'"The Charity" is an exciting new suspense thriller by gifted novelist Constance Johnson-Hambley about a young woman fugitive who, while running from a murder she secretly witnessed, risks her life to uncover the evil truth about a splinter group of the Irish Republican Army (IRA)."

Two men sat in the car and watched an ambulance pull up to the emergency room doors. Its urgent wail insignificant against their discussion. One man fingered the tweed of his jacket and took a quick inventory of the parking lot. A couple of women in white uniforms and a young man in blue scrubs walked slowly to the side entrance. The dim yellow of the light gave their skin a sickly pallor. It seemed somehow appropriate. The man waited until the trio disappeared and checked his watch. Quarter past midnight.

"They're late for their shift."

"Yeah, but the head nurse 'ill be focused on them and not me."

"Do you have any questions Sarge?"

"It's just the usual, right? Three or four minutes without oxygen. If she dies, fine. If she lives, it'll be a another reminder for others not to go against us." He slackened his facial muscles into an imbecilic mask and formed a garbled sound at the back of his throat. Green eyes framed by temples flecked with gray sparkled in merriment as he laughed at his own joke.

"Just the usual." The men fell back into silence. Another minute passed. "It's time. I'll meet you 'round front."

"Right."

Sarge got out of the car and strode up to the metal door. All the hospitals were laid out in pretty much the same manner. Employee lounges littered with sleeping interns and rancid coffee cups were tucked away behind stair wells in rooms marked 'Private' or 'Staff Only'. He bounced up two flights of steps and tugged on the first door he found. It whisked open. The sprawled body of an exhausted doctor barely twitched at the intrusion. The activity from the recent shift change had died down. No one else was in the room. Walking soundlessly on soft soled shoes, Sarge quickly found a discarded lab coat and put it on. The hall was gray with the dim lights of the night shift, making the small cart used to push medicines harder to see. It was where it was supposed to be.

As he suspected, the head nurse was more interested in her tardy employees than in some orderly pushing med carts around. The woman's face was taut with anger as she listened to the obligatory excuses thrust at her from the young nurses. Sarge glanced quickly at the names and room numbers on the patient charts. He looked through the 'W's. Good. No changes.

Down two more halls then a left. He cracked open the door and peered in. For reasons given as 'personal', she had been placed in a private room. He could see her sleeping on the far side of the room. He listened for any sound that would give away the presence of another person. In those few seconds of total stillness, he thought about the loyalty he was about to ensure.

Tonight's job was a little tougher than he expected. He walked over to the sleeping girl and looked at her. He remembered when his own children looked like that when they slept. So peaceful. She seemed smaller than he expected. He never told his wife this was part of it. She'd divorce him if it wasn't against her religion. This part was his idea and it was wildly successful. Straight killing had its uses, but not for this case. The old man had another specially groomed soldier he used for complete eradication. Sarge's way offered the most advantages. A living reminder of how powerful they really were, and how committed. A pure 'Hearts and Minds' campaign. After all, this was a war, right?

He was only eighteen when he was finally able join the cause. He never dreamed of the excitement and the power it would give him. And the money. My God! The money! For a moment he allowed himself to get carried away in the fantasy that all of the money was his. He would do with it exactly what the old man has. Huge homes. Great cars. Horses. Expensive stuff. Really expensive stuff. And you can't forget Charity. Who cares where the money came from, anyway? Anyone with half a brain would give all they could for the cause. Only the fools had to be 'coaxed' for their loyalty. Or killed.

Actually, it was the money that was beginning to bother him. Why did the old man have so much if he was channeling all of it? Sarge wasn't supposed to know but he got curious when the old man started taking bigger risks to get greater sums of money. He found out about the American accounts after Old Liam asked him to poke around. Millions! Old Liam told him his brothers overseas were starved for cash. Most still struggled with jobs in pubs or farms or were flat unemployed. The old man was rich, but the cause was starving. It just didn't make sense.

Then again, it didn't have to make. He was a soldier with orders to follow. He produced a small piece of rubber from his pocket. It was an oddly triangular shape and slightly cupped at the edges. It fit easily into the palm of his hand.

He filled his lungs several times then held his breath and listened. No footsteps. Not even an elevator or someone snoring. There was enough time. He reached over the rails.

The rubber of his shoe squeaked slightly and the girl's eyelids flickered open. Her eyes grew wide as her brain tried to fathom what the blurry images were and what they meant to her. She took a breath to cry out.

The effort of pretending to rejoice in victory was exhausting. Jim Wyeth, the young owner of Wyeth's Worldwind Farm was more than trapped inside the day's events. Today's win closed off another painfully constructed escape route. He dug a forefinger in behind the knot of his necktie and pulled to loosen its grip. Taking the coastal route home along Massachusetts' North Shore normally helped him relax. He turned up the radio and let the wind from the Mercedes' open windows play against his face and arms. The day was bright and warm with the air tinged with saltiness from the ocean. He downshifted and accelerated around a turn, focusing on the pull of the engine and the grip of the tires, ignoring the double yellow lines. It was no use. He could still see the powerful body of Worldwind's Dark Irish cross the finish line of the Emerald Sweepstakes, winning thoroughbred racing's most prestigious and lucrative race, with the rest of the lathered pack inhaling Dark's dust, mouths open and eyes wide.

He barely had time to think in the hectic moments after his win. Grinning faces and slaps on the back herded him to the winner's circle to stand beside his horse, adorned with the obligatory rose blanket across its withers. A huge and overdone silver trophy, the kind people stupidly referred to as a 'Lover's Cup', was thrust into his hands. Wyeth's top trainer, Gus Adams, shouldered his way in front of Jim and grabbed a handle of the trophy with a proprietary jerk. Habit graced Jim's face with a relaxed smile as he looked into the stony faces of the race officials and scattershot camera flashes. He remembered how hard he worked to keep the tension from showing in his eyes as he tried to play the role of the handsome and lucky man who just won another fortune.

Now he had to face his wife with his failure. The car smoothly rounded the last turn and swept up the tree lined drive to his Hamilton farm. Acres of manicured meadows stretched out from both sides of the drive to the rolling wooded hillsides, black wooden fences separated grazing areas for the yearlings and mares. A gracious New England farmhouse, a huge barn with burnished slate roofs and turn out paddocks were empty of their usual compliment of grooms and handlers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of his yearling thoroughbreds thundering across a meadow with its young rider waving and laughing with delight. He returned Jessica's wave and pulled the car up to the barn's main door in time to meet them.

"Daddy! Daddy! Dark won! We saw it on TV! I told you he was going to win!"

"You were right, Jessie. Where's Dark now?" He swooped her up in his arms and gave her a kiss.

"Ouch, Daddy. Not so tight," the wiry girl said squirming free from his arms. "Gus brought him back from the track a little while ago. His tendon didn't feel hot at all!"

"What? Gus' tendon?" Jim said with mocked confusion. A light giggled that floated up from Jessica. He stole another kiss to the top of her blond head.

"Da-ad," Jessica said with a roll of the eyes and the pure disdain that only a ten year old could muster, "No! Dark's tendon. I saw the whole race and Mom said every reporter in Boston's been callin' here for an interview! She's not too happy about that at all." Jessica craned her head around and looked at the trophy in the back of the car. "Wow! It's huge! Mom's gonna flip when she sees it. Can I show her?"

"Slow down, sweetheart. Yes, you can bring the trophy to your Mom. Ahm, ..., Jessie, did you mention Dark's injury to anyone?"

"What? No way! You said that if I told a soul that you were going to make me wear a dress for a whole month and not let me ride. I just talked to you and Gus about it." Jessica led the horse toward the barn, a contrasting image of a little girl with no fear around an animal ten times her size. A stocky figure with curly gray hair appeared at the door.

Gus walked over to Jessica and took the horse's reins from her. "You're late," he spoke without raising his eyes.

"Am not," Jessica said with a sniff and toss of her head.

She was about to launch into her defense when Jim broke in and handed her the trophy. "Bring this to the house, I'll be in soon." He watched the retreating figure until she was well out of ear shot before he turned to face Gus. The stout trainer should have looked small beside him, but the older man had a coiled quality that belied his short stature. "We were supposed to lose. I want out, Gus. I need out."

"You think a stretched tendon is enough to get you out of this? I thought by now you knew better." Gus' brogue made the words roll off his tongue like a song. He reached out and patted Jim's back. "I'm sorry."

Jim dragged his hand through his sandy colored hair and looked at the man who against all odds he had forged a tenuous friendship. Ten years ago Jim's sister-in-law, Bridget, asked him for a favor. No strings attached, she had said, except that Gus would work at the farm. If Jim had known then what he knew now, he never would have said yes. In the years that followed, Gus worked for Jim as a miracle worker, taking good horses with potential and turning them into legends on the track. Worldwind Farm would never have been as successful if it weren't for Gus. When Jim finally found out why, it was too late. Both saw the cruelty and injustice of the other's situation and took awkward steps to help, unwittingly deepening the hole. Jim acknowledged the pat on his back with a slight nod of his head. He spoke, his voice thin. "Dark was the favorite. The odds on him should have been the lowest of the pack. You know as well as I do that word leaked out about his injury making the numbers skyrocket just at post time. I thought the officials were going to drag me off then and there." Words were not enough to calm the sense of dread building inside of him. "I can't do this anymore. You've got to stop."

"It's not up to me."

"Gus. We've won too much. People have started to ask questions. Think about the risks."

"I know about risks. Look around you. You should be grateful for what you have. Your every need is taken care of and you have a beautiful wife and family. Think of them."

"I am thinking of them, damn it! And you. We all have to get out of this together. That's why today was so important. Gus, I'm sorry for failing. I thought I knew how big our problem was, but I was so wrong. On the way home tonight I took a look at the histories of all the races for the past six years. The patterns are obvious and the race officials must see the same things I do when I look through my records. I ..."

The force of the wall against Jim's back as Gus threw him against it forced the air from his lungs, choking off the rest of his words. Gus brought his face down close to Jim's, quickly looking around the barn as he did so. He spoke in a hoarse whisper. "Records?"

"Y-Yeah."

"And you went there today?"

"Yes. Gus. Please. Margaret and I helped you. My God, man! You owe us something."

Gus leveled a steady stare at Jim. The eyes of the Irishman were flecked with pity and a brand of loathing that sent chills down Jim's back, making him instantly regret his disclosure. Without a word, Gus turned and walked down the corridor of the barn.

On this warm spring night the hearth was filled only with ashes of last winter's fires, the heavy drapes were drawn across locked windows. His wife, Margaret, and his six year old daughter sat cuddled together in the oversized leather chair, heads bowed over a book. Margaret raised her head when he entered the room. Their eyes met and then quickly flinched away.

A taut smile forced its way to Margaret's face. "Everyone's been calling to congratulate us. Where've you been?"

Jim bent down and enveloped his wife and daughter in a lasting hug, kissing Margaret on the forehead and brushing a black curl from her cheek. Her soft fragrance somehow beckoned him to enfold her, to cloister her away. The ache to do so was almost more than he could bear. If he had told her then how she stirred him, she would have flushed and looked nervously at the girls. Passion was something private to her. Well, almost sacred. It was a part of her that she saved only for him. Outsiders may have seen her as someone too strong, too upright, to need anyone to lean on, but their relationship was the cornerstone of her strength. The same was true for him.

Now, with all of his heart, he wanted to protect her and to bring her back to the safety they had been so ignorant of when they married. "I love you."

Margaret took his hand and held it against her. He looked down at Jessica placing the trophy on the floor at their feet. Taking an uncomfortable step backward, he watched the mockery of his home life.

"Erin? Erin? C'mon. Look! The trophy! D'ya see how shiny it is?" Jessica took her hands and guided the gaze of her sister to the object. Erin's head seemed too heavy for her, lagging to one side. "That's right. Now feel. Cold, huh?" She dragged her sister's listless hand along the garland of golden shamrocks which made a noose around the lip of the prize. After a few minutes her efforts were rewarded. Erin tilted her head back and gave a huge lopsided grin.

"There! You see? She loves it!" Jessica sat back on her heels and raised her chin with a triumphant thrust. "I knew I could make her see it."

Margaret tugged at a strand of Jessica's hair and smiled. Jim could see the strain of love etched into the lines on her face. "You just never give up, do you?"

"She's my best friend, Mom," Jessica said hugging her knees to her chest. "Sometimes she looks at me and I can see all the clouds move away. She's in there, but she just doesn't know how to come out. But I'm gonna teach her. Just you see!"

Jim and Margaret exchanged glances over Jessica's head as he helped to prop Erin safely into the chair. He motioned with a flick of his eyes for Margaret to join him in his office.

He closed the door quietly behind them and drew Margaret close, bringing his mouth to her ear.

"We've got to act now. After the race I put the last of my notes in the safe deposit box, but Gus knows about them."

"What did he say about that?"

"Nothing. It...it was a mistake." Jim continued on, feeling compelled to apologize. "I know he told me never to keep any records, that doing so would mean certain death for us, but I had to. It made me feel like I was taking some kind of action to help us. Now, the track officials are bearing down on me. They're doing everything they can to make it hard. Today, they really tightened controls around us. They nearly put our jockey under a microscope and tested Dark for stimulants."

Margaret straightened her back and lifted her chin. "That makes us look like filthy hacks."

"Too many wins with a pattern of skyrocketing odds against us at post time have raised one too many eyebrows. You know as well as I do that winning with odds like that can make poor men rich and rich men untouchable. They think I've been offering kickback payments to the rest of the pack and providing false injury reports to fuel the last minute odds changes." He stopped for a moment and considered his decision. "Margaret, if we don't take action now, the race officials will ruin us, barring us from every track in the US and pressing criminal charges. Other countries will follow their lead. It's either facing this now and praying we'll find help or having our life sucked out of us forever."

She pulled herself away and rubbed the palms of her hands together. "Can't we just go to the police?"

"We tried that, remember? Our lives will never be the same because we did. No, we've got to find another way."

Jim could see the ripple of sorrow run through her. She spoke with downcast eyes. "We'll run. We'll hide somewhere. It would be easy to..."

"Easy? My face is known around the world as the 'Man with the Golden Touch' with horses."

"Gus trained the horses, not you. He's the one who has 'the touch'."

"He thought he was doing me a favor by pumping up my image with the press, making Worldwind Farm's success more believable. It backfired. By giving me all of the credit I'm too famous to hide. And what about Erin? You can't just stash her away while we run for the rest of our lives."

Margaret's breaths came shallow and fast. "If...if that's what it will take to keep us alive, we could send her to a school."

"No 'school' would take her"

"Yes! I've heard of one. It deals with children like her."

Jim knew that even Margaret's suggesting that she could part with Erin meant she was desperate too. He kissed her on the lips and softened his voice. "How could we pay her tuition without being traced? If we found a way, we couldn't take the risk of being too close by or even visiting. Besides, she'd be too exposed, too vulnerable without us. If they found her, it wouldn't take long to find us." He placed a finger gently on her lips to stop the protest before it started. "No. The only way is to come forward on the details to the track officials. I should have done this long ago, but now I have more than enough evidence. If we break the winning streak, Worldwind Farm will be useless to the old man."

"I'm afraid, Jim. I've heard stories."

"Me too, but we can't think about that now."

They hugged one another with the cold knowledge of their fate if they were wrong. The house was quiet now. Its stillness somehow growing, pushing them to action.

"Get the girls ready to go early in the morning. You all need to get out of town. Go first to your sister's place. Bridget will help you go further, if necessary. If my plan works, the worst should be over in a week or two. If not," he wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin on her head so she could not see his face. There was no need to finish his sentence.

Jessica rose in the dark hours of the morning and padded quietly down the stairs of her home to get herself a drink of juice. The sodden fog of sleep was pulling her back to a soft, warm bed when a sound caught her attention. The shrill grate of metal on metal escaped from the garage. The little girl opened the door and saw a young man emerge from under the hood of her mother's immense station wagon.

The man's eyes darted to the unexpected visitor. Something shiny ran along his cheek from his mouth toward his ear, baring his teeth and pulling his smile to one side. He seemed a little bit skittery, like something spooked him. A child's instinct told her to stay away from him, but his presence offered a challenge. She lifted her chin and offered one back.

"Who are you?"

"I'm just helping out with the cleaning." The man made a queer sound in response to his own joke. His mouth fought his words and he sounded just like Gus. "So, be gone with you." He turned and stuck his head back under the hood.

"No! I'm gonna get my Daddy and tell him ..." The movement to tattle made her leg catch against the sharp edge of a tool chest. Metal dug into her skin. "Ouch!"

An eerie, animal-like sound filled the air. Where was it coming from? Hair raised up on her neck and arms as she watched the man's head again emerge. His face was locked into a contorted grin, one side of his mouth painfully yanked aside by his scar, the crooked smile replaced with a carnivorous leer. It was no longer human. And it was coming closer to her.

She did not truly hear the vindictive laugh of the man or see the malice of his grin. She only heard an animal's anguished cry and saw the hungry mouth of a wolf. She scrambled to get out of the path of the oncoming fangs. The arms of the beast were outstretched, trying to entangle her. As she ran from the garage, through the haze of her cold terror a fragment of colors lodged somewhere in her mind.

Working like a camera and film, her eyes saw something clearly and distinctly. Her mind stored the frozen images deep within the place in a child's psyche reserved for only the most primal fears and cold fantasies. The little girl was not consciously aware of a shamrock tattooed on the man's inner arm. There was more to the shamrock than her mind could grasp in that split second. Her eyes saw but did not comprehend the knife slicing through the shamrock with a trickle of red coming from the wound.

"Gus! Gus! Hey you! Over here!"

Gus pulled up on the reins of the big gray thoroughbred. He was exercising the animal on the far track of Wyeth's Worldwind Farm and turned his head to see Jessica waving her arms over her head in excitement. She had finally graduated from college and Gus guessed she was back at the farm for the summer months, or until she decided what to do as a real job.

Gus wheeled the horse around and listened to its hooves pound out a greeting to the familiar friend. His ruddy face broke into a smile as he reined in the powerful animal. Jessica was already moving toward the horse to jump up on its back as Gus hopped off. He knew it had been far too long since she had last ridden and she was probably craving a wild gallop up the wooded hillside.

Gus covered the distance between them with one stride and gave Jessica a big hug and a quick buss on the cheek. "Don't I even get a 'hello' and a 'How are you?' before you take to the hills? I didn't even know you were back!"

Jessica answered him with a smile tucked into one corner of her mouth and a glint in her eye. "Hello Gus. How are you? Fine? Great! Now hand over the reins before I burst. I'm dying to get in to the hills. Now go away!"

"Not so fast. I can see that caged look in your eyes, Missy. I'll hand over the reins as soon as I get a good look at you."

Gus placed his hands on Jessica's shoulders and looked up at her. She was a full head taller than he was, taking after her mother, no doubt. He could hardly believe how much she had grown over the years and just how beautiful she had become. He had always thought of her as a pretty girl, but as a young woman she was stunning. Her blond hair was amply streaked with honey colored highlights and her blue eyes were bright with laughter and intelligence. His pride in her and worry for her were all balled up together, just as it should be.

It was many years before he saw the light and the laughter return to her eyes. He cursed the fact that its light was snuffed out so abruptly. Gus hated to see her after the accident when it seemed as if her spirit was gone forever. Eventually, her willpower and zest returned, and when it did it seemed like she was making up for the time when laughter did not come easily to her. She had a ready smile and a quick wit which made others around her laugh. As he looked at her, he knew that today's smile was for his benefit. Jessica had grown into a strong and determined young lady and like him, kept her stronger emotions locked away from public inspection.

He sensed his hug lasted a touch too long and pulled back, kicking a booted toe in the earth as he did so. "I didn't expect you back so soon! Are ya at your apartment?"

A touch of sadness crowded in on Jessica's forced cheerfulness. "Yeah. I can still feel her, Gus. It's like Bridget's still upstairs in her room, watching us like she always did before she got too sick to do even that."

"I miss her too, Jess. But hiding away in some strange apartment isn't going to help."

"I know. Just for now until I get used to the place being without her. Then I'll live home again," Jessica said with a toss of her head in the direction of the large white farmhouse. "Do you know what I mean?"

Gus clearly understood. After Bridget died, it was all he could do was walk across the wide-planked porch and back into that house and help Jessica pack up Bridget's things. It was the second occasion he packed belongings of someone who lived in that house and died too young. Margaret, Jim and Erin died in a car wreck eleven years ago and Jessica was sent to live with her Aunt. Bridget eventually brought Jessica back to live in the Wyeth home. Even standing at the front of the barn looking at the empty house stabbed him with grief. He wanted to get as far away from this ghost filled place as possible. Its hollowness pulled at his soul and made him yearn for the emerald meadows of his youth. He looked forward to when he could retire back to the mother country. "I miss her too, Jess. Of course I understand." He stepped back, awkwardly hiding just how happy he was that she was there, filling the void that stared at him from over the porch. "I'll hand over the reins if ya promise me a couple of pints at the tavern tonight."

"Deal!" Jessica gave Gus a quick hug and sighed as she swung herself onto the horse's back in one fluid motion. Still the farm's top trainer, habit compelled Gus to quickly summarize how Blue Jeep was handling that day and where the big horse was on his overall training schedule. Instinctively, Gus knew the big dappled gray horse was destined never to be a winner at the track. That hardly mattered to Jessica. Blue Jeep was one of Jessica's favorites for the rough terrain she loved. All of the information on Blue Jeep's conditioning was given to her in the quick staccato speech of one horseman to another. Jessica had the same intuition Gus did for the big animals and full sentences or completed thoughts were unnecessary between them.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours." And with that she wheeled the horse away and started toward the wooded hillside.

Gus stood and watched the two of them until they were enveloped in a cloud of dust. Eleven years being so close to Jessica and Bridget was more than he could ever have dared to pray for. How many years ago was it that he chose the life he did? No that's wrong. He did not chose it. His path was born inside of him in the way a man is called to the priesthood. He took solace from that thought many times while he lay in bed alone. His line of work did not necessarily require him to be alone, but he thought it best and was proved right time and time again. Occasionally a doubt did creep up on him and bury itself inside, trying to create a breach of faith. He only had to think of the larger picture, the alternative life of himself and others if he did not live by his own beliefs, to bring the consuming fire back into his heart. There were really only two people on earth that would ever make him break his vows. One was already dead. The other just left him behind in a cloud.

He touched his right hand to his forehead, then to a spot vaguely central to his gut, up to his left shoulder, and lastly, to his right. A cool feeling crept up between his shoulder blades and tightened the minuscule muscles around his hair follicles on his arms. Something deep and ancient within his soul awakened, trying to whisper the future into his ear. It had been too many years since he had listened to such voices and he shook off the feeling as just a vestige from his youth. If he had listened, or if he understood the meaning, he may never have allowed the smile on his face to linger as the dust slowly sifted back down to earth.

Jessica gave Blue Jeep his head by loosening the reins in the signal that said 'Go faster!' and raced toward the edge of the pasture. She balanced herself over the horse's neck and shoulders to allow for its optimal freedom of movement and speed. The surge of speed whipped her hair away from her face and began to strip away the tension and barriers she had locked down inside. She coiled her hands in the horse's mane and allowed the action of its gait pull her arms forward and back in a pulsing rhythm. Her senses filled with the smells of the early summer meadow and the sweaty horse. With each stride of the powerful animal, more and more distance was gained between the barns, Gus and her pain. Jessica felt the distance between her inner and outer selves close to nothing. It was only when she was alone, away from anyone, that she felt safe enough to be herself.

In the solitude of being on horseback, Jessica let tears blur her vision. The act of graduating and being thrust out into the world gave Jessica an opportunity to think about herself and about where she was headed. The hubbub of the past few weeks bothered her. She had finals to study for and papers to write, the burden made heavier by a brain muddled by the grief of the loss of her Aunt Bridget the past winter. Finally, graduation was upon her with one last spurt of social activities. All of her friends were busy with their families or boyfriends. They swept her up with their endeavors and she was grateful for their attention. Any time that was generally family oriented - like graduations, holidays, birthdays - were difficult for her. She hid her feelings behind the laughter of herself and others, but the sting was no less painful.

Without warning, her imagination sprang to life, knocking her off balance and taking her breath away. She tightened her legs around the moving horse as flashes of memories came to her, some welcome, most not. Alone, Jessica allowed herself to remember the last day she saw her family. She saw the smiling faces of her father and mother and heard the gentle burble of her six year old sister. Jessica paused on Erin's face, remembering how her head was always to one side or the other, an oversized grin ever-present. Jessica coaxed the brightest life to come forth in Erin and was proud of Erin's progress. She looked to confirmation of that pride from Margaret and Jim and instead received mute stares.

Even at ten years old, Jessica remembered how confused she was by the world of adults. The day before the accident, Dark Irish secured Wyeth's Worldwind Farm's place as the most successful thoroughbred breeding and training farm in the world. Jim said he was happy, but Jessica wondered why he just sat in the darkened den, staring at nothing. Frightened, she recalled how her mother comforted her and she longed for that comfort now. Tears burned her eyes as she remembered Gus' downcast gaze as he told her of her family's death in the accident.

Details of what happened were sketchy and she wanted to keep it that way. She had gotten very good at snuffing out the horrid scenes, grabbing the visions around their spindly necks and shoving them back into darker and less explored recesses of her mind. Despite her skill, some memories still surfaced. Gus told her that her family was on the hilly gap on the way to Aunt Bridget's when the car went out of control and plunged down the steep embankment. Jessica tried to stifle the image of it bursting into flames. Her eyes squeezed tight against the pain and a sob building in her chest was gulped back. Her defenses would not allow her to remember or imagine everything. It was that night she had that dream of an animal in her mother's car and the next day her family was dead. At least, Gus told her it was a dream. She and Gus conspired to keep her home and not visit her Aunt. Without that whim of conspiracy, Jessica would be dead as well.

She forced the grief to flow out of her, hoping to empty herself of the chronic ache. The memories of the funerals muddled into one, and finally sharpened into focus on her Aunt's a few months before. Her blond head shook at the irony of her life. As hard as she tried not to visit her Aunt on many occasions, it was just Jessica's luck that her parents had named Bridget as her guardian. White gloves in hand, she was trundled off to live with her.

Jessica's spirit and energies were quite a match for Bridget. They lived in Bridget's small white, rose covered house filled with chintz and china until Jessica could stand it no longer. It took well over a year for much of the shock and numbness to wear off, but when it did she took to action with a vengeance. She ran away from her white clapboard prison four times that second year, always running to the farm and to Gus. Jessica was not sure what the turning point was, but her 'Auntie Bridgie' finally gave in, rented her cottage to another nice old widow, and moved to the farm, bringing her two cats and cabbage rose print comforter with her.

After her family's death, the farm continued to make money and the winnings seemed to never stop. In fact, Wyeth's Worldwind Farm had its most successful years in the period following the accident. Time and again it was a Wyeth thoroughbred that won racing's most prestigious and lucrative events. No farm in history ever gained the international reputation for breeding and creating winners that Worldwind had. The syndication fees for owing a piece of a winner would skyrocket with every win. A stallion would bring hundreds of thousand of dollars for one stud fee and an unproved foal would bring millions at the auctions. Bridget never understood horses, but regularly thanked the Lord that the farm continued to be so successful and held the estate together, running the farm with expert vision. She abdicated the handling of the horses to Gus with the understanding that such matters would fall eventually to Jessica. Gus told her of the winnings which Bridget dutifully noted and tallied beside all of the other related expenses. Being alone for so many years had taught Bridget how to take care of herself and she strove to pass that knowledge on to Jessica.

Bridget was widowed at an early age and had only the barest amount of insurance proceeds and a monthly stipend to support herself. She deftly managed her meager assets and eventually lived a very comfortable life. Upon the deaths of Margaret and Jim, Bridget took hold of the Wyeth family fortune and managed it with true Yankee know-how. She never spent a nickel without determining that whatever she was about to purchase was the best use that nickel could have. She was not a cheap lady, but strongly frugal.

Imparting such discipline on to a young and attractive woman was a challenge Bridget reveled in. Having Jessica learn the value of a hard earned dollar was a major goal. As it was, young Jessica was a very wealthy young woman and became even more wealthy with Bridget's adroit handling of the funds. Being the self sufficient lady that she was, holding any new acquaintance at an arm's length was a key factor in Bridget's personality, imparting the distinct impression of gatekeeper. Jessica was proving to be a very popular girl, and if genes told a story, a very attractive woman was in the making. Bridget was aware of the limited controls she had on the increasingly independent Jessica. Having a beautiful and wealthy niece was a large responsibility. The beauty and the spirit she did not have any control over, but the money she did. And she exercised that control to the hilt.

Bridget had seen too much tragedy in her life and was often terrified by what Jessica thought were irrelevant events. Sudden deaths of far flung friends and distant bombings were stories for the news, not her own dinner table. Still, Bridget took pains to make sure the trust that Margaret and Jim established before their deaths would be of no benefit to anyone for twenty one years after an untimely death of her niece. If there was some cad of a gold digger marrying Jessica for her money, he would have to wait years before he gained access to her wealth. When Jessica hit thirty and had control over the trust herself, she should be old and wise enough to take care of herself. Bridget even constructed a requirement for annual visits from Jessica as a way to monitor her 'monetary development'. If something happened to Jessica before she married, the trust assets would be held for the twenty-one year period and then distributed to charitable foundations designated by her or Jessica. Taking action on these worries helped Bridget feel like she was in control and would stay in control even after her death. Bridget and Jessica forged a strong friendship marked by their mutual grief and divergent personalities. Jessica grew into a refined young woman who knew how to rein in her wild side. Bridget evolved into a woman who was both fulfilled and resigned to her destiny. Caring for Jessica gave Bridget a purpose and direction that had been sorely absent from her life. Bridget was rewarded for her efforts with the love and respect from a young woman whom she knew would control her own life, with a little help. When Bridget died quietly in her sleep that past winter, Jessica was fortified with the knowledge that Bridget had spent the best years of her life on the farm with her.

So, cut adrift from any further family ties and expectations, Jessica considered her options. After her father's death, she never questioned looking to Gus as the head of the farm and bowed to his judgment on matters of training and racing. For the years since her family's death, Gus ran Worldwind Farm and Jessica as if they were his own. She was still in awe of his capability to spot a winner and to cultivate the optimal ability out of any horse. It was not lost upon her that Gus turned his training skills on her as well.

Gus imparted all of his horse knowledge and sense to Jessica. They were fast friends and his counsel would be sought by Jessica not just on all matters of horses, but of life, too. His paternal advice often had a razor's edge to it that she did not always understand. Whenever she expressed her gratitude for his friendship, Gus would simply answer, "I wish I could do more for you, Jessie."

Jessica had plenty of other friends she confided in, but Gus was her mentor. In the years following the accident, Jessica tried many ways to handle her searing grief and the pitying eyes of people around her when they learned of her misfortune. She hated their pity and tried to show them that she was okay. For a long time she pretended that her family was still alive, that they were just on vacation and would be returning at some unknown and far off date. Eventually that fantasy gave way to her distracting herself and her friends from her reality with laughter and activity. She started riding more and more challenging horses on tougher and tougher terrain. Doing so forced her to focus on the horse and land, not on her own thoughts. She competed in cross country riding events and grueling endurance challenges. Just training herself and her horses for these marathon three day events kept her mind and body occupied. She was grateful for the exhaustion at the end of the days which would launch her into a deep, dreamless sleep. Gus knew the whole Jessica before the accident and he knew the shattered little girl trying to make sense of what had happened afterward. Her frenzied training and laughter was trying to heal and he never attempted to strip her of her illusions.

Here she was, racing at breakneck speed with no particular direction in mind. She knew the feeling all too well. A branch from a tree whipped across her face and slapped her back to the present. She realized suddenly that Blue Jeep was laboring up this last hillside and was lathered with sweat from his efforts. Slowing the gelding to a trot, she turned for home, taking care to steer her mount around tree stumps and rocks in his path.

It was her favorite time of day. It would only be another hour or so before the sun finally set, it seemed as if all of the creatures in the woods were making the final preparations for night. Within the lengthening shadows, Jessica could detect the nervous little scurrying of chipmunks and squirrels as they gathered up the nightly meals and made their way to their nests. The air was beginning to freshen with the cooler temperature of nightfall. Bringing the horse to a walk, Jessica allowed herself to feast in the scene of the long shafts of light filtering through the trees and to enjoy the earthy smells of the forest. She was lulled by the steady breathing of the horse, the rhythm of his gait, the creak of her leather tack, and the occasional sharp click of a shod hoof against a rock.

The woods behind her, the rolling meadow stretched ahead. She pulled Blue Jeep to a stop on the top of a small knoll and surveyed the scene. The hillside sloped gently away from her, joining another hill below her. Two practice tracks could be seen in the valley of these hills. One track was dirt. The other grass for the softer conditioning it would give to a horse's legs. Along the crest of this second hill, a stone wall made its casual way back into the woods. Massachusetts was crisscrossed with antique walls and Worldwind Farms seemed to have its share of them.

Stone walls and wooden split rail fences defined the meadows into individual pastures. A section of each fence line was built up with either more rocks or planks of wood, making a jump into the next pasture. Jessica had fond memories of racing across those pastures and hurdling over fences on any number of horses, always stretching for something faster, something higher. The pastures were divided by a long, tree lined drive. For a moment, Jessica saw a shadow of a Mercedes making its way up the drive with her father behind the wheel. Tears quickly misted her eyes and she pushed the memory away.

These were her hills. Ever since she could remember, Jessica roamed their length freely following one imagined adventure after another. The knoll where she had stopped offered her an unobstructed view of the barns and houses. The huge white colonial farmhouse perpetually welcomed all passersby with its large porch and gardens. The barn's slate roof matched the house's and its white sides were now washed with the pink and yellow light of the fading sunset. Smaller houses reserved for Gus and the stable hands were now caught in the long shadows of the barn. With her back to the glowing sky, she could just make out the shimmer of the ocean and the air was barely tinted with its salty presence. Jessica had viewed this scene hundreds of times, in all seasons and in all types of weather. Each time, the scene was fresh and new.

Suddenly, Jessica did not feel cut adrift in the future at all, but thoroughly grounded with a keen sense of direction. She was as content as she had ever known herself to be. Surveying her home, she realized that she was happily looking forward to spending endless hours working on the farm with the horses at Gus' side. A skilled equestrian with a blooming sense of the business of raising and training horses, she knew she would be successful and was surprised at how much she was looking forward to the challenges. She nudged the tired horse forward with her heels.

"C'mon lazy bones. It's time to go home," she sighed. The horse flicked its tail in acknowledgment and gratefully made its way to the barn.

Gus was waiting in the door of the barn. Jessica could see his stocky frame silhouetted against the lit interior of the corridor.

"Here I am. Starving to death and thirsting for a tall, cold one and there you are sauntering across the meadow without a care in the world. Nice. Really nice." Gus beamed at Jessica as he led Blue Jeep into the cool barn. Her tear stained face registered and he stopped. "The pain will go away in time, Jessie."

"Will it?" Jessica lowered her head and accepted Gus' hand upon her back.

"Bridget was a fine woman."

"It's not just her I miss. It's everyone."

"Hey, now! Don't you be wishin' my life away, lass. You're still stuck with me for a while."

Jessica managed a smile. "You've always been there, Gus. Thanks."

Jessica and Gus tended to the tired horse and drove to their favorite pub for a steak and seafood dinner. They seated themselves at their usual table between the small paned window and the large fieldstone hearth. The hearth was dressed with three birch logs and a sprig of evergreen, a reminder of cold New England winters touched with a promise of another spring. They drank beer and laughed over the new crop of stories Jessica had from the last frenzied weeks at college. The hours passed and as the beers took their desired effect on the couple, the two friends whooped with delight at each other's tales and comforted one another in the loss that was felt so deeply.

"Gus, I've made a decision," Jessica said as she decisively placed her stein down on the bare wooden table, the motion heavy and deliberate. "I want to do more here than just a summer stint."

"More? I thought Bridget had it all arranged for you to go abroad for a while."

"She did, but I've changed my mind. I'm going to stay at Worldwind and continue breeding and training horses and I'm going to be good at it."

"Of course you're going to be great at it. When you are older."

"No. Now. I'm not going to float around being some trust fund brat while you do all the hard work. I'm going to work at your side."

Gus had his head back and his arm stretched across the back of the chair beside him. He expected to hear another phrase or two come out of Jessica and prepared for another good laugh. He paused a moment, giving her a chance to say the punch line. When none came, he froze the muscles of his face into a pleasant expression.

"Jess, are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into? The horse business is a tough game. You'll haf to devote two hundred percent of your time to its success. Yer just a child and need more time to grow." The beers made his brogue even more pronounced.

"I am not a child! I've thought about this and I'm ready!"

"I would really hate to see you become swallowed up in the struggle at such a young age. You should try your hand at something completely different."

"I could be a ski bum in Switzerland for a few years then be a ranch hand in Argentina. What a waste!" Jessica leaned across the table, face slightly flushed.

"Anything you touch you'll be successful at. See more of the world before you settle yourself in to this grinding life." Gus said these words in the warmest tone he could muster and he steadily kept the smile on his face and in his eyes.

"Technically speaking, I'm already destined to be your boss."

"I'll haf none of that talk, Missy," Gus said as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Bridget made her wishes clear to you! Hearin' you talk like this'll make 'er roll in 'er grave at the broken promise."

"Bridget told me to follow your direction and I'll do just that. You're the best trainer in the country, maybe even the world. Of course I'll follow your lead. That's not breaking a promise."

"This business is none of yours."

"It's more mine now than ever. So why not work as partners, sooner rather than later? I thought you'd welcome our partnership, not pat me on the head and tell me to run along."

"Jess, the farm's not ready for you yet."

"Gus! I've thought about this. Raising horses is something I have always done and I'm good at it."

"My lass. There's much you don't know."

"I can still learn so much more from you. I know that. And I think you would benefit from working with me. It would take some of the pressure off of you to do everything." Jessica's anger surged forward on a river of ale.

The pleasant expression on his face remained awhile longer. He used his best fatherly voice. "Jess. Jess. Jess. You know I love working with you. You're the best worker and student anyone could ask for. You'll be marvelous at your future endeavors. I want you to put off deciding to work in this business full time. Having you here for the summer will be great fun for us both. But I just think that you need to keep yourself open to other opportunities and to spend time away from the farm. A beautiful young lass like yourself shouldn't get bogged down in this tough horsy world."

"Damn you, Gus! Damn you! Who the hell do you think you are to block me out of my own farm? If ... if it weren't for me y-you would have been gone years ago," Jessica stammered over the awkward attempt to create a debt. "This is what I want, damn it, and you have no right to stop me!" Regaining momentum, Jessica's voice boomed across the table at her friend.

Gus saw the familiar look of stubbornness and fury on Jessica's face and tried to steer the conversation into safer waters.

"Hey, my friend. I think the brew has brought us past the happy point and into a good Isle brood. What say we call it a night and talk more about this in the morning."

"Don't patronize me."

"You have six horses to breeze in before seven o'clock, I think we should focus our thoughts on our four legged friends instead of your cranky Irish one, eh?" Gus beamed his brightest smile and straightened himself in the chair. His face was red and the arm of his worn tweed jacket was slightly askew. "C'mon now. I'll drive you back to the farm."

"I want to talk about this now. And I'm not staying at the farm, remember? The house to too empty without Bridgie."

"Suit yourself. I'll drive you to your apartment, then."

"Go to hell."

Some of her words tangled in her mouth and others were slow and thick. Readying to launch another attack, awareness grew of sideward, nearly pitying looks from other patrons. Bristling against anyone's pity, her anger shifted into a keen desire to leave.

The chair clattered to the floor as she lurched to her feet. "It's my farm."

"When you turn thirty. Not before."

Their raised voices and sudden departure caught the attention of several patrons and the bartender. The stony and overtly inquisitive glances embarrassed her. She made her way to the door with Gus' guidance. The alcohol released her from the close ties she usually kept on her emotions, allowing fury to flash to the surface, unencumbered by the usual restraints. Her heart pounded and her eyes were wide with the intensity of it. Her back felt hot with stares as they walked down the slate steps of the pub. Gus, slightly stooped with years of hard work, and Jessica bid each other a stiff good night in the courtyard and separated.

Jessica struggled to control her seething anger as she drove to her apartment. Promise or not, Gus was a little too possessive of the farm for Jessica's liking. He was the acting head of that family, being both business manager and surrogate father. It was an unusual position and Jessica thought that maybe Gus was feeling insecure about her taking over. She made a mental note to herself that tomorrow she would let Gus know he had nothing to worry about.

Her car was rounding the last bend to her apartment when she remembered that she had left the lights of the barn on when they left for the pub. It was one of Gus' pet peeves whenever she forgot to throw the main switch off. The evening had ended on a bad enough note without adding burning lights to the list. She turned her car around and headed for the farm.

The long driveway was lit with the faint light of a half moon. She did not want to risk further angering him by having him hear her drive up and rattle around the barn so she looped the car around back. The barn stood between her and Gus' small house. Jessica suspected he went straight to bed without seeing the lights. She covered the distance between her car and the barn in a quick-stepped jog. She hoped her head would clear with the burst of activity and breathing in the fresh night air.

The main barn doors were open and she was poised to enter when she heard voices. Her first impulse was to continue inside and give her apologies to Gus, but the tenor of the voices made her pause. She recognized Gus' voice, but the other was new to her. One thing was certain - the tone of the conversation was not a pleasant one. Most of what she heard were muffled sounds with the distinctive rising and falling tones of anger and explanation. Portions of the conversation reached her ear, like waves struggling to meet a high water mark on an incoming tide.

Jessica heard Gus' voice, "I'll haf no further part of this..." The rest of his sentence stamped away with the snort and scuffle of a nearby horse.

The response from the voice was no more complete. "...years of good work. You should be proud to have been of such good service."

Gus' voice raised up, "Proud! Never!..." The voices were washed away with the rustle of the wind through the trees.

The cool air did nothing to minimize the effects of the beer. So emboldened, she was no longer concerned about the lights but curious if this visitor had anything to do with the way Gus acted tonight. She pressed herself against the outside of the barn and edged forward toward the door, taking care to keep in the shadows.

Gus' voice swelled forward. "I will never bring her into this business of mine! That is just too much to ask! She's smart. She'll catch on and then what will you do?"

Business of his? Gus' voice was at a fever pitch. With a pleading tone in it? Jessica felt the sting of betrayal and tried to pull herself back into control. She edged still closer. The more she thought about Gus' patronizing attitude and his rejection of her as a business partner, the angrier she became. Straightening up from a crouched position, she was about to storm into the barn and tell Gus exactly what he could do to himself when she caught sight of his visitors.

Three men stood in a island of light. It was not that the men were unique looking in any way that made Jessica hesitate. It was that each was familiar in their own way and that two men rather than one had been discussing her future with Gus.

Jessica searched her memory for any time in which she may have met them. They had the time worn look of old money woven with a healthy dose of 'horseyness'. She tried to think of a time when such men may have been mentioned to her as having an interest in her future. Through her Aunt, Gus or any friend, she could not think of one person that would trigger such a sense of dread within her. She moved as close as she dared to the threesome while keeping out of the pool of light spilling from the door. The sounds of her movements were lost in the constant stamping and snorting of the barn's tenants.

The older man had graying hair and, even on this mild summer night, was dressed in a proper woven wool jacket and flannel trousers. His ruddy complexion gave away his Northern Isle heritage. The features of his face were partially shrouded in the shadow cast by his hat. She had seen this cultivated image at hundreds of occasions throughout her life, but she knew this man was a complete stranger to her.

His type could be seen at every horse race and hunt across the country. At any given event, a dozen or so of him would dot the spectator areas, program in hand, surveying the scene with an important air. He was part of the scenery itself. No one would be able to pick him out in a crowd. He just fit in too well.

Jessica shifted her attention to the other man. His edge and demeanor sharpened Jessica's focus on him. He was taller, younger and had a more muscular build. He stood off to the side, seemingly to use the beams and shadows of the barn for cover. His eyes, if one could call them that, stayed mainly on Gus and occasionally made a sweep of the area, pausing briefly at each window and stall door. His eyes were two dark pits into which light entered, and then was seized. They swept the opening of the barn door, looking straight into the shadows where Jessica hunkered. They kept moving, her perch momentarily undetected.

It took a few seconds before Jessica could breathe again, the threat of detection making her heart leap to her throat. The darkness of the night and the shadows did their job in concealing her. The jolt of the consequences of discovery for spying brought her to her senses. She felt foolish for peeping on her friend.

Jessica began to slowly move away when the tone of the voices changed. She paused and listened more intently. She could understand fewer and fewer phrases. The words were being spit out by the participants in an ever increasing staccato. The faster the beat of the words, the lower the tones sank, ceasing any chance of being heard by anyone else but to whom they were spoken. She tried to glean the gist of the words by the postures of the men. The menace was mesmerizing.

The older man and Gus stood chest to chest, eyes locked on one another. Gus pulled his shoulders back, drawing himself up to his full height. It was a stance Jessica had seen a few times before when Gus had imbibed a few too many beers at a pub and began a showdown of wills with another patron. His stance always reminded Jessica of a Bantam rooster scratching in the dust to define the territory of his roost. Whatever the two men were saying to one another, Gus was not taking 'No' for an answer.

"That's it! It's final and I'm finished! I should have told you that a long time ago. Get out of here! Both of you! If I ever sense your hand in anything more with this farm your game will vanish. Get out! I'm through." Gus waved his arms in the face of the old man to further make his point. His brogue was more pronounced with his emotion. He took another step forward, causing the old man to retreat. An effect which only fueled Gus' bluster. "Remember you owe me. By the pledge to our mother country you can not harm this girl. I've made certain that she knows nothing about our business. Get out and take your trash with you."

Throughout this tirade the older man did not flinch. Gus finished spitting out his last sentence. The old man glanced at his companion.

The younger man had not uttered a sound during the storm of words. He merely removed his jacket, meticulously folded it and placed it neatly on a hay bale. He glanced expectantly at the older man as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up the sleeves. His manner was calm, very matter of fact. If any emotion could be detected in him it would be one of cold anticipation. The dim light of the barn flashed off of his ring and his watch. The pale skin of his hands and forearms stood out in sharp contrast to the backdrop of the darkened barn.

Jessica watched the unfolding scene with an increasing sense of unease. She could see the physical threat posed by the younger man. Gus was certainly strong and able, but he was obviously no match for this opponent. The man was coiled, ready to strike. Jessica wanted to look away but was hooked by some horrid fascination.

Her thoughts began to turn to her father's face, Erin's laugh. Flashes of memories crowded her vision. She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Shaking her head and deep breaths did not suppress the memories. Something surged within her, clawing its way to her conscious mind.

All attempts to keep the memories packed safely inside their tight box were failing. Jessica began breathing faster, heart pounding in terror and confusion. It was more than just seeing her friend about to be pummeled. Something was gnawing at her, triggering an onslaught of pain.

The images in front of her alternately blurred and sharpened. In one spilt second the impression and recollection crystallized. Jessica jammed her fist into her mouth to stifle the scream welling up inside of her. Her eyes were fixed on a shamrock with a dagger slashed through it tattooed on the man's pale forearm. Her mind flashed to a man with a tortured face standing over her mother's car. She felt her surroundings close in on her.

Both hands wrapped around her mouth to gag herself. Immediately she felt the emotions of a ten year old girl, helpless and panicked at the sight of the stranger. Get out! Get help! The seconds ticked away like hours as she tried to control herself. Frozen in terror, her mind began a slow slide over the mental precipice which had been painstakingly erected over the years. She clawed for the safety net she hoped would be there, but never was.

Suddenly she was a little girl without a voice. She was trying to scream, to warn everyone of the danger, but the sounds never escaped from her. If only they would listen! If only they would just stop and listen to what she was saying! To what she saw! They would all be alive now if she just had made them listen.

It's all her fault that they died. The animal that was hiding in their car was now in front of her and she had to tell Gus! She had to make sure he was going to be safe. That animal was going to do something to Gus and she had to stop it!

The clouds were all around her and the horses were laughing. It was loud, too loud. STOP IT!

Screams came from outside of herself. Shrill, primal, animal-like screams pierced the night. Now she would be discovered, shrieks acting like a beacon to her hiding place. The sounds were not coming from her. They drew her back to the present. The panic cleared and again she locked on the sight in front of her. The world reeled around her and her head pounded. She couldn't be sure what she was seeing was real. The hardness of the ground beneath her and the constant wail in her ears convinced her of its reality.

The younger man's shirt was covered with red, shiny blood. The stone of his face was cracked with a slanted smile pulled tight by a red scar and flecked with blood. A long knife was poised for another thrust into the crumpling body before him, eyes shining with the heat and thrill of his sport. Jessica's ears rang with his inhuman laughter mixed with the wail of a man who knew he was dying.

The pain and anguish of the body in front of the killer animated him. Eyes bulging, lips slightly protruding. The smears of blood on his face served to accentuate the effect of crevasses and the smooth scar which ran up his cheek.

The older man held his hat with two hands in front of him, head slightly bowed, detached, perhaps thinking about what he had to do next. The brutality did not phase him. The old man took a careful step or two back from the site of the killing, avoiding the blotches of goo dotting the barn's dirt corridor. His hands absently prepared a burled wood pipe with fine shreds of tobacco. He tamped down the contents and the sound of hands gently patting pockets was swallowed by the hollow barn. Finally victorious, a flame flicked to life from a silver lighter. Soft curls of bluish smoke drifted upward, curling around his bushy eyebrows. Dim light reflected off of the lighter's smooth metal sides. The aroma of the fine tobacco and the glow of the pipe stood in contrast to the dead body. The lighter flashed once as it slipped away from his grasp toward the waiting pocket.

The old man watched as the killer wiped the blade of the knife on a nearby cloth and refastened the blade into a sheath on his leg. He patted his aide on the back and spoke in approving and sympathetic tones. The killer picked up his neatly folded jacket and the two men walked out of the barn into the night.

Jessica sat frozen in panic and disbelief for a long time. The realities of her past and present collided in her head, making it impossible to move, or even to think. Eventually her breathing deepened and her thoughts slowed. She couldn't see the connection. She didn't want to. Questions stung, with answers biting to chilling conclusions. Lips and knuckles bled from efforts to choke her screams. Slowly she raised her stiffened frame from her hiding place and walked into the barn.

The scene had taken on a surreal quality to it. The barn was filled with nervous shufflings and snorts of animals trapped in their stalls, terrified by the smell of death. Nothing was out of place. Everything was as she had left it just a few hours earlier. In the middle of the corridor next to neatly stacked bales of hay lay the oozing body of Gus. He had fallen into a fetal position in a vain attempt to protect himself from the slashings. She crept over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. Death was obvious, but she had to look at his face one more time.

The weight of her hand made Gus roll over onto his back, causing the blood-filled contents of his lungs to spew out, covering her with glistening mire. Jessica could not bear the overload to her senses any longer. She staggered to the door and vomited. Her head throbbed with its attempt to comprehend what it had witnessed while still trying to stifle the terror locked inside of it.

Fragments of past memories and present visions blended together, creating a fear far larger than the one just experienced. Jessica's mind, isolated in its attempt to make sense of the chaos, began to systematically lock away the pieces it could not readily deal with. Its foremost mission was to protect its carrier. Slowly, methodically, it began to shut down. Its benefactor eventually breathed more easily as it began its journey away from all that was once home.