Hello, This is Lorraine A. Balint, welcoming the patient readers to the second installment of:
CAGNEY AND LACEY: RESTUTION
Dark Shadows in the Land of Dreams
=========================================================

PART SIX--- SATURDAY, APRIL 15, 2000

Willie didn't know what he was going to do when Jeremy came home from the hospital and found out Barnabas was at large again. It hurt that he would have to take the blame, but maybe Barnabas would go easier on Amy. Then, he fell asleep briefly, and the dream came over him again. Willie knew what had to be done then--- he HAD made the horrible choice after all. Vicki and Alice, out of the picture--- Pauline Peterson the sacrifice! He began to wish the voice would invade TONY'S dreams.

Willie had learned to like Tony, once he came back from living in Boston for some years, and had finally married Carolyn. He, at least, spoke to Willie like a human being worthy of some respect and dignity. Tony had once been considered somewhat arrogant, and a climber from a poor background, but he had mellowed and gentled thanks to the cushion of professional success and attainment of his personal desires. He placated and coddled Carolyn, and adored and spoiled their only living child. (Pauline Elizabeth had been a twin; her brother Anthony Paul died a few days after their premature birth, and Carolyn was advised against another pregnancy.)

With Carolyn, Willie had an uneasier relationship, going back to his earliest days at Collinwood, when just the sight of him stalking into a room without warning made her, and/or Vicki Winters, jump. Carolyn had even threatened to shoot Willie at one point, when his already-obnoxious lechery escalated to a dangerous level. Then, after his "conversion" by Barnabas, she suddenly became the first Collins to feel SORRY for him. But they had never really warmed up to each other, and Pauline, who took after her mother in character, more than appearance, had learned to despise him if not fear him outright. Willie thought Pauline took after her great-uncle Roger, who held pretty much the same attitude for over 30 years!

Still, she was every bit as deserving of protection as Vicki Shaw or Alice Lacey or Candy Kane or poor Amy Jennings. Willie knew from Julia that, while he'd been hospitalized, then confined at the State bin and then, WindCliff Sanitarium, that Barnabas had made Carolyn his thrall, and that, in spite of the physical weakness she suffered, MENTALLY, she seemed to THRIVE on her position. Apparently, doing Barnabas's dirty work, plotting against Julia, spurning Tony, and even trying to lure Vicki Winters into the evil fold, gave the formerly spoiled, rudderless playgirl a perverse sense of purpose in life! This corruption of Carolyn's spirit only came to a halt when Dr. Lang had come into the picture, with his potions for relieving Barnabas's curse, and his plans for the synthetic man, Adam, who empathically absorbed, and dispersed, the effects of the vampire syndrome for both himself and Barnabas.

Like mother, like daughter--- Willie actually FEARED a situation that might bring Pauline under Barnabas's influence. Willie knew, then, what he had to do, to keep her out of Barnabas's reach. Let him attack some anonymous person, female or male--- if it wasn't PERSONAL, it would be, like the attack on Candy, a one-shot, non-fatal feeding, to meet "nutritional requirements" ONLY. Barnabas acted bravely around Sheriff Lacey, but he knew she was a lot brighter than that dim bulb Patterson, and Job Woodard, with 30 years of repressed anger at his father's death under his belt, suddenly didn't seem as stupid as he always had.

Willie was wide awake when Jeremy came in, and made sure to meet him at the door, which the former opened as quietly as possible. The older man clamped his hand over the younger man's mouth, and silently pointed into the parlor. Barnabas presented an utterly benign picture, in his brocaded robe, settled in his favorite chair by the crackling fire, apparently engrossed in "Ivanhoe."

"Don't say a word till I tell you," Willie whispered as quietly as possible. "Listen up. He made me let him out, don't ask how. You know what he can do to me. But he didn't bite me, so he can't read me all the time. I mean to fight him, as I know you will. I have a plan to keep Vicki and the Lacey's kid out of his sight later, but I want you to take Pauline out tonight. Yeah, I know, you like her as much as you like having a tooth pulled, but he won't hurt her if she's with you. You're all the self-control he has left, I think. Now, talk." He removed his hand slowly from Jeremy's clenched jaws.

"But the list of victims?" Jeremy asked, quavering.

"Oh, he'll still keep giving you names, though now, I think he's just bragging about them. We HAVE to find a cure P.D.Q.--- before he really learns to love the nightlife again. I mean, think about it--- you're about 70, you know you're not going to live forever, and you just feel lousier and lousier, the longer you live. . . This would certainly solve those little problems. Even if he stayed this age, he's not going to get any worse! I know getting old isn't any fun, but what he'll have to do to live is WRONG."

"What he did to Candy certainly is! This is bad for ME too--- I never got over losing Mother, and I don't want my father to ever become sick and die, though in the natural order of things it's just a fact you have to adjust to." Jeremy's usually-cheerful face suddenly looked much older. "I'll work on the list, then I'll call Pauline about noon."

Willie patted his shoulder affectionately, and said, "Okay, time to face the music."

Barnabas looked up, calmly, at their approach. Whatever he knew of the conversation in the front hall, he didn't let on. All he said was, "I suppose Willie's told you what I made him do, my son?"

"Yes, Father, " Jeremy said dispiritedly. "I should have known we wouldn't be able to keep you down. But it makes things bad for us. Does it bother you at all, what might happen to Willie and myself, due to YOUR actions?"

"I've been thinking about that. How's the raiding of the hospital blood supply coming along?"

"Next to impossible. They even have hidden video cameras, so I can't disable them. I don't know what to do."

Barnabas said, "Well, there's another problem. The Sheriff and Job came by, earlier, and I was forced to make up a story about the 'illness' your mother treated me for, over 30 years ago. We always agreed it would be some obscure form of cancer, in fact I was able to tell the tale to Christine, and she believed me, but if Mrs.Lacey comes after YOU, you must have specifics. Maybe this will provide you with a legitimate excuse to withdraw from the blood bank. Your poor father is having a relapse."

"I suppose I could come up with a diagnosis of some kind of leukemia, but the hospital will insist you come in for tests."

"Dr. Heard's a special friend and mentor of yours, is he not?" Barnabas's eyes took on a sinister gleam. "He would examine me as a special favor to you, wouldn't he?"

"Father, are you going to harm Dr. Heard? I mean, not only is he my friend, but he's the best damn doctor in that hospital! You CAN'T kill him---"

"I'm NOT going to KILL him. I wouldn't make the Woodard mistake twice. He won't even suffer as much as Candy Kane. You have my word that, after my visit, he will soon be right as rain."

Willie said, disgustedly, "Another great choice that isn't really a choice. How can you do this to people who still love you, Barnabas?"

"Why, Willie. . . . And I thought you weren't my friend anymore. I didn't know you possessed such depth of feeling for me! How special!" Barnabas laughed, an ugly sound now. "I hope you love me enough to follow through on YOUR agreement." He rose from his chair, and headed to the heavy door leading to the basement. "And now, it's time for ME to take my rest. And Willie? I'll be entertaining a guest before I have to go out and pursue some of my special interests. You understand."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Part two of Willie's plan--- he called Maggie at 8:00 A.M.. He knew she was an early riser. Sure enough, she answered the phone, sounding quite awake. Of course, when she heard HIS voice, HERS got tense.
"Is-- is this Willie--- or Mr. Lacey?" she asked.

"Since when do you know Harvey?" Willie asked.

"Since he came to my gallery earlier this week and gave me a shock. Not that he MEANT to."

"You--you didn't spill about Vicki?"

"No, of course not! He was very nice about the whole thing. I think he'll make a wonderful customer with the free sample I gave him.. Okay, Willie, what's this about? The Kane assault, isn't it? You know about it, don't you? And don't tell me 'no.' I've remembered more and more about what happened years ago, though for some reason I'm STILL foggy about the man who started the trouble. Although I hold nothing against YOU, and I'm NOT about to implicate the father of my child. DO you think it's the same man? Has he bothered you?"

"I'm not sure. But I keep getting dreams and bad feelings--- maybe because Vicki IS my daughter. I think she should leave town until the Sheriff catches the bastard, but Vicki isn't going to ditch her first teaching job. Still, she CAN go someplace tonight, 20 miles away. There's a concert in Orono. . ." He outlined the rest of the plan.

Maggie listened patiently. "Well, I've heard her say nice things about Alice Lacey, but I don't think they have a special bond. I can run the idea by her, anyway."

"Thanks for trusting me on this, Maggie. You know what I'd do if everything was out in the open, and I could protect her like the Laceys protect their kid--- I'd try to build a big fort, with silver Crosses all over the place, and I'd put all the young girls inside until---until---"

"I understand," Maggie sighed softly. "Lord, I wish Sebastian was here--- HE knew about these things. . ."

Willie tried to keep the resentment out of his voice when he replied, "Well, you and Vicki have to make do with ME. I'm sure Sebastian is looking down, and your Pop, watching over us."

As Maggie hung up, Vicki Shaw came down to the kitchen for breakfast. "Who was that, Mom?" she asked. "It wasn't Jeremy, was it?"

"No, it was your Uncle Willie. He was just fretting about us, as usual, though you have to admit, after what happened to your girlfriend Candy---"

Vicki's face darkened, and tears stung her eyes. "I haven't really been close to her since I went off to college, but we DID have a lot of good times in high school. And we had a blast at the 5-year reunion. I should visit her."

"You'll have to call the hospital. She may be home now. But tonight. . . I heard about a concert in Orono. I've also heard that a student of yours might be interested in attending, maybe you can go together. Alice Lacey."

"Really? I didn't get the impression that she was the concert-going type. Unless it's a concert for Nine-Inch-Nails, or Korn!" Vicki smiled through her tears, lips closed, which her mother secretly preferred. When the younger woman flashed her teeth, Maggie was reminded too uncomfortably of Vicki's genetic inheritance. It was a wonder nobody else noticed, but Willie had aged rapidly enough so the likeness wasn't as obvious.

Maggie replied, "Well, it seems she's an off-and-on-again pianist. Anyway, her father was supposed to ask her today. Think it over. I doubt anything will happen so far away, in a crowd of really boring old fuddy-dud Chopin lovers."

"Well, okay, IF Jeremy doesn't call me soon. I think I have him just where I want him. I'll be wearing Grandma Evans's wedding dress before you know it. What I DON'T get is, how come YOU didn't wear it for YOUR wedding, Mom? I mean, you had a pretty peasant-type dress, but you would have looked EXQUISITE in all that silk and satin." Vicki became concerned at her mother's reaction.

Maggie's face turned pale, and her hands started to shake so much she dropped the spatula with which she was going to use to turn pancakes. "I'm--I'm sorry," she said. "Maybe this means we'll have an unexpected guest." She had to sit down. "Sorry, honey, I think this is just a change-of-life problem. Some women get hot flashes, I get the dropsies."

"Sure, Mom, whatever you say. I hope I didn't get you upset. I wasn't criticizing you. I mean, it was the early 70's, everyone was into that hippy-earth-love-beads look. I still have Daddy's fringed vests and his kooky medallions."

"Yes, that's the reason why," Maggie said recovering. How could she ever tell her daughter that, on the night before her wedding, she'd TRIED to put on the elaborate gown, and suddenly felt terror, felt walls closing in, heard a phrase from that nursery rhyme based on terrible tragedy--- "take the keys and lock her up. . ." Fortunately, Brewster's was still open, and Maggie had made a mad dash to find something else that might be suitable. As it was, the wedding was a very small affair, since neither the bride and groom had many living relatives. Just the Collinses, Sebastian's cousins, and a couple of Maggie's aunts. Sebastian actually preferred her casual appearance, which fitted in with the outdoor ceremony at Collinwood. . .

However, she felt that the spell, or bad karma, or whatever the problem was, would be broken when she finally saw her lovely, dainty blondish daughter, with her large blue-saucer eyes, and her heart-shaped face, dressed in that gown. She wouldn't even mind if Vicki showed all her teeth in her smile on THAT day. For an instant, Maggie regretted that NEITHER of Vicki's fathers would be able to walk her down the aisle.

Jeremy called at nine. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I have to go up to the Big House later, as your Uncle Willie calls it. I hope you can find something to do. . ." After Vicki assured him that she would, Jeremy hung up. He felt like dirt. He hated himself for loving his father so much that he was willing to hurt people he cared for, like Vicki and Jim Heard, and even those he didn't care for, like Pauline. He glanced at the portrait of his mother and his young, innocent self. Is THIS what YOU had to do for him, Mother? he thought despairingly. Was it all WORTH it? Apparently, it HAD been worth it, to Julia--- Jeremy could not remember any argument, or even a minor disagreement erupting between his parents, at least, not in his presence. Barnabas was always gentle, courtly, even tender, in a modest way, toward his wife. And Jeremy had a vivid memory of his father breaking down as Dr. Heard pronouced Julia dead, after a brief but fierce battle with cancer. A REAL cancer. . . not a put-up job meant to excuse atrocious behavior, no matter what the cause. . . The wrong person died that day, Jeremy thought bitterly. Then, he steeled himself to the task at hand, and called Pauline's private line at work.

One of the strangest parts of this charade was that, though his father and Pauline's parents expected them to marry, almost since her difficult birth and miraculous survival, Jeremy, whose heart was with Vicki even then, suspected that his cousin didn't REALLY like him. However, she was one to play up to her parents' expectations. She went to college to please her father, but came home with just an Associate's degree, which she barely put to use in a token job at Collins Enterprises (though she HAD done well in her Spanish classes, but that was only useful when dealing with Marisol and some other Hispanic Cannery employees.) She flirted with Jeremy to please her mother, but the young man believed she was infatuated with someone else, though whom, he couldn't guess. He actually found that a relief, since anyone who said so many snide things about Willie or former governess Maggie, wasn't someone he even wanted as a friend. But he didn't want her to DIE, either--- if for no other reason than that her PARENTS had always been kind to him.

Pauline answered the phone in a snit. "Yes, yes, David, I'm making up your spreadsheets right now! I'll have 'em on your desk when you come in--- Oh! I'm sooooo sorry, Jeremy, but I have this project to slap together by eleven. On a SATURDAY! Though I'm praying that Hallie starts labor and keeps David busy for another couple of hours, at least!" She laughed. "Oh, what's that you say? YOU want to go out with ME tonight? This must be that cold day in Hell they're always talking about. Oh, Vicki might be going to some lame event with a student, eh? Hope it isn't a football player. I've seen this year's line-up, and they're MIGHTY cute--- the Lacey girl? Now that's odd. . . .So while the cat's away, YOU want to play. . . Okay, I'm sorry, Jer. Really. Thank you for remembering that I like Julia Roberts's movies. Yes, I've been meaning to see 'Erin Brockovich'. You're the best, cuzz. And I know this will THRILL Mummy. Always keep the parents guessing, that's MY motto! See you at seven. . ."
* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Wow, I didn't think Miss Shaw liked me as much as I already like HER," Alice trilled, as she hung up the phone. "Isn't this a little wierd to you, though, Mom? I mean, you're not afraid that we'll get so chummy, she's going to be giving me 'A's instead of the 'D's I so richly deserve?"

"I don't THINK so," Mary Beth replied. "Besides, you're going to get your wish, and have that Elliot along. Miss Shaw will probably have her hands full keeping you two behaving. NONE of you will be listening to Chopin. And WHAT'S this about getting 'D's anyway, young lady?" For once, Mary Beth could joke freely; Alice seldom got below a B+ in ANY class, let alone English and Literature classes.

"And what fun things are you and Daddy and Aunt Christine going to do while I'm gone?" Alice asked, with a giggle. "A rousing game of 'Twister', perhaps?"

Harvey came into the kitchen saying, "I HEARD that! No way am I playing THAT anymore. Christine always wins!"

Christine, carrying a plastic bag full of her dirty laundry to the washing machine in the basement, paused and teased, "How about 'Spin the Bottle'?"

Mary Beth, reddening, replied, "Sorry, pal, we only do that with TWO players in THIS house. And I always win!"

"Well, how about another game I've never lost--- 'Old Maid'!" Christine joined the laughter at her own joke, but there was a forlorn voice in her mind that said, I haven't heard from Barnabas, and Mary Beth would give me Hell if I did. There HAD been a strong feeling of communion with THIS man, but Chrsitine had no right to jeopardize the position of her friend, who'd ALWAYS had more at stake than just the desire for a good career. The family that had acted as her own surrogate family would suffer. I care for Barnabas, Christine thought, but it's already tainted--- it's been tainted for over 30 years! The best thing would be to maintain a brave face, and put the Laceys' best interests first.

And the first thing she could do was to find an acceptable activity to get herself out of the house.
With all the stressful events of the previous week behind them, AND their daughter safely occupied elsewhere, the Laceys deserved to have some time alone.

"Maybe I can be the fourth wheel on Alice's excursion," she suggested. "I'm not big on Chopin, but you two can spend a little 'quality time' together while we're all out."

"I don't see why not," Alice said generously. "We'll have to call and find out if there's still tickets available." Alas, a quick call confirmed that there were no more tickets--- Miss Shaw apparently got the last three.

"Well, maybe I could hit the local Cineplex, then," Christine shrugged. "I've been DYING to see 'Erin Brockovich'."

"You like Julia Roberts? EEEeeewwww," Alice commented.

"No, but I think Albert Finney is still pretty 'hot'," the older woman replied with a wink.

Vicki Shaw and Elliot Collins appeared at the Lacey home at precisely 6:30 P.M. It was almost a 45-minute drive to Orono, and the concert would begin at 8:00. Harvey and Mary Beth were agreeably impressed with the young, pretty, but dignified English teacher, who had evidently inherited a great deal of her mother's seeming self-confidence. Harvey was especially so, looking for signs of Willie's paternal influence beyond the young woman's appearance. Then he stopped, fearful that his wife would suspect him of LEERING. Mary Beth, for her part, felt reassured about her agreement to this outing. There was an added bonus--- she secretly hoped word of this night would get back to Amy Jennings, in spite of her obviously forced efforts at apology.

Alice, once more in her freshly-pressed red dress, was simply delighted to see her beau. SHE hoped Miss Shaw would allow them to sit together in the back seat.

When the youthful trio were out of the house, and Christine was putting on her coat to go out to the movie, the phone rang. By sheer luck, she was the only person in the room at that moment, AND right near the phone, or she felt Mary Beth would not have let her talk to the party on the other end. Before SHE spoke, Christine cast furtive glances around the area. She relaxed as she heard her friends in the kitchen, loading the brand-new dishwasher that had come with the house. (They were having a disagreement on the best method of over-loading the unit for maximum results.)

"Barnabas!" Christine whispered, a bit of weepiness creeping into her voice. "I missed you. Even though I know Mary Beth questioned you, she hasn't found grounds to charge you. But she still wouldn't be too happy to know I'm talking to you."

"I know, my dearest. This makes ME feel a bit like an escaped criminal, 'on the lam', as Willie used to put it. Or like an adolescent who's been 'grounded', as Jeremy used to say. Yet I haven't done anything I should not have. You believe me, don't you?"

"I--I don't know anymore. I've had this sort of thing happen to me in relationships before, and I'm NOT enthusiastic at the prospect of going through it again. Even though I'm DEEPLY fond of you. Do YOU understand?"

"Yes." There was a long and painful-sounding sigh at the other end of the line. "I DO understand. Plus, as your friend pointed out, ere long, you WILL be returning to your home, your life, and, of course, your career. I wouldn't want to damage these precious parts of YOUR precious existence. To have you hurt by association with myself would be like hurting MYself. Still, I WOULD like one more chance to see and speak with you, to dismantle what could have been a beautiful, wondrous shelter from the storms of our lives, to lay to rest a feeling that must die before its time. Come to see me, Christine, just for a few hours. Then we can try to part as friends."

Christine's voice became hoarse with emotion. "I might not WANT to part. . . But maybe, a final meeting like this might be for the best. I'll be there soon. The Laceys already believe I'm going to the movies, so there'll be no suspicion." She finished putting on the coat, and hurried out of the house.

Mary Beth and Harvey came into the living room. "I wonder who was on the phone?" Harvey said.

"Obviously, nothing about the Kane case, or any problems with the kids, or Christine would have said something," his wife replied. "Maybe it was just a wrong number, or a salesman. Funny how she dashed out of here without at least saying 'See you later'."

"Probably running late for the movie. Well, now we're ALONE. For the first time since before we moved here!" Harvey sat down, and pulled his wife's hand. Mary Beth pretended to collapse beside him. He pulled her close, and whispered, "So, what do you think we should do about this very interesting situation? And the answer had better NOT contain the words 'Let's see what's on TV'!"

Mary Beth suddenly got tense, and sat up straight. "I want to, Harv, but you've had several heart
spasms in one week."

"In each and every instance, it's been caused by stress. BAD stress. What WE want to do isn't BAD. When was the last time, almost two weeks, already?"

"At least you're not counting the exact days and hours and minutes."

"If I do THAT, I WILL get angina." Harvey nuzzled his wife's hair, and kissed her. She relaxed again, but was still concerned.

"Honey," she said, "I miss fooling around as often as we used to, as much as you do. But if it could KILL you. . . I'd rather have you HERE, where I could at least see you and talk to you and touch you, as long as possible. Even if it meant we could never make love again."

"The doctors just said, go slow, and stop if it brings on pain. Not stop FOREVER. That's what we'll keep doing. And if something happens. . . maybe I'll die with a smile on my face."

Mary Beth shook her head. "I've seen a lot of dead people, Harv, and NOT ONE was smiling, not even the horny old goats who keeled over while in a massage parlor or whorehouse. And, even though YOUR problems would be over, MINE would be just beginning. There won't be too many smiles left for ME if YOU'RE not around."

"Still, what you're talking about comes under the heading of 'Bad Stress.' If those guys were happy with a wife, or at least a REAL girlfriend, probably they'd have been okay. I read somewhere that a man is less likely to die during sex with his WIFE than any other kind of messing around. So try to stop worrying. You have enough real problems to worry about, and I DON'T think we're going to another golden opportunity like THIS for a while."

"Okay, okay, I'm sold." Mary Beth rose, and tugged on her husband's hand. "If we have to take our time like you said, we'd better get an early start."
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Christine finally got to see what lay at the end of Barnabas's driveway. She DID find the Old House beautiful, but that wasn't a primary consideration for her at the moment. She ran up the steps to the veranda, and anxiously rang the bell over and over.

There was a sound of male disagreement behind the double doors, but finally, Barnabas opened one of them. Without a word, he drew her in, slammed the door, and nearly crushed her in his embrace. Christine matched his intensity with her own. She didn't even think about his cold lips, or the bitter smell and taste of Listerine emanating from his mouth, as they kissed. There was desperation, even violence about the way their faces and bodies cleaved together. When they broke apart, Christine gasped for air. Then she noticed, standing silently behind Barnabas like a prison guard, WILLIE silently watching them, an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Why--why is he HERE?" Christine asked, her face heating up with mortification. "Is he your KEEPER? If we go up to YOUR room, is he going to FOLLOW us? What kind of a sick arrangement is this?"

"No, my love. I had an attack of my ailment earlier, and Willie was taking care of me because Jeremy had to go out. He SHOULD have withdrawn as soon as you arrived, but I briefly became delirious, knocking things over."

"Then you should be in the HOSPITAL!" Christine held his face in her hands, as though examining it for signs of the illness. He WAS pale.

"I'll be all right for now. I took my medication, and Jeremy is going to arrange for some tests with Dr. Heard on Monday. Seeing you DOES make me feel better, especially after all the trouble in the last couple of days." Barnabas clutched her again. "I fear never seeing you again. PLEASE say this ISN'T the end, Christine."

She looked deeply into his dark, tormented eyes. "Only if you can say truthfully, that you had NOTHING to do with the events of the last 48 hours, nor with the events of 30 years ago. You have to understand, Barnabas. No matter what rank or fancy title I hold by now, I AM a policewoman, and have been one for over 25 years. As I told you, I've been down this road before, and ended up choosing the side of the law in almost every instance--- and if NOT the law, then, at least, a moral mean. IF you had anything to do with Miss Cane's attack, or any in the future, and I find out, I won't have any choice. . . Even at the risk of my own life. I MEAN that."

Only one other woman had spoken like that to him, and lived to tell the tale. Barnabas turned away from Christine and gazed up at the portrait over the mantle. Julia's eyes had been large, dark, and soft when times were good. Christine's dark eyes were small, yet gentle when she was being tender. But BOTH women's eyes got that set, probing, even cold look when they made up their minds about something. And BOTH were stubbornly convinced of the rightness of their intentions, plans, and actions.

Christine followed his gaze. She studied the portrait of the red-haired, angular-faced woman, and her young son, a replica of herself in every way, since becoming a doctor as well. She wondered, not for the first time in her career, how someone who, supposedly, had dedicated herself to healing the sick, especially the mentally sick, and who was sworn to protect and comfort those she couldn't heal, could join forces with ANYONE who could do sick things like what had happened to that Kane girl, or Maggie. I don't want it to be true, but what if it is? Christine silently asked the sad-looking brown eyes of Julia Hoffman Collins.

Barnabas turned to face Christine again, and finally said, "There are many questions I cannot answer, without violating confidences placed in me over many years. There are people I have protected in the past whom you may not think deserved it, as Maggie took it upon herself to get Willie out of jail. I know that police, especially in cities, reward small-time criminals who bring them evidence against bigger miscreants, often with remission from serious penalties for their own crimes, or even freedom from prosecution. I would ask you to consider my past actions in the same light, even though by your standards I had no authority to do so, save that the circumstances were desperate, and I felt I had no other choice."

Christine asked, coldly, "What, exactly, are we talking about, here? Blackmail? Something involving a fugitive from another juridiction? Is it Willie we're speaking of, or a relative? David, I know, was just a boy back then, but young boys can be cruel AND creative. Or was it a woman, and your chivalrous instincts are holding you back from implicating her? I read that Victoria Winters pretty much vanished from the face of the earth over 30 years ago, but, who knows?--- perhaps she's returned, incognito."

"NO! It would NOT have been Vicki Winters. She was one of the most virtuous, bravest young women I had ever known, when it came to doing right."

"Since your wife didn't come here until after Maggie was found, and died long ago, I won't suggest her. What about Roger, or his late sister, or his niece? NONE of THEM had spotless pasts."

"No, No, No. Then or now. Roger made his mistake early in life, and it certainly wasn't INTENTIONAL. And he IS genuinely incapacitated now. Elizabeth DID almost kill her husband, but she spent the next 20 years punishing HERSELF, while doing good for others, including Vicki Winters AND Maggie Evans. She neither plotted Evil, NOR had associates who would have done it for her, and definitely not since her death!
Her daughter, Carolyn, was once, in spite of her mother's guilt-ridden love and care, a spoiled, wayward, sometimes very unhappy girl, but nothing that settling down with a fine man could not have cured. Which it DID."

"That Adam, then. You were associated with him. Where is he now?"

"THAT'S a good question. He left one day, and was never seen in these parts again. I DON'T think anyone could have missed him, if he returned. He had many large scars that probably wouldn't have yielded to plastic surgery."

"Quentin Collins? Amy Jennings with the murdering brother?"

Barnabas snorted, "NOW you are barking up the wrong trees entirely! Quentin didn't arrive here until late 1969, and he's been in Europe for almost two weeks. And Amy can hardly be held responsible for her brother's crimes." He put his hands on Christine's shoulders. "I've been through this mill with your former partner. I will NOT answer anything more, unless officially pressed into it. This isn't YOUR problem. If you cannot trust me, then you must go. I won't try to stop you in any way, shape, or form, I promise. Because, if nothing else, I respect you, as I once respected another determined woman, years ago. And came to love her, married her, had a son with her, a FINE life with her. Nothing of the kind will be happening for US, that much is clear. Willie, you can escort Miss Cagney to her car." Barnabas turned from the others, and began a slow, and obviously painful, ascent up the staircase with the oaken bannister, his head hung down.

Willie gently tugged at Christine's arm, and led her outside. There, he said, "I'm sorry he won't be seeing you anymore. You were good for him, but he's all messed up from being sick."

"That's bull, Willie, and I KNOW you know it," Christine said with a mixture of anguish and disgust. "You two are one of a kind."

"No, YOU two are one of a kind," he protested. "You and him, goin' at it like he used to with Julia. SHE was a fighter, but a fighter who fought for HIM, though it took him long enough to appreciate it. And, believe it or not, there WAS a time when he was the only one everyone could count on to solve a lot of problems, but it always worked better if he had Julia along."

"Well, THAT time is long past, Willie, and I'm NOT so enamored or desperate that I would tolerate the hint of criminality in a man I loved--- sorry, cared for."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard THAT song a few times. Well, Julia didn't mean it, even when the going was rough, and I don't believe YOU do either. Because, like her, YOU are a good influence on him. I can tell, I can ALWAYS tell with him. His son is the other. I can only do it sometimes. But he knows he can count on me."

"There must be something in the water around here, Willie, lead in these old pipes, or something. That's the only way to account for the piss-poor choices people make around here. Other people make mistakes, but to be loyal to Barnabas, when he can't even give ME a straight answer, is a doozy I don't want to make."

"If you love somebody, you have to accept it sometimes, if they can't give you any answers."

"If I had a long history with him prior to this, like Harvey and Mary Beth, for example, maybe you'd be right, Willie, but we never had a chance. It wasn't meant to be, and it died on the vine. I'm willing to give it a decent burial. End of cliches. Good night." Christine gunned the motor, and sped off into the night, wondering how she was going to fill the next hour-and-a-half she was supposed to be at that movie.

Willie ran back inside, and ran upstairs, to the bedroom Barnabas still used, though not to sleep in. His employer stood on the small balcony in the chilly April night frost, staring in the direction of Collinwood. "Barnabas, she'll be back, I know it. She--she LOVES you. She said it by accident, but I can tell it's true. Wouldn't THAT be enough to keep you on Jeremy's medicines, and working on the victim's list?"

"Willie, where is my son now?"

"At the hospital, I thought." Willie's blood started to chill.

"No, he's not. I just called there, and they said he wasn't scheduled for tonight."

"Out with a girl, then, Maybe Vicki, maybe Pauline. Maybe BOTH. THAT screws up YOUR plans, doesn't it?" Willie smirked.

"I think I'll have a look for myself, Willie." Before the houseman blinked twice, a large bat fluttered wher Barnabas had stood. He watched helplessly, as it flew off into the night.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The bat flew to Maggie Shaw's house, where it observed that both daughter's AND mother's cars were gone. Back to Collinwood, then. There WAS someone there who would be happy to see Barnabas. This was
easy--- he just presented himself at the door as always, and showed himself up to Amy's room, "To see how she's doing."

The door was closed, but not locked. Barnabas slowly opened it, and peered within. Amy was lying on her bed, in a rather elegant-looking set of jade-colored satin pajamas, and matching Chinese-style slippers. She was reading a fat paperback novel whose covers were decorated with illustrations of a shirtless, muscular young man on a pirate ship, clutching a beautiful, wild-haired redhead with half her bosom popping out of her thin gown and against the studly pirate's broad-beamed chest.

Amy didn't look up from her book, as she said, "David, PLEASE don't come in here and bother me again. If you keep knocking Hallie up, then get frustrated because she becomes indisposed during the last month, that's YOUR fault. I've told you a thousand times, DON'T come crawling to ME when you're horny. I have SOME standards, SOME self-respect, SOME dignity!"

"Then, perhaps, you should be more careful to lock the door, my dear," Barnabas said softly and sarcastically.

Amy dropped her book, and jumped from the bed. "Who knows that you're here?" she whispered breathlessly, as she turned the lock on the door herself. "Isn't this too obvious?"

"Actually, no, my sweet Amy, because I WANT people to know I was here, visiting with you, like a good uncle. There's no danger that someone will be trying that door for a while, is there? I certainly wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea!" He laughed at his joke.

"Now that David's paid his regularly-scheduled booty call, probably not," she shrugged. "Considering how crowded this mausoleum is, Hallie sees to it that I DO get some privacy." Amy sighed. "She's really sweet to me, even though she KNOWS what David and I were to each other, though I don't know if she realizes what we'd still LIKE to be. . . It's partly because she DOES respect me, that I keep turning him down. Of course, now I have ANOTHER reason." She unbuttoned her pajama top, pulling it well off her shoulder so that Barnabas's kiss wouldn't ruin the expensive material. In the process, she exposed some of her breast. "If you asked me, I would take EVERYTHING off," she whispered huskily, gazing into his eyes, which had become purplish-red with lust, both human and feral.

He caressed Amy's bared shoulder. "Alas for BOTH of us, my dear, that is NOT how we are going to express our special feelings for each other, at least not right now." He drew her close, kissed her first on the lips, then went right for her throat. She quivered against him, then jerked back momentarily. A trickle of blood DID mar her pajama blouse.

"Lipstick. I see LIPSTICK on your neck, your collar," Amy panted with rage. "And perfume--- I know whose it IS. You were with Christine Cagney earlier, WEREN'T you?"

"YOU have no business demanding fidelity or ANYTHING from me," Barnabas said menacingly. Then, he felt a twinge of regret when he saw Amy cringe in fear--- it made her look about 13 years old. He stroked her hair, licked the blood from her neck. "I am sorry I spoke harshly. Yes, I WAS with Christine before I came here, but I assure you, it's for the last time. She is not one to share our kind of bond. However, Amy, you KNOW a man like myself cannot expect one woman to fulfill ALL my needs."

"Just as long as you keep coming back to ME, if you need to kiss other girls once in a while, like Candy Cane, I won't mind," she whispered.

Barnabas put an arm around Amy's shoulders. "That's my good girl. Now, tell me, is Pauline here tonight?"

Amy sounded a little resentful as she replied, "So soon already. . . But I will tell you. She's out with Jeremy. Dinner and a movie. I'm not sure WHEN they'll be back."

"But--- but that's strange. I rather thought my son was quite committed to Vicki Shaw."

"Oh, it's because SHE'S in Orono. She took Elliot and that Alice Lacey to a concert out there."

"Strange, how the young ladies who've most aroused my interest lately, are ALL out of sight on this evening. I wonder how that came about?" Barnabas mentally answered his own question. WILLIE, he thought, though without much heat. After all, this couldn't go on EVERY night. "Well," Barnabas continued, "perhaps you can put on a robe and come downstairs with me for a while, while I wait to see Pauline. I know how you feel, Amy, but you could be a great help to me, and there WOULD be rewards for you. Because THIS time, YOU are the first. NOBODY can EVER take that distinction away from you."

"That's all I've ever wanted. . . to be first with SOMEONE." Amy pulled Barnabas's face against her throat again.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Barnabas and Amy huddled in a corner of the drawing room not easily visible from the foyer, even with the doors wide open. However, David noticed them, when he came in to get a book he'd left there. He shot a look of longing at his former fiancee, but simply said, "I hope you're having a nice visit. I always envied the way Barnabas got along with you. His road to amity with myself was a bit rockier, but I DID learn, eventually--" (very eventually, he thought, vaguely recalling some uncomfortable moments with his cousin, early in their association) "--that Barnabas had the family's best interests at heart."

"I'm interested, even now. How is Hallie doing tonight?" Barnabas asked pleasantly.

"Oh, she's getting those contractions on and off, but she's always been pretty faithful to her due dates. I tease her that she's afraid of getting arrested for violating the doctor's orders." David smiled. "Still, I'll be relieved when this one's safely delivered. Father is right, Hallie should retire. I think eight little Collinses IS enough. Barring disaster, the family should be set to last ANOTHER 300 years."

"After getting by from generation to generation dependent on one or two male heirs, it WILL change the way the estate and businesses are distributed," Barnabas agreed. "Thank Heaven, child mortality isn't what it was in my ancestor's time, when he and his youngest sister were the only survivors out of 7 infants. And the rise of our young WOMEN in the business world will surely take some of the holdings out of a purely Collins purview. I fantasize about being around 100 years from now, to see what changes take place!" He squeezed Amy's hand at this, a gesture David noticed with seeming discomfort.

David replied, "Well, it'll have to wait for my Emily, until the other little ones are grown. Amy here has her hands full with the high school. Carolyn's been pretty competent, but Pauline, alas, seems a traditional fluffy-headed playgirl, so far. You should have SEEN the computer reports she left on my desk earlier today. She didn't even run them through the Spell-Checker!"

"Too bad she's your cousin, and not just some bimbo secretary," Amy teased. "Then, even if she screwed up the paperwork, you would, at least, have the satisfaction of screwing around with HER." She laughed cruelly. David turned red, and looked genuinely hurt.

"AMY!" Barnabas snapped authoratively, "that WILL be enough. Are you SURE you haven't been sneaking alchoholic beverages into this house?" He squeezed the hand he held.

Amy squirmed in pain, which she barely concealed. "No, no---Please--- I'm sorry AGAIN, David. I don't know when to keep my mouth shut. In the morning, I'll pack, and go back to my cottage."

David gazed at her sadly. "No, that's all right, really. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, with that man who attacked Jerusha Kane still at large. Let's just try to avoid each other from now on. Good night, Barnabas." He clutched his book, and left the room.

"Amy, you MUST learn discretion, if we are to continue our special friendship," Barnabas said angrily. "We will BOTH come under suspicion."

"Okay, okay. I certainly don't want the bones of my OTHER hand broken as well," she replied, rubbing the hand made sore by her cousin.

At eleven, one of the pair of oaken doors at the entrance opened, and Jeremy entered with Pauline on his arm. Both were laughing, as the dark-haired girl imitated the actress in the movie they'd just seen. "Betcha you'd go for me if I wore some of 'Erin Brockovitch's' clothes, or maybe we should call them 'not-clothes'. There was little enough to them."

Jeremy replied, "Something tells me that there's someone ELSE for whom you'd like to wear 'not-clothes', but a sexy negligee, perhaps."

Pauline sighed, "I don't know WHERE you got that idea, Jer. I haven't seen anyone outside of the family for a long time."

"Well, I had a mother who was a psychiatrist. I often fancy I've inherited her intuition. But if you say you're not taken, I'm not going to argue. Though, given that we've just gotten back from a date, that Vicki is absent, and that your mother has longed for us to get together, it's a wonder that you don't want to entice me to further mischief."

"I'm just--just not feeling as well as I let on, Jer. I REALLY appreciate your taking me out, but that's as far as it goes. Vicki will get her man back, intact in his fidelity. Thanks anyway, Cuzz." Pauline kissed Jeremy on the cheek.

He gave her a brotherly hug, and whispered, "If you're REALLY feeling bad, you can come to me to talk about it. If you're sick, I'll make sure that you see a very good doctor, BETTER than myself, of course." Jeremy chuckled, and Pauline gave him a wan smile.

After his son left, Barnabas whispered to Amy, "I do not want to 'kiss' her right in the house, lest someone walk in and see us. I want you to think of some pretext to lure her to the veranda just outside, or onto the balcony. I promise I won't incapacitate her, just as I have done for you. At this point, I want her, and the family, to believe that all she has are spider bites, or whatever your explanation has been."

Amy was about to rise and join Pauline in the foyer, when the oaken door was unlocked again. A tall, slender man, dressed with a careless elegance, and who appeared to be in his late fifties, entered. The instant Pauline saw him, she whispered, "Quentin!" and flew into his arms.

"Paulie, Paulie," Quentin Collins admonished quietly, though he held her tightly, and kissed her hair. "We have to be careful not to be discovered!"

"I don't care! I missed you terribly while you were in Germany. I almost can't wait until we get to your room. I have to tell you something very important."

"If we go to my room, you and I WON'T be talking much at all," Quentin said with a lusty grin. "Maybe you'd better tell me now." He gazed into her berry-brown eyes.

Pauline looked up into HIS blazing blue eyes. "It's--it's too important. We need privacy. If we hurry, we won't run into Mummy or Daddy. Please?" She wore a serious expression.

"Okay, you win. I missed YOU, all those long nights in Berlin." He draped a long arm over her tiny shoulders, as they went up the long staircase, and down the long hall which led to his isolated
apartment in the West Wing of the mansion.

Back in the drawing room, Barnabas groaned. "This is worse than I thought. I had no idea she was QUENTIN'S lover!"

"Well, I don't live here on a regular basis, so it's a surprise to ME, too," Amy replied. "How revolting, given he's really her---let me think--- great-great-grand uncle. Still, what difference will THAT make, Barnabas?"

"All the difference in the world. . . As I know what QUENTIN is, so he knows, all too well, what I am, or rather, WAS, once. . . In the past, he even actively helped me to survive, and at a terrible cost, which included the life of his older brother. . . If I were to attack Pauline NOW, he would detect it in an instant. If he really cares for her, no doubt he WILL avenge any harm that comes to her. As he probably will, if he discovers what I have done to YOU."

"I don't believe he cares for ME, as much as he does for his whores," Amy pouted.

"Indeed, he DOES, Amy. You ARE his great-grand-daughter, his flesh and blood, far more than Pauline, even if neither of you can openly acknowledge the relationship. He lost his first family, partly due to his own fault, but, ultimately, because the knowledge of their existence was kept from him until it was too late. . . He killed his pathetic, crazy wife Jenny, lost their little son before he'd even seen the child, and lost the right to raise their daughter, your grandmother Lenore. . . Often enough, he's told me, what a comfort your existence is to him, especially after the death of poor Chris. . . He blamed himself for that, insofar as that he regretted summoning your family back to Collinsport, after Chris had done so well in the special hospital in Nebraska. But he HAS helped to look after you with love and pride, and I don't think there was ever a prouder great-grandfather, the day you graduated from Smith."

"It's hard to feel it, now that I know he's messing around with a 23-year-old airhead whom he's known since she was a drooling rugrat," Amy said resentfully. "But I'll be extra careful around him. What will YOU do now?"

"I'm not sure, but I had better leave now. Willie will, no doubt, be awaiting my return, but I need some fresh air for a while."
* * * * * * * * * * *

Quentin and Pauline arrived in his room without detection, as far as they knew. Quentin seized the girl and fell with her upon his king-sized bed. At first, they kissed and grabbed each other in a frenzy, tearing at each other's clothing. So it had been, since they had consummated several years' worth of hesitant flirtation, just three months earlier.

Afterward, Quentin calmly held Pauline, and finally asked her about her big news. "What, did you forget already, darling?" he teased.

"No, I didn't--didn't forget. I just wanted to feel that you still wanted me, that you would STILL love me and want me, after---"

"Pauline, don't start THAT conversation again. I care about you, I will treat you with as much respect as I can muster when we're both ready to move on, but Love and Marriage can't enter into it. Believe me, that's NOT how I want it, but that's my reality." My reality, Quentin thought bitterly, like the fact she's not my distant cousin, but the great-grand-daughter of my own nephew; and like that painting in the attic that does my aging for me, so that I had to get minor surgery done, and my hair bleached and silvered, so that I could appear to age, for as long as I choose to stay in this house. I don't WANT to leave here, and leave HER, but at some point, I won't be able to keep up the charade, and I'll have to go back to Europe, until this generation dies out and I can reappear as my own son. Until SHE dies. . . She who reminds me so much of Amanda, that it squeezes my heart in a hundred places. . .

And it was true. With everyone else, Pauline was flippant, shallow, occasionally cruel, but with Quentin, she was almost absurdly tender, even worshipful. From her earliest days, she had been fascinated with the handsome, lively, blue-eyed giant "cousin" who tossed her in the air and caught her, both laughing, every time, to the protest of her parents, who treated her like a fragile porcelain doll. When her Grandmother Elizabeth or David played the piano, and Quentin happened to be present, Pauline would sing. In spite of her lack of musical talent, Quentin would always embrace her, and tell her that she reminded him of someone very special to him, who sang for him, but who had "gone to heaven" years before. "But heaven is with YOU!" the four-or-five-year old would squeal with a childish sincerity that made the adults laugh indulgently.

Over the years, in spite of her parents' hopes for an eventual marriage with Jeremy, plus a battalion of admirers in high school and college, Pauline bided her time, even though she knew anything other than cousinly friendship was forbidden with this man of the world, who was old enough to be her father. Still, she initiated a phase of double-entendres and other gentle enticements, which he had joined in, albeit reluctantly. HE didn't want to cross the line, either--- he didn't want to lose the home and family whom he had missed for so many years. In spite of this resolve, three months ago, when they were finally alone in the house for once, she managed to break down his reservations. "Four generations is enough distance," Quentin told himself then. "Half the royalty of Europe are descended from uncles and nieces. And, by God, she DID save herself for me!"

And now, he was about to learn the price of that dedication. "Quentin," Pauline whispered, "I KNOW we've tried to be careful, but I've been--- umm---'late' for almost 3 weeks."

" 'Late'?" her lover asked incredulously. Actually, more than that; he sounded both angry--- and scared. "You mean you think you're--you're PREGNANT?"

"Well, yes," Pauline began to weep. "I bought 3 of those at-home tests, and got a 'plus' on every one of them. I'm sorry, Quentin. It's all my fault because I was afraid to take the Pill."

"No, it's MY fault--- I knew I should have avoided you that night, in fact, every night since you attained puberty. The temptation just became TOO much. My God! WHAT the HELL are we going to do?" He got out of the bed, and started pulling on his clothes. "I could sure use a drink right now. I have some sherry in my study. You want some?"

"Of COURSE not. I'm having your BABY, you heartless JERK!" Pauline cried. "I don't WANT to hurt it. And I WON'T get an abortion, even if you run away back to Germany and leave me to eat your dust." She collapsed into his pillows, her shoulders heaving with stormy sobs.

Quentin, contrite, knelt by the bed. Pauline flailed her fist at him, punching him in the jaw. He grabbed her hand, and forced her to sit up. "Pauline, listen to me! I DON'T hate you for this, and, whether you believe me or not, I DON'T hate the baby, either."

"Then marry me, and we'll have it," she whimpered. "My parents WILL get over it in time. They'll be happy when the grandchildren come, even if they're from you."

"Paulie, I WOULD marry you, and have the baby, under normal circumstances. But MY circumstances haven't been normal for some time. Listen to me. 100 years ago, my grandfather Quentin did a terrible thing that brought a terrible disease into his family, a curse of sorts, if you want to call it that. He was told that any male child of every descendant of his, would inherit this illness, the eldest tending to be afflicted more severely. It's an incurable disease that causes a murderous madness. His own oldest son died as a baby. Amy's brother Christopher got it, because he was a descendant of Quentin's daughter, and he was an eldest son. He had a younger brother who had it in a mild form, but if Tom had lived, it's probable that at HIS eldest son would have inherited the severe strain. That's why Amy didn't have children, either. I'm the son of a younger son of Quentin's, and, so far, I haven't shown any symptoms, but I don't want to take a chance. Even having a daughter would be no help, because HER sons are sure to be born with it. Don't you see, Paulie? We BOTH have to think long and hard about what the best thing, not only for ourselves and the baby, but others who might be injured by our children and our grandchildren."

"This is TOO hard to believe!" Pauline protested. "And so WHAT if there's mental illness in your part of the family? There's inbred crazies all over the Collins family tree. Besides, it's the year 2000--- there are all kinds of medicines and operations and therapies they can do now to help crazy people that couldn't be cured 100 years ago! Since we're so rich, we can get our baby whatever he or she needs to get well, or at least, not MURDER anybody. People don't ALL run out and abort babies who are going to be RETARDED. I DON'T see why we should abort OURS! I think YOU just wanted to USE me, and now that I'm pregnant, you just want to toss me aside!" Now SHE got up, and grabbed her clothes. "Well, I'm NOT going to stand for that. In the morning, I'm going to have a talk with Mummy and Daddy, and you're NOT going to stop me. But right now, I'm going out for a long ride."
* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Mom and Dad will really have my head on a platter for being out THIS late," Alice said, worriedly, "even though it's a 'approved' outing."

"We were ALL hungry after the concert," Vicki Shaw said, as her car sped along the old state highway between Orono and Collinsport. "You had an opportunity to call them at the diner, Alice, and you SHOULD have done so. As it is, MY cell-phone has to recharge. But we'll be at your house in about 20 minutes, at this rate. Maybe they're asleep."

"With little old ME out during a so-called major crime wave? Doubt it," the younger girl answered. There was another reason they might still be awake, she thought, and the thought made her blush. To take the edge off their disagreements, and in fact, the instant her parents thought she was sleeping, the steady-but-strained creak and wheeze of their bedsprings had often disturbed the household peace. She KNEW, and rejoiced, that her father's heart condition made such interludes less common, but both parents were unlikely to resist the temptation of having their good time while their child was out for the evening. And, afterward, her father's satisfied snores would be enough to keep her MOTHER up, at least--- she was probably sitting in the living room right this minute, drinking coffee with Aunt Christine, fretting with her over whether to wake up the paternal unit, and launch an all-points search.

* * * * * * * * * * *
It happened ALMOST that way. Harvey, his purpose thoroughly and joyfully accomplished without any hint of chest pain, cheerfully sawed away, loudly enough to wake the dead. His spouse, who, thus far, had NEVER fallen asleep while awaiting her daughter's return from ANY dates (though, techinically, this WASN'T a date), lay in the dark, listening and watching that clock with its big, red, accusing numbers. There had been something comforting about a regular clockface, with its hands embracing stretches of time in a whole, instead of punctuating every single minute with a blink. It was 11:30, already. The concert MUST be over by now, she thought. Perhaps Miss Shaw had dropped Alice and Elliot off at Collinwood, and they were together now, which WASN'T part of the plan, though both teenagers were quite capable of talking an otherwise sensible adult's head around.

Then she heard the front door open, slowly, as though the party was sneaking in. ALICE, thank God! Mary Beth thought, momentarily so grateful she was willing to let the inevitable lecture go until the morning. Then, there was a crash--- sounded like a lamp falling over! Mary Beth grabbed her gun, and cautiously edged her way toward the living room. Pretty stupid of an intruder to invade the Sheriff's house, and then make a bloody racket, but it happened. But when Mary Beth made her move, she saw CHRISTINE picking up the lamp, whose bulb had shattered. The latter looked up, and said "Sorry" with a sheepish grin, and a slur in her voice that Mary Beth had thought long gone.

"So I can see you had a post movie spree," she snapped. "Christine, you're DRUNK! My God, you haven't touched the stuff in five years! What brought THIS on?"

"What broughted-brought on that you should SHOOT me in our--your own home, Mar'bethff?"

"PLEASE, DON'T tell me you DROVE in this condition!"

"No-No-no-no-no, Sher'ff Ma'am. I called the taxi. I was at that Blue Whale. Boy, what a dive! But thass okay, 'cause I wasn' there for the ambience. Just good old-fashioned drinking in a good-old-fashioned 300-year old bar with good-old-fashioned sailor boys."

"I DON'T think we'll go there with the inquisition, Christine. Your sailor boys are YOUR business." Mary Beth led her friend to the couch, and said, gently as she could manage, "I'll make you some coffee, and we'll both sit up for a while. I'm waiting to pounce on my daughter the instant she walks in the door, but I DO want to talk about what YOU did."

A few minutes later, Christine's mind seemed to clear as she sipped Mary Beth's strong coffee.
"What do you PUT in this stuff?" she asked.

"Can't taste the raw egg and the Worcestershire sauce in there?" Mary Beth teased. "That's the ancient Lacey secret cure for both intoxication AND hangovers, all in one."

"EGG?" Christine studied the innocuous dark brew with a green-faced expression of imminent nausea.

"I'm just KIDDING. Please don't upchuck on my sofa!" Mary Beth said with rising panic.

"I'm okay, REALLY. Just too suggestible right now." Christine laid her head back and closed her eyes.

"So, Christine, how WAS the movie, or do you even remember?"

"I never got there," Christine admitted. "I got a call from a friend, and went to see him. Barnabas."

"We HEARD the phone! My God, Christine, you know what I think of that man! Even if he and Willie have
nothing to do with the weirdness in town, I don't think someone like that is right for you. He's old, he's sure to get sicker. It just happens like that. At least if you tried to find a guy closer to YOUR age, you might still get a few good years out of him before you BOTH start falling apart, like Harv and me."

"Guys my age don't WANT women my age, unless they're already stuck with one, no offense, Mary Beth," her friend snapped. "They want younger, prettier. . . To a man like Barnabas, I AM a younger woman. And we felt this really strong connection, right off the bat, not like anything I ever felt before. He even said I reminded him of his late wife, in a NICE way, and THAT, let me tell you, is pretty rare. But it's a moot point, anyway. I did what YOU wanted. I broke everything off with him, because I DO respect your intuitions, and I admit I have a few reservations of my own. It's not a normal situation up there. I thought I was well out of it, but it STILL hurts. Even at my age, breaking up is as bad as it was when I was a teenager, and with less excuse, since we didn't DO anything BUT make out like teenagers."

"That could be," Mary Beth suggested, "because NOW it's getting closer and closer to the 'last time' you'll do ANYTHING. It's like brackets, like the ones they put around someone's birth and death dates. The first and last time, they're the most vivid memories, especially when they have to do with love and children. This is the first time you can have a baby, now here's the last time. . . The first kiss, the last kiss. . . The first and last time Harvey and I, well, you know. . ." She got very red in the face. "WE haven't reached the last time quite yet, but I know, and HE knows, it's just around the bend."

"And you're STILL blushing like a bride, eh, Mary Beth? At least SOME things don't change. But you're right, I'm finally resigning myself to the fact that the search WILL soon be over, and I will NOT have found the prize, if indeed, marriage is a prize. My futile attempt to plumb THAT deep mystery is WHY I hauled off and drank with a host of Collinsport's Pop-eyes and Blutos."

"Then, stick with me," Mary Beth said earnestly, "and you can still help us solve the riddle of the dock stalker, ASSUMING he's not Barnabas or Willie. Maybe he was even THERE at the Blue Whale, chugging down some brewskis right next to you."

Christine laughed, "Scary thought, indeed, but then again, MAYBE he was looking for me at the Cineplex, hoping to catch me ogling Albert Finney before making his sinister moves!"

"I glad you can laugh now, and I'll be glad to join in, as soon as my daughter's safely in the house," her friend replied. Suddenly, Mary Beth heard another noise, and turned around. Harvey stood behind her, looking distressed. "Are you okay, Harv? Is your heart bothering you? Or are you just worried about Alice, too? You needn't right now, you can go back to sleep. Christine and I plan on holding down the fort for a while, yet, before calling out the cavalry."

"I had another dream," Harvey whispered fearfully. "Big black feathers falling from the sky, and covering Alice and the others in Vicki Shaw's car. The screaming was SO real. . . And now I see she's NOT home yet. When she gets home, I don't know if I want to hug her, or SMACK her first!"

Just then, the phone rang. Mary Beth picked it up with visible trepidation. Five minutes later, everyone was scrambling to leave the house.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Vicki was now driving near the turn-off that lead to Weeping Meadow Road, but passed it to continue toward the shortest route to the Lacey house--- Elliot would not be in nearly as much trouble as Alice, if he was brought home after his curfew. The car passed under some low-hanging maple branches, and Vicki turned up the brightness of the headlamps. There was a large dark something reeling back and forth in the air above the car, getting tangled in the thick maple branches. Suddenly, it swooped down, and CRASHED right onto the windshield of Vicki's car!

The surprise caused Vicki to veer off the road, and, as the two teenagers screamed in unison with their driver, she ran headlong into one of the maple trees!

Fortunately, all three were wearing seatbelts, and the car hadn't been going fast enough for the impact to make more than a major dent in the front end. Still, they were stranded at an uncomfortable distance from either Collinwood or the Laceys', and it would probably be at least an hour before one of the meager squadron of police cars made its rounds in the area.

"WHAT did I HIT?" Vicki cried in a daze. She had knocked the side of her head into her driver's window as the car spun off the road.

"Looked like a HUGE bat to me, Miss Shaw," Alice said. "God, I never saw one THAT big."

"Maybe it was a big hawk or a raven, or even a turkey, confused by some illness," Elliot suggested. "Anyway, it MUST be dead. But where could it have fallen?"

"If it was hit at 30 miles an hour, ANYWHERE," Alice, the animal lover, sniffled. "Poor thing, if it's still alive, it must be suffering. We'll have to call the emergency vet as soon as we get home. I HATE for animals to be put to sleep, but---"

"I wouldn't worry about THAT right now," Elliot said. Let's bail out of here--- the engine might ignite. At least, I SHOULD have a look at the situation. Fixing cars is one of my many hobbies."

Elliot helped his teacher and his girlfriend out of the car, then emptied the glove compartment. He found a flashlight there, and scooped up the car's important papers, just in case. He made Vicki sit on the ground, under Alice's guard, as he used the light to examine the damage. It wasn't as hopeless as they'd thought at first--- it looked like the front end MIGHT be replaceable, but the car would have to be towed. He declared, "While we're closer to MY house than yours, Alice, at least YOURS isn't at the top of a fog-shrouded hill. It will be easier to hike to. Let's see if we can get Miss Shaw on her feet."

The two helped their teacher up. At first both tried to lead her, but after a while, it seemed that Vicki moved more efficiently leaning on Elliot alone. So Alice led the way with the flashlight, and a thick branch that was lying on the roadside, for a weapon. They made their way for about a quarter-mile, when they jumped at the sound of rustling in the underbrush.

"It CAN'T be a human, he'd just pop out and ambush us," Alice whispered. "It COULDN'T be what hit Miss Shaw's car, could it?"

"I don't want to find out," Elliot gasped. "Let's keep moving." But Vicki balked--- she complained of dizziness. As the boy gently cajoled and argued, Alice saw what looked like a black wing under the bush. Maybe it WAS just a turkey? She parted the bush cautiously with her branch, maintaining what she thought was a safe distance.

She flashed the light at the largest, blackest bat she'd ever seen alive, not stuffed in the Natural History Museum! For THIS creature resembled nothing so much as a sleek black pteradactyl with a rat's face! Alice began to pant with terror, which she was SURE the "bat" could SMELL. She backed away slowly from the animal, which lurched on its tiny feet, dragging its shattered wing on the ground. It was shuffling right toward her stockinged ankles!

Elliot glanced at it, then HE looked frightened. "Alice! Miss Shaw! It looks RABID! We have to RUN!" He urged the now-roused Vicki along, with Alice covering their backs, and staring back into the creature's beady eyes. Elliot managed to get the teacher a couple of hundred feet away, but when he looked back for Alice, he heard her quivering wail of pain and fear!

He dropped the teacher on a grassy verge, then hurried back to see Alice futilely beating at the animal, which had somehow hopped up and attached itself to her leg, and was biting her on the thigh with sharp, shiny fangs. Elliot took up the branch, and whacked with all his might, but it was no use.

Just then, TWO cars, coming from opposite directions, pulled over. Out of one jumped Willie, who had something made of glittering metal in his hands. Out of the other, popped Pauline, who was punching "9-1-1" into HER cell phone as she ran to join the others. Willie, after casting a quick glance at Vicki, dashed up to the creature on Alice's leg, and HIT it with the metal object. The beast squealed with its own pain, and dropped off, but came after WILLIE now. Elliot had his hands full with the moaning Alice and still-dazed Vicki, so Pauline, inspired by hours of watching "Xena, Warrior Princess", had the mad idea of drawing the bat's attention so that Willie could deck it with the metal tool he was wielding.

She jumped in the creature's path, cutting it off from Willie, and signalled for him to circle around
behind it. The animal tried to fly again, and that was when Willie was able to jump upon it, and pinned it with what Pauline could now clearly see was a Crucifix. How odd, she thought, was the the ONLY thing he had in his car? A tire iron, or a big flashlight would have been a better choice! Still, it seemed to do the trick--- It appeared that Willie had calmed the bat or vulture or whatever the Hell it was, and was trying to pick it up, an odd thing to do with a possibly rabid wild animal. But the beast SLAPPED Willie with its unbroken wing, leapt from his arms, and headed for the underbrush. It was making soft, angry noises, almost like CURSING! Pauline couldn't believe her ears, but within a minute, the beast had, seemingly, vanished, as the welcome sight of the Police cars, an ambulance, AND the Sheriff's car came into view.

Pauline went to join them--- she could see Sheriff AND Mr. Lacey AND their friend Christine descend upon the injured girl, as the paramedics tried to console them AND do their job. Then, she saw Willie inside his car, hiding the Crucifix, and getting out his metal flashlight. There was some reason he didn't want the Sheriff to know that he'd subdued the horrible bat-thing with a silver Cross, but it occurred to her, what a strange coincidence that he'd been at the right place at the right time, almost as if he KNEW something was going to happen. Then she felt a hand on her arm, and looked into the sorrowful face of her cousin Jeremy.

She wondered why HE was here--- he had gone home from their date, hadn't come to join the ambulance crew. He tugged her arm, and led her to his car, where it was hidden from the sight of the others. A rhinestone-encrusted pendant lay on the front seat. He picked it up, and dangled it from its chain, before her eyes.

"Jeremy, are you all right?" she asked. "What are you doing with your mother's old necklace?"

"Because--- because I KNOW you saw, or heard something you shouldn't have. Everyone else is confused and upset and probably won't put two and two together. This is for your own safety."

"I don't understand!" she yelped. "All I saw was Willie hitting that monster with a Crucifix. What a wierd thing to use as a weapon! And the monster whacked him, then skittered away. It made some mad little noises--- funny, they sounded almost like cuss words, but that's nonsense. The cops are looking for it now, I'm sure. They're probably going to find it and kill it to test for rabies."

"No, they won't find it. And IT won't find you. Look into the center of the pendant."

"I WON'T! What are you trying to do, hypnotize me? What a laugh!" Pauline STOPPED laughing when she felt a needle stabbing her arm. "What--what was THAT for?" she asked, as a veil of drowsiness came over her.

Jeremy's voice suddenly sounded a lot like his father's, as he murmurred insistently, "So you can concentrate upon what you MUST. There's no other way." He swung the pendant before her eyes again.

"Baby. . . You're gonna. . . hurt my baby. . . Gonna have a baby. . ."

Jeremy's ears pricked up at this news, but he continued, "If there's a baby, it will be fine. Just do
what I tell you, and you won't have to get ANOTHER shot. This will all be like a dream. . ."

Five minutes later, he sent her back to the scene of the incident. Nobody had seemed to notice she was gone, but when she appeared, Sheriff Lacey, though her dark eyes were brimming with tears and her voice was shaky, shook Pauline's hand. "Everybody told me what you did," she sobbed. "You---and Willie---were SO brave to lure that---that THING away from my baby."

"Baby. . ." Pauline muttered. "Oh, yes, I'm--I'm sorry I couldn't have done more. Did they find it yet? Willie hit it pretty hard with--with his flashlight."

"I HOPE it's dead, but, more than that I HOPE we find it. Otherwise Alice is going to need rabies shots. They're not as horrible as they were in MY day, but still, it's pretty heavy-duty medicine.
Though something tells me, an animal that survived getting hit by a car may well have survived a flashlight-case blow." The Sheriff's husband came up to her, and whispered, "The ambulance is ready to leave, Mary Beth."

She shot him a look of resentment. "It's--it's YOUR fault she's hurt in the first place--- you INSISTED she would be safe---"

"Honey, this is NOBODY'S fault, it just happened. It was an ACCIDENT. This wasn't some psycho, it was an injured ANIMAL. We can talk about this later, at the hospital." Harvey laid his arm over his weeping wife's heaving shoulders as they headed for the ambulance. There was room for only one parent, so Mary Beth got in, and left Christine to drive the broken-hearted Harvey, behind the ambulance.

But before she left, Christine studied Pauline carefully. "It WAS just an animal, wasn't it?" she asked the younger woman.

"Oh, absolutely," Pauline replied. "Just a huge bat, that's all. Must have blown in from Canada.
EVERYTHING is bigger in Canada, the wildlife, I mean."

"Canada. Right," Christine said as she got into the Sheriff's car. "Good thing I didn't go THERE, and stayed down HERE, instead. By the way," she said, as she started the engine,
"I heard about your fancy footwork earlier. Maybe you should consider police work as a career."

"Oh, no, police people need really good memories. Mine's fuzzier than a ball of lint."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

PART SEVEN--- Sunday, April 16, 2000 (A)

Mary Beth and Harvey paced around the waiting room. "Why didn't they let me go IN with her?"
the anxious mother railed.

"Because there are some things that even a mother shouldn't see, in the event that she should try to tell the doctors how to do their jobs," Harvey replied as calmly as he could. He was stabbed by guilt that he had listened to Willie's plans. Maybe it was all a set-up--- he knew his wife would likely think the same thing, but Harvey didn't WANT to believe that Willie would think up a plan that might injure his OWN daughter. And why hurt Elliot Collins, for that matter?

The boy was here now--- after a quick once-over by a staff doctor, the hospital finally believed what Elliot had told them, that he was fine. But HIS father, David, when he saw the youth's terrible anxiety over Alice's condition, decided to sit and wait it out with his son. And, within minutes, another anxious mother arrived, Maggie Evans Shaw. Vicki was having X-rays taken. Everyone sat, tense and quiet, though Maggie spoke a little to Christine in low tones.

Finally, Dr. Heard emerged from Alice's cubicle. He pulled the Laceys to a corner. Christine joined them. When he said "Mom and Dad only," Mary Beth admonished, "Christine here is almost a member of the family. And she's a special investigator with years and years of experience, which I'll probably need in dealing with this situation, since I can hardly be objective right now." She choked on a sob.

Christine said, "So tell all of us, and I can relay whatever is relevant, to Job and the others."

Dr. Heard said, "I don't know why we need a lot of police work for animal attacks."

Harvey said, "I read that in some city in Connecticut, there was a pack of wild dogs tearing up the neighborhood. The police actually staked them out and cornered them, like a gang of crooks, until they got a shot at the leader of the pack. So, YEAH, if my wife has to call out the National Guard to hunt this monster down, this BEAST who tried to kill OUR LITTLE GIRL, then that's EXACTLY what we're gonna do!"

"Well, you may have a point. It's time you had a good look at Alice's injury. It IS suspiciously similar to the one on Jerusha Kane's throat." Dr. Heard led the trio into the examination cubicle.

Alice lay on the table, covered to her chin, her very long hair gathered in a surgical-type cap. Her face was blotched from crying. A nurse, who had been watching her, darted out of the tiny room. Dr. Heard gently and modestly raised the sheet over Alice's left leg, to expose the twin wounds low on her thigh. "As you observe, they're still bleeding, and we will bandage them up," he said. "Though I believe the bandages will have be changed frequently. For such tiny wounds, they've already leaked a lot of blood, but just under what I would consider the limit for a transfusion. We gave her medication to speed clotting, but it hasn't taken effect so far."

"Why aren't there stitches?" Mary Beth demanded..

"If examined closely, they're really too small to stitch--- two tiny sutures wouldn't hold back the bleeding anyway," the doctor explained.

"Is there a photographic record of this injury?" Christine asked.

"We'll take a picture if you think we need one.," he said.

"You measured the distance between those toothmarks?" she inquired.

"Already did," the doctor replied. "This critter had a big mouth, I must say. There's about an inch and a half span here. Just like the bite on Candy."

"The Sheriff's office will be expecting your lab report on blood tests, tests on any saliva, etc."

"Of course, but the lab won't be open here till 6A.M., because this is a small facility, and right now, we're short a couple of technicians. Unless you want it taken to Bangor Hospital, but that's a long trip by itself. I assure you, the samples ARE properly stored and under lock and key. I WELL remember a rash of similar incidents 30 or more years ago, where Dr. Woodard's samples were stolen." Doctor Heard turned to the Laceys. "Since the rabies injections are no longer as painful and dangerous as they used to be, I usually start them right away, when it's clear the animal won't be found. So be careful, Alice's arm is probably a bit sore."

"A LOT sore," the girl protested, "but I know, at least it's not a needle in the solar plexus." She turned to her parents. "I'm sorry, Mom, Dad, Aunt Christine. Look, even when I TRY to do the right thing, it gets screwed up." She started to cry again.

Mary Beth cradled Alice's head to her breast. "WE know, honey, but at least there WERE people around to help you, unlike that poor Candy girl. And we know it's an animal, not a 'bad man'. Something like that could get you in our own back yard, I guess."

"How are Miss Shaw and--and Elliot? Can I see him, or is he gone by now?"

Harvey said, "He's still here. The doc gave him a clean bill, but he wanted to see how you were. There's no real reason he can't at least SEE you're better. As for your Miss Shaw---"

"Maggie said they thought she had a minor concussion", Christine replied. "That'll make two of you who'll have to stay here for a day or so, I guess. I'll step out now, and let your young man in."

Elliot, his usual self-confident composure shattered, sped in, and grabbed Alice's hand dramatically. "I was SO afraid for you, Alice," he began. "It was a lot like things I read in the books my late great-uncle wrote. You should be in a room full of garlic, with crosses galore."

Alice stroked his face, not caring what her parents thought. "Oh, Elliot, it was just a big old bat, not Dracula! But thanks for everything you did. And thank your cousin Pauline for me. And Mr. Loomis. That animal ruined my red dress, though."

"I'll buy you a closetful! Just get better for me--- US." Tears ran down Elliot's face. "I love you," he whispered.

"Love you too." For the first time since her parents had been in the room, Alice smiled.

Mary Beth was too overcome to make the sharp comments she would have, under normal circumstances. They barely knew each other for a week, and ALREADY they were tossing around words like "love" and "Us"---! Instead, she was touched by the scene. The boy was displaying, in HER opinion, the correct attitude--- rather like Harvey in a similar situation. Maybe this rich boy---poor, well, middle-class-girl thing COULD work.

But Elliot's remarks about Dracula DID make an impression on the woman standing just outside the door. Christine thought, maybe it would repay to have a look at the late Professor Stokes's books, and to have Job help her question Candy Kane. Maybe there was some detail BOTH victims missed in the heat of the moment--- maybe this bat, or whatever it was, was specially trained to attack on command? She turned from the cubicle, and was surprised to see WILLIE there, huddled with Maggie. They spoke in low whispers, but she could hear Maggie saying, "Not your fault. You tried to help. . ."

Now, what was THAT all about? Obviously, Maggie, and the Laceys and the Collinses owed Willie a debt of gratitude for his part in fending off the animal, but he'd also lost it before it could be tested for rabies. Still, Maggie COULD have thanked him more voluably. WHY this peculiar closeness? Christine found it hard to believe they were romantically involved, now or ever. Yet they were acting almost like estranged parents united by concern over a beloved child. Strange place, this Collinsport, where a kidnapper and his former victim would be commiserating over a threat to her daughter.
* * * * * * * * * * * *

David had brought his son home, and, after a talk with Hallie, Elliot fell into bed, with his mother's official absolution from attending church the next morning. David, however, had other anxieties plaguing him, and had been awaiting the arrival home of his cousin Quentin. So he rose early, and came downstairs to the drawing room. He was astonished to see Quentin there, dressed in his pajamas and a robe, drinking coffee and eating a croissant. "My God, when did YOU get home?" David asked.

"Why, I came in just now. I figured, since I WAS taking the red-eye flight, I might as well travel in my night attire," Quentin answered sarcastically. Then he noticed the circles under his cousin's eyes, and his general air of sadness. "I'm sorry I was so flip, David. I actually arrived about eleven last night. Nobody was around, so I went straight to bed. I figured that what I had to tell you could wait till morning. Is something the matter? Is it Hallie?"

"No, no, SHE'S fine. I don't know how she does it. Act of faith, I guess. She has enough for both of us. No, there was a terrible incident last night, in fact there have been at least two so far. Two young women attacked, like incidents I remember from 30 years ago. And one of them was the new Sheriff's own daughter!" David related what he knew about Candy's and Alice's attacks. "Candy---I mean Jerusha Kane, she works in the Cannery with her mother and her fiancee--- insisted she was attacked by a man, but everyone SAW what bit Alice Lacey--- a huge bat-like thing! Yet the marks, I'm told, WERE similar. But we had some heroism from unexpected quarters---" Just then, the bell rang at the great oaken doors. Quentin went to answer them.

A thin, well-dressed, big-haired brunette woman with a face full of dimples stood on the granite step, holding a microphone. A small army of techinicians with video cameras, lights, and other television equipment stood behind her. "Good morning," the woman said brightly. "I know YOU are Quentin Collins. I am Penelope Ferreira of WBAM Action News,and I wonder if I could speak to Miss Pauline Collins?"

"WHY would YOU want to speak with PAULINE?" Quentin thundered. Oh my God, he thought, she's been talking to the media. Tony and Carolyn will have the shotgun and the J.P. all ready for me in no time.

"Well, our viewers would be interested to hear HER story of how she and a Mr. William Loomis managed to rescue the daughter of Collinsport's new sheriff from a terrible animal attack. We just came from the Old House where Mr. Loomis resides, but a Dr. Jeremy Collins who answered the door, said he's being treated for stress at home, and couldn't speak to us, so it's just going to be Miss Collins at this point." Ms. Ferreira shot Quentin a puzzled glance. "What, you don't KNOW about what happened last night?"

"Well, I was out of the country until late last night. My cousin David has just been filling me in on the series of attacks themselves, but he didn't quite get to the part where Pauline saved the day. Or the night. Whatever. Anyway, I'm sure SHE'S sleeping off the stress right about now, since I haven't seen her yet. Look, why don't you all go back to the studio, and we'll call when she's ready to make a statement?"

"WHY are you speaking for ME, Quentin?" Pauline stood at his elbow. She was already dressed up, to help David take the younger children to First Congregationalist, since Hallie could barely move, and wanted to stay near Elliot, anyway.

"Oh. . . Pauline," Quentin said a little sheepishly. "I thought you were still sleeping after your--your big ordeal last night."

"Well, poor Elliot--- that's my cousin, the boy who was with Miss Lacey and Miss Shaw," Pauline explained to the reporter, "HE'S overtired because he stayed at the hospital until Miss Lacey seemed to be on the mend, or so I was told. I hope you don't bother him too much, he's a very sensitive young man who had a big shock." She went on and on, rambling about how she conceived the plan to help Willie, "one of our most faithful family retainers", drive the beast away. "I'm SURE it's dead--- he really gave it a good smack. It probably fell into a ditch or something."

Quentin could tell that the reporters were eating it all up, not that Pauline wasn't getting a bang out of feeding it to them. He left her to chat with them, hoping that she would tell HIM the truth when they were alone. Imagine, she had the nerve to accuse him of threatening their unborn child just because he's offered her a glass of brandy, and a half-hour later, she was out battling nature's fury. He returned to David. "So Pauline is the superheroine she's always longed to be! Amazing. She's never been that brave, that I could see. And working with WILLIE, of all people! Why, she despises him!"

"I don't get it myself. But then, I don't understand why SHE was out at that hour. She had just gotten home from a date with Jeremy---"

"JEREMY!" Quentin hoped he sounded more contemptuous than outraged, but he WAS outraged, to his own surprise. Perhaps the little minx wasn't the innocent newcomer to sex that she made herself out to be, he thought. Maybe the pregnancy was Jeremy's doing?

"Oh, yes, he took her out just this once, as Vicki had plans with Elliot and the Lacey girl. Really odd, I thought, since I didn't think Pauline and Jeremy really got along all that well, no matter WHAT Carolyn might be hoping for. But the strangest part is, how WILLIE happened to be Johnny-on-the-spot. I mean, he's an old man, why would HE be out so late, and what if BARNABAS needed him?"

Suddenly, Quentin had a terrible thought, then squelched it. Barnabas--- nonsense! He had been free of the old curse for nearly 30 years! How, and WHY, would it come back? ANGELIQUE hadn't been around, not even her spirit, and Jeb Hawkes, who'd inflicted the last version of the curse, was so long gone, even his widow Carolyn probably remembered little about him. And why put a curse on an elderly man, anyway? "I'm not sure, maybe Barnabas needed a prescription from the 24-hour pharmacy at the Eagle Superstore. Anyway, Willie WAS there, and the young lady WILL recover, I presume. Now, WE have to talk about the Samwell business. Is Tony at home right now?"

"I don't know. He's been taking quite a few business trips lately. Carolyn gets peeved, but well, innocent until proven guilty, eh?" David smirked.

"TONY? Mr. Straight-Arrow? Having an AFFAIR? Oh, please. I'd sooner believe that Pauline is going to join a convent!" Quentin began to laugh, a loud braying sound that always had an edge of hysteria in it. He had a vague boyhood memory of his Grandmother Edith saying, "You and Carl are SO unlike, but when one of you LAUGHS in another room, I CAN'T tell who's doing it until I get in there." Carl. . . what a strange time to think of his long-dead brother! But he was always there, on the edge of memory, especially when Quentin had indulged in some activity that brought on guilt. Such as his recent behavior with Pauline, of whom he WAS fond, but about whom he was now callously joking.

"To tell you the truth, I really DON'T know," David admitted. "If Carolyn chooses to turn this into a crisis, though, I suppose I WILL have him tailed. But I'd hate to lose such a good family lawyer!" Now HE chuckled, albeit uneasily. Tony had long since come into possession of the knowledge of many Collins Family secrets, including business secrets. Makes us sound like the Mafia, David fretted mentally, but there WERE a few such less-than-honorable incidents in the recent history of the corporation. Some of them were simple foolish mistakes, such as the one which had allowed Timothy A. Samwell to gobble a lot of the European holdings. This had caused a lack of confidence in Collins enterprises across the board, which David had attempted to remedy with forging ahead on his plans to modernize the company town, beginning with the appointment of a highly-recommended woman police officer to the Sheriff's post. And now, what a bust THAT was turning out to be, if she couldn't even keep her own daughter from peril!

"Well, we'd better bang on their apartment door." Like Quentin, the Petersons had their own suite of rooms in the great mansion. "I'll go get the papers from my suitcase."

David did as advised, and soon, both Tony and Carolyn, dressed for church as well (he was on the Church board of advisors, and she was the women's group president), joined the cousins in the drawing room. Quentin, STILL lounging in his sleepwear, handed Tony a sheaf of envelopes. "One, as Carolyn probably told you after our conversation Wednesday night, is, apparently, a will, to be read as soon as possible. The others are documents for the transfer of assets. Samwell's last requests were very specific, although nobody knows why WE are part of his will. And, quite frankly, neither do I. I'm just the messenger boy, after all."

Tony perused the will, and suddenly looked shocked. "Well, I think you're all in for some bizarre surprises here. I'd read it now, but it seems that Hallie, Willie Loomis and Maggie Shaw need to be present. Carolyn, if you don't mind, we'd better skip church. I'll call Willie and Maggie."

"Oh, Tony, you haven't heard," Quentin smirked. "Willie's being treated for 'stress' after abusing some local wildlife last night. At least, that's why he couldn't talk to the luscious-but-smarmy Ms. Ferreira."

Tony answered without any sarcasm, "Nobody is under so much stress that he wouldn't be up to hearing that he's been named in a billionaire's will."

David said, "I'll tell Pauline to hurry up with Ferreira's gang. She and Marisol can take the children. I know Marisol prefers to go to her own church around now, but they hold late services at St. Ann's, noon and 5 o'clock. She can go to whichever one she wants."

As the two men left on their errands, Carolyn asked Quentin, "What's this about REPORTERS?"

Quentin explained, then said, "I can't WAIT to see the WBAM Afternoon news!"

Within an hour, Maggie and Willie, both curious and quite upset (Maggie hadn't wanted to leave Vicki alone at the hospital) snuck around to a back entrance through a small, seldom-noticed tower in the west wing to avoid any TV people still in the vicinity, sat in the Collins drawing room to hear the last will and testament of the eccentric Timothy A. Samwell.

Tony began, " 'I, Timothy A. Samwell, being of sound mind, do hereby declare that this is NOT my real name. It is not my birth name, nor is it an adoptive name, as I was not adopted. When I came into being, I was given but one name, for which I have used an initial these last 32 years, all I can remember of existence, though I have always had a good memory. The 'A' stands for a name you may recall very well, perhaps even feared. For I am the scarred, giant freak you knew as ADAM."

At this, everybody but Tony and Quentin gasped. "Who WAS this 'Adam'?" the latter asked simply. "Why is this so upsetting?"

"He killed my father, who had tried to befriend him!" Maggie cried.

"He almost killed ME, for picking on him!" Willie panted.

"I thought he was going to kill ME, but he ended up saving me," David said in a faraway voice.

"He had an obssession with me, and even tried to hurt Tony, though at that time, we were breaking up" Carolyn whispered, "but I DID learn to get along with him. Okay, I admit it--- we became very, er, 'fond' of each other. But Adam had too many problems, and I was kind of relieved when he disappeared."

"THAT is not the man I remember at all," declared Hallie, who made her slow progress into the room, and eased herself into her chair. "Timothy--- Adam as you knew him--- was a true gentleman of whom my late uncle thought highly, so highly that he arranged a secret meeting between us, apparently hoping that we might eventually be attracted enough to marry. It didn't work out quite that way--- I liked Timothy and saw through his physical defects to the real person inside, but I was already on the verge of getting engaged to David. It was hard to let Timothy down, as he took his fondness for me VERY seriously."

"So seriously, it seems, he was out to destroy Collins Enterprises!" David snarled. "Well, go on with this charade. Let's see how Adam, the Patchwork Man, has screwed us, even though he's dead, and, presumably, buried."

Quentin said, "But he's NOT buried, David. That was part of what I brought back to the USA. His body, mutilated by his accident and his autopsy, now reposes in a cryogenic preservative cylinder outside of Bangor, in the care of a cult that believes in the eventual resurrection of dead persons. If you'd like to visit the Society---"

"That's enough!" David roared. "Go on, Tony!"

Tony read, " 'My first thought, as always when thinking of my eventual mortality, is to help those whom I have injured, whether I meant to or not, in the early days of my life. First and foremost, half my estate has gone into a trust fund has been set aside for the continued benefit of the widow and children of former Collinsport Deputy Edward Riggs, whose paralysis and subsequent premature death were my doing, when he interfered with my escape from Collinsport jail. Though he taunted me, I soon realized he just didn't understand, and also, that his family shouldn't have had to suffer for his ignorance--- and MINE. Since coming into my prosperity, his long hospitalization and funeral, his home mortgage, taxes, insurance, repairs, etc. have been paid for, on my account. His children have gone to college at my expense, and have done well for themselves. His widow, Margaret, who never remarried, is now being supported in her old age by this trust fund. So long as money can be found to maintain it, the Riggses will be able to draw on it.

'Now, to my other heirs. Never having found a woman to compare with those I knew and loved in youth, I have remained childless, and lacking other siblings, have decided to help more people whom I have injured in Collinsport. Toward that end, I hereby divide the balance of my estate, including the Collins holdings, into equal shares, amongst the following persons:

'Elliot Jamison Collins, eldest son of Hannah Lousie Stokes Collins, who, though I will always feel sorry that he could not have been my son, was a favorite of my friend and teacher, professor Timothy Elliot Stokes, whose memory I choose to honor in this fashion. Also, to prove to David Collins that I bear no ill will toward himself and his wife.

'Pauline Elizabeth Collins, daughter of Carolyn Stoddard Collins Peterson, who was the first special woman I had ever known, and who nearly gave her life for me on one occasion, and Anthony Peterson, whom I unjustly assaulted.

'Victoria Samantha Shaw, daughter of Margaret Evans Shaw, whose father, Samuel Evans, WAS my friend, though I over-reacted when he tried to defend his daughter, and gave him the injuries that caused his death. I have suffered bottomless remorse over this, and hope to bring about closure, if not healing, to the sufferings I caused for Margaret.

"And to William Hollinshead Loomis, a share to be distributed to anyone he considers an heir, as he has thus far not fathered any children himself, so far as my investigators have been able to determine. He hurt me, and I hurt him, but I don't consider him all to blame for this, though he provoked the incident that led to my assault on Samuel Evans. He has until a month after the reading of this will to choose an heir, so long as it is not Jeremy Collins, the son of Barnabas Collins, nor Barnabas himself. If not, this share will be divided amongst the others'."

Everybody slowly digested this information. Willie glanced at Maggie, mouthing the words "for Vicki", but Maggie shook her head. Accepting this legacy was going to be hard enough, though at least, Vicki's future would be assured, and she would bring her share back to the Collinses when she married Jeremy anyway. But to have Willie make an open gift of his share, to their daughter--- Maggie didn't want to face the explanations she would have to make. She had a powerful craving to get back to the hospital to be with Vicki, and, after signing some of the transfer papers, took them with her to the hospital, for her daughter's signature.

David said, "This is peculiar--- Samwell, I mean ADAM, bought those shares just so he could give them back again? I will NEVER understand this."

"I guess he wanted to make sure the shares wouldn't be traded to a disinterested party," Tony shrugged. "This way, at least 3 quarters will stay in the Collins family, that is, if Vicki goes through with marrying Jeremy. And if Willie can't settle on an heir, then it will be in thirds."

"Well, I won't begrudge HIM his share, though I can't imagine who he'd give it to."

Quentin warned, "It had better be to someone the other heirs won't mind dealing with. I believe that's the catch of this legacy--- No doubt this Adam had hopes of nuturing his investment and making it grow before the ball came back into our court. As it is, the separate shares will have to be developed by at least three, and possibly four, very different individuals. I guess setting Collins against Collins and former servants against town people is his revenge."
* * * * * * * * * * *

Quentin took advantage of the lull following the reading of the will, to collar Willie in a corner and ask him the dreaded question. "Willie, for the love of God, if you still believe in Him--- WAS it Barnabas who attacked the Lacey girl? I've been going over this in my mind, and I think your all-too-convenient presence last night confirms it. Though why you let PAULINE get involved---"

"NO!" Willie gasped. "It WASN'T Barnabas! And as for how Pauline got mixed up in it--- all I can think of is how she used to whine for those damn 'Wonder Woman' and 'Supergirl' comics, and when her folks refused to buy them, she'd get ME to do it. She's got a head full of that junk from TV, too. Not that I'm not grateful, you understand. Though why was SHE out last night?"

"Willie, stop evading the REAL question! If I went back with you to the Old House RIGHT NOW, at NOON, would Barnabas be up and ready to speak with me?"

"He's out for the day. He had an appointment down the coast."

"No matter what you say, Willie, I'm going to get dressed NOW, and I intend to find out if you're telling the truth.. You wait here." Quentin went to change, and 10 minutes later, he accompanied Willie like prison guards conduct condemned prisoners to execution. All the way, he couldn't miss that his companion was shaking with anxiety. When they arrived at the Old House, Willie's trembling hands kept fumbling with the keys.

"WILLIE," Quentin snapped, "Let me in that house THIS INSTANT, or I'LL call the Sheriff! Or is Jeremy still here, ready to bar my way?"

"No, no, he went down to the hospital. Doc Heard wanted to see him." Willie managed to unlock the doors without further procrastination.

Quentin rushed past him, and ran into every room, calling Barnabas's name. Then he came back into the parlor. "Well, I think I SHOULD check the cellar," he said angrily. "After all, it's pretty soundproofed down there, he might not be able to hear us, ESPECIALLY if he's inside his coffin. Or is it in the 'secret' room behind the bookcase? Perhaps, then, in the attic, hidden among some old trunks?"

"He's---he's not!" Then the phone rang. Quentin made a move to answer it, but Willie held him until the answering machine came on.

The recording to answer was in Barnabas's rich baritone, politely advising the caller to leave name, phone number, and brief message. What sounded almost funny, was when the voice calling in was Barnabas's--- though crackling and very distant-sounding, as though he'd made a bad connection. "Willie or Jeremy," he said, "if you're there, don't bother to pick up, just make a note that I'm in Kennebunkport with one of the Bush family, to discuss my making a contribution to young George's campaign. I'll see you around sev---"

Quentin broke from Willie's grasp, and snatched up the receiver. By the time he activated it and said, "Hello, Barnabas---" the other end clicked off. Even so, he wasn't satisfied--- he recalled enough of his cousin's old tricks from years gone by, just given new life thanks to the wonder of modern electronics. Barnabas HAD sounded so distant on the phone line--- if he was, indeed, back to being one of the Undead, ANY voice recording would sound as distant as Eagle Hill cemetery, for it WAS similar to recordings allegedly made of spirit voices.

"Well, Willie, it seems Barnabas has pulled it off, once again. Since I doubt you'll allow me into your cellar, or your attic, or your secret room, I'll just saunter over here tonight around seven, and see him for myself. I KNOW he won't lie to ME. Please believe me, when I say I WON'T turn either of you in. We'll just have to find a cure for his problem, if there IS a problem."

"One more time, Quentin, there is NO problem. You'll see," Willie replied.

Quentin left the Old House, and back to the Great House. Hopefully, Pauline would be back from church, and he could try to have a more sensible talk with her. He found her on the patio, leaning over the short rail, looking pensive. There being nobody else around, he snuck up behind her and kissed her gently on the back of her neck. She stiffened, rather odd for her. "So," Quentin whispered, "Xena the Pregnant Princess kicked some butt last night, I heard. And to think, all I wanted to do was give you a little sip of spirits to lift YOUR spirits." Now he sounded angry, and pulled her around to face him. "Just what the HELL were you thinking about, Paulie? That creature could have killed YOU, AND this little tadpole in your belly that you already treasure so much!"

At first, Pauline seemed dazed. "Tadpole?" she asked, blankly. Then her mind seemed to get in
gear. "Oh, you mean--- the baby! Sorry, I was so lost in thought, I almost forgot!"

"Forgot?" Quentin asked incredulously. "Why, I half-expected your parents to descend upon me at some point today, threatening to toss me off the estate for violating the treasure they were saving for Jeremy Collins! How could you FORGET that you're PREGNANT with MY child?"

"Well, YOU weren't all that concerned, so why should I be?" Pauline asked rhetorically, with little heat. "I've been thinking, though, whatever you want me to do, I'm sure it's for the best."

There really WAS something wrong here, her lover thought--- last night she'd been all passion and then, injured motherhood. Now, she might as well be sleepwalking to an abortion clinic. It didn't make sense, and Quentin wasn't going to push this option on a woman who was in such a fuzzy state. He began to wonder if she hadn't been bitten after all--- she was certainly behaving like a vampire's victim. However, he could make out no marks on her throat above the lacy collar of her dress, her arms below the three-quarter-length sleeves, or on her smooth, dark-stockinged legs below the knee-length hemline. "Pauline, I want to take you up to my room and---and see if you're okay. See if you've been bitten anywhere."

"Bitten? How silly. If I'd been bitten, I would be in the hospital with Alice Lacey, because that animal was NOT the type to give little love bites," Pauline smiled vaguely. "But if you want me to put on a little peep show before luncheon, I'll do it. Anything for you, my love."

"Now THAT'S something you never called me before," Quentin smiled back, though he was full of dark suspicion. "I know I never want you to talk about 'love', per se, but it DOES sound friendlier than what you said last night. It reminds me of what someone used to call me, years and years ago."

"The girl whom you loved, who went to Heaven?"

"One of the many, I'm afraid. You know what a FOSSIL I am." He squeezed her waist. "And Paulie, forget what I said last night. I will abide by whatever YOU decide about the baby. I DO have a soft spot for children, and maybe you're right about modern medicines for mental problems."

"Thank you, but we won't think about it this minute. Come on, I'm getting a little excited already." Pauline pulled Quentin in throught the French doors, towards the stairs.

They didn't see Amy, who had sat quietly on a bench, out of sight, the whole time, listening. And getting angrier by the minute, so that she almost couldn't contain herself. "SHE gets to have his baby, HIM who's the 'leader of the pack', for God's sake! But 'NO, Amy, you CAN'T have a baby wolf boy Collins heir'! That BASTARD. And HIS bastard. And the tramp BITCH who's whelping for him! I'll show HIM. I'll show THEM."
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Dr. Heard was reviewing preliminary results of the lab tests with Mary Beth, Christine, and Job.
"As you can see here, there's a strong similarity between the cells we found on both Alice and Candy. It's animal, though what kind, is anybody's guess without DNA tests. Everybody thinks it was a bat, yet there are NO bats that size in Maine, in the whole USA, not in the whole WORLD. Buzzards and turkeys, of course, DON'T have teeth at all. I'm thinking, maybe it's a simian of some kind, disguised and trained to bite on command--- that MIGHT explain why Candy thought her attacker was human, but smaller monkeys don't have TEETH like that. Unfortunately, we have no fur or feather samples to examine--- everyone's fingernails and clothes were free of them, I can't understand it!. As for the necrotic cells here, trying to link up with healthy red corpuscles--- I need DNA testing on them. That's expensive, and takes some time."

"We KNOW that," Mary Beth said. "However, since it seems this beast---and his or her master---
may well prey on others in this area, we have nothing to lose. If money's the big problem, I'm sure Mr. Collins would supplement whatever's allocated in the Sheriff's budget for testing. After all, HIS son could have gotten hurt. So, Sheriff's orders--- get things rolling. And when will Alice be able to come home?"

"As soon as we have the bleeding under control, Sheriff--- Mrs. Lacey. Like I said, it's just a trickle, but it's like a stigmata, and COULD lead to anemia. Just one more night, and then bed rest and foods rich in vitamins, especially LIVER, and iron---"

"Uggh!" Mary Beth said, "Alice is a vegetarian. A DEVOUT vegetarian!"

"Then, you'll have to consult the hospitial dietician. I hope your daughter likes spinach and broccoli--- LOTS and LOTS of it, those vegetables are rich in iron, that much I DO know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have Jeremy Collins coming in pretty soon."

"What, to consult on Alice's case?" the Sheriff asked. "I didn't know such a young fellow was an EXPERT in anything quite yet, no disrespect intended, of course---"

"No, no, it's a personal matter." The doctor began absently flipping through some small notepapers on his desk. Something written on one caught the corner of Christine's eye, and she managed to read it just before Dr. Heard picked it up --- "Barn. Coll. 7P Mon."

Barnabas, coming to consult the Doctor at such a late hour? Strange, but now that Christine could dispassionately review his behavior, he DID keep irregular hours--- the illness driving him, perhaps. She wondered where HE had been during the last night's events, and where he was, now. She wondered if she should mention it to Mary Beth--- yes, definitely, though if he had one of those fool-proof alibis again, neither Sheriff nor Deputy nor a special investigator from a New York City D.A.'s office would be able to do anything about it.

The law-enforcement trio walked out of the office, only to nearly crash into Jeremy Collins, who looked TERRIBLE--- pale and distracted. Mary Beth, who, in spite of HER suspicions of the young physician's father, was unconvinced about any involvment of the son, asked kindly, "Is this about Miss Shaw? Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's going home this afternoon, as a matter of fact. The concussion was so minor, they thought bedrest at home would be sufficient. I'm sorry that your daughter has to stay another night, though I just passed by the room and she looked pretty well, sitting up and watching TV with her father."

"She's a tough one," Christine said. "Takes after her Mom, that way."

"I'm sure--- excuse me, please!" Jeremy hurried into the older doctor's office, and shut the door. Christine could not resist trying to listen, but the door must have had soundproofing built in, so sensitive consultations could take place without such eavesdropping. What sounds came through were so indistinct, Christine couldn't tell who was speaking.

She didn't hear Jeremy pleading, "Please, Dr. Heard, could you see him TONIGHT or tomorrow, EARLY? You'll be on the 11-to-7 shift, he could come in before 6 AM."

"He's in such bad shape, Jeremy?" the older doctor asked. "Oh, very well, unless another emergency comes up, and he's willing and able to get up that early, 5:00 AM. It'll still be kind of dark outside---"

"Don't worry, I'll bring him myself. It shouldn't take much time, and you'd be on your way home at 7 AM." Jeremy's voice sounded like he was trying to reassure HIMSELF of something. . .

"I'll be the judge of how much time I should take. It's your FATHER, worry about HIM and not about MY schedule. Poor boy, you look like you could use Prozac. . ."

As they went out the front entrance, Christine told Mary Beth and Job about the appointment. Job offered to come back to the hospital at that time, "To make sure things were on the up-and-up."

Mary Beth patted her Deputy in an absent-mindedly maternal fashion. "Thanks, Job. Now why don't you and Christine go see Candy Cane one more time? I'm going to pay a little call on the so-called 'hero', my husband's 'evil twin'."
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Christine said, "Mary Beth must have been reading my mind--- I was going to do this anyway." She was being chaffeured by Job through a neat working-class neighborhood of turn-of-the-century two-and-three family houses.

"How much you want to bet we'll be back at ground zero?" Job asked bluntly. "None of these girls EVER really remembered much about what happened--- if little Alice hadn't had witnesses around to corroborate, she'd be as spaced out as the others. Maybe that's NOT a bad thing."

"How do you figure that, Job?"

"Like what happened with my Dad 33 years ago. He got too close to the truth--- that's what I've always thought--- and he ended up dead. Maggie ALMOST died, and Willie, too. Sam Evans. . . And Eddie Riggs--- he had a living death before he passed, paralyzed and on machines for 5 years! Not to mention others who got too involved with the 'ruling family' over the last couple of centuries."

"So what are you saying? That at some point you're going to chicken out on us? Job, you have kids Alice's age. Are you going to leave them at the mercy of this animal, because YOU'RE afraid you'll end up like your father?"

"No, Miss Cagney, Ma'am. I WILL do my duty. And I'd give my life to save my OWN family. But what if we CAN'T stop this thing? Old George Patterson, he used to say, 'This town is a place where good and evil play by their own rules, and we got no choice sometimes, but to wait it out, like a hurricane or a forest fire or a flood'."

"It's NOT a flood, it's ONE SICK ANIMAL, or the person CONTROLLING the animal," Christine insisted. "My God, Job, in my time, we busted serial killers! Gang Wars! Mafia drug hits! Armed robberies and murders with carnage everywhere! We'll solve this because it CAN'T be as complex as some of THOSE cases!"

"Maybe not for New York, though I would imagine something like this could go on for years and years there, before anyone even took notice. This is a COLLINSPORT-sized problem, and like I always tell the Sheriff, you have to know Collinsport ways. Like, a mouse is real small, and say it lives in a small hole in the wall of your little New York apartment. Getting rid of the pest should be a snap, right? But it's NOT, and you could be trying to catch this mouse and his kids and grandkids and so on for YEARS, because HE knows all the ins and outs of your little apartment that YOU can't see. THAT'S what Collinsport is. It just TAKES one little animal who knows the ins and outs the rest of us haven't noticed, or forgotten, or taken for granted. . ." Job pulled up before a green two-family house.

The pair rang the bell that belonged to the upper-floor apartment. A woman about Christine's age, and also with tinted blonde hair, but wearing old sweats and no make-up, answered the door. She said hello to Job, who addressed her as "Mrs. Cane", and looked at Christine, who presented her badge for Mrs. Cane's perusal. The woman shrugged, and said, "I don't know why this New York police lady is so interested in what happened to Candy."

Job persisted. "Mrs. Cane--- Jessie--- haven't you heard about what happened to the Sheriff's daughter and her friends last night? This woman is a friend and former partner of the Sheriff, come to help us out. She already saw Candy, for a few minutes at the hospital, so she knows how bad it was."

"Well, one bite doesn't have anything to do with another. I watch WBAM News, and listen to the radio, AND read the papers. This Alice Lacey was attacked by a BAT or something. Candy was bit by a MAN. She told you all she knows. She can't hardly remember much anymore, anyway. I doubt she'd even be able to pick the rotten SOB out of a line-up."

"Well, can I see her for just a few minutes?" Christine pleaded. "Maybe we can jog her memory."

"Can't force a cop off my porch," Mrs. Cane shrugged again. "I'll send her down, but hurry up. She has an appointment for a final fitting at the bridal shop. Wedding's the week after next. Thanks for sending in your RVSP in early, Job."

"That's Hepsey's doing. She's OUR home secretary as well as the High School's," Job smiled.

"Has her hands full pulling the cart for that tyrant Amy Jennings, I'd imagine," she replied, then turned and called up the dark stairwell behind her. "JERUSHA! Get along down here"

The small-but-sturdy redhead soon stood on the porch with the two officers. Christine recalled her brief visit to the hospital to meet the younger woman, and was amazed at the change. She looked MUCH healthier than she had a few days ago, it was hard to believe that ANYONE could just overpower this able-bodied factory girl. But then, wasn't that always the case? Christine thought back to a time when SHE was overpowered by a rapist.

When Christine began to question the girl in as gentle a tone as she could manage (recording it on a pocket-sized cassette unit), Jerusha-Candy's face looked first, sad, then blank. "It WASN'T an animal, I KNOW it was---was--- a man, but when I see him in my dreams, the face is like a big, empty oval. No voice either. All I know is, it WASN'T my Nat!"

"We've pretty much ruled him out in any case, Candy," Job assured her.

Christine had an inspiration. Dreams. . . "Candy, you are SO positive about it NOT being your fiance, based on your dreams. . . When you have these dreams, can you remember ANYTHING else? A peripheral detail, like, oh, a shoe or the shape of a hand, or a shadow on a wall with a profile? An odor of cologne or sweat?"

Candy, obviously intrigued with the idea, looked like she was thinking VERY hard--- her eyes closed and her pert face wrinkled with concentration. Then, she relaxed and said, "Not too much. But I KNOW he was wearing a fuzzy kind of scarf, or maybe a cloak--- he held me against it, so I couldn't turn backwards. NAT was wearing his LEATHER jacket. And there was---was a COLDNESS, that wasn't just his cold hands---"

"His hands were COLD? How about his mouth?" Christine asked eagerly.

"That--- I DON'T remember, sorry. But the extra coldness--- well, see, he put his hand over my mouth like this--" Candy demonstrated as exactly as she could--- her attacker had held her with his left hand. "The little bit of freezing was on one of his fingers, but it heated up when I cried and breathed on it. Like hot metal. It STANG me!" This memory brought tears to her eyes.

Metal--- a ring on a man's left hand. Barnabas always wore that onyx ring in the heavy gold setting on his cold left hand. . . "Candy, can you remember if it was a ring he wore?"

Though sniffling, Candy's face resumed its blank expression. "I couldn't tell you, Ma'am. I'm so sorry I couldn't be of more help."

Job held her by the shoulders and said, "We understand. You did your best. Now, run along to your fitting. We're all eager to see a beautiful bride in two weeks." He and Christine returned to the police car. As soon as they sped away, he asked, "You think it was Barnabas Collins, don't you? I know the Sheriff does."

Christine stared out the window. "Job, what do YOU think?"

"I didn't like his answers when we went to see him. And now I'm beginning to think his son may know something. How could he NOT? But I reserve judgement until tomorrow night, Miss Cagney, ma'am."

"That's very prudent. And, by the way, Job, lighten up a little. Call me Christine--- No, better yet, just call me 'Chris'. When Mary Beth says 'Christine", I sometimes feel like the older daughter in the house."

"The Sheriff IS a very motherly lady," Job admitted. "I can't bring myself to call her 'Mary Beth' any more than I can call my own dear Mother 'Dinah'."

"Dinah's a Biblical name, too?" Christine asked, idly. "All I can think of when I hear it is that kid's song about railroads and Dinah in the kitchen, or Dinah Shore in HER TV kitchen, years ago. Very Southern-sounding."

"Well, Dinah was a young daughter of Jacob and his first wife, Leah, you know, the nearsighted one he was tricked into marrying, ahead of her prettier sister, Rachel. Poor little Dinah was raped, but her father managed to have the bastard and all his friends killed in vengeance. The Bible doesn't say what happened to Dinah, after. Sad story all around. But it's still a nice name, like 'Chris', Ma'am."
* * * * * * * * * * * *

Across town, the motherly Sheriff in question, armed with a search warrant and accompanied by Officer Hallett, burned rubber on her way to the Old House. She'd put the fear of God, or whatever Deity still held sway over Willie Loomis, and hopefully, get some answers. Mary Beth had come to believe that Barnabas had intimidated his servant into abetting the sort of crimes he may have committed years ago. Perhaps the "cancer" Barnabas referred to in their previous encounter was really a mental illness from which he had been in remission under his late wife's and now, his son's care, but the treatments were failing. What Jeremy hoped Dr. Heard could do about it was uncertain, but SHE could figure out a way to get the good old doctor to talk after Barnabas's appointment.

She doubted, however, that the father would do anything in the presence of his son, who was obviously easily upset by such things, though already a fully-licensed physician himself. Poor boy, Mary Beth thought. She tended to pity the hapless offspring of most offenders, even adults, who were usually shocked and/or driven to denial by the parent's behavior, though they may have experienced hints, or even abuse and coercion, at their elders' hands. This Barnabas didn't strike her as someone who would have abused his only child at all, making the possibility of his villainy even more difficult to swallow for the sensitive young man.

The Old House glimmered in the daylight, lightly shaded by the lacy branches of well-pruned trees just coming into bud around it. The azalea bushes were still quite knobby and bare, though. The columns around the large front porch looked as though they went up to the sky, a detail one missed at night. WHO would build such a gem in such a concealed place? Mary Beth wondered. This was NOT the typical style of ANY colonial-era mansion she'd ever seen, no more than Collinwood was representative of the Federalist period. Collinses, she thought. Laws unto themselves, in architecture as well as everything else, it seemed. Still, she practiced enough civility to ring the bell, instead of pounding on the doors--- this wasn't a crack house, after all.

Mary Beth and Hallett waited for 10 minutes, ringing once a minute. "Now it gets unpleasant---" the Sheriff said, when the doors opened and Willie stepped out with a degree of boldness.

"Willie," Mary Beth began, "I AM sorry, but this time, I DO have a search warrant. Is Barnabas here? And if he's not, I have to contact him personally."

Willie replied, "He called earlier, the message is still on the machine. He's in Kennebunkport with the Bushes. You know, the Ex-President? Whose son is RUNNING for President? Barnabas met them about ten years ago, and they're pretty friendly. He's going to give the son's campaign a pile of money."

"Well, I can call up the Secret Service detachment that still protects George and Barbara, and see if that's a true story, Willie. Willie, listen to me," Mary Beth said earnestly. "I don't want to hassle a man who helped to save my daughter and two other mothers' children. If there's something you can tell us, to clear this mystery up--- it's obvious you DO know something. Maybe this has been going on for a while, maybe that's what made you look in Vicki Shaw's window last week, and had you on the spot to help Harvey when he was in the woods. I'm willing to accept that you have SOME benign motives. But you can't protect this creature or whatever for long. It's going to hurt other people. I KNOW yo