~*~Chapter Eleven~*~

Brian saw Noreen point the gun at him and braced himself for the end... but it never came.

She was out of bullets. 'How stupid of me!' she thought to herself, 'I knew I should've checked it!'

"Augh! I will get you yet!" she shrieked as the police grabbed her and dragged her off.
--
"Don't I get a phone call?" Noreen complained.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. The phone's in the other room," the officer showed her in, then locked the door behind her.

She smiled smugly, then slowly dialed a number.
--
Brian pulled Charlotte out of the water, and could hear the ambulance slowly approaching. He hoped Marianne would be alright, and was happier than ever to be alive.

"Will she be alright?" Krysti asked as the paramedic arrived. Krysti had arrived on the scene just in time to see Noreen dragged off, and it brought her a great sense of relief.

"Yes, she should be ok. She's lost quite a bit of blood though."

Brian's cell phone rang. He pulled it out, not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but it could've been important, "Hello?"

"You'll never be safe again. Watch out." Then there was a click and the dial tone.

~*~Chapter Twelve~*~

Noreen was charged with atempted man slaughter and put to jail for fifteen years.

Brian and Charlotte continued with the engadgement and got married in November. The following August Charlotte and Brian were blessed with twins - Alex and Amanda.

Krysti and Brian continued to be best friends. Marianne became close friends with Brian and Charlotte, but moved back to her hometown of San Jose, California to pursue a career in law.

*ten years later*

The parole officer and a weary aged red head walked down a long corridor, then turned into a room. In the room was a large table with five chairs seated around it. Already occupying three of these chairs were a judge, a man in a gray suit, and an armed gaurd.

The parole officer and the girl seated themselves across from the other three.

The man in the suit begins to talk, "I'm Thomas Moore."

He continues, "Noreen DeBonette, do you think that you are ready to conduct a productive life in society?"

Noreen nodded her head slowly and answered quitely and simply, "Yes."

"Do you think you're rehabilitated to the point where you can contribute to ssociety?" Thomas continued.

"Yes," she again aswered.

The judge and Thomas had a private discussion for a moment. Then the judge anounced their decision, "After overlooking your prison records we have decided to let you out on ten years parole, under the conditions that you can not own guns or any other lethal weapons. You must contact your parole officer in the event that you will be moving and you can not move out of the state of Florida. You may not perform any illegal acts and you must maintain a steady job in the state of Florida for all ten years."

Noreen nodded in agreement, then the parole officer stood, "You must report in to me weekly and be prepared for me to stop by at any given time."

Noreen and the parole officer walked out of the room.

~*~Chapter Thirteen~*~

*two weeks later*

Noreen hadn't checked in yet that week, so her payroll officer decided to stop by her house. To his surprise, a young blonde answered the door.

"Hello, is Miss DeBonette home?" he asked.

"Who?" the blonde asked confused.

"How long have you been living here?" he asked.

"Oh, um... two weeks. Well, one and a half actually."

"Who sold you the house?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, some guy named Chris or something. It was a real steal... may I ask why you want to know?"

"My name is Officer Pompey," he introduced himself. "this house is supposed to house an ex-convict on payroll."

The girl gasped, "Well, the man who sold me this house said it's been unoccupied for years. You must have the wrong house... I do hope you find her though."
--
Somewhere in Orlando:

"Hello, I'm looking to buy a house," a tall slender brunette said with a smile.

"Well, you've come to the right place. What kind of house and what price range?"

"Well," the girl put some thought into it then continued, "I'd like a one story two bedroom house. I'd like it to have a large yard and a nice sized kitchen. Price is not a problem, either."

"Let's see. We have a really nice one on Wilshire that's quite a steal."

"Wilshire?" she asked, "Why does that street sound familiar?"

"Well, if you've watched the news lately, you'd know that the now retired Backstreet Boy Brian Littrell lives there. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but I believe his house is right next door."

"Perfect!" she said, a little too happily, "I mean, the house sounds wonderful. I'll take it."