Mostly What I Need From You      Mostly What I Need From You

 by Kali Sandison

  

 

 Disclaimer: Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio and the other members of the 27th
Precinct are property of Alliance. George Fraley 
belongs to NBC. And Dr. Arthur Whitman was created by Dale Barnes. All
other characters are mine. Words from 
"Honesty" by Billy Joel are used without permission. No infringement of 
any copyrights is intended. This story is written for the private
enjoyment of Due South fans and not for monetary profit. Permission to use
this story for profit is not given. 

 Author's Notes: A big, Big, BIG Thank You Kindly to my beta, Jean, for
reminding me of how comma-deficient I am and for prodding me in ways that
made this a *much* better story than what I handed to her originally. 

 Story Notes: 

 This story is a sequel to: Courage, Innocence or Justice 

 

 Honesty is such a lonely word.
 Everyone is so untrue.
 Honesty is hardly ever heard,
 And mostly what I need from you. 

 Billy Joel 

 Benton Fraser stood at the corner of Erie Street and North Michigan
Avenue wondering what he was doing there. Since he'd moved to Chicago two
years ago, he'd spent many moments feeling like the proverbial stranger in
a strange land. Now that feeling had only strengthened. He looked at his
companion and self-appointed tour-guide for the day. 

 "When I asked if we could spend some time together, this isn't exactly
what I had in mind." 

 Abbey Barnes had spent numerous hours studying the minds of several
famous and infamous criminals. She'd even studied with John Douglas, the
FBI's first criminal profiler. However, when she'd flown to Chicago to see
her friends, she'd been somewhat surprised to find that the Mountie had
taken a vacation day from work and asked her to spend it with him. It
wasn't originally what she'd planned for her Friday, while Ray was
working, but it could still be used to advantage, considering the wording
of Fraser's request. 

 "But Ben, you said you wanted to learn more about Chicago," she began. 

 "Yes, but I thought you'd be showing me the cultural and historic sights
that only a native to the city would know." 

 "Oh, I'm heartbroken," she said facetiously. "Did I not stand in Lt.
Welsh's back yard yesterday and promise to show you some of the best of
the Windy City?" 

 "Yes, but..." he equivocated. 

 "But nothing. You need to broaden your horizons and this is the place to
do it." 

 "Here?" he asked, puzzled. 

 "Here," she announced. "Chicago's Gold Coast. The Magnificent Mile. The
most concentrated display of conspicuous consumerism this side of Beverley
Hills. And my favorite spot in the entire city of Chicago." 

 "Surely, you jest." 

 "Oh heck, no. It's fantastic. You've just got to look at it from the
right perspective. Come on." 

 Abbey grabbed his hand and took off along the avenue as rapidly as her
legs would carry her. She didn't stop until she reached the Chicago Water
Tower. 

 "So you know what this is?" she asked and then didn't give him a chance
to answer. "This is the only structure to survive the Great Chicago fire
of 1871. When I was taking courses through the Community College of the
Air Force, I wrote a history paper on the socioeconomic and political
ramifications of the fire. I've always been intrigued by this place." 

 She led him to a nearby bench and they sat down. 

 "Why is that?" he asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. 

 "I don't know how much Ray has told you about my childhood, but I'm sure
you can figure out from the neighborhood we grew up in, that my parents
weren't what you'd call wealthy. Dad owned a small print shop and mom was
a tailor who worked in the alterations department of Marshall Fields. She
quit working when I was born and stayed home to raise us kids but she
still sewed like a pro. She made a lot of our clothes when we were
younger." 

 She paused for a moment to push her bangs out of her eyes before she
continued with her memories. "However, despite our financial situation,
every year we came downtown at Christmas to see how all the stores were
decorated. The glitz and glitter really caught my eye. Then, when I was
old enough to take the El by myself, I used to come down here and window
shop. That's when I learned one very important lesson. 'When you can't
afford any of it, you can afford to be particular about what you want.' It
was then that I decided I prefer Cartier's jewelry to Tiffany's; and
Nieman Marcus is a better department store than Saks Fifth Avenue. Though
why anyone would spend a hundred bucks on a plastic purse just because it
has a Gucci label is still beyond me." 

 "Well I agree with you about that. But I still have to question why we're
here." 

 "Because this is also a marvelous place to people watch. I used to come
down here and watch the crowds. I'd observe the people on the sidewalks
and try to figure out what their stories were. Some people, I just had to
make up stories about them." 

 "Sounds like you were into profiling long before you went to the FBI." 

 "Hmm, I guess I was. Dad always said you could learn a lot about people
just by watching them, observing their habits and even mimicking their
speech patterns." 

 They sat for a few moments, and watched the world go by before Abbey
called an end to their reverie. "Besides, this will give you a chance to
see me in one of my natural habitats, a shopping mall." 

 "You?" he asked, stunned. She had never seemed like an extravagant
person. Ray had even said she was quite frugal. 

 "Yeah, I became a mall rat in Atlanta; partially because of my early
training here in Chicago and partially because it was a good way to blow
off steam after a rough day at work. If the weather wasn't conducive to
being outdoors, I'd go to a mall and walk a few miles to release some
stress." 

 "Interesting," he commented. 

 "Okay, why don't we go to Watertower Place? They've got a fantastic
bookstore and a former colleague has just released a book that I'd like to
read. Then I need to go to Marshall Fields and pick up a gift for a friend
and it's not too far from the restaurant where we're meeting Ray." 

 Several hours later they wandered down State Street and found a small caf
with outdoor tables. It reminded Abbey of the caf in Georgetown where she
and a certain incredibly charismatic gentleman had met up the day that Ray
and Ben had been kidnapped. Her face flushed at the memory. Ben, noticing
the blush on her cheeks, quirked an eyebrow at her. 

 "What's bothering you?" he asked with concern. 

 Abbey saw no reason to lie to her friend. "Do you remember the day the
Bolt brothers abducted you and Ray?" she asked, again not giving him a
chance to answer. "Of course you do. Something like that would be hard to
forget. Anyway, on that very day I was in a caf like this one near
Georgetown University drinking cold spiced cider and eating chocolate chip
cake." 

 "Abbey, what's really bothering you? Several times today you have asked
me a question and then provided your own answer. And I fail to see the
connection between the Bolt brothers' activities and you having a
leisurely respite in a Georgetown caf." 

 "Oh, I don't know," she replied in frustration. "Maybe it's because I was
in DC when I should have been here watching after you two." 

 He looked at her intently to emphasize his words. "I hardly think that
Ray and I need a babysitter. We managed just fine." 

 "Yeah, you managed. So maybe it's because I wasn't alone that day," she
admitted quietly, her head bowed as she stared at the table. 

 "Do you want to talk about it?" he finally asked. 

 "About what?" 

 "Whatever happened that day that seems to be bothering you." 

 "It's hard to put into words." 

 "Understood." 

 She was somewhat surprised that Ben didn't push her to open up. Instead
he simply gazed at her with his blue-gray eyes and found that she couldn't
resist pouring her heart out to him. 

 "When I visited the last time, I met a man on the plane. I didn't think
much about it but I saw him again at the caf in DC. I'd just had another
premonition about you, Ray and the poncho. I called Ray but he was
perturbed about something else and I could tell I didn't have his complete
attention. I had to go talk with Dr. Whitman, the troll who was training
me, after that. All of this left me exasperated and short tempered." 

 Not sure where to go with the story from there, she stopped for a moment
and twisted a napkin while she collected her thoughts. 

 "I went to the caf to try to lighten up a bit. Lou, the guy from the
plane, was passing by and joined me. That night, I went to dinner with him
and for a short time I actually forgot about the potential danger you two
were facing." 

 "Ray and I are adults, trained law enforcement officers, just as you are.
You don't need to feel responsible for us. When you had the first vision
back in May, you told us about it. And when it happened again, you called
Ray. What else could you have done?" 

 "I could have tried to contact you. Just because Ray was being a horse's
ass, doesn't mean you wouldn't have listened to me. And if I'd gotten
through to just one of you, then this whole mess could have been avoided.
Instead, I was out having dinner with a mysterious stranger and you were
being held hostage." 

 "You know, I think you're punishing yourself over nothing here. As
Shakespeare said, 'All's well that ends well.' What's really bothering
you?" 

 Abbey blushed deeply and squirmed in her chair. For several long minutes
she couldn't meet his gaze. Then regret changed to anger, which flashed
through her brown eyes as she raised her head. "Damn it, Ben, it wasn't
supposed to happen this way." 

 "What wasn't supposed to happen?" 

 "My life. I was very happy the way it was going. I had a career I
enjoyed; friends who were better to me than my own family. For the last
ten years I've even been making payments on a little cottage on Lake
Michigan. I'm buying it on contract from an older couple who are living
out their retirement years in it. And I planned on doing the same thing." 

 "I'm afraid I'm not following you." 

 "Don't you see? I had it all planned out. Where I was going to work.
Where I was going to retire. How I was going to spend the rest of my
life." 

 "What's different now?" 

 "Lou. God, Fraser, I'm so damn conflicted about him that I can even think
in a linear fashion. I've only had one date with him but somehow he
affects me like no one else ever has. I find myself doodling his name on a
legal pad when I'm supposed to be doing Dr. Whitman's white lab rat
exercises. Every time the phone rings, I hope it's going to be him, yet I
know it can't be since he doesn't even have my phone number. I feel like a
love struck teenager again." 

 Abbey sighed and stirred her iced tea for a moment before she continued
to speak. 

 "Of course, it goes without saying that I haven't mentioned any of this
to Ray. He'd just go off the deep end if he knew I was interested in
another man, especially if it was more than just my usual..." she cleared
her throat delicately before proceeding, "physical interest." 

 "Deep end of what?" Fraser asked. 

 "Huh?" 

 "You said Ray would go off the deep end. So I'm asking what deep end he'd
go off of." 

 She stared at Ben for a few seconds and then laughed uproariously until
tears welled up in her eyes and she had to wipe them away with a napkin. 

 "Thanks, Benny. I needed that laugh." 

 Fraser was even more confused now. He still didn't have an answer to his
question and he had no idea why Abbey was laughing so hysterically. He
shook his head and dismissed it. 

 "You know," she began, "laughter is truly good for the soul." 

 "I thought that confession was good for the soul and laughter was good
medicine." 

 "Whatever. Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that the night you
two were abducted, I was off having a good time with another man; a very
inappropriate man who has me twisting in the wind over whether or not fate
will ever intervene and throw us together again." 

 "What makes him so inappropriate?" 

 "Despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm certain he's mobbed up." 

 "You think he's affiliated with a crime syndicate?" 

 "Yup." 

 "Have you spoke to the FBI about this?" he asked. 

 "Oh, yes. The day you and Ray were in court with a bomb strapped to your
chests, I was at FBI headquarters filling out the official paperwork.
Nothing in the Organized Crime Division's database gives any concrete
evidence of Lou having any mob connection but I can just feel it in my
bones." 

 Ben, having lived so long among the Inuit, put far more faith in Abbey's
feelings than in any computer database. 

 "And you want to see this man again?" he asked somewhat amazed. 

 "And again, and again, and again. He's under my skin like a bad rash. I
can't get him out of my mind." 

 "Have you actually had a vision, either of his possible criminal
activities or of the two of you together in the future?" 

 "Not really. Whenever I'm near him, it's like I start to have one but it
won't form completely." 

 "Well, if you do see him again, you will be careful, won't you?" 

 "I'm not sure that I will. I just know that I want to... more than almost
anything else," she sighed wistfully. 

 A comfortable silence fell over the pair. Abbey continued to drink her
tea and think of Lou as Ben wondered what Ray's reaction would be when he
found out that Abbey was interested in another man. 

 A loud beeping noise broke their reverie. Abbey realized it was her cell
phone but had no idea who would be calling her. It was too early for Ray
to be off work. 

 "Abbey Barnes," she announced, speaking into the phone. 

 "Abbey, it's George." 

 "Hey, George. I didn't expect to hear from you." 

 "So why'd you email me with your itinerary?" 

 "Uhh, because even though you're a former co-worker in Atlanta, I
consider you to be the closest thing I've got to a blood relative. And I
figured somebody should know how to get in touch with me in case of an
emergency." 

 "Good thinking. I tried the Vecchio house but a very angry young woman
said you were out. She wouldn't say where you'd gone or when you'd be back
so I thought I'd try your cell phone." 

 'Oh dear,' Abbey thought to herself, 'Francesca's in a snit. I wonder
what she considers worse; that I've gone shopping without her or that I'm
out with Ben.' 

 "So George," she said aloud, "what's up?" 

 "Remember that photo you sent me, asking if I could match it up to
something?" 

 "Yeah, I thought you'd forgotten about it." 

 "No, it's just that things have been really busy around here and I
haven't had much time to do any extra-curricular hacking. But I finally
came up with something." 

 Abbey could feel her heart beat faster with excitement. "Oh my God,
George, that's great." 

 "Don't get too excited. It's not good news." 

 "How 'not good' is it?" she asked, her spirits sinking. 

 "Pretty bad. We made a match with a 24 year old in California. He died of
an apparent drug overdose." 

 "Oh, no, it can't be. This guy's alive. I'm sure of it." 

 "I'm sorry, Abbey, but it's a positive match. I'm afraid your friend's
brother is dead. I've emailed all the details to you but I thought you
should get the bad news from a friend." 

 "Thanks, George. I appreciate your concern," she said before she severed
the connection. 

 "Ben watched as Abbey's bright, smiling face crumbled into tears. Not
knowing what the conversation was about, he could only sit and watch
sympathetically, waiting to hear the bad news. When she finally ended the
call, he leaned towards her and gently pulled her to him, letting her
purge her sadness on his shoulder. Only when her sobs abated did he ask
what was wrong. 

 She pulled away from him and took a long sip of tea before speaking. 

 "Has Ray ever talked to you about his brother?" 

 "He's mentioned him in passing. Why?" 

 "But he never told you about how Nick ran away from home on the day that
we graduated from high school and never returned?" 

 "No, he never mentioned that." 

 "And he's probably never admitted that Nick was a poster child for
juvenile delinquency." 

 "No, that was never mentioned either." 

 "Okay, I can see I've got a lot to tell you about. I'll try to make this
short. Dominic Michael was the third-born child of the Vecchio family;
between Maria and Francesca. I rarely saw him in the six years that Ray
and I went to school together. By the time I met Ray, Nick already had
quite a rap sheet. It seemed like he spent most of his life from age ten
on in some sort of juvenile facility." 

 Abbey sighed before she went on. "I felt so sorry for Ray's parents. Nick
really put them through so much; not that Ray was a saint, mind you. In
some ways I think Nick was just trying to be like his big brother but he
never seemed content just getting into mischief like Ray. He always had to
take everything a step or two higher. And he never learned to cover his
tracks the way Ray did." 

 "Hmm, yes, I know what you mean," Ben replied, thinking of his best
friend. 

 "The day I came into town last May was the anniversary of both our high
school graduation and of the last day that the Vecchios ever saw Nick. As
you can imagine, Ray was in quite a funk. I still think that most of his
bad mood that weekend can be attributed to the feelings of abandonment he
was experiencing." 

 "I believe you may be correct. And it may be why, in some fashion, Ray
and I have always felt a kinship that otherwise seems inexplicable." 

 "My thinking exactly," she agreed. "Anyway, when I got to DC, I sent an
old photography to my friend George at the VCTF in Atlanta. I asked him to
age it and run it through all the databases he could and let me know if he
came up with anything." 

 "And that's who was on the phone just now?" 

 "Yes, he got a match. Nick died in California 10 years ago." 

 "Oh, dear," Fraser said softly, running a thumb across his eyebrow. 

 "You can say that again. Now I've got to tell the Vecchios that Nick is
officially dead." 

 "I'm sure it will be difficult for you. If you want, I'll do whatever I
can to help you." 

 "Thanks, Ben. I appreciate it." 

 They proceeded to the restaurant and waited pensively for Ray's arrival.
When he finally showed up, Abbey hugged him tightly and didn't seem to
want to let go. 

 "Hey, take it easy on the suit, okay?" 

 "Sure. Sorry, Ray." 

 "What's wrong with you two? You look like you've just lost your best
friend. Is Dief okay?" 

 "Yes, he's fine Ray." 

 "Then why all the long faces?" he asked before Abbey captured his
attention by heaving a long sigh. 

 "What's up short stuff?" he asked with concern. "Bad news from Atlanta?" 

 "Yes, as a matter of fact." 

 "One of your friends wasn't injured were they? Like Bailey or George?" 

 "No, I got a call from George just a little while ago. Everyone at the
VCTF is fine. Grace is even pregnant," she assured him, adding the happy
news of that she'd learned a week before. 

 "So what's the news?" 

 "Remember the photo I sent him in May? He was able to age it and make a
positive ID." 

 "And?" he asked, a sinking feeling developing in the pit of his stomach. 

 "Nick is dead. He died in California in 1986." 

 "What happened?" 

 "I'm not sure yet. George just gave me the bare bones on the phone. He's
going to email me the whole file and then I'll know more." 

 "No!" he shouted. "A month and a half ago, you said my brother was alive
in Chicago. Now you're saying he's dead in California?" 

 "I'm sorry, Ray," she said reaching for his hand. "I would have bet my
soul he was still alive but George wouldn't have said anything if he
hadn't been certain of the match." 

 Tears rolled down the detective's cheeks. He hadn't seen his brother in
nearly twenty years and, even though they hadn't always gotten along, Ray
felt as if a piece of his soul had been ripped away from him. Suddenly,
eating was the last thing he wanted to do. 

 Fraser helped get Abbey get their friend to his car. They both knew he
was too grief stricken to drive, though he loudly complained that he was
fine. The two of them managed to get him into the passenger's seat, then
Abbey got behind the wheel. Once he was in his precious Riviera, eh began
to express his grief in full force. His howled protests would have gained
him much sympathy from Diefenbaker. 

 Abbey wasn't sure where to go at first. She certainly didn't want to take
him home just yet. Then she remembered that Ben had told her Diefenbaker
was spending the day at the consulate in the air conditioning and decided
that was a good place for them. 

 The wolf heard them come in the building and knew something was wrong. He
ran to the top of the stairs to watch his friends. Ben and Abbey were
practically carrying Ray up the steps. About the time that they reached
the landing, Inspector Thatcher came out of her office. 

 "What's going on here?" she demanded. "Is this man drunk?" 

 Abbey let Ben take Ray to his office while chose to take the Inspector
aside. 

 "May I have a private word with you, Inspector?" she asked deferentially.


 "Perhaps. You are...?" 

 "Dr. Abigail Barnes. I'm a special agent with the FBI and a friend of Ray
and Ben." 

 "Oh yes, you must be the visiting friend Constable Fraser spoke of. All
right Dr. Barnes, we can speak in my office." 

 The two women settled themselves on the leather sofa that graced one
corner of the room. Abbey wasn't sure where to begin. 

 "Inspector, Ray has received some devastating news tonight. He just
learned that his younger brother is dead." 

 "I wasn't aware that the detective had a brother." 

 "Yes, Nick was rather incorrigible as a teenager and ran away from home
in 1979. The family hasn't seen or heard from him since. I asked a friend
of mine at the Bureau to see what information he could find and the news
we received today wasn't good...not good at all. We just learned that he
died in 1986." 

 "Oh, dear." 

 "Needless to say, Ray isn't taking the news very well." 

 "Obviously." 

 "I'd rather he not go home with this news just yet. I'd like their parish
priest to be there when I give the news to the rest of the Vecchio family.
Would you mind if we stayed in the constable's office for a short time,
until I can contact Father Behan?" 

 Inspector Thatcher sat dumbfounded for a moment. Although she'd
frequently expressed her personal disdain for the detective who virtually
monopolized her junior officer's time, she could see how this kind of news
would be devastating to someone who'd come from such a close knit family.
And it was not the kind of shock she would ever wish for him to suffer. 

 "Of course, stay as long as you need to." 

 "Thank you, Inspector," Abbey replied sincerely as she extended her right
hand. 

 "Meg," she said, accepting the gesture. 

 "Thank you, Meg. And please, call me Abbey." 

 Listening for a moment, they could not discern any sounds outside the
room. Abbey had to assume that Ben had gotten his friend safely into his
office. 

 "Meg, would you if I call Father Behan from here?" 

 "By all means. Just dial '9' to get an outside line." 

 "Thank you, but I wouldn't want to impose by making a personal call on
the consulate phone. I'll just use my cell phone." 

 Abbey called the church first and then the rectory. She spoke with the
housekeeper and found that the priest was having dinner with the head of
the diocese but wasn't expected to be out late. She asked the woman to
have the priest call her and left the number. 

 Exhausting a sight, she broke the connection and threw the phone back
into her purse. 

 "Was Detective Vecchio particularly close to his brother?" Meg asked. 

 "You know, I'm not really sure. I didn't know Nick all that well when we
were growing up. But I do know that the family felt that he was alive and
just chose to stay away. And given their father's propensity for abusive
behavior, I can't say I can blame him." 

 "Oh, I'm sorry. I never realized..." 

 "Most people didn't. To this day, I have no concrete proof that he ever
beat the kids but I do know that he was a mean drunk. Thanks so much for
letting us use the office as a buffer zone." Abbey stood up and headed
towards the door. 

 "Please let me know if there's I can do," Meg requested. 

 The profiler gave her a tentative smile and a small nod of her head.
Abbey walked slowly down the hall to Ben's office and found her friends
inside. Ray was still pretty broken up. She took Ben aside to quietly tell
him that she'd called St. Michael's and that she was now waiting for the
priest to call her back. He nodded in understanding and then went back to
comfort his friend. 

 The profiler followed Ben towards her long-time friend but the look on
his face stopped. She'd never seen so much hatred in a single look, and
that gaze was directed at her. She understood why Ray would be angry but
never would have believe that he could blame her for Nick's death. 

 "Ray, I'm so very sorry." 

 "Sorry? You're sorry? You damn well better be sorry. My brother is dead,
despite your hunch." 

 "Ray, I..." 

 "Just shut up, Abbey. I don't wanna hear it. 'Sorry' ain't gonna cut it
this time. You've jerked me around once too often and this time
apologizing won't get you off the hook." 

 Abbey was spared any additional vitriol by the ringing of her cell phone.
She pulled out the antennae and pushed the button to answer it. 

 "Abbey Barnes," she answered. 

 "This is Father Behan from St. Michael's. I had a message to call you." 

 "Oh yes, can you hang on for one moment please?" 

 She excused herself and went back to Inspector Thatcher's office to take
the call. In a few minutes she explained the situation to the priest and
asked if he could join them at the Vecchio house to tell the rest of the
family. He agreed to meet her there in thirty minutes. Sighing deeply, she
hung up the phone and stared at the floor. 

 "Is there anything I can do, Abbey?" Meg asked with concern. 

 "I'm sure there is, but I couldn't begin to tell you what," she
responded, confusion tingeing her voice. 

 "Would it help if I spoke to the detective?" 

 "Couldn't hurt," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. 

 The Inspector left Abbey in her office and went down the hall to offer
her condolences. Once she was out of the room Abbey picked up her phone
and called Father O'Reilly. Knowing what was about to happen, she decided
that it might be better to spend the night at the Padre's. He agreed to
come to the consulate and accompany her to the Vecchios, saying they could
see what happened after that. 

 Meg knocked hesitantly on the door to Constable Fraser's office. Ray was
slumped in a chair and Ben stared silently out the window. The detective
tried to straighten up and not show his grief. Catching her reflection in
the glass, Ben turned his attention to the door for a moment and watched
as Meg walked to chair that Ray occupied. She placed a gentle, comforting
hand on his shoulder just a moment before she started to speak. 

 "Detec..." she stopped and then began again. "Ray, I'm so very sorry to
hear about your loss. I can only imagine how terrible it must be to lose
your brother. If there's anything I can do for you or your family, please
don't hesitate to ask." 

 Though both of them had commented that she seemed to have loosened up a
bit after the incidents with the Bolt brothers, neither of them were
completely prepared to see this softer side of Meg. 

 "Thank you, Inspector Thatcher. I can't think of anything but I
appreciate it." 

 She turned to address Fraser. "If you'd like to take a few days
bereavement leave to be with the Vecchios, just let me know." 

 "I don't think that this situation would be covered by bereavement leave,
Sir." 

 "Don't worry about it, Fraser. I'll take care of the paperwork." 

 "Thank you, Inspector." 

 "Certainly. I'm going home now. But feel free to stay here as long as you
need to." 

 She squeezed Ray's shoulder in a show of sympathy and support and was
surprised that he placed his hand over hers and returned the gesture. 

 Abbey was in the hallway just outside Fraser's office when Meg came out. 

 "How is he?" she asked the Inspector. 

 "Well, he's no longer howling like Diefenbaker," Meg responded after a
moment's thought 

 "I think that's a good sign," Abbey acknowledged. 

 "What did the priest have to say?" 

 "He's going to meet us at Ray's house." 

 "That's probably best." 

 "Yeah, now I just have to get him to let me take him home," Abbey half
sighed. 

 "That shouldn't be too difficult." 

 "I don't know. Considering the venom he was spewing in my direction when
Father Behan called, this may be a real project. But I called a friend of
mine who's also a priest and he's on his way over here. Father O'Reilly is
a former FBI agent so I'm hoping he'll be able to help." 

 "Why is the detective so angry with you? You didn't kill his brother." 

 "It's a long story. Meg," Abbey replied, shaking her head. "And Ray's not
completely rational right now. He needs a scapegoat and he can't very well
blame his brother, much as he'd like to. So I get dumped on." 

 "That's terrible," she insisted. 

 "Yeah, well, things will eventually get back to normal. They always do." 

 Abbey and Meg walked down the stairs to the foyer of the consulate. Meg
left and Abbey waited for Walt to show up. Picking up an issue of
MacLeans, she glanced through it while waiting for the priest. It seemed
like an eternity before he arrived, but a quick glance at her watch showed
that only a few minutes had passed. 

 Walking through the door, he saw her waiting and immediately gave her a
hug. 

 "How are you, Abbey?" 

 "I'm hanging on by my fingernails," she responded, a hint of desperation
in her voice. 

 "I know the feeling. What now?" 

 "Would you mind taking me over to Ray's house? I'll ask Fraser to drive
Ray home." 

 "Would you like me to talk to Ray for a moment?" 

 "Sure, go ahead. And see if you can convince him that I didn't kill
Nick." 

 The priest went up the stairs and left Abbey to ruminate. How could she
have been so wrong about Nick? Six weeks ago, she would have bet
everything she owned on him still being alive. And yet, now she was told
that he'd been dead for ten years. Something didn't add up. She knew that
George wouldn't have called her if he hadn't been certain of the news
himself. She wanted desperately to get to a computer and check her e-mail
to see exactly what George had sent her. Her training with Dr. Whitman had
not only sharpened her empathic skills, but they'd also given her more
faith in her hunches. Now she was left wondering how she could have
possibly been wrong. 

 The sound of footsteps on the staircase broke her reverie. She looked up
to see Walt coming down. 

 "Are you ready to go?" he asked. 

 "Yes. How's Ray?" 

 "He's trying to hold it together. He and his friend will be down in a few
minutes. I told him that Father Behan was going to meet us at the house." 

 "And?" 

 "He didn't object." 

 "Hmm, I could have hoped for a better response." 

 "And you could have gotten a worse one." 

 "Good point." 

 When they arrived at the Vecchios' house, Abbey noticed Father Behan's
car was parked in front of the home. Just moments later she saw the
Riviera pull into the driveway. When Ray, Ben and Dief got out of the
Riviera, she glanced at the padre and mumbled what sounded like a prayer
for strength. When she made a quick sign of the Cross, Walt knew that's
what she'd done and asked for the same thing. As they crossed the street,
she saw Father Behan leave his car and walk directly to Ray. 

 Abbey watched as Ray and his parish priest embraced and spoke softly for
a few minutes. Quietly, she opened the car door and stepped out onto the
grass. She continued to watch the scene before her unfold as Father Behan
stopped and greeted Ben as well. She'd forgotten that the Mountie had once
mentioned his occasional involvement with St. Michael's. It explained the
fact that he also embraced Father Behan when Abbey knew that he was
usually reticent about physical contact with others. 

 The sound of the car doors shutting shifted the men's attention across
the street. The two priests knew each other well even though their
churches were in very different neighborhoods. Walt waited for Abbey to
come around the car and meet him before crossing the street. He slipped an
arm around her shoulders for comfort and strength. Once they joined up
with the others, all six walked quietly into the house. 

 Mrs. Vecchio was stunned to see her son and his friends come in with two
priests. 

 "Raymondo, what's wrong?" she asked, standing up quickly. "Why do you
bring priests with you?" 

 "It's been a long night, Ma. Where's Maria and Frannie?" he asked
wearily. 

 "Tony and Maria are upstairs putting the children to bed and Francesca
just went into the kitchen." She turned and looked at all the people who
had just come into her home. 

 "I'll go get your sister and brother-in-law," Abbey offered, ignoring the
glare he sent in her direction. 

 "Ray," Frannie asked cautiously as she returned to the living room with a
cup of hot chocolate, "what's going on here?" Though she was never unhappy
to see Fraser, she knew something had to be really wrong since there were
two priests standing in the room. 

 "Take a seat, Frannie," her brother instructed. 

 "Why?" she asked even as she complied. "Frase? Ma? Would someone please
tell me what's happening?" Panic was creeping into her voice. 

 "We're waiting for Maria and Tony," Fraser advised. 

 "How come?" she asked again. "Is something wrong with Ray?" 

 "No, Frannie. I'm fine." 

 He was spared any further questioning by the arrival of his sister and
brother-in-law who came quickly down the stairs. When they were seated,
Mrs. Vecchio asked their priest again what was wrong. Her voice just edged
on panic and she clutched and released the arms of the rocking chair where
she sat. 

 "I think Ms. Barnes ought to be the one to tell you." 

 'Thank you very little, Father,' Abbey thought, taking a deep breath. 

 "When I was here in May, Ray and I were talking about Nick..." 

 There was a collective gasp from Ray's family. Abbey could feel the
detectives eyes boring holes at her but she didn't know if it was because
he didn't approve of her being the one to tell the family or if he just
didn't like the way she was doing it. 

 "Ray told me how you folks hadn't heard from him since our graduation
day. It was bothering him a lot so I offered to have a friend of mine do a
search for him." 

 "Oh, my God, you found Nick?" Maria burst out. 

 "In a manner of speaking." 

 "What do you mean?" Ma demanded. 

 "Mrs. V, I'm afraid Nick is dead. He died ten years ago in California." 

 Abbey held her breath waiting for the inevitable weeping, wailing and
gnashing of teeth. She didn't have to wait long. 

 "Dead? My little Dominic is dead?" 

 "I'm afraid so, Ma," Ray responded. 

 As the Vecchio family dissolved into their grief, Abbey slowly
disappeared into the kitchen. The emotional backlash was more than she
could bear, even with her advanced training. She leaned up against the
cabinets and let the tears flow down her cheeks. The sound of footsteps on
the linoleum floor made her look up and wipe her eyes. She expected to see
Walt, or even Fraser, but didn't expect to see Ray. 

 She swallowed nervously, waiting for another outburst. Several long
moments of silence passed between them. His eyes were blank and he stared
in her direction as if she weren't even there. Not even bothering to
acknowledge her presence, he turned and went to the refrigerator and
retrieved a carton of orange juice. He silently poured himself a glass and
then left the room without saying a word to her. 

 She could accept his anger. His rage, though hurtful, was something she
could deal with but his silent accusation was more than she could bear.
His stare had burned holes right through her and it pushed her beyond her
breaking point. She sat down on the floor and vented her grief. 

 It was Mrs. Vecchio who found Abbey in a sobbing heap on the floor. She
had come in to make coffee and found the agent. 

 "Abbey, what's wrong?" 

 'What's wrong? She's asking me what's wrong?' Abbey thought as she tried
to calm down enough to answer. 

 "Cara, talk to me. What has you so upset?" 

 "You're kidding, right?" she asked. 

 "Of course not. Tell me why I find you crying on my kitchen floor." 

 She knew Mrs. Vecchio wouldn't believe her tears were for Nick. She had
barely known him. But she couldn't bring herself to tell the woman what
was really bothering her. 

 "I'm not really sure that I can describe it, Mrs. V. It's like I'm able
to feel everyone's pain just as intently as they are. And with so many
people in the room in pain, it's multiplied. I thought I was able to
control it, but this just hurts too much." 

 "Oh Abbey, you shouldn't be so sad. I think that on some level we all
suspected that Nick might be dead." 

 'Yeah, everybody but me and Ray,' she thought. 

 Ray's mother watched as Abbey sat dejectedly on the floor. For many years
she'd considered her just another daughter. Though she never told anyone,
she suspected that Ray had romantic feelings for his long-time friend and
she would not have been displeased if Abbey returned those feelings.
However, deep in her heart, she believed that their friendship and their
willingness to go all out for each other's best interests, was what would
keep them together regardless of whether or not a romance blossomed
between them. 

 She'd heard Ray tell Benton what Abbey had sacrificed so that he and
Irene could be together, not just in high school but also just a few
months ago. And she knew that was the kind of person Abbey was; a kind and
generous friend. 

 Abbey quickly considered her options. She thought about baring her soul
to this woman who had been like a mother to her but just couldn't bring
herself to admit that Ray's bad mood was due to anything other than the
sudden news of Nick's death. "Mrs. V, I appreciate the hospitality you've
shown me. You know that, don't you?" 

 "Of course, I do." 

 "Then please don't be upset when I tell you this. I'm going to spend
tonight at Father O'Reilly's. You've got a lot to deal with and you don't
need me underfoot," she said softly. 

 "Abbey, you'll do no such thing. You're family." 

 "Ma, remember all the times when Ray and I were working on some school
project and you told me to just stay for supper? And all the times I just
showed up on your doorstep because things were getting too intense at
home? You were the one who went with me to pick out a dress for the senior
prom after Mom and Dad died. The Vecchio family has been there for me more
times than I can count. For once, I want to return the favor, to be there
for you. But I can't do that in the state I'm in. I had a really rough
week before I came out here and, mentally, I'm just exhausted. For my own
mental health, if I'm going to be of any use to you and your family
tomorrow, I absolutely have to get away tonight." 

 "Abbey, are you sure about this?" 

 "I've never been so sure of anything in my life." 

 "I hate to see you go to the trouble of leaving just for one night." 

 "I know, Ma. And I've already talked to Father O'Reilly about this. He
understands." 

 "You're sure you'll be back first thing in the morning?" 

 "I swear on my parents' graves." 

 "Okay, dear. I'll have Ray get your bag." 

 "Oh, no need. I can get it. Thanks, Ma," she said as she gave the woman a
hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. 

 She slid surreptitiously through the crowd that had assembled in the
living room and climbed the stairs without being noticed. Once she was in
Francesca's room, she grabbed her bag and went back down to the kitchen,
unnoticed. She stashed the overnight bag under the kitchen table and went
to find Father O'Reilly. 

 The blonde priest was speaking intently with Ben. She caught his eye and
he nodded at her. Finishing his conversation with the Mountie, he sought
out Mrs. Vecchio and once again offered his condolences, promising he'd be
happy to assist the family in any way he could. Then he followed Abbey
into the kitchen. 

 "Are you sure you don't want to say good-bye to anyone?" he asked. 

 "No, I've already told Ma I was bunking out with you tonight." 

 "What about Ray?" 

 "What about him?" 

 "Abbey," he said, an implicit warning in his voice. 

 "Look, you know how he feels about me right now. I just think it's better
if I let him have tonight to calm down. We can start again tomorrow
morning. Besides, by then I'll have checked my e-mail and I'll have more
information. Hopefully, I'll be able to make more sense of this than I can
now." 

 "Okay, let's go." 

 She retrieved her bag from where she had stowed it and the two of them
left quietly through the back door. All the way back to the rectory, her
mind spun around one thought: How could she have believed that Nick was
alive when he'd been dead for so long? What had been happening in Chicago
that weekend that tickled her intuition in such a fashion? She wondered if
the feeling she'd had in May had been real or just a way to get Ray off
the subject. She shook the doubts out of her head. She had honestly
believed what she had said. But now she wished she'd kept quiet. 

 When they arrived at the rectory, Abbey asked to use Walt's computer. He
booted up the machine and logged on to his Internet service. Stepping
away, he motioned for Abbey to sit at the desk. 

 "I'm heading up to bed. Don't stay up all night working on this. You need
your rest." 

 "Thanks, Padre. I won't." 

 Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she opened her e-mail account. She
saw that there were several messages in her mailbox but zeroed in on the
one from George. Opening it up, she found all the material he had
gathered. She looked at the first photograph he had age-processed and
used. Then she laughed at his note that it didn't come up with anything.
This rendition was almost a cross between Ray and his dad. And her memory
of Nick was that he more closely resembled his mother. She checked the
second picture and found it to be more believable. She was rather
surprised to see that in this one, George had not assumed that Nick would
lose his hair like the other men in the family. In fact, not only did the
man in this picture have a full head of hair, it was also rather long and
shaggy. This was the picture that he'd matched up with the corpse. 

 Next she checked the photo of the dead Nick. Yes, it was a close match.
Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of the life that this man must
have led. Though Nick had been mischievous, she'd never sensed in him any
desire to do real harm to anyone, especially not himself. Yet the
countenance of this man showed years of hard living. His face was
weathered in a way that one only gets by spending playing fast and loose
with life. He'd probably thought himself immortal. Yet now, he was very
dead. 

 Wiping her eyes, she looked at the death certificate. He'd died of a
heroin overdose. The coroner's report didn't mention needle tracks in any
of the usual places so she could only assume that he'd probably been doing
other drugs and died the first time he used the stuff. 'What a waste,' she
thought. But it only reinforced her suspicion that he'd thought he was
invincible. The coroner's report also showed liver damage, probably due to
years of alcohol abuse. Abbey wasn't surprised. 

 Though no one had conclusively proved that there was gene for alcoholism,
she knew that Mr. Vecchio had been a hard drinker and it wasn't too far of
a stretch to believe that his sons could have developed the same
predilection. She knew Ray avoided booze virtually all the time because of
his memories of his father's drunken behavior. 

 Glancing one more time at the report before she moved on, something
caught her eye, something out of kilter. The name on the report wasn't
Dominic Vecchio. She wondered if she had just dropped a bombshell on Ray
and his family for no good reason. Lastly she looked at George's report.
He'd noticed the discrepancy as well. But he'd run the corpse's
fingerprints and come up with a match for Nick's. Something at the back of
Abbey's neck prickled violently and there wasn't enough information here
to calm her down. Checking her watch, she grabbed her cell phone and
risked a late call to George to find out more. 

 "George Fraley," he answered. 

 "Hey, it's Abbey." 

 "Hi, I can't say I'm entirely surprised to hear from you. Have you
checked your e-mail yet?" 

 "Yes, and I see a problem." 

 "What's that?" 

 "The death certificate says the stiff's name is Nick Michaels. George,
are you sure you've got the right guy here?" 

 "Sure. Didn't you read my note? A friend of his ID'd the body. But the
friend didn't know of any family. The county sheriff did a cursory check
and found no living relatives." 

 "And they just left it at that? How come they didn't check the
fingerprints like you did?" 

 "They did, but they only checked California records. Nick Michaels didn't
have a rap sheet so they went with what they knew. Now, knowing that your
friend grew up in Chicago, I searched nationwide and had to break into the
juvenile records as well, in order to find him." 

 "So I'm still confused. How come you're certain this is Ray's brother?" 

 "I checked the dental records. One strange thing about this guy is that
he had nearly perfect teeth. You don't find that in many junkies or
addicts. But when I checked with the dental records at the Illinois Boys
School, I found that oral hygiene was one of the few things this guy
excelled in." 

 "So you're sure this is Ray's brother." 

 "Well, as sure as anyone can be at this point. Abbey, the kid ran away
from home when he was 16. Once he got away from his family, he changed his
name and went on to build a new life. It's not unheard of, you know." 

 "Yeah, if you're in the witness protection program. But hell, there had
to be records." 

 "Not when we were growing up. When did you get your social security
card?" 

 "When I was five years old, same as my brothers and sisters. We had to
have it in order to open the parentally mandated savings account at the
bank." 

 "Well, I didn't get mine until I was 16 and working my first after school
job." 

 "Hmm, okay I see your point. And Nick probably didn't have his driver's
license yet either," she said almost as if she were thinking out loud. 

 "Trust me Abbey, at that age and considering the time that he
disappeared, it wouldn't have been all that difficult. Hey, how do you
think parents who kidnap their children do it? There's a network out there
and if you can tap into it, you can do amazing things." 

 "Okay, thanks, George. I feel a little better. So how are things going in
Atlanta?" she asked, changing the subject. 

 "Keeping busy." 

 "So what's new?" she asked rhetorically. "By the way, I don't think I've
thanked you." 

 "For this? Yeah you did. When I talked to you this afternoon." 

 "No, I meant for telling John that I like chamomile tea. I wouldn't have
made it through that awful day at headquarters if it hadn't been for that
cup of tea." 

 "Glad I could help. You might want to consider a cup tonight." 

 "I'm not sure that the padre's got any but I'll check into it." 

 "Well, try to get some rest, Abbey. You need it." 

 "Oh, from your mouth to God's ear." 

 "Good-night, Abbey." 

 "Good-night, George." 

 She severed the connection and stared once again at the picture. So this
was what had happened to Nick. He probably thought he was escaping his
father's physical abuse but it appeared that the psychological damage had
already been done. And lacking any outside force, he'd begun to abuse
himself. Tears trickled down her cheeks and blurred her vision. Shutting
down the computer, she grabbed her bag and made her way upstairs to the
guest room. 

 Throwing off her clothes, she pulled on a nightshirt and fell into bed.
She continued to weep although she wasn't entirely sure why. She knew her
tears couldn't be for Nick, since she really hadn't known him that well.
And the truth was that the rest of the Vecchio family seemed to be taking
the news rather well once the initial shock had abated. Only Ray knew of
her belief that Nick had still been alive and it was Ray who hated her for
it. Though she had told Inspector Thatcher that everything would
eventually return to normal for them, she really didn't believe it. She
knew what was waiting for her when she returned to DC and she knew it
would not mend the rift between the two of them. She cried well into the
night, for the intimate past that they had shared and for the future that
never could be. 

 Although she'd never considered herself a morning person, Abbey rarely
ever slept through the summons of an alarm clock. But today, she it took
every ounce of effort she could muster to drag her body from the bed and
stumble downstairs for breakfast. Even the smell of waffles that emanated
from the kitchen, couldn't break through her haze. 

 "Hey sleepy-head, how late did you stay up last night?" Walt asked. 

 "I was on the computer for about an hour before I went to bed." 

 "So did you learn anything?" 

 She sighed and propped her left elbow on the table so she could cradle
her chin in her hand. "Not much. Near as I can tell, Nick left here to
start a new life. Unfortunately, he was still carrying some emotional
baggage with him and he lived fast and hard. Cause of death was a heroin
overdose. From all appearances, it was probably the first time he'd done
smack. Probably moved up from cocaine." 

 The priest winced. In both his current and his previous job he had seen
the pattern all too frequently. "So what are you going to tell the
Vecchios?" 

 "No more than I absolutely have to. I'll say that he had a seizure, fell
and hit his head, which are the bare bones medical facts. I'm not going to
mention the drugs and booze unless someone pins me to the wall and asks me
directly. I mean it's no secret that their dad drank heavily so it
wouldn't be much of a stretch to figure that Nick picked up that addiction
as well. I guess I'm just being a coward." 

 She looked Walt straight in the eye hoping he wouldn't press the issue or
delve into the reason for her cowardice. She didn't want to admit that
there were other issues at play in her life. 

 "Are you anticipating that someone will pin you to the wall?" 

 "I don't know. I'm sure Ray will realize that I'm not telling the whole
truth but I don't think he'll push the issue. Hell, I'm not sure he'll
even be speaking to me today." 

 On their way to the rectory the previous night, Abbey had told the priest
of the rift that developed between the two of them. The story hadn't
surprised him since this wasn't his first experience with the volatile
detective. He remembered the past two times that they'd met. 

 "Hard to say. I don't know him well, but I do remember what he was like
after Detective Gardino was killed. He's got the tenacity of a Pit Bull." 

 "And the bite," she agreed. 

 Though she had no real appetite, she ate two waffles and drank a glass of
orange juice. She took her dishes into the kitchen and saw Lea-Ann, the
housekeeper. Abbey stopped to thank her for the breakfast but explained
that she just didn't feel like eating. 

 "I understand, Abbey," she said. "Father O'Reilly told me that you'd lost
someone close to you. I'm sorry to hear it and I'll keep you in my
prayers." 

 "Thanks, Lea-Ann." 

 "Hey, Abbey, you'd better get moving," Walt prompted, taking his dishes
to the sink. "I promised Mrs. Vecchio that I'd have you back over there
first thing this morning." 

 'What I wouldn't give to have you break that promise,' she thought as she
walked back upstairs. 

 As she had feared, Ray still wasn't speaking to her. She tried to ignore
the gulf that kept them apart by making sure that she was always talking
with someone else in the family. Maria's children had been told of the
news, but since they'd never known their Uncle Nick, they weren't quite as
affected. They seemed more interested in the pictures Abbey had brought
that showed how George had found their missing relative than in hearing
the family talk about him. Tony Jr. was especially interested in the
computer programs George had used and she wished she could have taken him
to the bureau's Chicago office and given him a tour. Granted, it wasn't as
high tech as the environment that she had once occupied in Atlanta, but it
would have been more than impressive for someone of his age. 

 Shortly before noon, the unexpected ring of the doorbell had everyone
looking toward the porch. Abbey and Ben both went to open it and were
surprised to see who was standing there. 

 "Meg!" 

 "Inspector Thatcher!" 

 Their exclamations were nearly simultaneous. 

 The Inspector, holding a large rectangular casserole dish, stepped in as
soon as the door was opened. 

 "I hope I'm not intruding or stepping on any toes," she said. "I'm not
sure what's customary in Chicago but when I was growing up in Toronto,
friends and neighbors always brought food to the family in situations like
these." 

 "Oh my, Meg, that looks wonderful. I'm practically drooling just from
looking at it." 

 "I have more out in my car if someone will help me carry it in." 

 Abbey took the dish from Meg and handed it to Ben. "Here, why don't you
take this in to the kitchen and I'll help your boss with the rest of it." 

 It was only a few steps from the porch to the street where Meg's car was
parked. Inside the spacious trunk there was enough food, in Abbey's
opinion, to feed a small army. 

 "Oh my word!" Abbey exclaimed. 

 "Oh, dear. Is something wrong?" 

 "No, Meg. This is unbelievable. You must have been very busy last night
or this morning to get all this together. I'm sure Ma will be very
grateful." 

 "Well, I realize that the detective and I aren't exactly what you'd call
'close friends' and I really don't know the rest of the family but
Constable Fraser speaks very highly of them and since they seem to have
made his life in Chicago more bearable, I felt like it was the least I
could do." 

 "Well, this is just incredible. And don't worry about stepping on any
toes. When my parents were killed, we ate for a week on all the food that
was brought in." 

 The two women carried bags and boxes to the porch where Ben had recruited
Tony to help shuttle things to the kitchen. When everything was finally
in, Mrs. Vecchio was completely overwhelmed. 

 "This is so very nice of you, Inspector. I can't thank you enough for
thinking of us." 

 "It's my pleasure, Mrs. Vecchio." 

 "You will stay and eat with us, won't you?" Mrs. Vecchio insisted. 

 "Oh, no, I really don't wish to intrude." 

 Meg's eyes grew large and she felt trapped. In the nine months since
she'd come to Chicago, she hadn't made a lot of friends. She knew that
some people considered her to be reserved when actually she was just shy.
She'd learned to maintain professional relationships, however, she wasn't
very good when it came to personal ones. 

 Abbey turned pleading eyes on Meg. She desperately felt the need for an
ally. "Please, Meg. You went to all this trouble. You should at least
share a few bites. And it is customary," she added with a wink. 

 "Well, all right. I suppose I can stay for a little while." 

 Abbey squeezed Meg's hand in a silent gesture of thanks. The Inspector
was momentarily startled, as she wasn't used to such familiarity from
someone she'd only just met. 

 Everyone began moving at once to help get things ready for lunch.
Francesca added a leaf to the dining room table to make room for the extra
people who would be sharing a meal with them. Maria had her hands busy
getting her children ready to eat. Tony and Ben set up the food and Ma
tried to supervise everyone. It appeared to be something just short of
organized chaos in Meg's eyes. 

 Soon they were seated and eating. The RCMP Inspector was amazed at the
multiple conversations that flowed around the table and how people jumped
from one conversation into another. It was all so different from the home
she grew up on. She knew that part of it stemmed from her being an only
child. But she'd had friends with siblings and couldn't remember anything
like this ever going on at their dinner tables. The decibel level alone
made her thankful for the first time in her life that she'd been an only
child. 

 Abbey had taken the precaution of excusing herself for a few minutes
before they ate to prepare herself for the emotional onslaught that she
knew she'd be subjected to. She was able to flawlessly recall the exercise
Dr. Whitman had developed where she relaxed and visualized a rheostat
attached to her emotional responses. Once that image was firmly planted in
her brain, she began to consciously turn it down until she felt she could
face any highly charged emotional situation and not be overwhelmed by it.
So now she sat at the table and made small talk, mostly with Meg, and felt
serene and calm throughout the meal. The only thing that bothered her was
Ray. 

 He seemed to be doing okay when conversing with anyone else. But his
anger towards Abbey was not hidden. He refused to speak to her and
wouldn't even acknowledge her simple request to pass the salt. His
rudeness was apparent to everyone but only his mother took him to task for
his bad manners. She gave him a look that would have frozen water and
quelled rudeness even in virtual strangers. 

 When the meal was finally over, Abbey and Meg offered to do dish detail
but Ma wouldn't hear of it. "Guests," she said, "don't do housework." 

 "Since when am I a 'guest'?" Abbey protested. "Besides, I've done dishes
here before." 

 "Yeah, and Ma threw a fit that night too, if you'll remember," Francesca
added. 

 The daughters washed the dishes but drafted Maria's children into helping
them clear the table. Tony, Ben and Ray went into the front room and
turned on the TV. The Cubs were playing and the guys were soon engrossed
in the game. Abbey looked at Meg and nodded in the direction of the back
yard. 

 "How do you feel about coffee?" Abbey asked once they'd gotten outside. 

 Meg was startled. "I drink coffee," she admitted. 

 "Well, there's a place a few blocks over that serves a killer latte.
Wanna join me?" 

 "Sure." 

 Cathy's Cup was a new business that had filled a spot vacated by a porn
shop. The owner had also grown up in the neighborhood. She was petite and
outgoing, calling of her regular customers by their first name and the
occasional drop-ins by some sort of endearment. Abbey had discovered the
bakery and coffee shop on her last visit to Chicago. 

 "Nora," Abbey called out as they walked in the door, "You home? I've
brought you a potential convert." 

 "Abbey!" the shop owner cried, racing out of the kitchen to greet them.
"How are ya? I didn't know you were back in town. Who's your friend?" Her
questions were nearly lost as she took Abbey by the hand and pulled her
into an enormous hug. 

 "This is Meg Thatcher. Meg, this is Nora Spitznogle. We went to grade
school together. She also knows the Vecchios." 

 "Nice to meet you Meg," Nora greeted. "What can I get you girls?" 

 The pair placed their order and took a seat at a small glass topped
table. This Saturday afternoon found the establishment empty of customers
except for the two of them. Nora arrived at the table a few moments later
bearing their iced coffees and plates of a yellow confection. 

 "What's this?" Meg asked. "I don't remember ordering dessert." 

 "You didn't," Nora responded. "It's a new recipe I'm developing. I was
hoping you'd try it out and let me know what you think. You know, be my
focus group?" 

 Abbey took a bite of the cake and rolled her eyes. "It's heavenly. I love
poppy seed cake." 

 Meg took a small taste and also moaned her appreciation. 

 "You really like it?" 

 "It's wonderful. But I don't dare eat any more of this. It will go
straight to my hips," Meg claimed. 

 "Ah, then you might be interested to know that it's non-fat and virtually
no sugar." 

 "You're kidding." 

 "No. I'm trying to come up with healthier recipes for my customers." 

 "Nora," Abbey proclaimed, "I think you've got a winner here." 

 "I agree," Meg added. 

 "Good. Well, I'll check back on you two later. But if you need anything,
just give a shout." 

 The two women sat in silence for a moment eating and drinking and
relaxing. Abbey began to let some of the stress of the trip wash itself
away. She hadn't realized until that moment just how tense she had become
sitting in the Vecchio house. She rubbed her temples and the back of her
neck. 

 "Bad day?" Meg asked. 

 "In some ways, not as bad as I had expected. In some ways, worse." 

 "Ray seems to be taking the news quite hard," Meg observed. 

 "You can say that again," Abbey responded rolling her eyes in sarcasm. 

 "I don't mean to pry but what's his problem? Everyone else seems to have
taken the news in stride but even I could see the animosity he's directed
at you." 

 "I think it's just a case of 'kill the messenger'." 

 "You think so? This seems far more intense." 

 "When I told him that I'd have George try to find his brother, I believe
I gave him false hope that there would be a positive outcome," Abbey
explained. "And now we find out that not only is Nick dead, but he's been
that way for quite some time." 

 "That's terrible. He can't blame you for his brother's death." 

 "I think he is." 

 "Well, that's ludicrous. Is there someone who can talk to him and perhaps
intervene on your behalf?" 

 "I agree that it's ludicrous but I'm not holding my breath waiting for
him to come to his senses. In fact, I was thinking of going back home
tonight instead of tomorrow night if I can get a flight out." 

 "Why? Don't you think that it's better if you stay here?" 

 For a brief moment Abbey considered confiding in Meg and telling her the
whole story. She desperately wanted someone to talk to and this seemed
like the perfect opportunity. She even began to open her mouth but then
censored herself. She shook her head in answer to the question and ate a
bite of cake to keep her mouth occupied. 

 Meg silently sipped her drink and watched Abbey over the rim of her
glass. She could tell that the woman was conflicted about something but
didn't know enough about the situation to even begin to guess what was
causing the distress. She sensed that Abbey had started to answer her
question and then stopped herself for some unknown reason. She considered
pushing the subject but wasn't sure how to do it without sounding rude.
Her contemplations were broken by Nora's appearance. 

 "Can I get you guys anything else?" 

 Abbey was ready to leave and looked at Meg questioningly. The Inspector
shook her head and Abbey declined any further service from Nora. 

 "Okay, then. Have a good afternoon. And tell the Vecchios not to be a
stranger. Fran's been in once since you were here in May but I haven't
seen hide nor hair of the rest of the family." 

 Abbey thought for a moment before she answered. "Well, they just got some
bad new so I'm not sure how social they're gonna feel for a while." 

 "What's up?" 

 "They just found out that Nick died." 

 "Nick? Oh, yeah, the younger brother. He's dead? What happened?" 

 "We don't have all the details just yet." 

 "Oh, sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus. Hang on. Don't move a step," Nora
commanded as she ran to the back of the shop. 

 "Here," she said, returning a few moments later with a large bag. "I
packed up some stuff to snack on for them. You know how Frannie gets when
she's upset. Tell Mrs. V that I'll be over tomorrow after mass." 

 Abbey took the bag from the baker and gave her a hug. "Thanks, Nora. I'm
sure she'll appreciate it." 

 "Good to meet you Meg," Nora said. "Come back and visit anytime." 

 "I will," Meg replied with a conviction that surprised her. While she was
impressed with the quality of the food and coffee, Nora's open and
accepting manner impressed her even more. The shop proprietor treated
everyone who came in like a friend. Meg had seen this kind of behavior
before but in Nora it seemed natural and genuine, so much difference than
the forced obsequious service she'd received at her usual coffee shop. 

 Back at the house, things hadn't changed. The Vecchio family remained in
a state somewhere between grief and numbness. Despite Nick's history as a
juvenile delinquent, everyone was able to tell happy stories about him and
some of the more innocuous pranks that he'd pulled in his lifetime. Meg
sat with Fraser and listened to Maria tell about Nick teaching Frannie to
ride a two-wheeler. 

 Abbey discretely slipped out into the back yard and call the airlines
regarding her flight. She found that she could get a flight back home
later that night and for a moment considered the possibilities. Though the
rest of the Vecchio family seemed fine around her, Ray was still in a
snit. She'd tried earlier in the morning to talk to him but he had refused
to speak to her. Heaving a sigh, Abbey told the reservation agent to make
the change. 

 She slipped quietly back into the house and found little Tony sitting in
the kitchen drinking a glass of milk and eating one of Nora's cookies. 

 "Hey, Tony," she said in greeting. 

 "Hey, short stuff." It was Ray's name for her that Tony used but she
didn't mind. 

 "So what have I missed?" 

 "I dunno," he replied glumly. 

 "What's the matter?" 

 "I guess I just don't understand. I mean, Uncle Nick's been gone a long
time. And from what Mom says, he wasn't a very nice person when he was
around. So why is everybody so sad now just because he's dead?" 

 Abbey thought for a moment. "That's a good question and a hard one to
answer. I didn't know your uncle all that well. But I'd be hard pressed to
say he wasn't a nice person. What I remember of him is that he was very
charming. He just hung out with the wrong people and made a lot of bad
choices. It caused him some problems later on. Do you understand the
difference?" 

 "Yeah. I guess it's like the time that Uncle Ray was tryin' to help
Fraser but he wouldn't follow the rules so he got suspended." 

 "That's right. He broke the rules, which is a bad thing. But he was being
a friend which is what a good person does." 

 "Abbey, how come Uncle Ray's so mad at you?" 

 "What do you mean?" 

 "Well, I heard him arguing with Fraser last night. I couldn't exactly
hear them but I thought I heard him say something about you lying to him.
And today, he won't talk to you and he's grumpy whenever anybody says your
name." 

 "Oh Tony, it's a long story. But when I was here in May, while you were
on your field trip, your uncle misunderstood something I said about Nick.
And now that we know Nick's dead... well, Ray's not taking it very well." 

 "Yeah, but I've never seen him this angry with you. Not even when you
didn't come up for Christmas last year." 

 "Oh don't worry. Ray and I have been friends an awfully long time. Sooner
or later, he'll understand and things will be back to normal." 

 "Thanks, Abbey." 

 "You're welcome. Hey, I've got a favor to ask. May I use your computer
for a little while?" 

 "Sure. You know where it is." 

 "Thanks, Tony. I won't take long." 

 Abbey walked up the stairs unnoticed by anyone but Diefenbaker. Fraser's
furry companion had noticed the extreme tension between her and the Donut
Cop. Looking around to see if anyone was paying attention to him, he
followed her to Tony's room and whined softly at the door. 

 She had just turned on the computer when she heard Dief's voice. 

 "Hey, fella, come on in." 

 While waiting for the word processing program to pop up she scratched the
wolf behind his ears. 

 "Okay, I'll get back to you in a couple of minutes," she told him when
the computer showed a blank page on the monitor. 

 Composing the note took far longer than she had originally anticipated.
She would type several lines and then delete them, knowing that she had
either said too much or just hadn't expressed herself well. She had been
dreading this moment for a few weeks. Finally she had the right words
ready to commit to paper and pressed the print button. When the letter
emerged from the printer, she deleted the file, shut everything down and
sat on the floor with her back against the bed. 

 Diefenbaker gladly welcomed her presence on the floor. He knew that most
humans preferred furniture but the Mountie had instructed him that he must
remain on the floor unless they were at home. Humans on the floor,
however, meant that they were willing to bring themselves to his level.
This always made him feel superior. 

 "Gee, Dief, we haven't had much time together this trip, have we? And
unfortunately we aren't going to have much more. This is it for me. I'm
leaving tonight." 

 'Awroo' 

 "Yeah, I know I wasn't supposed to go back home until tomorrow but I've
changed my plans. Ray's in a snit and I just can't take his hostility
anymore. Besides, I've got other things on my mind that I'm not supposed
to talk about." 

 'Whine' 

 "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you. But you've got to promise
not to tell Ben. I mean it. Swear on a stack of jelly filled bismarks." 

 The wolf raised his right front paw and barked at her. 

 "Okay, here's the deal. This is gonna be my last visit to Chicago for a
long time. When I get back home, I'm going to go undercover with an
organized crime family. But nobody can know. I realize that's strange
because I'm sure my friends would never rat me out. After all, they're
cops too so they know how important it is. But those are the rules." 

 'Woooowwr' 

 "Yes, I agree that the rules suck. But I knew that when I took the job." 

 'Arf Arf' 

 "I'm not exactly sure where I'll be living just yet. I haven't gotten all
the details. I only know that the people I'm going to work with have to
believe that I hate all cops and prefer to work as a vigilante." 

 Dief licked her face in loving support of the decision that she had made.
The enormity of her decision to go back to active police work in an
undercover capacity suddenly overwhelmed her. Silent tears fell from her
eyes to wet the wolf's fur as she buried her face into his neck. She knew
that this was the worst possible time to have to leave Ray and yet, it
seemed that fate had worked in her favor. She recalled the conversation
she'd had with Edward Hoover. 

 She'd gone to the Bureau's DC office for her interview after having
dinner with Lou Scagnetti. She hadn't expected to meet with the assistant
director of the Organized Crime Division, but there she was. The official
interview was rather perfunctory and merely repeated some of the facts
she'd written on the official report. It was the news that came afterwards
that startled her. 

 "So, I suppose you're wondering why I'm conducting your interview," he'd
said. 

 "It had crossed my mind." 

 "I wanted to be the one to give you the news." 

 "News?" she asked cautiously. 

 "Yes, and it's good news at that. You're not going to have to endure Dr.
Whitman's presence much longer." He brandished a file folder and
explained. "This is the paperwork that gets you back here right after the
holiday." 

 "I'm actually going to be doing real law enforcement work again?" 

 "Effective July 7th, you'll be reporting to me. We have an assignment we
want you to work on." 

 "That fast?" 

 "I'd have liked to have had you here when you first came back. But I was
told it was imperative that you be evaluated by OSIR first." 

 "What's the assignment?" 

 "Several years ago, a drug cartel known as the Iguana family moved in to
Florida from Columbia to further their drug trade business. However, once
they got here, a few of the members of the family found that gambling
interests were, well, interesting. They've managed to infiltrate various
aspects of the gaming industry across the country. Casinos in Atlantic
City and Las Vegas, Off-Track-Betting in Florida, Kentucky and Illinois,
and they've got bookies in just about every state of the union." 

 "And this affects me how?" Abbey was completely at a loss now. 

 "The head of the family's east coast operations is a guy named Tom
Morales. He's worked his way up through the ranks rather quickly, all
things considered. And we understand that with him now in charge, the
family has expanded their interests to arms smuggling as well." 

 "Well, it certainly helps any business to be diversified," she added
wryly. "But what can I do to help?" 

 "They've expanded not only quickly but also broadly. We have been trying
to get someone inside the family for a long time but, until now, haven't
been able to find a good cover. The plan is to put you in there." 

 "Why me?" she asked, having no idea what special qualifications she had.
"Why not a more experienced agent?" 

 Edward examined the agent in front of him for a moment. She was certainly
living up to her reputation as someone who shot straight from the hip.
"Because you've got..." he paused for a moment, "extraordinary mental
powers according to the OSIR." 

 Abbey eyed him skeptically. "And this makes me the best person for the
job?" 

 "That and your attitude. Tom's a different kind of guy." 

 "How is he different?" 

 "For one thing, he's a raving feminist. You don't find too many of them
in organized crime circles. And he respects people with backbone, the kind
that don't let themselves be bullied. Everything in your file says you're
not only a stand-up kind of guy, so to speak, but that you're also
perceptive enough to be able to read him like a book. We think you can get
us the information that we want." 

 Abbey wasn't at all sure of this but she had already cast her lot when
she agreed to return to the FBI. "When do I start?" 

 "As I said, you'll report here on July 7th. I'll send you some material
on the Iguana family in general and on Morales in specific tomorrow. I
expect you to be up to speed on it the next time I see you. I'm not sure
exactly when we'll be able to get you inside and I want you to be ready to
go at a moment's notice." 

 "Okay, I'll be here on the seventh." 

 She rose to leave the office. 

 "Oh, Abbey, I'm sure you already realize this but I'll feel better if I
tell you. No one can know what you're about to do. You're going to have to
cut yourself off from all your law enforcement contacts. And you'll have
to ditch the boyfriend." 

 "Boyfriend? I had one dinner with Lou. I hardly think that qualifies him
for 'boyfriend' status." 

 "I'm not talking about him. I was referring to Detective Vecchio." 

 Abbey head swam in confusion. They'd been friends for years. How does one
break up with a friend? "Uh, sir, I'm not sure that's going to be
possible. I mean, Ray isn't the type to just let me disappear." 

 "Find a way, Agent Barnes. The Iguana family certainly won't warm up to
you if you've got cops for friends. And they will check." 

 "Yes, sir." 

 Dief's cold, wet nose on her cheek brought her back to the here and now.
It seemed that fate had presented her with an opportunity that she had to
take advantage of. She wondered if the Bureau had discovered her quest to
find Nick and had made the information available in order to start the
rift between her and Ray. She instantly dismissed the notion. George was
an excellent covert hacker. That's what had brought him to the VCTF
originally. It was doubtful anyone would know about his extra curricular
activities. And who would have known that the news of Nick's death
wouldn't bring her and Ray closer? 

 Abbey put the note she had composed on Ray's pillow and trudged down the
stairs. Ma was in the kitchen preparing supper. 

 "Bad news, Ma," Abbey proclaimed. "I got a call from the Bureau and I'm
needed in DC right away. I'm going to have to cut my trip short and head
back tonight." 

 "Oh, darling, are you sure you can't stay?" 

 "I'm afraid not. Duty calls." 

 "Oh, dear, and I was hoping you and Ray would have worked things out
before you had to go home." 

 "I know, Ma. But I've done all I can and he's not responding. He just
needs some time." 

 "All right dear, but how will you get to the airport?" 

 "I'll take her," Meg offered. 

 Both women turned, stunned to find that someone else had joined them in
the kitchen. 

 "Oh, Meg, thanks, but that's not necessary. I can call a cab." 

 "No, really, I'd like to. And I need to be going anyway. I've stayed far
longer than I had really planned." 

 Mrs. Vecchio was distraught that she was losing two guests at the same
time but finally took it in stride. Abbey ran upstairs and grabbed her
overnight bag and brought it back down. She hugged Mrs. V and then walked
to the living room. She cleared her throat nervously at the lie she was
about to tell and then announced that she was going to be going home.
Maria and Frannie both smothered her in hugs and well wishes, as did all
of Maria's children. Ben gave her a somewhat restrained hug but wished her
a safe trip. Finally, she found herself facing Ray. She fought hard
against the anxiety that coursed through her and fidgeted with the strap
on her bag. 

 "Headin' out, short stuff?" he asked casually. He'd gotten a look of
rebuke from his mother for his earlier display of bad manners. He knew
that if he were rude again, she'd verbally take him to task. 

 "Uh, yeah." 

 "Well, have a safe trip," he responded though his heart wasn't into it. 

 It was the first time in over a year that she had left Ray's presence
without any kind of contact between them. They didn't hug. They didn't
kiss. They didn't even shake hands. Abbey wanted to tell him about the
note she'd left but couldn't do it. She just left and figured that he'd
find it sooner or later. 

 Meg drove Abbey to the airport for her return flight. They were mostly
quiet; Abbey was considering what she was about to jump in to and Meg was
wondering how the agent's abrupt departure would affect Detective Vecchio
and Constable Fraser. 

 "Meg, have you ever worked undercover?" Abbey asked abruptly. 

 "Me? Good heavens, no. I always wanted to but there aren't many
opportunities for such work for women in the RCMP. Why?" 

 "Oh, just curious. I haven't either. I just wondered what it was like." 

 "I suspect it's lonely. You'd be living a lie and have no one to confide
in. I'm sure that the paranoia factor would be pretty intense as well." 

 "Yeah, I suppose so." 

 "Is the FBI sending you undercover?" she asked perceptively. 

 "I have no idea what they have in store for me," she lied. "I suppose
it's possible since I've been assigned to the Organized Crime Division.
But I can't imagine that they'd need someone with my skills as an
undercover agent." 

 "Well, if their upper level management is anything like the RCMP's..."
her voice trailed off. "I mean, who knows what those people think?" 

 "Ah, yes, isn't it nice to know that no matter where you go, the
bureaucracy is all the same?" 

 Both women chuckled knowingly. Abbey would have liked to spend more time
with Meg but the drive to the airport was a short one and she knew that
the woman had other things to do. 

 "Meg, I really want to thank you for all that you've done for me and the
Vecchios this weekend. You've been wonderful. I really appreciate it." 

 The Inspector was unused to such compliments and tried to brush it off. 

 "No, really, I mean it." 

 "Thank you, Abbey." 

 Both women got out of the car when they arrived at the departure area.
Meg surprised Abbey by ignoring her extended right hand and gave her a
warm hug. 

 "Take care of yourself. And have a safe trip." 

 "I will," she said as she grabbed her bag. 

 Abbey went to the ticket counter to see what arrangements had to be made
since she was leaving town a day early. The ticket agent had the changes
made swiftly and soon she was sitting in the jet that would take her home.


 That night as Ben unfurled his bedroll on the floor of Ray's room, he
still pondered what was actually going on with Abbey and his best friend.
He knew that there was more to Ray's anger than just the disappointment of
finding out that his brother was dead. He, too, had noticed that Abbey had
avoided Ray and that she seemed nervous in his presence. He had initially
chalked it up to her heightened empathic awareness but now wasn't so sure.
He wondered if she would share the source of her agitation with him but
every time he sought her out for a private conversation, she was busy
talking to someone else and avoided his gaze as well. He couldn't fathom
that there was anything so wrong that she felt she had to keep it from
both of them. Perhaps she was just afraid that if she confided in him, he
would carry the tale back to Ray. He hoped she didn't think he was that
duplicitous but he couldn't come up with any other answer. 

 When Ray entered the room, the first thing he saw was Diefenbaker. The
wolf was sitting on the far side of the bed, his chin resting on the
mattress. His brown lupine eyes gazed longingly at Ray in a silent request
to be allowed on the bed. Next Ray took in the sight of his best friend
stretched out on the floor. Ben was on his left side, his head propped up
on his hand. Finally, he took note of the folded piece of paper with his
name scrawled on it that rested on the pillow. He picked it up and read
it, aware that two sets of eyes watched him. 

 Dear Ray,
 I hardly know where to begin. When God brought you back into my life last
year, I felt greatly blessed. Though I've managed to make friends wherever
I've gone, you've known me longer than anyone else. You and your family
were an important part of my life in Chicago. Every time I was back in the
Windy City while working for the FBI, I thought about coming to look for
you. But I could never bring myself to do it. I was very conscious of my
hasty departure in 1979. After walking out on everyone I'd ever known
here, I wasn't sure I'd be welcomed back. 

 And now, seventeen years later, I find myself once again beating a hasty
retreat. I wish I could tell you when I'll return to Chicago but I can't.
I have no clue what the FBI has in store for me when I get back. I've only
met with my new boss once but this summons to return to DC doesn't bode
well. 

 This time, however, I refuse to leave without saying good-bye to you
properly. I know I can't do it verbally because you've made it crystal
clear that you don't want to talk to me. I wish I could convince you of
how certain I was that Nick was alive when I was here in May. If I hadn't
been sure, I never would have said anything to you. I certainly didn't
tell you just to give you false hope and I hope you know me better than
that. 

 I love you, Ray. You're truly my oldest and dearest friend. You saved my
life and for that I will always be grateful. I've said before that it's a
debt I can never repay. I hope that one day soon, you'll realize just how
much you mean to me and how much I value our friendship. I leave you with
this adaptation of a poem that I learned many years ago, not long before
we met. 

 I love you my friend,
 You're quite dear to me.
 A true friend you are
 And always will be. 

 But I'm leaving you now
 And going my own way.
 I hope that we'll meet
 In the future some day. 

 I leave you with memories
 Of good times we've had,
 To treasure forever
 And make you feel glad. 

 I wish you good luck 
 In all that you do.
 May all of life's pleasures
 Come your way to. 

 Good-bye now my friend
 And please may you find,
 Some kind thought of me
 Always in your mind. 

 Abigail 

 P.S. George will be contacting you Monday with the location of Nick's
grave and other pertinent information. 

 The detective folded the piece of paper again and stood silently. 

 Ben watched Ray's face while he read the letter. He was certain from the
way the detective had reacted that he knew who had written it but asked
anyway hoping it would get his friend to open up. "Abbey?" he asked. 

 "Yeah," he sighed in response, handing the note to his friend. 

 The Mountie scanned it quickly and then read it again, trying to
determine what she hadn't said. To him, it appeared to be a final
farewell, one that would be shared if you thought you'd never return. But
he couldn't believe that Abbey would be so fatalistic. He'd always found
her to be up beat, optimistic and possessing a never-say-die attitude.
Yet, here she seemed resigned to the fact that Ray would never again be a
part of her life. He knew that she claimed not to be Ray's 'forever' girl,
but she had never even hinted that she would give up their friendship. He
looked at his friend and saw exhaustion and sorrow etched in the man's
face. 

 Ray blinked several times, trying to keep the tears at bay. He even
squeezed his eyes shut tightly for several minutes in a vain attempt to
hide the overwhelming sadness that he felt. Finally, he sat down on the
edge of the bed and gave vent to his sorrow. 

 Ben sat beside him, unsure of what to do. The last time he'd seen Ray so
distraught was when Irene Zuko had been killed. At least then, however, he
seemed willing to talk. Now his friend simply sat and let the tears try to
silently wash away his pain. 

 "Ray?" he asked quietly. 

 "What?" 

 "Do you want to talk?" 

 "About what?" 

 "About anything. Nick, Abbey, your childhood." 

 "There's nothin' to tell that you haven't already seen or heard." 

 "You're afraid she's not coming back, aren't you?" 

 "Why? Aren't you?" 

 "I think that from what she said in her note, it's a possibility." 

 "You're probably right." 

 "And you're willing to accept that?" Fraser asked amazed. 

 Ray sat and silently thought about that for a moment. He considered lying
but knew that Ben would see right through any fabrication. He was almost
as good as Abbey when it came to that. The only difference was that he was
not as confrontational as she was. 

 "I don't know. I mean, why shouldn't I be? I got along great for 16 years
while she was gone. Why should it be any different now?" 

 Ben knew that not all of those 16 years had been sunshine and roses for
his friend. Ray had seen a great deal of personal and professional
heartache. His marriage to Angie had failed. His career had stalled on
more than one occasion. His social life since his divorce had not been
what most would deem active. From what Fraser had heard from Ray's family
and fellow police officers, things only started looking up after the
Mountie arrived in town. 

 "But she's your friend." 

 Ray responded with a blank look. He knew he couldn't explain it to Ben.
The truth was that it didn't even make sense to him right now. All he had
to go on was his gut and it was telling him that Abbey had fled in fear.
Since she was obviously in no mortal danger, he could only guess that she
was afraid of some piece of knowledge that she had and didn't want to
share with him. He looked at Fraser and wondered if the two of them had
actually gone shopping on Friday. He knew that they were attracted to each
other. Perhaps this could be the problem; that they'd spent the day in bed
instead of in Marshall Fields. She also seemed to be avoiding Fraser as
well. Maybe they'd done it and then she'd had second thoughts. But
whatever it was, he knew she was keeping something from him. And knowing
her as well as he did, he could only surmise that it was something she had
deemed to be completely devastating. Anything less would not have made her
avoid him. 

 "Well, I thought she was. Now, I'm not so sure. But she's up to
something. That's the one thing I am sure of." 

 "Where do you get that idea?" 

 "Did you see how she acted today? She avoided me like the plague and she
was nervous as a cat. There's something else going on that she's not
talkin' about." 

 "Did you try asking her?" 

 "And have her jerk me around some more? Are you nuts? I don't need that
kind of frustration." 

 "But Ray, it would seem to me that if the two of you would just sit down
and talk this out..." 

 "Look Benny," he said, "you don't know her like I do. When she doesn't
want you to know something, she just clams up. And if you try to get the
truth out of her, she'll lie like a rug. I saw her do it all through high
school, especially after her parents were murdered." 

 "But this is different. I'm sure that in this case, she'd be nothing
short of honest with you." 

 "Fraser, you may think you know Abbey. You may think that your Mountie
training and years among the Inuit give you some special insight. But they
don't." 

 "Perhaps she was just avoiding you because of the way you yelled at her
last night." 

 "I didn't yell," he protested loudly. 

 "You most certainly did. And now you're yelling at me," Ben responded in
exasperation. 

 "Okay then, if she's upset because I yelled at her, why was she also
avoiding you?" 

 "What do you mean, Ray?" 

 "You know damn good and well what I mean. I saw you try to talk to her
three different times today and she avoided you, too. Twice she was busy
with Inspector Thatcher and once she was talking to Tony. Why won't she
talk to you, Benny?" 

 "Well, I don't know." 

 "Something happen between you two yesterday that she doesn't want me to
find out about?" he speculated. 

 "Now that's just silly, Ray." 

 "Is it? I know how you feel about each other." 

 "Ray, nothing happened." 

 "Like nothing happened with you and Frannie?" 

 "Abbey and I didn't do anything that I wouldn't feel comfortable telling
your mother about. We went shopping. That's all. And frankly, I'm hurt
that you would believe differently." 

 "Well, it's the only reason I could think of that would have her dodging
both of us." 

 "I'm sure she's just reacting to all the sadness and hostility that she
feels. If I were in her shoes, I'd want to remain detached as well." 

 Ray chose not to comment on his friend's speculation. In fact, he really
didn't want to continue the conversation at all. 

 "Forget about it, Fraser. There's no use cryin' over spilled milk." 

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. Just go to bed, okay?" 

 "As you wish, Ray." 

 The Italian detective didn't sleep well that night and it was apparent to
anyone who saw the dark circles under his eyes the next morning. Friday
night he'd lain awake in grief over the death of his brother. But Saturday
night brought thoughts of a friend whom he loved as much as a sibling and
now was probably gone for good as well. He considered phoning Abbey on
Sunday and trying to see what was really going on with her. He hoped that
over the last year they'd become close enough that he could persuade her
to open up to him and tell him the truth. He was not even afraid to use
extortion to get her to talk to him. She was the one that frequently
mentioned she owed her life to him. This was the way that he'd ask her to
repay the debt, by being honest with him. 

 Though he was physically exhausted, his spirit felt better. He ate
breakfast with the rest of the family but chose not to go to early Mass
with them. Instead, he took Benny home. The Mountie had expressed an
interest in attending the service but didn't want to go while wearing his
unwashed jeans. While Fraser was changing clothes, Ray wandered aimlessly
around the apartment. On the kitchen table he saw a photograph. This
didn't surprise him because Fraser kept family photos all over his
apartment. He looked closely when he realized that it was a new print. It
had been taken at Lt. Welsh's picnic and showed Abbey sitting on Fraser's
shoulders. He knew she'd brought her camera to the picnic so she must have
had the pictures developed during their shopping trip on Friday. He
recalled that Elaine had taken a picture of Abbey with him and Fraser and
wondered why she hadn't shared it with him. It was just one more thing to
talk to her about when he called her later. 

 Fraser's entrance to the room cut short any more speculation on that
subject. The two men returned to Ray's car and drove to St. Michael's. Ray
found more comfort in the familiar routine of the Mass. The homily was on
the cycles of life and Ray tried to find ways to apply them to his life
and to Nick's. After the service Ben and Ray walked of out St. Michael's
and into the hot humid Chicago weather. The Windy City was living up to
its name and dark clouds on the horizon signaled the possibility of an
afternoon thunderstorm. The men turned to walk towards Ray's car when a
voice called to them. 

 "Ray! Constable!" 

 They turned to see the smiling face of Frank Zuko. The man who had caused
both of them so much grief quickly closed the distance between them. 

 "I thought I noticed you two when I went forward for Communion. It's been
a long time since I've seen either of you here. But then again, I usually
attend the Saturday services." 

 "That would be a rational explanation," Fraser agreed. 

 "So, how have you guys been? Everything goin' well?" 

 "What's it to you, Frankie?" Ray asked belligerently. 

 "Hey, cool down, Ray. I'm just tryin' to make conversation here." 

 "Yeah? Well, go make conversation with someone who gives a damn." 

 "Gee, I thought we were gonna bury the hatchet. Isn't that what you
promised Irene?" 

 Ray was shocked at the words that came from Zuko. "What do you know about
it?" he asked in a voice that didn't bode well. 

 "Abbey told me about it when she was here over Memorial Day. By the way,
how is Abbey? Does she still like her car?" he asked with great sincerity.


 Ray's mind was spinning in confusion. He'd completely forgotten that
she'd mentioned seeing Frank on her previous trip and he didn't understand
the reference about her car. 

 "Car?" he asked. 

 "Yeah, the red convertible I gave her. A Volkswagen, if I remember
correctly. I had Charlie pick it out so I don't really recall all the
details." 

 Now both officers were stunned motionless. They knew that her acceptance
of such a gift was tantamount to taking a bribe. And neither of them could
believe that she would do such a thing. She'd returned to the FBI because
of her strong beliefs in right and wrong. She had told them that she
needed to be 'putting the bad guys away' and when it came to bad, Frank
Zuko could be used as a synonym. But Ray knew how much his nemesis liked
to push his buttons and decided to call the man's bluff. 

 "Yeah, right. Nice joke, Frankie." 

 "Mr. Zuko," Fraser began, "I find it hard to believe that Dr. Barnes
would accept such a gift, especially from someone whom she holds in such
low esteem." 

 "Low esteem?" Zuko chuckled. "Gee, I guess she didn't tell you that she's
working for me now." 

 He could see the disbelief in their eyes and then continued. 

 "I suppose that it would be more accurate to say that I contracted for
her professional services." 

 "And you paid her with a car?" Ray asked, incredulous. 

 "Oh no, I paid her in cash. The car was a gift. You know, I'm surprised
she didn't tell you about how I had her picked up at the airport and
brought to the house so we could meet privately." 

 Anger and betrayal showed plainly on Ray's face and Frank could see it. 

 "Or has she quit speaking to you since you dumped her for Irene?" he
asked, getting in a dig where he could. 

 That was Ray's breaking point. His fist flew at Zuko's smarmy face and
likely would have connected if it hadn't been for Ben's quick reflexes.
The Mountie's hand effectively blocked the punch and then he restrained
his friend from doing any further damage. Hatred and disgust showed
plainly on his face as he spoke to the mob boss. 

 "This is the second time I've defended you, Mr. Zuko, but I can't promise
you that I'll ever do it again. I suggest you leave." 

 While Frank wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, he was smart enough to
see what was about to go down if he stayed any longer. "By the way," he
said to Ray as he turned to leave, "I'm sorry to hear about your little
brother. He was a good kid." 

 Ray made another lunge for Frank but was still being held back by Fraser.
He twisted and squirmed in Ben's grasp, knowing that he probably wouldn't
be able to get away. Still, he wanted to let Zuko know he was angry. 

 When Frank was safely around the corner and Fraser felt Ray's temper
decrease to a low simmer, he released his friend's arms and then stood
prepared for the dressing down he was expecting. Ray surprised him by
simply settling his suit coat back on his shoulders and brushing off the
wrinkles with his hands. 

 "Do you believe the nerve of that guy? Comes here yankin' my chain about
Abbey and then has the guts to say he's sorry about Nick. He's got some
set of balls." 

 Ben was incredulous but chose not to push it. Although Ray appeared to
accept it as Zuko lying just to antagonize the cop, he wondered if there
was more truth than fiction to Frank's story. Instead, he quietly walked
to Ray's car and kept his friend company for the ride to his apartment.
Once he was home, he quickly changed clothes and ran back down to the car.


 When they arrived at the house, Ray noticed that his Uncle Angelo's van
was parked in front. That meant the relatives from Gary, IN were there. He
smiled ruefully to himself. Nick had always loved their trips to visit
Angelo and the cousins. How sad that they were now in Chicago because of
Nick's death. 

 True to her word, Nora arrived at the Vecchio home just before noon. She
brought with her a large quantity of breads, cakes, cookies and even her
famous quiche. Mrs. Vecchio was overwhelmed by the generosity. 

 "Oh Nora, this is much too kind. I can't accept all this." 

 "Sure you can. Everything except the quiche will freeze. If you don't
want it now, save it for a day when you feel like you need a treat." 

 Ray entered the room. Having been upstairs when Nora arrived, he was
completely stunned by her presence. Like Abbey, Nora had left Chicago
directly after graduation. Only she had gone to study culinary arts in New
York. Frannie had mentioned the shop but Ray had never made the
connection. Now, as he stood in a kitchen overwhelmed by baked goods in
packages carrying the Cathy's Cup logo, he put two and two together. 

 "You named the coffee shop after your mom!" he exclaimed, smacking
himself on the forehead. 

 "Well, hello to you too, stranger." 

 "Hey Nora, it's good to see you." 

 "Thanks. If you'd just take the time to walk a couple of blocks, you
could see me more often," she responded in a mild rebuke. 

 "Yeah, I'm sorry. Frannie told me about the place but she never mentioned
your name. She just said it was one of my old friends and I couldn't think
of anybody named Cathy who would run a bakery and coffee shop." 

 "So where's Abbey?" Nora asked casually. 

 There was an awkward silence before Ray answered. "She went back to DC
last night." 

 Nora did not pick up on the nonverbal clues Ray was giving and proceeded
with the line of questioning. "What do you mean she left last night?" she
asked indignantly. "I just talked to her less than twenty-four hours ago
and she didn't mention leaving." 

 Ray could tell that his mother was hovering and put his arm around Nora's
shoulders in mock companionship. "Let's get outta Ma's way," he said as he
led her out the back door. 

 Once in the back yard she practically pounced on him. "All right, Ray,
what's up? I thought you and Abbey were an item again. How could she just
leave you in the middle of a family crisis? That's not like her at all." 

 "Look," he said quietly, "in the first place, Abbey and I are not an
item. We never have been and according to her we never will be. We're just
good friends. Second, she got called back to DC for work; something
happening there that needed her expertise. Third, she really didn't know
Nick all that well so there was no reason for her to stick around anyway."


 "Oh, sorry. I assumed..." 

 "Well, you assumed wrong." 

 "Okay, I just thought that since she flew out here to be with you at this
time, there was something more going on." 

 "She flew out to spend the holiday weekend with the family. She just
happened to..." Ray stopped abruptly to censor himself, "to be here when
we got the news about Nick." 

 "Oh, so are you guys going to have some sort of a service for Nick?" 

 "We're talking to Father Behan about it. We just want to wait to get the
full report on where he's buried and we won't have it until tomorrow. 

 "Well, if it helps, I know what you're going through. I mean, I remember
when Dad was listed as a POW in 1970. At first we hoped he'd come home,
but as the years wore on, we just knew that he was dead. Still, the
reality that smacks you in the face when it's officially confirmed is
overwhelming. If you need to talk, I live upstairs above the shop. Just
come and find me." 

 Ray hugged Nora and had a tear in his eyes. "Thanks, Nora. And thanks for
bringing over all the food. I don't know how many more relatives are going
to be coming through so I'm sure it will come in handy, even if Ma
protests." 

 "Oh let her protest. You should have seen the stuff she brought over when
we got word about Dad. We could have fed the entire neighborhood with that
stuff. I just believe that what comes around goes around." 

 Nora made a quick trip through the house, pausing briefly to speak to the
family members that she knew and offer her condolences. She eyed Fraser
with interest, wondering who he was. It was obvious that he wasn't a
Vecchio. And while he seemed mostly at ease with the family, he didn't
seem to be officially attached to it in any way. She decided to stop and
introduce herself. 

 "Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Nora Spitznogle. I went to grade school
with Ray and Abbey." 

 "I'm Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police." 

 "Ahh, so that's how you fit in." 

 "Fit in?" 

 "You're a cop. You must be a friend of Ray's." 

 "Yes, I first came to Chicago on the trail of my father's killer and, for
reasons that don't need explored at this juncture, have remained, as a
liaison officer with the Canadian Consulate." 

 "Your father's killer." she repeated. "Was your dad an American?" 

 "No he was also an RCMP officer." 

 "So how does Ray fit into this?" she asked incredulously. 

 "The killer was from Chicago. Ray was assigned the case and helped bring
the man who hired the killer to justice." 

 "And the two of you have been friends every since..." 

 "Remarkably enough." 

 "That's great. He needs all the friends he can get, especially at a time
like this." 

 "Well, the Vecchios have treated me like family from the beginning. I
appreciate that since I no longer have any family of my own." 

 "Well, it was nice to meet you, Constable. I own Cathy's Cup over on
Wilson Street a couple of blocks from here. If you're in the neighborhood
and need a good cup of coffee or a Nanaimo bar, come see me." 

 "Thank you. I'll remember that." 

 Nora took her leave of the house hurried back to her store. 

 While the weather in Chicago was stormy, Gaithersburg, Maryland was
enjoying unseasonably mild weather so Abbey spent most of Sunday sitting
outside in her patio chair re-reading the files on Tom Morales and the
Iguana family. She knew Edward would probably begin quizzing her as soon
as she arrived at the office in the morning and wanted to be prepared, but
it was hard for her to concentrate on the information in the folder. Her
mind kept traveling back six hundred miles to her friends in Chicago. 

 She wondered what was happening at the Vecchio house. Had they all gone
to Mass together? Had any family members from out of town come in? Had
Nora really gone to visit them? And there was one question that still lay
deeply on her heart. What was she to do about Ray? She hoped he would
accept her good-bye and just let her go. She wanted so desperately to talk
to someone but didn't know where to turn at this moment. Her options were
so limited since virtually all of her friends were involved in law
enforcement in some way or another. 

 This experience had been so devastating that she wondered now how she was
going to handle leaving her friends in Atlanta. She considered simply
fading away but knew that George would likely be able to track her even if
she went to Antarctica. She might need the intervention of the Bureau to
keep that from happening. She made a mental note to talk to Edward about
it on Monday. 

 After several hours of study she felt like she could probably pick Tom
Morales out of a line-up even though the picture she had of him was not
very recent. He was a man who didn't go out in public much and the FBI
hadn't been able to get anything better. His wife, Elizabeth, was very
beautiful. And their daughters, Angela, Maria and Lucy shared their
mother's looks. She wondered just how much interaction she would actually
have with the family. Did they even know what their father did for a
living? 

 She thought of the Zukos. Even back when they were in school she knew
that Frank and Irene were well aware of what kind of man their father was.
Irene tried to ignore it but Frank took advantage of his old man's
position. How could you raise kids to be productive citizens in this day
and age without some kind of respect for the law of the land? She shook
her head in disgust and despair, wondering again what she had gotten
herself into. Feeling that she could do no more for the day, she took her
things and went inside. As she opened the back door, she heard her
answering machine click to life. 

 'Hi, this is Abbey,' the message began cheerfully. 'Leave a message at
the tone and I'll get back to you.' 

 <beep> 

 "Abbey, it's Ray. If you're there, will you please pick up?" 

 She almost made a flying dive for the phone and then stopped herself.
Under no circumstances could she allow herself to continue their
relationship. 

 "Okay, I guess you're not there," Ray continued, sounding dejected.
"Look, something happened this morning that I really want to talk to you
about. When you get in, would you please call me back?" 

 Abbey couldn't imagine what could have happened in the last 24 hours to
make Ray sound so different. Had he finally come to his senses and
realized that she was not responsible for Nick's death? Or had something
else happened. She wanted desperately to call him and find out what was up
but knew she'd already made her break and now it had to be permanent. 

 Going to her refrigerator, she poured a glass of juice and drank it
slowly while pondering what to have for dinner. Though she really wasn't
hungry, she knew that she hadn't eaten much all day and needed to eat
something just to keep her strength up. Finally she decided that her heart
just wasn't into cooking and grabbed her purse before going to a nearby
pub for a sandwich and a drink. 

 She hadn't been in the area long enough to have picked out a favorite
spot yet so she went to one that she'd seen on her way to and from work.
It didn't look like too much of a dive, though that wouldn't necessarily
put her off. She'd spent a fair share of her time in dives when she'd been
in the Air Force and found that some of them had become her favorite
hangouts. 

 She went in the building and found a not too well lit dining area that
was in view of the bar. The bartender waved at her and told her to have a
seat anywhere. Surprisingly enough, they didn't seem very busy for a
holiday weekend with only a few tables occupied. 

 "What'll ya have?" the barman asked walking to her table. 

 "Diet beer," she answered. 

 "Diet beer? That's a new one." 

 "Yeah, well I'm not picky. Whatever's convenient for you." 

 "Okay. Were you wanting to eat tonight too?" 

 "Yeah. What do you recommend? 

 He looked at her closely, taking in her curvy form and assessed what he
thought she'd like. "Breaded tenderloin." 

 "Mmm, sounds great." 

 "Okay, comes with your choice of 2 sides." 

 Abbey glanced at the menu board on the wall and picked quickly.
"Applesauce and vegetable soup." 

 "I'll put your order in and have your beer in a second." 

 "Thanks." 

 She absently watched the baseball game that was showing on one of the
televisions above the bar. The Cubs were leading the Braves by 2 runs in
the 7th inning. She sighed as she thought of the life she was leaving. 

 "A diet beer and vegetable soup," the barman announced as he plunked the
bottle and the bowl down before her. 

 "Thanks." 

 "Heavy thoughts?" 

 "Huh?" 

 "You looked a little distracted. You need to talk?" 

 "Thanks, but I'm not sure it's something I can talk about." 

 "Suit yourself. I figure being a bartender is like being a psychiatrist.
Only instead of listening to people's problems and dispensing Prozac, I
listen to people's problems and dispense booze." 

 "You've got a good point. I appreciate the offer but things are so
confused at this point that I wouldn't know where to begin." 

 "Well, if you need to bend my ear, you know where I am. By the way, my
name's John but everybody calls me John." 

 It took Abbey a moment to catch his joke. And then the absurdity of it
struck her and she burst out laughing until she had tears streaming down
her face. She extended her hand in a greeting. 

 "Hi John, I'm Abbey. And thanks for the laugh. I needed it." 

 He shook her hand and wandered back to the bar. She watched him and had a
familiar feeling in her groin. She tried to quell it but couldn't. Three
days at the Vecchio house, most of them spent in Ray's presence, had made
her ache for a friendly touch. She wanted to feel someone caress her and
love her in ways that she'd not been exposed to since she'd come to
Maryland. 

 She thought briefly of Lou and wondered if he were still in DC or if he'd
gone back to Las Vegas. She wondered what he'd be like as a lover. From
all outward appearances, he was kind and thoughtful. The memory of their
goodnight kiss still lingered in her mind. Though his lips had been soft
and questing, something about him seemed far more powerful and immediate. 

 Her reverie was interrupted by the arrival of her dinner. 

 "Good God!" she exclaimed. "You said this was a breaded tenderloin, not
half a hog on a bun." 

 "I'll bring you a carry-out box if you can't finish all of it." 

 "I'd appreciate it." 

 She assembled her sandwich and tackled it as best she could. The meat
overhung the bun by at least an inch all around. She nibbled on the
deep-fried pork, getting down to the same size as the bun and then took a
large bite. 'John, I owe you one,' she thought. 'This is just what I
needed.' 

 She glanced up at the television and noticed that the Cubs had increased
their lead by three runs and lifted her beer in a toast. Feeling better to
know that at least something was going well in the Windy City, she smiled
and continued to attack her sandwich. She tried a mouthful of the
applesauce and realized that they had put cinnamon in it. Closing her
eyes, she thought of her parents. They'd had an apple tree in their
backyard and her mother carefully tended it so that they would have good
apples to eat. Every fall her mother canned several jars of applesauce
that were spiced with cinnamon. This was like a taste of home from very
far away. 

 Memories of her childhood occupied her brain as she drove home. She
recalled actually meeting Ray in 7th Grade Science class. They had been
put together as lab partners. She had gained his undying respect when,
without any fuss, she picked up a scalpel and began to dissect a frog.
Virtually every other girl in the class had been squealing and one even
passed out. But Abbey had simply made the 'I' shaped incision and then
pushed the tray over towards him to begin identification of the internal
organs. Since this was the first year that both of them had attended
public school, they bonded together over shared memories of nuns who were
half teacher and half drill sergeant, and school uniforms that had made
them feel so awkward. 

 She wasn't sure just how she'd gotten home and knew it wasn't the beer
that dulled her senses. Tears dribbled down her cheeks as she parked her
car in front of her apartment building. It was difficult to push away all
the memories of the time that they'd spent together as both friends and
lovers. She rued the bargain she'd made as a vain attempt to save Irene's
life. And even though she knew, deep inside, that this was what she was
meant to be doing, she couldn't escape the grief that her choice was
causing her. 

 Finally she wiped her eyes and pulled herself together long enough to go
inside. The red light blinked on her answering machine, signaling that she
had a message. She hit the 'play' button as she walked passed it to put
her purse away. 

 "Abbey, this is Ben. I'd like to talk to you about a matter concerning
Ray. I'll be at the Vecchios tonight and tomorrow. I look forward to your
call." 

 "I'm sure you will, Ben. Too bad you're going to be disappointed." 

 The next several days were nothing but a blur for Abbey. Each morning she
would rise early in a vain attempt to beat the rush hour traffic into the
nation's capital and then spend hours at her desk learning every possible
nuance of the Morales' and of the Iguana families. At the same time she
was settling into a new home-away-from-home with the FBI's Organized Crime
Division. She rarely left the office until well after dinnertime, and
usually stopped at John's bar for a beer or two on the way home. 

 And every night when she arrived home there was a message from Ray,
imploring her to call him. Occasionally there would also be one from Ben,
less emotionally phrased but still conveying its urgency. Why couldn't
these two leave her alone? Any normal person would have gotten the idea by
now that she didn't want to talk to them. Yet these two held on with the
tenacity of a pit bull. 

 She considered calling Ray and telling him to give it up but she was
certain it would lead to questions that she didn't want to answer. Under
other circumstances, she might have asked Ben to intervene but it was
clear that he was as nearly as obsessed by her silence as his friend was.
Many times she'd been on the verge of asking her boss for his advice but
then bit her tongue. She didn't want it to appear as though she couldn't
handle the situation. 

 On Friday Abbey was scheduled to meet with an agent who had spent several
months undercover with someone who had helped the Iguanas by stealing
weapons from the U.S. Army. She hoped to learn that life undercover wasn't
as bad as she was expecting. By all accounts, the Iguanas weren't as
bloodthirsty as one might expect. Tom Morales kept a tight rein on his
soldiers and on his business. As long as everything went according to
plan, no one got hurt. Abbey, however, didn't want to think about what
happened when plans went awry. 

 At 9:30 Edward escorted her to a conference room where she saw a woman
waiting for her. She appeared to be in her early 30's and had short curly
dark blonde hair. The woman looked cool as a cucumber and just the type of
person Abbey would select for undercover work. 

 "Abbey, this is Special Agent Suzanne Chapin. She recently transferred to
us from the ATF," Edward announced. "Suzanne, this is Dr. Abigail Barnes.
She used to be with the VCTF in Atlanta." 

 The women shook hands and Edward left the room, closing the door behind
him. For the next three hours, Suzanne told Abbey about the 10 months she
had spent with Frank Bodine, and the one delivery they had made for the
Iguana family. Abbey was thankful to hear that virtually all of the arms
deals were being handled by the family's southwest branch, based out of
Nevada. 

 They broke for lunch and Abbey suggested a trip to the Caf Espresso.
Lounging at a sidewalk table, waiting for their meals to arrive, they
began to engage in girl talk. 

 "So are you from Atlanta originally? Or did the Bureau move you there?"
Suzanne asked. 

 "Oh, you mean they didn't give you a complete history of my sordid past?"


 "Nope." 

 "Oh, well, I was born and raised in Chicago. Spent 12 years in the Air
Force before coming to the FBI. I quit a little over a year ago but came
back. And now here I am." 

 "Chicago, huh?" Suzanne asked, recalling the time she'd spent there while
with Bodine. 

 "My kind of town," Abbey said with a smile. "You know, I think the thing
that bugs me most about taking this assignment is leaving my friends back
there." 

 "You still keep in touch with people you knew there?" 

 "Yeah, one of my oldest friends is a cop there, and he's introduced me to
one of his friends who's a Canadian Mountie." 

 Agent Chapin's eyes grew wide with recognition of Abbey's description of
her friends and the profiler realized instantly that something was up. 

 "What?" she asked. 

 "Nothing," Suzanne tried to cover. 

 "Not nothing. You know the guys I'm talking about. It's written all over
your face. Now what's the story?" 

 "Your friend, Detective Vecchio?" 

 "Yeah?" 

 "I hit him with my car." 

 Abbey couldn't help but burst out laughing. "You hit him? That's too
funny. What happened?" 

 Suzanne sank into a far away gaze as she told the story of how she had
'run into' Ray the first time when she'd been working with Bodine. She
didn't mention the kiss at the farmhouse but simply said that she'd cold
cocked him with her pistol. She also discretely failed to mention that Ray
had offered to let her off the hook and escape before she revealed whom
she was really working for. 

 "That's it?" Abbey asked. 

 "Yup." 

 "Suzanne, please don't take this the wrong way. But you lie like a rug.
Something else happened. I can tell." 

 "No really, that's all." 

 "You had feelings for him. You didn't miss shooting him cuz he's a cop.
You missed because you didn't want to injure him." 

 "Well, of course, I didn't want to injure him. As far as I was concerned,
he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." 

 "Whatever you say." Abbey could tell that there was more to the story
than the agent was willing to admit but she wasn't going to run her though
the wringer just to get information that she could easily extract from a
few government files. 

 When their lunch was finished the two women returned to FBI headquarters.
Suzanne spent the afternoon preparing Abbey for the rigors of life
undercover. It was a difficult task. Whereas she spent her time just with
Frank Bodine, Abbey would be associating with a major player in a large
crime syndicate. The isolation that she'd felt could be even worse in such
a situation. 

 "Okay. Anything else?" Abbey asked when it appeared they were nearly
done. 

 "One of the hardest parts of assuming another role is the possibility of
getting lost in it. Try to take along something that reminds you of who
you are. It can be something as simple as a piece of jewelry or a favorite
T-shirt. But it should be something innocuous that doesn't have any
apparent ties to anyone else, like a photograph." 

 "I suppose my FBI T-shirt wouldn't be a good idea," she said with an
impish smile. 

 "No, and I wouldn't advise anything related to Chicago either. Too easy
for someone to find out the truth about you." 

 Abbey considered her choices but couldn't come up with anything at the
moment. "Okay, I'll think about it," she agreed. 

 "Have they told you yet when you're going to be shipped out?" 

 "No, and I don't think they know, either. They seem to be waiting for the
'right time'; whatever that means." 

 That night she floated from room to room, taking stock of her meager
possessions. Most of her things were still in Atlanta in storage. In an
unconscious gesture, she put her hand to her throat where Ray's crucifix
had once hung. Now there was only bare skin. She'd never been one to wear
much jewelry and the thought of changing her habits now seemed odd. 

 The ringing of the phone interrupted her musings. Without thinking she
picked up the receiver and answered. 

 "Hello?" she said absently still thinking about what to take with her. 

 "Abbey?" the voice asked. 

 She knew instantly who it was and silently cursed herself for not being
more careful. 

 "Yes, Ray, it's me." 

 "What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked more in concern than in anger.


 "Excuse me, but I don't believe I heard you correctly. Did you just ask
what the hell is wrong with me?" 

 "You heard me. What's going on?" 

 "I don't know what you're talking about, Ray," she replied formally. 

 "Don't give me that crap, Abbey. You've been dodging me all week." 

 "I most certainly have not," she replied, knowing it was a bald faced
lie. 

 "Oh, no? Then why haven't you returned any of my calls? I've left at
least one message a day for you since Sunday." 

 "I've been busy, Ray." 

 "So busy that you can't pick up a phone and say, 'I'm okay. I'll catch up
with you later.'?" 

 "Yes, that busy," she replied with some heat. "I get up in the morning,
drive through rush hour traffic that makes the Dan Ryan Expressway seem
like a walk in the park, work until 9:00 or 10:00 at night, come home and
fall into bed, exhausted. And then I get up the next day and do it all
over again." 

 "Ah, come on. It can't be that bad," he cajoled. 

 "Yes, it is. This isn't the VCTF. I'm the new kid on the block and I've
got a lot to catch up on." 

 "Look, Abbey, I may not have your unfailing bullshit detector, but I've
been a cop long enough to know a rat when I smell one. You're dodging me
and I know it. Come on, you owe me the truth." 

 "I owe you?" she asked. 

 "Yeah, remember that debt that you say can never be repaid. Well, here's
your chance. Talk to me. Tell me what the hell is going on." 

 "Ray, what possible reason would I have for dodging you?" 

 "Oh, maybe you're still upset about what happened over the weekend." 

 "Ray, you'd suffered a terrible loss; one made even worse by the fact
that I'd given you false hope. I don't hold that against you. Yes, it was
difficult for me to endure your petulance but the nice thing about empathy
is that it allows me to look past the emotion to the source." 

 "Oh, how pious of you," he responded sarcastically. 

 Abbey could tell that there was something he was holding back on as well
but couldn't fathom what it might be. 

 "Pious? That stinks and you know it. Now what's really bothering you,
Ray?" 

 There was a silence while Ray mustered the courage to face what he'd been
ignoring for five days. 

 "I saw Frank Zuko at Mass on Sunday. He told me about you, Abbey." 

 Her heart pounded in her chest and her mind began racing at a mile a
minute. 

 "Oh? And what did he tell you?" She tried to sound casual but wasn't sure
she could pull it off. 

 "Everything, Abbey. He told me about how you were working for him. And he
told me that he gave you the car." 

 "And you believed him?" she asked, incredulous. 

 "I didn't at first but then after the way you acted this weekend and when
you wouldn't return my calls, I thought there might be some truth to the
story." 

 "Ray, I don't work for him and I never did. He told me he wanted to get
out of the family business. Irene's death had hit him pretty hard. All I
did was pass the information along to some people in DC." 

 "And what about the car?" 

 "The car?" she repeated. 

 "Don't start actin' dumb on me, Abbey. The car. The red convertible that
you lead me to believe was a rental." 

 "I did no such thing." 

 "You didn't tell me where it came from," he accused. 

 "You're right. I didn't. I knew that you wouldn't understand so I decided
to keep quiet about it." 

 "And did you think I wouldn't find out the truth?" 

 "Quite frankly, I didn't. Irene's dead. Frank's getting out of the
business. Why would you have any reason to find out that he used part of
her insurance proceeds to buy me the kind of car that his sister and I
used to dream of owning?" 

 "Her what?" 

 "Her insurance proceeds, Ray. She had a life insurance policy. And Frank,
as executor of her estate, used some of the money to buy the car. It was a
way of thanking me for trying to look out for her." 

 "You really believe that?" 

 "Of course I do. Why shouldn't I?" 

 "Cuz you know Frank Zuko as well as I do and you know he'd never do
anything that clean or that nice." 

 "Ray, what are you accusing me of?" she asked angrily. 

 "I think Zuko's right. I think you really are workin' for him. Or you
were at one time and this is his way of keeping you quiet about it." 

 "Is that what you think?" she asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep a
belligerent tone out of her voice. 

 "That's what I think," he replied smugly. 

 Tears of anger and sadness welled in her eyes. "Well, if that's what you
believe, then I guess we're not as close as I thought we were. I won't
bother you anymore, Ray. But please say good-bye to Ben and Dief for me." 

 She heard his voice calling her name as she severed the connection but
ignored his pleas for her to talk to him. 

 It took a few minutes for Ray to realize just what had happened. He
looked at Ben, astonished. 

 "She hung up on me," he stated. 

 "Really?" 

 "Can you believe that?" he asked and then didn't bother to wait for an
answer before he dialed her number again. 

 Abbey heard the phone ring but couldn't bring herself to answer it. She
knew it would be Ray and at that moment had no intentions of ever talking
to him again. She couldn't believe that he'd take Frank Zuko's word over
hers. They both knew that he was a lying weasel and had been all his life.


 "Abbey, it's Ray," the voice said through the speaker on the machine. 

 "I know you're there. Pick up the phone," he demanded. 

 She replied by sticking her tongue between her teeth and blowing him a
raspberry. 

 "Come on, Abbey. Stop acting like a three year old and talk to me." 

 At that moment anger overtook sadness and she indulged in an admittedly
immature temper tantrum, ignoring anything else that he might say to her.
She stopped when she heard a different voice. 

 "Abbey, this is Ben," he said formally. "I understand that you're
probably upset by your earlier conversation with Ray but I was hoping that
you'd be willing to converse with me." 

 'Sorry Ben,' she thought. 'This is a package deal. I can't talk to either
of you any more.' 

 "Abbey, please," he implored. "You helped me once when I felt like Ray
had turned against me." 

 She heard Ray in the background and had to smile at his outburst. "I
never turned against you? What are you talking about?" 

 "Ray, I'm trying to get Abbey to answer," the Mountie responded before
turning his attention back to the phone. "I understand what you're going
through, Abbey. Please, let me help you. I won't make you talk to Ray." 

 She had to clutch a pillow tightly to keep from grabbing the phone and
talking to the reasonable voice on the other end. She knew she couldn't
allow herself the luxury of even thinking about her life in Chicago ever
again. If she were to operate successfully undercover, she had to adopt a
new persona and she had to start now. 

 She put down the pillow and took a deep breath. Methodically, she picked
up the receiver and silently severed the connection. Counting to 100, she
tentatively reconnected and got a dial tone. Breathing a sigh of relief,
she decided to exercise an option that had been suggested to her when
she'd first returned to DC. She called the phone company, identified
herself as an FBI agent, gave them the official information that they
needed and asked to be switched to an unlisted number. The representative
made the necessary arrangements and promised to have the change made by
Monday morning. 

 Almost numb, she knew she couldn't stay in the apartment over the
weekend. She called to ask if a nearby hotel advertising many personal
amenities had a room available and then made reservations. After packing a
suitcase, she shut off the answering machine, grabbed her purse and left.
Perhaps one day she would be able to think rationally about what she had
done and what she was about to do. But that day wasn't today. Today, she
needed to escape and think about nothing at all. 

End Mostly What I Need From You by Kali Sandison: Kalerian@yahoo.com

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