their murders. Then again, as curses went, there were probably dumber ones than that.

Pastor Jenkins was beside himself. Distraught was too tame a word for his condition. He was completely losing it. After the police, I'd called

Porsche. When it came to stressful situations she was the calm in the storm.

The pastor latched onto her side and she let him blubber about Delilah's untimely death while his wife Mavis stared at her with narrowed eyes. Geoffrey leaned against the piano looking bored and unaffected. This woman who was pushing daisies had spent a lot of time with both men. I considered it unusual that Geoffrey couldn't even pretend to care the woman was deceased. What a tool. I was losing respect for him hand over fist.

The police had separated me and Tara almost from the beginning. I guess they wanted us to get our stories straight without us influencing each other. I been down this road before. 

I saw Tara briefly as the detective let her go and asked her to be available for more questioning at a later time. She didn't wave as she left, merely nodded toward me acknowledging the fact that she was done and it was my turn.

"Miss O'Reilly? Would you mind joining me in the office?" The lanky detective motion for me to follow him. My body complied even though my brain went suddenly blank. I had a phobia that taking tests when I was in high school A fear that suddenly erupted in my brain. Would that translate into sucking at being a witness to?

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said conversationally. My name is Nate and I'm a detective with the Park Ridge Police Department. I understand you were in the room when the deceased was discovered."

I stared back at him, my mind still blank. Test anxiety all over again. My mind was focusing everywhere except the question. I noticed his manicured nails and recent haircut. His dark brown hair wasn't too short and I was glad. It looked better on him like that. Not that I'd ever seen him before. I just imagined it looked better. He was cute. I could go for a guy who looked like that.

Hello. My mind was a whirling a mile a minute. I definitely was not good at this witness thing. I attempted to focus in again, but noticed how his white buttoned-up shirt stretched across his chest. They were accentuated nicely by the shoulder holster he had on. His five o'clock shadow was going on ten pm. His slate blue eyes glittered as the overhead light touched his face. I was a goner. 

"Did you hear me, Mrs. O'Reilly?" he said again. I snapped back into focus and let go of the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "Call me Megan," I told him breathlessly. "Everyone calls me Megan."

He leaned into the church secretary's desk and crossed his arms. "Alright, Megan. Then what happened tonight?"

I told him about my professor Dr. Bruce Lindstrom and how he and Tara had cooked up this cockamamie plan to help me with my creative writing assignment. I explained about the cloaked figure and my now sore butt. Everything I'd done the last two days came spilling forth like a flood of memories and I was deluging him with it all. 

He didn't seem to be writing any of it down so maybe he was humoring me, feeling sorry for how sucky a witness I was. I kept talking until there was nothing more to relate and I leaned back in the chair exhausted.

"Woah,  this witness thing is a tough gig," I said gulping in air. 

"Did you happen to see the face of the person who bumped into you?" Detective Nate asked. 

"Heck, I didn't even know they were there until suddenly they were. It was very dark on the far side of the room. And come to think of it, why were they wearing a cloak? It's been over 100° for the last five days straight."

"We did recover a blanket on the floor of the foyer. Maybe this was your cloak?"

"Maybe, I can't be certain. I was too busy trying to catch myself from falling than noticing too many key details." I said. You see, if this had happened to anyone else, you'd have more facts. I'm not even a member of this church. I don't know anyone except Tara -  oh and Geoffrey from when he was on TV.

The detective let me loose not long later giving me the same line as Tara to not leave town and be available for further questions. When I looked out the front door many church members had gather together in the parking lot like paparazzi stalking a celebrity. I did not want to be attacked by that mob.

I found another exit on the far side of the building and began my walk home. 

Oracle Card for 9/11

Earth Magic with Dr. Steven Farmer - Earth Magic Oracle Cards - One Card Reading

Check out the readings over at earthmagic.net. You can get a 1 or 3 card reading for FREE using the Earth Magic deck or a 1 card reading using the Spirit Animals deck. It's cool to see what you uncover. My card for today is:

The back of this card reads:

Now is the time to let anything in your life fall away that is no longer useful or needed for the emerging expression of who you are. Allow yourself to gradually shed what has become burdensome and no longer congruent with your soul’s purpose. With release comes a sense of being much lighter, just like the trees that openly bear their nakedness once their leaves have departed and give room for whatever new Life is ready to birth following a period of quiet and gestation. So let go of whatever has outlived its purposefulness and trust that something else will take its place.

Oracle Card Reading for 9/10/12

These cards were drawn from the Archangel Oracle Card deck by Doreen Virtue and the Healing Cards deck by Caroline Myss and Peter Occhiogrosso.

First Card - Sensitivity - Archangel Haniel
The card reads: You are extra sensitive to energies right now. Honor yourself and your feelings.

My take on this card: you may feel like anything can set you off today, but if you try to center yourself you'll feel better. Get out into nature, listen to music or smell the flowers to ground your energies today.

Second Card: Spread Your Wings - Archangel Ariel

The card reads: Do not hold back right now. The timing is perfect, and you are ready to soar!

My take on the card: soar like an eagle, you're ready to go on your grand adventure. Connect with God by reaching high with your energy. He is the source of all knowing and can direct your flight to new heights.

Third Card: Remember Who You Are - Archangel Michael

The card reads: You are a powerful, loving and creative child of God. You are very loved.

My take on the card: in the picture AA Michael is holding a torch. This is the light inside of you. He wants you to let your light shine brightly for all to see. Follow your internal guidance to lead you to your purpose. He is holding a sword in his other hand. Ask AA Michael to cut any chords that attach you to fear based thoughts. You are very loved by the angels.

Card Four: Indigo & Crystal Children - Archangel Metatron

The card reads: You have a bond with children. In particular, you can help children who are extra sensitive.

My take: Part of your life purpose is to teach children so they can grow in their spirituality. What are your spiritual gifts? What can you teach the next generation that no one else can? Do that and you will be on the right path.

Fifth Card : from the Healing Cards deck - illness is not a punishment, but a stimulant to life.

My take: many people think any illness is some curse sent down to them by God in order to keep them from something important they want to do. This is far from the truth. God is love and he loves his people. God is just doing some spring cleaning on your system so you can move forward on your path happier and healthier than ever.

I hope you enjoyed this reading. Leave me some comments. Let me know if this resonated with you today.

Murder in the Choir Room - Chapter Two

Murder in the Choir Room

Chapter Two

by Toni Walker

Once past the threshold, the inside wasn't any less spooky. The foyer opened to a larger area that boasted a cathedral ceiling and a grand staircase. Tara told me the house was once owned by the Hearst family which explained its opulence. They were the town's richest residents. When Millie Grace Hearst passed away in her 95th year, she left her house to the Cedar Point Baptist Church. She was a long-time member and very faithful to her congregation. But not as faithful as some other members of her family.

This act did not sit well with her grandson, Senator Boone Hearst. He blamed his near loss of his coveted Senate seat to the scandal about his grandmother's mansion. It wasn't like he didn't have his own McMansion across town, an even bigger and grander one than Millie's. Out of spite, he stopped attending services and giving his money to church causes. But his wife, Laney, was attempting to draw him back so he could watch her stand out in the choir.

Tara Doreen pushed me forward again. This time toward the stairs. Apparently, I wasn't moving fast enough for her.

The choir room was located up the grand staircase and toward the back of the mansion. The hallways were wide and easy to navigate. Many of the walls were still decorated with Hearst family memorabilia, another factor that annoyed Boone.

I stumbled over a catch in the carpet trying to put all the stories Tara had told me out of my mind. She was quite a story weaver. Maybe I should be asking her for help with my creative writing class.

I felt like I'd been cramming all day for a pop quiz that was about to be administered the second I walked through the choir room door. There was no way I was going to remember it all. People's names and faces jumbled in my mind. But that distraction didn't keep me from noticing the fabulous staircase.

"I've never seen a church like this," I said in a hushed tone, the awe in my voice readily apparent. "I keep expecting Miss Marple or Hercule Poirot jump out from behind a bookcase or something." I was a bit of an Agatha Christie nut.

"And right you should," said a human hurricane that breezed past me up the massive staircase. Geoffrey Greenwalt was much taller in person than on the small screen. My initial thought was that he had to be on some sort of medication. He was a whirlwind in shiny loafers. The button of his jacket strained against his paunche. If he'd kept it on, with my luck, the button would have flown off and poked me in the eye.

No one was that perky normally. He ushered me into the choir room throwing out introductions. I knew I wouldn't be able to latch onto names this early in the game. I nodded toward the people who had already arrived. Their faces were familiar thanks to Tara and her choir flash cards.

"Let us gather at the river of forgiveness," Geoffrey lamented, quoting from a popular nineties christian tune. As he draped his jacket across a bust of a Hearst ancestor, he smiled broadly at  a large black woman named Porsche Wright. I swear I could see a slight blush beneath her dark skin. She quickly took a seat behind the piano.

I considered wondering about their relationship but it was too early to contemplate the complex relationships in the choir. But one thing was clear, Geoffrey didn't play an instrument. There was an acoustic guitar sitting over near a boy who looked more goth rocker than choir member.

Geoffrey gave me the once over twirling his finger in a circle asking me to move around. My eyes narrowed a bit. It was a tad too early for something like this. But I guess his flamboyant ways negated his rational mind.

"You're younger and prettier than I thought you'd be," Geoffrey said off-handedly. "Not everyone has arrived yet. So, make yourself at home."

I shivered. This place was anything but homey. The choir room was an immense space. I imagined it had at one time been a ballroom. My mother had mentioned to me that many Victorian homes from that era had ballrooms upstairs. It also probably had a lot of creepy extras like dumbwaiters and secret passages. It felt like that sort of house.

I shivered again and my breasts did that annoying jiggle. I had to hand it to Geoffrey. He hadn't leered at the girls like most men his age. Heck, what am I talking about. Everyone leered at the girls, even other girls. I was one of those people that got hit on by both sexes.

"Altos are over there," he said pointing to the right. "The sopranos, there." I was pretty equal in both my high and low ranges, and since the alto section was the most lacking, I chose that section.

Laney Goodall-Hearst, Tara's sister, came flying into the room flapping sheet music at Geoffrey. "This is exactly what we should do next." she said ignoring the rest of us. "It has an amazing solo that I would be perfect for."

A scrawny woman named Iris with flaming red hair leaned over to me and whispered. "Like she doesn't get all the solos. Why slap us all in the face with the fact."

"Amen to that, sista!" said Porsche, owner of the Tasty Tidbits Bakery and Restaurant. It was little more than a glorified diner. I was a waitress, there from time to time. And I had to admit the stretchy t-shirt that was part of the uniform did make the girls look delicious, as would anyone who had the word Tasty in gigantic script over their bosom. 

Laney turned and gave Iris the stink-eye. It was almost as if she knew exactly what the woman was thinking.

"She's creepy that way," Iris said. "I swear the flowers in my shop wilt when she comes near."

I had never met Tara's sister until now. And Tara hadn't really warned me about the dastardly effects of her sister's stink-eye. But I could definitely feel the remnants of her power.

Iris was wearing an Egyptian looking necklace that sported an ankh above a cartouche which I assumed spelled out her name in hieroglyphics. An unusual piece,  for sure. 

The choir door opened suddenly and a slender woman in a long shirt and a light t-shirt breezed in, paper flying around her. Her hair was disheveled from the wind. She bent to pick the papers up and smiled apologetically at the group.

"Sorry, I'm late. Summer school ran a little over." She found a seat next to me and plopped the stack of papers on the floor at her feet. I could see the handwriting from where I sat and assumed she was an elementary school teacher. My theory soon proved correct.

Geoffrey held up a book and I grabbed a copy from the rack beneath my chair. Everyone else did the same. "Page 43," he said, crossing to sit behind the piano. Porsche moved to allow him the stage.

He wasn't much of a piano player. His music sounded like a bunch of clashing notes that didn't go together. Appeased that he'd put in his time behind the piano, Geoffrey allowed Porsche to return to the piano.

Porsche played with a flourish. I was familiar with her playing. She did it periodically at her business the Tasty Tidbits Restaurant and Bakery. She had an old upright that she'd acquired from a local movie theatre when they'd upgraded their facility.

"She's just a lovely pianist, isn't she?" asked the teacher next to me. "I'm Jessica Baxter." She held out her hand and I shook it briefly. I saw her turn her head and make eye contact with a goth-looking teen sitting in the back row. He couldn't have been more than twenty. Her cheeks filled with a rosy hue, then she abruptly pulled her glance away and focused again on Porsche's playing positioning her book getting ready to sing.

I found something a little telling about the Cedar Point Baptist Church choir. While they might be holding their books, no one really knew how to read the notes. I stopped Geoffrey momentarily during a break asking him to pound out a part for me. Being an alto usually meant singing in harmony with the other parts. The sopranos usually had the melody and that was the case in this song.

He gave me a stare that was a cross between a death ray and Laney's stink-eye and shoved a CD my way.

"All the songs are on here. Pick out the part on your own time," he said quickly turning to leave my presence as if just being around me was going to get my cooties on him.

"Okay." I slowly turned on my heel and took my seat again. Jessica leaned over patting my hand with sympathy.

"Don't take it personally. After awhile you just learn not to ask for help. Geoffrey isn't exactly the helpful type."

"This is a choir full of people who can't read sheet music. How does he expect everyone to learn their part?" My words came out more passionately than I intended, but dang it, people like Geoffrey were only hired to lead the choir and choose the music for the service.

I knew of churches that only had volunteer music directors. From all the Tara told me, this Geoffrey character was pulling down a hefty salary for such a small town choir director. I could only believe that the Hearst family had something to do with getting him hired on with obviously no choir directing experience.

Porsche seemed to be the one doing all the true leading. 

"Why don't we start again on 46 halfway down the page," she asked.

Geoffrey nodded his agreement. "Yes, yes. And why don't we all stand."

Everyone groaned.

"Okay. None of that or I'll have you standing during the entire service." 

A few of the older ladies became quickly vocal. They had weak knees and backs. And they couldn't be in the choir if they had to stand that much.

Geoffrey had no sympathy for the weak and elderly, although, the weak and elderly made up eighty percent of of the congregation. 

"That's fine. Great actually," he countered. "I have been thinking about getting some younger blood in here."

"You are just asking for trouble," Agnes Chambers said, standing up and shuffling her nearly 90 year old body over to Geoffrey. "I was on the committee that brought you here and I will also be on the committee that kicks your butt out," she threatened. "Don't think you can just push around us old folks. We're the ones paying your salary. Not those randy teens and twenty year olds."

Agnes didn't mince words. And I could tell by Geoffrey's expression that he had heard her loud and clear.

"Agnes and Hazel are like this," Iris held two fingers together. If those two conspire to out you, you're out."

The practice ended not long after Agnes chewed out Geoffrey. I had to admit, that was the best part of the entire experience. I wasn't intending to be in this choir long. Just long enough to get my inspiration and do my intern time.

The aggravation was still in Geoffrey's voice when he ordered me to, "Put all those books away." 

I glanced over at the choir chairs and books and sheet music were strewn everywhere. "Lovely," I said. "Sure thing."

He marched out of the choir room, into his office across the hall and slammed the door. Tara stood in the doorway of the choir room and shook her head. 

"He's such a butt head," she said. "So, what did you think."

Geoffrey Greenwalt is not a choir director," I said. "It's almost like he's studying for a part and faking it. He obviously doesn't know his way around a piano."

"The story is that he took a few lessons as a kid, but he is just so good that having him around gives us good publicity. The Deacons tend to overlook his flaws. His presence keep money in the coffers. So, I doubt they'll fire him even though he is  incompetent," Tara said. "That's just  how the world works around here, chickie."

I could already tell this was going to be a torturous few weeks.

By the time we had put away all the choir books, the church had emptied out. The Wednesday night programs were over and the youth had long ago gone home. Tara jangled her keys. "Time for me to lock up."

While she was securing all the doorways of the church campus, I peered into the windows of the office. I swear I could hear voices shouting at each other. But I put it up to old houses and their inordinately loud creaking and settling.

As I moved back into the choir room, I threw my purse on the first chair and before I could plop down I heard a sudden rustling at the back of the room. The choir room was large and we were only using about a third of its capacity. The rest of the room was pitch black.

Black and white checkerboard tiles covered the floor of the entire ballroom. And I heard a clipping of hard soled shoes at the far back of the room, but I couldn't see anyone. And before I knew it, someone wearing a large cloak like coat shoved past me and out the door. 

I stumbled back and landed on my butt. Saying a few key phrases, I got myself upright. It was then I noticed a red stain on my shirt and arm. Was it paint? I looked around cautiously.

When Tara reappeared a few minutes later I showed her the paint.

"Where do you think it came from?" I explained to her about the mysterious figure knocking me on my butt."

"We can sure find out." Tara flipped on all the overhead lights and we began to investigate. It didn't take long to find the stain.

A red substance was dripping down the wall of one of a set of dumbwaiters fashioned into the wall.

"That's gross," I said. "What in the heck did they do?" I threw up the handle of the dumbwaiter and soon found my answer. Shoved into the dumbwaiter was the body of Delilah McQuade, the former financial secretary. Her eyes stared at us with their soulless depths. 

The woman was dead.

Murder in the Choir Room - Chapter One

Murder in the Choir Room 

A Megan O'Reilley Off Key Mystery 

by Toni Walker 

CHAPTER ONE

"It's not like you're going to find a dead body," Tara Doreen joked.  "I mean, what are the odds?" 

I don't know why I was so nervous. It was only church choir for goodness sake. Nothing too scary about that, right? I clutched my messenger bag to my chest as if it alone was going to keep me out of harms way. I tried not to recall the last dead body that seemed to find its way onto my path. As far as I can remember, that didn't turn out too well either. 

Tara Doreen Goodall, my newest friend, scratch that, only friend, had gone behind my back and conspired with my creative writing teacher at Harper Lake Community College. Apparently, the two of them went way back. I image they went so far back that they were fondly recalling a high school encounter in the backseat of a '57 Chevy. How they managed to come up with this nutty plan with all that on their mind is beyond me. 

"You're better than all those yahoos put together," Tara Doreen said with a slight smile. "I doubt Geoffrey Greenwalt would have agreed to such an arrangement if he hadn't checked you out thoroughly." 

I shivered at the thought. Geoffrey had been a B-movie icon back when I was in high school. But today he was a barely recognizable version of himself. Sun tanning, stage makeup and alcohol not to mention the supposed drug problem the media could never confirm had done a number on his skin and waistline. He wasn't ugly by any stretch of the imagination, but he could definitely use a tune-up. 

"It's not like I'm being paid for this gig, Tara. It's basically a glorified internship, little better than a volunteer." 

"Your creative writing teacher is a genius!" 

"I think my creative writing teacher had a bit of a bug in his ear from some pesky ex-girlfriend." 

"Technically, we never officially dated. Dangerous liaisons, you know." Tara's eyes glittered with an intriguing mix of  danger and pure giddiness.  

I appreciated Tara's enthusiasm. It was a rare friend who would go out of her way to let someone else live their dreams. My dream was a mixture of one part singing and two parts creative writing. This would definitely fit the bill in my book. So as to why I was so apprehensive, I haven't a clue. 

Or maybe it was just my psychic intuition niggling at the back of my mind yelling, DANGER WILL ROBINSON! 

The area around Cedar Point Baptist Church was dark and foreboding. Not exactly the atmosphere for a local gathering of a church choir. The light from one window winked at us. Tara shoved me from behind, already frustrated with my lack of initiative. She had her own business here tonight. They had somehow conned her into  updating the church's books, budges and accounts. Delilah McQuade, the previous financial secretary, had gone missing. Popular theory has her attending the Church of the Godly Light in a neighboring town. But basically, no one has seen the woman since she vacated the church office over three weeks ago. 

Tara shoved me a little harder. "I'm going. I'm going. Give a girl a moment to get over the terrified uneasiness. I gulped in the humid July air and pushed forward toward a building that looked more like a haunted mansion than a church. A church that looked like that had to hold a dangerous spirit. At least, that was the thought running through my mind when I walked into the joint. 

Darkstone Secret Agent: Episode 7: The End, Or Is It?

Episode 7: The End, Or Is It?

Ethan Fairchild hadn't been surprised to see Gia Doyle slither into the hotel room where he had initially planned hours of sexual antics with the stately beauty, Rachel Demarco. But what he was taken aback by was what happened next. Gia revealed her position in the small room then shot both Rachel and Carter Wayne at point blank range.

But she wasn't finished yet, Ethan noticed.

His second shock was when she grabbed Rachel's gun from her dead hand and pointed the cool metal at him! He was, to say the least, flabbergasted.

"I always thought I was a good judge of character. And I have been wrong before, but never this wrong," Ethan tugged at his restraints. They were as solid as the metal they were constructed from.

"Believe your delusions, Ethan, but you were never that good at reading me." Gia raised the nose of her Glock and it quivered slightly betraying her true emotions.

Ethan was distracted momentarily when the room spun, then went gray and out of focus. The room was still there, but everything about it was muted, darkened. He blinked away the obscurity quickly wanting to train his focus instead on Gia and not on his strained eye sight.

"You don't want to kill me, Gia. You never have. If you did, then you wouldn't have given me that bullet proof vest that saved me from Octavia's bullet in Bulgaria." He began grasping for straws to influence Gia into letting him go. "What about Amsterdam eight years ago? I'm sure neither one of us will ever forget that mission."

A traitorous tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away with a flick of a finger. "You may have different memories of that time than I do, Ethan. That is where this all started. At least, it did for me."

Ethan didn't know what she was talking about, nor did he really care. All that concerned him was escape.

"You've never had to take over a personality so completely that even you begin to believe it yourself. You've never had to give up everything... for... because of those you serve. They made me give up everything I ever wanted because of you. You are my true enemy, Ethan." Gia's Glock quivered again, but this time it was in anger. Whatever was seething inside of her was an emotion he had never seen in her before.

"So, killing me. That's going to bring you justice?"

"In a way, yes." The tears were flowing now. Gia brushed them away with the butt of her palm. "You never knew me before... before I was Gia. I was innocent then. My only want was to protect my family."

Family? This was new. Gia Doyle had a family? It was something he never would have thought her emotionally capable of.

While he kept her talking, he managed to slip free from the handcuffs, an old trick taught to him by a carney magician. In a flash, he stood, grabbed the chair in which he was sitting and round housed it into Gia's body, knocking her off balance. He knew the action would only make her more angry, but it was a chance he was willing to take.

Her head whipped around nailing him with a laser gaze. Blood oozed down her lip. "I'm spilling out my heart to you," she growled. "At least have the decency to give me your fill attention." She retaliated with a flurry of punches and kicks of her own.

She had him down for the count when his eyes went out of focus again. Never before had he had such problems with his vision, and it was beginning to concern him.

"Don't fight it, Ethan. The serum they gave you had a slight side effect. It not only make someone tell the truth... it will also render the captive blind." Her laugh was rough and heartless. He really had been hopelessly wrong about her. Gia Doyle had no heart, which is probably what made her such a good spy.

Carter Wayne's gun was still in his grasp. Ethan didn't think the dead man would mind him absconding with his weapon. What was he going to use it for in death? He did a dive roll across the room landing him close to the door, then grabbed the gun out of Carter's hand. He whipped to attention aiming the firearm at Gia.

"My father always told me to trust no one." He smiled slightly at the memory. "I thought he was just being my old cynical pop. But now I know better, don't I?"

Gia had her Glock also pointed at him. "You can't get away, Ethan. You've never get away."

He stared at her stoically. "Watch me."

Like a gun slinger, he twirled the cool metal around and bashed Gia over the side of the head. He didn't stand around to watch her crumple to the ground. He knew her well enough to know that she would definitely have someone watching her back in case she wasn't successful. Ethan made sure to steer clear of them.

As the minutes ticked by, Gia's prediction came true. The serum was still doing a number on his vision. Slowly, it became worse and worse until he could barely see the shapes passing before him. Somehow, by the grace of God, he managed to stumble into a train station. He knew the underground subway would get him close to headquarters even if he couldn't himself.

He had always told himself that he wouldn't take the train, especially after he acquired his first sports car. Red, of course. Today he knew he would have to make an exception to that rule since he couldn't see well enough to walk much less drive.

When the conductor called out the Westminster station, he debarked clumsily, bumping into passengers along the sidewalk. For awhile, he wondered if he could see well enough to enter the code that would gain him access to the headquarters, but there was something odd about the key pad. It didn't light up when he pressed the digits.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Could a hostile have gained access to Legacy headquarters?

The door swung open easily. It hadn't been locked.

He held his gun in the ready position in case he needed to use deadly force. Ethan tried to blink away the foc obscuring his vision but it was only getting worse. He was nearly to the end of the tunnel that would open up into the Control Center, the heart of the Legacy's operation. As the large steel doos swung open, he was shocked by what he saw.

Only silence welcomed him home. Silence and emptiness.

Everything was gone. The computers. The chairs. The personnel. Everything. The entire complex was barren. But there were scorch marks on the wall that told some sort of battle had been fought in the room.

Where was the Legacy? What happened to it?

He dropped to his knees in the empty space, his gun clanking on the concrete floor. It was then his vision decided to leave him entirely.

Now he was not only blind, but alone.

~~~ The End of Darkstone ~~~

Darkstone Secret Agent: Episode 6: The Forgotten Assassin

Episode 6: 

The Forgotten Assassin

Legacy Headquarters - London

Bobbie Sullivan realized the image on the monitor was someone he knew. At first, he thought the man to be an intruder. He didn't dress like a normal Legacy agent. But maybe that was because this person had gone way undercover as a stripper.

What was he doing back here, Bobbie wondered to himself.

As if reading his mind, the girl at the computer next to him put in her two cents worth. Something she was known to do, at length, all the time.

"Jealousy rears its ugly head." Alison Corday said in a mocking tone. "My, but that man is so not in the realm of the ugly department." Alison had come to a standing position over Bobbie's shoulder where she could see the man who had just entered the Legacy compound.

"You... you don't know what you're talking about." Bobbie whispered nervously. "I am not jealous of anyone."

"Oh, really?" Alison asked with an arched eyebrow. "So, then, why is it you look like you could kill with one menacing look in his oh-so-fine direction?"

The new controller had no answer for Alison.

"Well, then, let me tell you what I do know. I know that man is Jonah Sogard. I know that Kevin, fine babe that he is, asked Jonah to watch out for Faith. And that little fact is tearing you up inside."

Alison pulled her long blond hair off her neck and sighed. Bobbie was fixated on the unattainable girl, he always had been. He had a string of never-quite-happening relationships that Alison had been keeping track of ever since she entered the crypto-analysis division of the Legacy.

Bobbie's latest fixation was on Faith Fairchild. And couldthere be a more unattainable girl? If he was smart, he would turn around and realize that there was someone ready, willing and available right before his eyes.

The controller's next comment brought her out of her momentary reflection.

"He's just watching out for her, not seducing her!" Bobbie's voice climbed in volume.

"How do you know?" Alison challenged. "He could have made wild, crazy, passionate love to her. I mean, what else is there to do up in Nowhere Pass but watch the snow pile up and get cozy in front of a roaring fire?" Alison knew she was on one of her rolls. "And if I may remind you, Jonah is quite the stud muffin hunk. They wouldn't have put him undercover as a stripper if he didn't have the looks and the brains and the body."

Bobbie didn't want to hear this. He had enough of this from his own conscience. He didn't need sarcastic Alison to keep reminding him of how out-of-his-reach Faith really was.

"What are you trying to do? Torture me?" He let out a frustrated sigh. "I already know Jonah has one up on all us lesser beings, but there is nothing wrong with the rest of us. Maybe she's looking for brains over brawn."

The more Bobbie thought about what could have happened between Jonah and Faith on the mountain, the more insecure he became.

Alison ran a light hand along Bobbie's chest. "Did I say there was anything wrong with you? I happen to think you are quite a fine specimen of man."

"You think every man is a fine specimen."

Alison continued as if Bobbie hadn't spoken. "But Faith, she's a different story all together. She grew up with brothers who risked their lives on a daily basis. They were her most important male role models. So, it's only logical that she would go after a man like Jonah. He's cast from the same mold as Kevin and Ethan. He thrives on conflict -- just like Faith does."

"Thank you Dr. Alison for that unwarranted and unnecessary psychological profile."

"I'm just trying to be realistic about this, Bobbie. You and I are cast from the same cloth too. We were young computer geniuses..."

"Please, let's not go there. I have bigger things on my mind."

She watched as Bobbie marched off to confront Jonah. When he was determined, he didn't mince words or beat around the bush.

"Where's Faith?" Bobbie asked as soon as Jonah made his way into Control Central.

"How did you ..." Jonah's eyes were full of questions. "Never mind. I don't even want to know about the places you had to hack to come up with that intel."

"It doesn't matter how I found out. What does matter is that we have to find her." Bobbie's voice quivered but was still adamant.

Jonah placed his Legacy issued Glock on the table and began refilling the magazine with bullets. "We don't have to doanything , Bobbie. She ditched me of her own free will. If that psycho, Ian, catches up with her, that's her own fault. It's not my problem any more."

"Some protector you are," Bobbie mumbled. He forked fingers through his already messy blond hair.

"I never wanted the job, kid. If you're so concerned about her, you traipse up there and find her yourself." Jonah shoved the magazine back into the gun butt and placed it in his shoulder holster.

Bobbie shouted at Jonah's retreating figure.

"I will. That's exactly what I'll do. You'll see. She'll be fine! Just fine!"

***

Ethan Fairchild couldn't believe his luck. It hadn't taken long to find a woman willing to spend time with him. It wasn't like he was searching for love, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I'm so glad you changed your mind," the red head said. "It's so exciting to go out with a big, strong man like you." The woman's voice was high-pitched almost baby-like. But he wasn't going to hold that against her.

"Why don't we go back to my hotel room and get more comfortable," she said playfully.

Ethan wasn't about to say no.

Her hotel room wasn't far from the bar. He should have expected conflict, but he wasn't in a working mood.

Rachel Demarco was acting coyly innocent. That should have been his first clue, but he hadn't been looking for trouble. Trouble had found him.

The bathroom door was closed, then it suddenly burst open rattling hinges. A snarling man loomed in the doorway. His eyes widened. He knew this man. This was the injured man from the studio parking lot. The one that was supposed to be dead. Didn't anyone ever stay in their graves any more? The man had gone from near death to remission in hours.

Ethan laughed. "No wonder your body disappeared. You were never really hurt, were you?" He rounded the coffee table keeping a small distance between himself and the man-woman team that had obviously lured him here.

"No, I was never injured. We needed time to find out if we could trust you." Carter Wayne made no bones about his intentions.

"And how did you ascertain that you could trust me? Are you a mind reader too?" Ethan felt a tiny prick on his neck. He reached up and picked a tiny dart out of his skin.

"No, not a mind reader," Rachel said, slowly. "You're going to tell us everything we want to know."

***

Angela Hastings was more annoyed than usual. Her date with the hunky Ethan had been a total disaster. Then Chance had run out of her apartment without having one bite of chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream. In light of their mutual misery, she found his actions odd.

She didn't know what was wrong with her. How could she compete with a sexy, slim television actress? In real life, Rachel Demarco appeared almost sickly, but on television, she looked radiantly beautiful. Who wouldn't be in love with her? Rachel was one of her best friends, and so was Chance. So why wouldn't Chance see her as the woman she really was?

***

Chance Michaels felt like ten times the fool. He had watched from afar as Rachel had thrown herself into the arms of a man she had just met in the smoky bar. He couldn't express how jealous he was. And after his fight with Carter earlier, he was ready to release some aggression.

What was wrong with him? He was tired of pretending to be someone he wasn't. He was tired of lying to his friends. He was tired of falling for the wrong woman. Why couldn't he find someone to love? Not that it would be easy to love him in his current profession as television spy by day and real CIA spy by night. He was frustrated and angry and needed to talk to someone he trusted.

Before he realized it, he was standing outside Angela's door. Her sleepy eyes greeted him. The night shirt she wore was too large and hung down over one shoulder exposing sensitive ivory skin to his view.

For the first time, he saw Angela for what she was, a beautiful, sexy woman.

"Chance?" she asked wearily, still lethargic from sleep. "Is everything okay?"

The words caught in his throat. Why had he come here again? "Could I come in?"

Angela nodded and stepped asked for him to enter. The hallway was the only area of the house lit up, and when Angela felt along the wall for the light switch, Chance placed his hands over hers.

"You don't need to turn it on on my account."

Angela seemed more awake now and sat down on the sofa. Chance joined her there.

"Did something happen with Rachel?"

Chance chuckled. "There was never any me and Rachel. But my ego wouldn't let me admit it to myself." He ran a hand up her arm and kneaded her shoulders.

Angela closed her eyes and gave into the sensation. But her skepticism was still evident.

"That feels amazing, but what is really going on here?"

"Shhh." Chance whispered, putting a finger to her lips. "I'm seducing you."

Angela's eyes widened and a smile lit her face. "Oh, is that what you're doing?"

"That's what I'm doing." His finger tips brushed down her back settling on her waist.

She sighed, her words breathy and slow. "Okay, just checking. Please continue."

"Honey, I've never stopped."

As her hands reached for him, he locked her into an embrace and trailed a string of kisses down her neck.

"If I'm dreaming," she whispered. "Don't wake me up."

He pushed her down into the couch cushions and branded her mouth with his. Tonight would be a night they both would remember.

***

Ethan tired of answering their questions. Whatever they had shot into his system was ten times more powerful than sodium penthal. His brain didn't give him a chance to even think about not answering.

"What world leaders are you responsible for assassinating?" Rachel Demarco asked suddenly. Her partner Carter Wayne seemed taken aback by her audacity.

"What are you doing?" he spat. "He won't know the answer to that. This type of programming is devised to withstand such interrogations."

"So you say," she challenged. "But I want to find out for myself."

"None," Ethan said, simply. "I don't kill the good guys."

Rachel laughed. "You don't know what you've done. That's the saddest part about this whole thing."

"What I've done?" Ethan struggled to spit out the words, then tugged at his restraints. His wrists were bound by chains and shackled to the legs of the chair he was sitting in. "Lady, I'm one of the good guys."

"That's exactly what I thought too." Carter stepped up and came out of the shadows into Ethan's line-of-sight. "I never would have believed I could be a killer -- until I saw the evidence for myself."

"Evidence? You're saying you have evidence that I'm responsible for the death of some world leader?"

"Actually, you're responsible for several deaths." Carter turned on the VCR and pressed the remote activating the cassette. "This is four years ago in Zimbabwe."

Ethan watched the carnage, but one figure on the tape made it his mission to kill even the innocent. The camera panned in closer. His own face filled the screen.

This couldn't be true, he thought. This had to be some sort of trick, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt it was right. In the video he was wearing the same clothes he'd dreamed about often. They were the clothes he wore in his nightmares.

"We've taken steps to remove the device from your brain that makes you commit these crimes without your consent," Carter said.

"Steps? What steps?"

"We had an operative in place that planted a chip in your brain programmed to attack the hostile chip."

Ethan clearly remembered the hell he went through when the nanites took over his system and nearly killed him. Then the ATP generator had almost claimed his life a second time.

"You did this to me?" he choked out the words."

Carter could tell Ethan was angry.

"You made me a freak!"

"We saved your life, you idiot!" Rachel couldn't help but add. "The nanites attacked the hostile chip rendering it useless. The nightmares should tell you its influences are dwindling."

"This is better? I can't control my own strength, my eyesight is going wacky, not to mention I have millions of little microscopic machines living in every bone and organ in my body. Tell me how this is better?!"

***

Gia Doyle found the antics in the hotel room enlightening. Ethan Fairchild was an assassin? She had heard rumors of Legacy experiments on operatives, but she found it hard to believe they would fiddle with the brain of someone as talented as Ethan.

She pushed her sudden admiration for him aside and pulled out her Glock. The hotel room door was ajar, and due to the large entrance way into the room, neither hostile noticed her enter.

Gia shadowed the walls as she slipped along the perimeter looking for an opening. Any opening. Then she aimed her gun and prepared to fire.

Darkstone Secret Agent: Episode 5: Legacy of Secrets

Episode 5: 

Legacy of Secrets

Haunting eyes followed Ethan as he attracted the admiration of every beautiful woman in the establishment. It was rather funny considering that being in the job he was, attracting attention was a severe no-no. But that didn't seem to bother Ethan Fairchild one bit.

The bulky jacket he had purchased from the second-hand store smelled like must and mildew and looked even worse for wear, but that was what the part entailed. He had to look the part, become the part, blend in. No one could recognize him or it would blow his entire assignment out of the water.

His tall, bulky frame moved awkwardly. His usual movement was fluid and graceful, almost too much so for such a big guy. He had to work at slouching and dragging his feet. But he was confident his scruffy appearance made him appear as he wanted them to see him... as a homeless man. Someone overlooked and kept away from. It was a perfect ruse. Carter Wayne had become a master at hiding in plain sight, and he was sure it would take all his acting ability to succeed here tonight.

He closed his eyes, resting them for a moment. It was hard to remember exactly how long he had been awake. He had been stretched to his limit. The images before him were blurring and the chair in which he sat felt almost glued to his posterior.

He watched Ethan from a distance. Carter knew his droopy eyes only lent credibility to his disguise. After he met up with Fairchild, he promised himself a long nap.

Carter had intel photos of the key players from The Legacy. He had memorized everything about them. The two operatives he knew were in town had come to Hollywood from across the ocean. Ethan Fairchild was the favorite son of The Legacy's High Council. He doubted many knew of the operatives in the secret organization knew how powerful the High Council was, or that it existed at all.

Carter had had many a run in with Bishop. They all named themselves after chess pieces. He only knew two members of the High Council and two was enough. Donovan Jackson Bishop was the loner of the group choosing to live in a small mountain town hours from Legacy Headquarters. But that didn't stop him from ruling the roost when the time came for that. The other council member he had crossed paths with was Chandelor Knight, infamous head of the council and father to The Legacy's nemesis, Julian Black.

Whether Ethan knew it or not, he continued to prove his allegiance to the High Council daily. Carter wondered if he would be such a willing pawn if he knew the truth of what he had done to gain their trust. Carter had done similar things in the name of the establishment, but most were things he never knew he had done or missions he didn't remember being on.

The next person in the photos he held was Gia Doyle. She was quite a complex woman. Her history with The Legacy started eight years ago after a plane accident. She had been the only survivor. Philip Lancaster had gone to bat for Doyle and brought her into The Legacy as a historian. It soon became apparent that Gia's strengths were not only in history but in leadership and murder. She was an intelligent beauty who possessed a deadly aim and a lethal charm.

Carter reveled momentarily how striking the similarities were between Gia and his Darkstone co-star, Rachel Demarco. From afar they could easily be mistaken for one another. He had almost made the error of approaching the red-head earlier and now he was glad he hadn't. the women he had nearly confided in was Gia Doyle not Rachel.

Carter stayed in the shadows of the bar. He looked for his opportunity to confront Ethan. Tonight might be his only chance because in days, if his superiors had anything to say about it, Ethan Fairchild would be terminated, permanently.

His opening came minutes later, but a hand reaching from the darkness grabbed his coat lapel. Carter was momentarily taken by surprise, an unusual feeling for him. He still tried to maintain his composure and not draw attention to himself and the person dragging him closer to the exit.

"What do you want from me?" Carter ground out in a menacing voice. He tried to stay in character, but wanting to haul back and deck the intruder was clouding his vision.

"Cut the act!" the grim voice intoned. "We both know why you're here. And we both know what our mission is."

Carter recognized the voice instantly. It was his other Darkstone co-star, Chance Michaels. He had hoped Chance wouldn't find out about Ethan being in town, but obviously someone had spilled the beans.

"How did you find me?" Carter wrenched free from Chance's grip once the two of them were away from listening ears and prying eyes.

"You know how our superiors are. They like nothing better than tailing us just for the hell of it. Tonight the person hired to keep an eye on you recognized Ethan Fairchild from our intel photos."

Carter shook his head. He was incensed. "I can't believe you're about to kill a man you used to call a friend!"

Chance's face became a mask of anger. "He killed my parents, Carter! I can't just look past that." Chance kicked a nearby trash lid and growled.

"So, what are you saying? You feel the same way about me?" Carter said passionately. "When I was under the Council's control I was also involved in that mission eight years ago. Ethan may have detonated the bomb, but I had a hand in it as well. I never would have found that out if Doc and you and Rachel hadn't helped me rid myself of the microchip."

Chance threw Carter an icy glare.

Carter couldn't believe that Chance had given up on his boyhood friend, the one who had even saved his life once. "I'm not to blame for that plane crash, and neither is Ethan. We were being controlled!"

"So you keep saying. But I have no faith in Ethan Fairchild. And neither should you! Who knows what lengths they have gone to now. You've been out of their grasp for years, Carter!" Chance paced as he ranted. "Maybe Ethan does know about the accident. Maybe he wanted it as much as they did. Maybe he wanted to kill those people. You don't know for sure that the microchip was what made him do it."

"I know all I need to know. He is being controlled by the same people who controlled me. And if we don't stop them, they may just succeed in killing him once his next mission has been completed."

The Darkstone star's face flushed with red. "If they don't kill him, then I'm going to do it for them. I hold out no hope for him. Let your faith in him keep you warm at night, but I'm not so ready to lay everything on the line for him!"

Carter watched as Chance Michaels stalked away down the alley toward his black sports car. The man had too much to lose if he let Ethan die. They all did. Ethan could be the key in bringing down The Legacy for good.

Neither Carter nor Chance saw the woman patiently waiting behind a stack of wooden cartons. Gia Doyle clicked on the safety to her gun, her face a mask of concern.

"Curiousier and curiousier," Gia whispered.

***

As her emotions simmered down, Gia tried to recall the snipet of the conversation she had actually overheard.

When she had learned weeks ago about the chip in Ethan's brain and his near death experience, she had been shocked. But this was an all together different kettle of fish. She had no idea that The Legacy was into mind control, but that notion didn't shock her as much as it should. She had come to realize that the Legacy held many secrets, some she was sure she would never learn.

The two men had talked about mind control. She wondered if it was possible. She attached her pen digital camera into her PDA and transmitted the digital photo she'd taken of the men directly to Bobbie Sullivan's terminal. No point in sending up a red flag to the rest of the staff.

As soon as the file transferred completely, Bobbie Sullivan's image came on her PDA screen. "Hi Miss. Doyle." His greeting was voiced brightly yet somewhat garbled.

"Cut the Pollyanna act, Sullivan. I need you to identify the two men in the digital phot I'm transmitting to you."

As the image downloaded onto Sullivan's screen, he noted the grainy quality of the image. "This is a little dark. I don't know if I can..."

Gia cut him off. She didn't like when people told her they couldn't do something. "I don't care about what you can't do, Sullivan. Identify the men. And once you do that, dig up anything we have on them in The Legacy archives, especially the man on the right. Cross reference his name with anything we have on mind control and our assassins bureau."

"But, Miss Doyle. The archives require passcodes I don't have." Bobbie's voice was filled with nervous energy.

"I don't care, Sullivan." Gia's face matched the anger in her voice. "Just do it!" She snapped the PDA closed and followed in the direction the shabbily dressed man had taken. There was something uncomfortably familiar about him.

***

Bobbie Sullivan sighed. It had only been a few weeks since he'd taken over Jeffrey's place as controller and now he was wondering if this was such a peachy job after all. He rifled a hand through his dark blond hair and itched the near beard that had started to grow in a thin strip along his jawline.

In his spare time, when he hadn't been taking orders from everyone from Kevin to Gia, Bobbie spent his time doing a controlled search for Faith Fairchild. He was surprised that no one had mentioned that she had gone missing. Jonah Sogard, Jeffrey's brother, had been watching over Faith for Kevin while Ian Fairchild was being delt with. At least, that's the way he understood it.

Bobbie fiddled with the grainy photo in an image manipulation program while he tossed around ideas as to where Faith had disappeared to. He couldn't help but contemplate on how beautiful she was. Not beautiful in the obvious, flashy, made-up way, but beautiful in that natural way.

He had to stop thinking about her. It wasn't natural to fixate on someone you hardly knew.

Bobbie took a deep breath. "Okay," he said outloud to himself. "First, I'll find Faith. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Cause I'm probably only thinking about her because Kevin is my friend, and I don't want anything bad to happen to his sister." He knew he was babbling again. "Yeah, and pigs fly." He always babbled when he was excited or nervous, and having a missing girl counting on him to find her put him way up on the nervous scale."

He pulled a picture out of him and Kevin and Faith taken a few years back. She probably wouldn't even remember him, but he had to do this. For Kevin and for himself.

"I'll find you, Faith," he said to the photo. "I promise."

***

Carter wanted to ignore Chance's threats but he was certain he would live up to them. Chance didn't make idle threats. But there was more at stake here than any of his co-workers new. Carter hadn't been completely honest about who he really was.

It had been years since he had seen Ethan. Too many years, but Carter knew why he believed Ethan was innocent. He just hoped that when they all discovered his secret that they would understand.

Carter knew better than anyone how it felt to realize you had been brainwashed into completing missions that were "off the record," missions that ultimately only caused harm and global chaos. He had been there. He had felt the conflicting emotions when the memories started flooding back. Knowing the harm he had done to so many had sent him to the brink of despair. He had even considered ending his life many times, but it was Rachel who had pulled him through it alive.

They were more than co-stars and friends. Carter knew he would never meet another woman like her. After his fight with Chance, Rachel had called asking him to meet her. She sounded as if she had news about their plan. He hoped the news was only positive.

Rachel walked out of the shadows and into their desginated meeting place. She was smiling, swinging her purse in a wide arc.

"Tell me you have something good."

Rachel's smile widened seductively and playfully. "I have something great. Are you going to award me for my top notch detective work?" She ran her hands over Carter's chest and neck.

"Later." His voice cracked giving away how much she affected him. He pulled her distracting hands away from his body. "What do you have?"

"Tonight I have a two for one. Your friend Ethan invited me back to his hotel room. I figured we could set up the meet and greet there. I'm sure you have some catching up to do."

"And?" Carter knew Rachel was playing with him and on any other assignment he would play along, but this was personal.

"And... I was contracted to assassinate Ethan Fairchild tonight. Just call me Solitaire." She grabbed at an imaginary martini glass and smiled broadly. "I'll take that shaken, not stirred, thank you."

"So it's all set then? You'll go back tot he hotel with Ethan..."

"And you'll already be there waiting for us. Do you have the key card Lawrence made up for us to bypass the electronic lock on his door?"

Carter patted his breast pocket. "Right here."

"So, we're ready?" Carter nodded and Rachel threw herself into his arms. "Then let's play first and work later." She glanced at the clock blinking from the bank down the street. "We have time."

***

"What do you have, Sullivan?" Gia wasn't much on greetings or smalltalk. She always cut right to the chase.

"A lot, actually. More than I really thought I would find." Bobbie took a second to organize his thoughts. "The two people in the photo were easy to identify. The one on the left is Chance Michaels. He's the star of the television series, Darkstone: Secret Agent. The man on the right is Carter Wayne. Also on the show in more of a supporting capicity. The only bios I found for them were a lot of PR mumbo jumbo. But what I did find in The Legacy database was interesting."

Bobbie paused and Gia could hear him rifling through papers. He then called up a file on his computer that immediately displayed on her PDA screen.

"This is an embassy bombing four years ago. The perpotrators were never caught, but two interesting people show up in this photo. I actually missed it the first time I looked at it. Let me enlarge his section in the corner." The photo grew larger and digitally became clearer. "There. What do you see?"

The enhanced photo was of Ethan and Carter running away from the scene.

"My, my, haven't we been busy boys?" Gia clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth.

"Oh, and another thing. Carter Wayne isn't his real name. Well, it is, sort of. His real name is Carter Wayne Fairchild. He's Ethan's first cousin."

"That it?" Gia asked as if what she had already received wasn't enlightening. "What else?" Gia wasn't known for her patience. She tapped her foot loud enough for him to hear through the PDA.

"Well, both Ethan and Carter were peridiocally sent to something called Factor 6. I don't know exactly what it is, but from what I have been able to find out about it, it looks a little inky."

"Call me when you have more. I'm going to schmoose with the Hollywood types."

Gia clicked her PDA off and Bobbie fingered the print out he'd retreived from The Legacy archives. Carter and Ethan weren't the only ones involved in Factor 6. He'd also found one more name on the list. Faith Fairchild.

"What's going on?" Bobbie didn't know if he wanted the answer to his question. He only knew he had to find out the truth, for everyone's sake.

***

Gia clicked open her cell phone and dialed an unlisted number that connected directly to Mr. Bishop of the High Council. Her voice held no greeting for him, she merely stated her concern in the form of a terse question.

"I thought you said your sniper took care of Carter Wayne!" Gia hissed harsly into her cell phone.

"It was my understanding that Mr. Wayne had been taken care of." Mr Bishop's voice was calm, yet Britishly sophisticated despite the urgancy of the matter.

"Understand this, chess man. Carter Wayne is very much alive and so close to Ethan he could kiss him. He didn't take his eyes off Ethan all night. Why would he be doing that, Mr. Bishop? Is there some connection between Carter and Ethan?"

The line went silent for a moment and Gia knew he wouldn't answer her question. Seconds later the connection was terminated and the dial tone buzzed in her ear. She snapped the cell phone closed and grunted.

"Dammit! I hate it when he does that."