Day 2.

Jim pulled the truck into the driveway of 128 Bending Creek Circle. The house was small, an average starter home for the young couple. A brick sidewalk, lined by multi-colored pansies, led the way to the front door. "You sure this is the right address?" Jim asked Blair, who had his head buried in a pile of papers he was reading.

"Yep." The paper on top was a copy of the job application Bill Kaiser had filled out for his position at the warehouse. "It also says that he's married with a kid," Blair added, looking up from the file.

"Let's check it out," Jim said as he turned off the engine.

They followed the walkway to the front door and Blair rang the bell. Jim stood back, hoping to catch the residents unaware of their identity for a few crucial seconds, so he could gauge their reaction as Blair made introductions.

A woman opened the door. She was wearing jeans and a shirt. The odor of spit-up formula assaulted his nose, before he could identify the minute stains on her shoulder. Her eyes had dark rings under them, as if sleep were an unheard-of commodity. Seemed pretty normal for a new mother.

"Can I help you?" she asked, keeping the screen door closed and eyeing them suspiciously.

"I'm Detective Blair Sandburg and this is my partner, Jim Ellison." Both men displayed their shields. "We were wondering if we could talk to your husband. Is he home?"

She stood still a moment, thinking. "Just a minute." Then she shut the door.

"I don't think she trusts us, Jim," Blair remarked with mock innocence.

Jim gave Blair an abstracted nod and focused on her progress up the stairs. First one door opened softly and then closed just as softly. Jim bet that she had just checked on her baby. After a few additional steps down a hallway, she entered a room that was no longer carpeted, but had a hardwood floor.

"Bill, there's a couple of cops downstairs wanting to talk to you. What's going on?" Her tone was harsh, yet she sounded genuinely confused.

"Damn," he muttered, and stood up from a chair. Jim could hear the wheels slide against the floor. He must have been on a computer or sitting at a desk. "I'll take care of it."

"Are you in trouble?"

"No way. I'm sure it's just routine questions."

Jim could hear footsteps back on the carpet as they both came down the stairs.

"Go put a pot of coffee on. They may be here awhile. We might as well get comfortable," the man instructed his wife.

"Ready, Chief," Jim whispered to Blair. "I think we're on to something here."

The door blasted open. "Jeez, sorry guys. Come in. My wife is a little paranoid since the baby was born. You know how you hear all these stories about kidnappings and stuff."

"Are you William Kaiser?" Jim asked, still maintaining a professional demeanor. He was puzzled as to the man's behavior. Kaiser gave no indication that he might be hiding something.

"That's me. Come in. No use giving the neighbors something to gawk at. Donna's got some coffee brewing. I haven't had my second cup this morning."

Jim intercepted a bewildered look from his partner. He shrugged his shoulders and followed the man into what was most likely the kitchen. Kaiser acted awfully jovial for a man who was trying to hide something. His heart beat normally and he wasn't perspiring at all.

"Have a seat, Officers." Bill Kaiser pulled up a chair as his wife set mugs in front of them. Next she brought out a pitcher of milk and the sugar bowl. The coffee was dripping into a pot. "You can go, Donna," Kaiser told his wife. With a fearful look at them, she did as she had been told.

Jim decided he needed to take control of the situation. Kaiser, with his bluster, was not leaving any room for them to maneuver. "I'm Detective Ellison and this is my partner, Detective Sandburg. We'd like to ask you--"

"Wait, the coffee's almost ready. No sense in getting involved in something only to stop while I pour the coffee."

Blair stifled a laugh while Jim gave an audible groan. This man fidgeted almost as much as Sandburg. Maybe that was Kaiser's way of getting rid of nervous energy. The coffee's aroma drifted throughout the room. Their host jumped out of his seat as soon as the water began to hiss, signaling its completion.

As Kaiser poured the coffee into their mugs, Jim took a quick look at the man's fingers and nails. He was hoping to see a stain caused by the ink. Much to Jim's surprise, their suspect's fingers were practically covered in different colors. In fact, Kaiser did nothing to hide them.

"Sorry, my hands look dirty." He looked Jim square in the eye. "I helped yesterday in the clean-up. That ink stains everything it touches. I assume that's why you're here? You want to question me some more about the theft?"

Jim nodded, but the man had turned away to place the pot back on its heating element. "What time did your shift begin, day before yesterday?" Jim asked.

Kaiser sat down again. "I usually come in around seven. Baby wakes up before five, and I just can't get back to sleep. No sense in sitting around doing nothing."

"Who was the first to open the warehouse?" Blair asked, pulling out his trusty notebook.

"I think Josh Underwood was the one to call the cops about the broken back door. But Jack Teale was the first to notice the opened cases of ink and the fact that most were broken. I don't think many were taken."

Blair turned several pages in his notebook. "The inventory stated that twenty cases of colored ink were waiting in the warehouse to be shipped to California. Of that twenty, two cases remained untouched, four had been broken into and bottles shattered. That leaves fourteen cases that are missing."

Kaiser wore a blank stare. "That many?" Blair nodded. "I guess I didn't realize. I cleaned up so much of that mess, it just seemed that more of it was on the ground than could possibly be missing."

Jim could detect signs of prevarication. His heartbeat had increased slightly, and he acted as if he needed to take stock of these new facts. "Can you account for your time the night of the theft?"

"Of course. I was home, sleeping." His nervous energy had dissipated.

"Your wife will corroborate your story?" Jim asked, not letting up the inquisition.

"Yes."

Jim held the man's eyes, daring him to look away first. He did. Kaiser had to realize that Jim suspected him of being involved in the theft, but as they didn't have any proof, no arrests could be made. Slowly, Jim took the last swallow of his coffee. "I think we've learned everything we need to here. Don't leave town, Mr. Kaiser. We'll be in touch."

A much more subdued man led them to the front door. Jim formally thanked the man for his time. As they got into the truck Blair made a move to talk, but Jim held up his hand, wanting to listen to what Kaiser did next. His eavesdropping paid off when he heard his suspect pick up the phone and punch in some numbers.

"It's me," Kaiser began his conversation. "Two cops just left here. They think they know something, but I can't tell how much."

Jim strained to hear the voice at the other end, but it was too muffled.

"Just get it out of Cascade tonight," he commanded, then slammed the phone down.

Jim relaxed and let his hearing revert to normal. "It looks like he's definitely in on the theft, but he's not handling the goods. I couldn't tell who he was talking to, but I don't think he plans on leaving his house tonight."

"He's looking at us from the window." Blair pointed unobtrusively towards the front of the house.

Jim pulled out his cell phone and called Megan. With as much finesse as he could muster, he asked if she would come and watch the house.

"Shall we try Teale next?" Blair asked, rifling through some papers as he searched for Jack Teale's address.

"Where is it?"

"The zip indicates it's close to the warehouse. The apartment complex is called Bradford Manor."

"I know the place." Jim pulled the truck out of the driveway and headed back to the city.

The traffic was relatively light. The view from their windows changed from the suburban family homes to city-dweller tenements. The Bradford Manor sign had red spray paint over the letters, which spelled out "Hell Hole". Jim turned into the long entranceway while Blair studied the signs, looking for Building No. 9.

"There it is!" Blair pointed to an edifice on his right. "The road sign is mangled. This place is pretty depressing."

Jim had to agree. Paint was peeling off many of the structures and the grounds were unkempt. "And it's huge. I never would have guessed that this part of the city would house such a complex."

After finding a parking place, the two detectives entered the building. There were four apartments, with Teale renting one on the first floor. Jim focused his hearing, but couldn't discern any sounds. "I don't think anyone's home," he told Blair. Caution made him take out his gun; then he pounded on the door. "Cascade Police," he shouted. He listened carefully, but still it was quiet.

"Let's find the superintendent," Blair suggested. "Maybe he'll open it up for us."

Jim agreed. It took some detective work before they located the super in an unoccupied apartment, watching a talk show on a portable television. He was seated on the floor with numerous mechanical parts scattered around him. An opened toolbox was beside him, and a socket wrench was forgotten in his hand as he yelled at the show's host.

"I think it's a garbage disposal," Blair whispered to Jim as they entered through the open door.

"At least at one time it might have been," Jim whispered back. Then he turned his attention to the amateur plumber. "Excuse me." The man didn't notice them. "Cascade Police!"

This time the man jumped to his feet. Tools and parts fell to the floor in his haste. "What?" he blustered, sounding confused but defensive.

"I'm Detective Jim Ellison and this is my partner Blair Sandburg. We're here to check up on a missing person, Jack Teale. He's supposed to be living in apartment 9C."

"Moved out," the man grunted as he seated himself back on the floor. "Left his two month deposit and everything."

"Can you tell me when this occurred?" Blair asked, taking out his notebook.

"Yesterday evening. He caught me as he was coming in from work. Packed a few things and then left. Thought he got fired," the super said off-handedly.

"Can we take a look at his place?" Jim asked, disappointed that Teale had slipped through their fingers.

The superintendent gave them an incredulous look. "Now?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," Jim shot back, forcing himself to sound polite.

With an exaggerated groan, the super pulled himself up onto his feet once again. First they stopped at the main office where he removed some keys from the safe. After some mumbled profanity and a long walk, Jim and Blair found themselves back at apartment 9C. The super unlocked the door and Jim pushed his way in first.

The carpet had decade-old stains, and the walls were filthy with dirt and grime. The windowsill's paint was peeling. There was no furniture. Where was it? "Did he have time to move out all his belongings?"

"Nothing to move. Came over once last month 'cause he was late with the rent. He had a plastic crate with a bowl of cereal on it, and a sleeping bag in the middle of the floor."

Jim noticed Blair writing his notes. "How long had he been renting from you?" Blair asked, the pen's top resting on his lip.

"Four months." Then the super added as his idea of an excuse, "The turnover here is pretty high."

Starting with the kitchen and working his way to the living room, Jim focused his eyes and scoured every inch of the floor and counters. A blob of color caught his attention in one of the corners. He walked over and knelt beside it.

"Whatcha find?" Blair asked, looking down over Jim's shoulder.

"Ink," Jim replied triumphantly. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. Lightly, he caressed the area around the spot. "They had at least some of the cases here. I can feel an indentation in the carpet where the boxes sat. At least three were on the carpet, but I'm not sure how many were stacked on top."

The super stayed by the door, impatiently tapping his foot.

Blair handed Jim his pocketknife. After cutting a few fibers, Jim shoved them into an evidence bag that Blair had readied for him. They both stood up. "I think we're done here," Jim said with a satisfied smile. The two detectives left the apartment after profusely thanking the super for taking time out from his busy schedule to help them. Both were still laughing as they entered the truck.

Once on the road, they began seriously discussing the case. "We know for sure that Teale was involved in the theft, but only suspect Kaiser," Blair started, looking at his notes and then jotting a few things down. "We ought to put out an APB on Teale."

"Agreed," Jim answered, turning onto Broad Street. "But we have no idea where he might be heading."

"Just that it's out of Cascade."

"No," corrected Jim. "That's what Kaiser said, but we don't know for sure he was referring to the cases of ink."

"I suppose," Blair conceded.

"When we get back, why don't you check into Teale's past and I'll look into Kaiser. One of us is bound to find something that might give us a clue where to search next."

Blair opened the door to Major Crime, with several folders nestled in his arm. Jim was sitting at his desk, talking on the telephone. Blair dumped the files on his own desk.

"Find anything, Chief?" Jim asked, walking over to his desk. The phone call was obviously over.

"A little." Blair shuffled his papers and then read from the top of one of them. "Jack Teale has been involved in some small-time burglaries. He was brought in for questioning last month for a convenience store holdup. Six months ago it was a carjacking. Before that he spent five years in jail for selling reset jewels to an undercover agent." Blair looked up at Jim. "That was the high point in his illustrious career. Before the jail time, he was in juvenile hall for stealing cars."

"It doesn't sound like he's been involved with anything organized."

"But he's slippery. After spending that one stint in jail, he's been able to get off on every charge," Blair reminded Jim. "Have you heard anything from Forensics?"

"Nothing yet. I took up the rug fibers and they're going to compare the stain to an ink sample. Hopefully tomorrow we'll know." Jim glanced up at the clock. "You ready to leave?"

Blair looked at the time. "Yep. We still gotta shop for our big dinner tonight." Anticipation crept up his spine. With William furious at Steven and Jim caught in the middle, it would be interesting to see how Jim handled it. Would he prevaricate with both or take definite sides? Blair had never found himself in a similar situation. He always sided with Naomi in any family squabble, not that there had been many.

Jim left a note for Megan, while Blair packed up his notes. "How long did you tell her to keep an eye on Kaiser?" Blair asked as they left.

"Rafe is going to take over shortly. I told them to watch 'til around midnight. I don't think anything is going to happen."

"Stuff's gone," Blair agreed. "But you never know. Maybe someone'll come visiting."

They walked out to the truck in silence. Blair flung his backpack onto the seat and jumped in beside it. The traffic was a lot heavier now, with everyone on their way home.

Blair had been careful all day not to think about the evening. It would have made the time creep by way too slowly. But now it was time to get excited. "You know what you're gonna cook?" Blair asked, aware that Jim had planned on passing the responsibility onto him.

"Me cook?" Jim looked at him with feigned disbelief. "I thought I had mentioned your famous Chicken Piccata? I'm doing dessert." He paused dramatically, "Maybe chocolate pudding." Jim tried to look serious, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

"That is so lame," Blair replied, laughing.

"Who'll need dessert after your delicious meal?" Jim remarked as he drove into the parking lot of the grocery store.

"How true," Blair said as he slammed the car door. He ran up behind Jim. "After my wonderful meal, anything you make will be anticlimactic." Jim went to cuff him on the head, but Blair was able to sidestep and miss the tap.

Jim grabbed a cart and followed Blair. The first stop was the vegetable and fruit aisle. Jim waited patiently while Blair rummaged through the piles making the selection for his tossed salad.

Blair was turning away from the cart when Jim pulled the cucumber out. "Pick another one. This one's got a worm wiggling inside."

"Uh, gross." Blair threw it back and selected another. "This one got any added protein?"

"Nope."

Next a bag of apples was added to the cart. "You think Michelle would prefer string beans or corn?" Blair asked, hovering over the bin of fresh-looking beans and the sweet corn.

"Definitely beans. We had the corn last week and it was pretty tough."

"Okay." Blair stuffed the handy plastic bag with about six handfuls of the green beans. "So far, I've got the salad stuff and the beans. I need some more fresh garlic and--" He stopped talking as he found the herbs he needed.

Jim pushed the cart over to the fresh lemons. "How many?"

Blair thought for a minute. "Probably six."

Blair laughed silently to himself as Jim put eight lemons into a bag. He liked his chicken on the tart side.

After the produce came the meat. Blair left the chicken breast selection to Jim. His nose was always able to tell the freshest package. Minute amounts of spoilage were always apparent to the Sentinel's nose. As Jim rummaged among the packages, Blair started thinking of drinks. Steven and Jim would drink beer. Would Michelle prefer soda or maybe wine coolers? Maybe some old- fashion fruit juice would be more to her liking.

Jim popped the chicken in the cart. "What are you thinking so hard about?"

"What do you think Michelle would prefer to drink? I think lemonade, or--"

"Coke. Or maybe Pepsi. No way would she drink fruit stuff. That's a summer drink."

They headed for the soda aisle next. Jim immediately grabbed a two-liter bottle of Coke. Blair decided to add some Sprite, just in case. That was kind of fruity. The two men stood there, thinking.

"I think we're forgetting something," Jim remarked.

"We've got everything for dinner. We just put in the soda. Beer's at home. I'm gonna cook rice and I've got enough of that at home."

"Doorknob," Jim exclaimed.

"Doorknob," Blair said at the same time. "You go next door and get the doorknob. I'll check out the food." It was a good thing that there was an ACE hardware store next to the grocery store.

Jim beat him to the truck. The two men loaded the groceries into the back and then headed for home.

"So, what do you think this Michelle is like?" Blair asked.

"I don't know. She's cute. Kinda wispy."

"Wispy? And she takes care of animals?"

"That's what Steven says. I really didn't get a good impression of her. I was too fixated on my father and his temper tantrum."

"You think she's going to be able to stand up for herself?"

"Don't know." Jim paused. Blair looked at him expectantly. Jim was about to speak, but something held him back.

"What?" Blair asked, curious.

"Nothing."

"Come on, you were going to say something. You got this real serious look on your face."

"I just remembered. You know at the restaurant, just before dad saw Steven, he was in the middle of a sentence."

"What was he saying?" Blair inquired, really curious now.

"Something about my mother. You know, throughout the whole lunch he kept mentioning her. It was kind of eerie, because I can't remember the last time he ever spoke her name, let alone something intimate."

Blair stayed quiet. Jim was working things out in his mind and Blair knew not to rush things. Jim had mentioned the part about the cougar painting, so it couldn't be about that. Blair had thought that Jim had told him everything.

"Now I remember. He was saying that Mom had called. He stopped in the middle of the sentence cause Steven and Michelle had just walked in."

"Your mother called?" Blair was amazed. The woman who had totally abandoned her two sons was about to waltz into their lives? Blair wasn't too sure how he felt about it. He really wanted to talk to her, but he also wanted to keep Jim from being disappointed or hurt.

"I think that's what he said, but now I'm not too sure. I need to go ask him."

"Ask Steven tonight," Blair suggested. "Maybe he knows something."

"I don't think he would. Dad confides even less in him. But I owe him a warning."

Blair was saddened by that fact. One brother needing to warn another about the possible appearance of their mother. In his family, it was quite common for one family member to alert another of someone's arrival, but it was an entirely different connotation of the word. In Jim's case, it was negative.

"Yeah," Blair agreed, softly. "You should talk to Steven about it."

"Michelle, relax." Steven observed her inability to sit still in the car. He was really looking forward to tonight's dinner at his brother's house. It was rare when they were able to get together and all the more precious because of the infrequency. He knew Michelle would have a good time- -if she'd just calm down. Ever since the incident at Crescent Beach, she'd been withdrawn. Steven explained that Jim was nothing like his father, but she only saw the similarities. He also pointed out that he was more like the old man than Jim, but that did little to ease her mind, either. Steven really wanted them to get along. For the first time in his life, he had found a woman who was utterly real. There was no artifice in her manner. She wasn't using him to get ahead in her own career, nor did she expect anything from him but companionship and a good time. Why couldn't his father understand this?

"I'm trying, Steve. I just can't help it. He looked so--uh--formidable. I can just picture him winning a staring contest with Bruno."

Steven laughed. Bruno was a Rottweiller who had been abandoned during the previous summer. Some former owner had neglected the dog and he had been involved in some kind of fight and was seriously injured. The clinic had taken the dog in, healed him of his physical injuries, and then tried to adopt him out. The dog refused to stay with either of the two families with whom the vet had placed him with. As soon as the new owners' backs were turned, the dog returned to the animal hospital. Dr. Banner decided that Bruno--the name Michelle christened him with--had adopted them and agreed to let him stay. With the clinic's personnel he was a lamb; away from the three women, he was a snarling beast.

"I don't know, Bruno's pretty tough. Take my word for it, you'll like Jim once you get to know him. It's Blair that's formidable." Steven tried to keep a straight face.

"Blair? Who's Blair?"

"Jim's partner and roommate. You'll get to meet him tonight." Steven pulled into the parking lot. "We're here," he announced.

"Oh, God," she moaned.

He patted her on the knee. "They'll love you." He jumped out of the car, eager to get upstairs. Steven looked up at the window on Jim's floor. Could his brother hear them this far away? Was their scent already wafting up to the loft? Maybe Jim was looking out a window, counting the worry lines on Michelle's face. Steven shook his head at the ridiculous thoughts. But he couldn't help wondering what it was really like.

They took the elevator to the third floor. As the door slid open, Michelle's steps were confident as she accompanied Steven down the hall to the loft. She had buried nervousness under a blanket of calm capability. This was how she dealt with injured animals and it spilled over to difficult social situations. Steven smiled affectionately at her, but her attention was fixed on the loft's front door.

Steven knocked, then stood back so they were side by side. He could discern some voices inside the door. No one came to answer, so he knocked a second time--harder. The door slid open to reveal Jim standing there with the doorknob in his hand and a confused expression on his face. "Shit," Jim mumbled softly, but Steven heard.

"Is it safe to come in?" Steven asked, reluctantly entering, looking from side to side. Michelle followed closely behind him.

"Yeah, it's safe," Jim answered with an embarrassed smile. He turned abruptly and dropped the knob into a basket sitting on a nearby table.

"Don't mind him," Blair said, as he came up behind Jim. "He doesn't know his own strength-- sometimes."

A teasing smile lit Jim's face. "You broke it first."

"Where have I heard that before?" Steven responded without thinking. Jim turned to him and Steven had a momentary flash of panic. Would his innocent remark cast a shadow on their evening? He knew better than to mention anything from their shared past.

"Probably because I've always been blameless," Jim responded in the same joking manner. There was no hostility in his voice. It was almost as if they were normal siblings ribbing each other about their childhood. A warmth spread through Steven. The two brothers shared a look of camaraderie.

"Let me take your coats," Blair offered, breaking the silence. "By the way, I'm Blair Sandburg," he said as Michelle handed him her coat.

"Michelle Johnson," she replied.

Steven put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

"Can I get anyone a drink?" Jim asked as Blair went to hang up the coats. "We've got beer, soda and lots of different fruit juices."

"I'll have soda," Michelle told him.

"Coke, Sprite or--"

"Sprite is fine."

"Beer for you, Steven?" Jim asked as he pulled out a can of Sprite and two bottles of Killian's.

Steven didn't even need to answer; he just accepted the proffered bottle. "So, has Dad called you since the restaurant fiasco?" He was curious to know what his father was saying behind his back.

Jim poured the Sprite into a glass with ice. "Nope. I haven't called him and he hasn't called me."

"He's still fuming," Steven remarked, disgusted.

"Has he called you?" Jim asked Steven, as he handed Michelle her soda.

"No, not that I wanted him to." Steven gave a tired sigh. "There really isn't anything more to say."

"Why don't we go into the living room?" Blair suggested, interrupting. He took Michelle's arm. "Have you met Steven's secretary, yet? We met her..."

Steven watched Blair escort Michelle into the living room area. Her grateful look was enough chastisement for him to realize how uncomfortable she had been during the discussion about his father. It wasn't her fault that his old man was an ass, but it made her feel responsible for the current hostilities. He gave a mental shrug and decided not to even think of it again. Living his life the way he wanted was more important than what the great William Ellison thought.

Glancing at the table, he noticed five place settings. "Who else is coming?" he asked curiously, feeling twinges of dread. Jim wouldn't invite their father in the hope of some kind of reconciliation, would he?

Jim added the finishing touches to the table. "I thought you might want to introduce Michelle to Sally. I usually invite her for dinner about once a month and thought this was a good occasion."

Steven exhaled deeply, then gave a smile of thanks. "I never thought to invite Sally over to my apartment. I've missed her. This is great!" His voice rose in excitement.

Heads turned toward the kitchen. "What's great?" Blair asked.

"I told him that I invited Sally to join us," Jim answered.

A thought occurred to Steven. "What excuse is she using?"

"That's she's visiting friends."

"Yeah, we're her friends." He made a note to himself to keep better contact with her in the future.

Jim grabbed his beer. "Come on, let's join the others."

Steven sat on the couch next to Michelle. She was regaling Blair with a story from the hospital. Most of the good ones Steven had heard already. Michelle loved animals, but found many of the owners to be 'difficult', as she liked to say.

"You mean," Blair was saying, "that the shelter wouldn't let them adopt the homeless kitten?"

"Nope," she responded. "We can't let black cats go that close to Halloween. Do you know how many strange people there are out there? It's just too risky."

"What did you do?"

"I had to explain, nicely, the reason, but they didn't buy it. They threatened to take it to the papers and make a big publicity stunt that the 'overcrowded shelters were unwilling to let the animals get adopted'."

"Was this before Halloween?"

"Yep. We kept refusing and then in November, they didn't want the kitten anymore."

"God, that gives me chills," Blair remarked, giving a shudder.

"That's why we have to be very careful. I'm not saying that they were going to kill the kitten in some sacrifice, but you never know."

Blair jumped up and grabbed some more soda for Michelle and another three bottles of beer. Steven watched the excess kinetic energy of his brother's friend and felt amazed at Jim's acceptance of it all. Blair would exhaust him within a week. But the relationship worked. He'd had ample proof of that when the two had saved his hide during the race track fiasco a few years ago, and more recently when they caught that crazy stalker. Blair seemed to be on the same wavelength, when his next question dove-tailed so closely to Steven's thoughts.

"I want to hear how you guys met. I mean, I don't think Steven's got a pet. It just doesn't seem possible that your worlds could've connected."

"Remember that bachelor auction a few months ago?" she asked innocently.

Steven observed Jim's jaw clench as they exchanged looks. Neither wanted to recall the frightening time when Steven had come so close to death. Although it had brought them closer in a lot of ways.

Blair gave the two Ellisons a glance and answered, "Yep. I think both of them had women bidding for the privilege of a date."

Michelle blushed slightly. "My boss, Dr. Amy Banner, won Steve."

Jim sat up straighter in his seat. "I didn't know that."

Steven intercepted an unbelieving look from his brother. "Hey, what can I say," he responded, shrugging his shoulders.

Jim shook his head. Blair sat, eagerly waiting for more of the story, which Steven knew Michelle loved to tell.

"It took a couple of weeks before Amy called and made the date. She had gone to the auction with two friends from college, all very involved in Cascade's business community, and all three of them had bid and won men that night. My boss was the last of the three to actually have the date with her prize."

Steven tapped himself on the chest. "That's me, the prize."

Michelle knocked her shoulder into him and laughed. "Yeah, what a prize he is, too. Anyway, she planned a nice dinner and then a movie. Nothing extravagant--"

"And nothing too hard to get out of if her beeper went off," Steven finished for her.

"Hey, you're getting ahead of me."

Blair looked incredulous. "She brought a beeper?"

"You bet," answered the younger Ellison. "Animals have emergencies, too, you know." He laughed and continued with the story. "We made it through dinner. I had just requested the check when the damned thing went off. She went and phoned her service while I paid the bill. When she came back, she apologized profusely, but insisted that I take her to the clinic."

"The best part is that he came in," Michelle continued. "He could have dropped her at the door and left. But he didn't."

She looked at Steven and he felt the look down to his toes. This is what he loved about her. How she could be happy with just the little things. "No, I escorted my date inside, where a frantic woman and a small mop-like dog were waiting."

Michelle continued, "He looked so lost when they came in. Amy, despite her dress and heels, went right to work. Steve stood by the door, looking like he wanted to escape, but good manners and a concern for how Amy would get home kept him there."

"You took pity on him, right?" Blair asked, eagerly.

"Nope," Michelle answered. "I was too busy helping them get prepped for surgery. A car had hit the dog, and I needed to get a room with sterile equipment ready, while Amy was doing the X- rays. But I knew Steve was out in the waiting room and was remembering how nice he looked." She gave a faraway smile.

"They were in there a long time," Steven picked up with the story. "I sat down in one of the chairs and waited. Michelle came out first, luckily with good news for the owner. She was so compassionate and endearing as she explained how the little dog was doing. I couldn't take my eyes off her."

Michelle gave an embarrassed, but pleased, little laugh. "He took Amy home, but came back the next day on the pretext of asking about the dog--and found out my name and phone number. The rest, they say, is history."

Steven put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. They were all quiet, digesting the story, when suddenly Jim stood up and looked over at the door. Steven couldn't figure out what was going on. Jim met his gaze. "Sally's here. I'm gonna open the door for her so she doesn't give me a hard time, like everyone else, about the broken knob."

Steven looked on in wonderment as Jim opened the door just as Sally got to it. It seemed as natural as breathing to him. Involuntarily, Steven looked down at his hands. A small shudder went through his body at his own ineptitude before he rose from the chair and went over to greet Sally. Dragging her back to the living room area, he introduced her to Michelle. This was the first time Sally had ever met someone he was dating. It felt strange. She was a person associated with childhood, yet now, thanks to Jim, she was gaining a place in his adult life.

Blair made them sit immediately at the table. Jim lit the candles while Blair carried the platters and bowls over to the table--then they all dug in. The stereo played some instrumental background music; Blair got up occasionally to change tapes. Jim was prompt in refilling their glasses. Blair carried the conversation whenever it slowed, and immediately changed the subject if William was even close to getting mentioned.

When they finished eating, Blair started directly on the dishes and then, to Steven's amazement, asked Michelle to help him. Blair gave a signal to Jim, who then led Sally and Steven into the living room area. There was a radio going in the kitchen, which effectively isolated the two sets of conversations. Steven was sure that the situation wasn't for Blair's benefit. That meant that Jim had something important to say to him and Sally.

Jim had a serious look as he addressed Sally first. "Have you noticed Dad acting different in the last week or two? I'm not referring to Steven's girlfriend."

"He goes into the den and broods. I think he's drinking more," Sally said thoughtfully.

"What's this all about?" Steven asked impatiently.

"When I had lunch with him, it was for a reason that had nothing to do with you," Jim started. "He kept harping on marriage and divorce and the fact that when Mom left," --Jim paused and looked sharply at Sally, but then continued-- "she took everything."

"No, she didn't," Sally corrected. "She only took her clothes and a few knickknacks. I think you misunderstood. Your father was upset because she left--he was lonely. Work became more important than anything."

"Can you tell me about the painting?" Jim asked.

Sally shifted in her seat. "What painting?"

"The painting of the cougar. Dad told me that I was fascinated with it."

Sally gave a soft smile. "You were. When she took it, you were most upset."

Steven interrupted, confused. He couldn't remember the painting and didn't understand its relevance. The fact that surprised him was how long Sally had been a part of their lives. He had always assumed that she came after their mother left. "You worked for Dad even before Mom left?"

"Yes. Mrs. Ellison was very busy with other things."

"How come you never told us this before?" Steven accused.

"Mr. Ellison did not like to talk of her. It made him very angry."

"Something is going on," Jim broke in. "Dad is overreacting, even for him, about Michelle. You've had girlfriends before. None of them have been super rich."

"I wasn't talking to him then. You're the one who got this dialogue going. Now that he can complain to me personally, he doesn't hesitate." Steven was convinced that Jim was full of shit. His brother was a detective, which meant he saw mysteries everywhere he looked. Why couldn't he just accept that things would never be good between them and their father and let it go? He didn't need to assume esoteric reasons behind the old man's actions.

"Has he had any new visitors at home?" Jim continued his questioning.

"No," Sally answered. "Although when I told him that I was going out this evening, he looked relieved. I sometimes spend time with my sister and her three children and he never objects."

Steven snorted. "He just doesn't care about anything but himself and his money."

Jim flashed him an irritated look. "Right before he saw you, he made an strange comment. He said that Mom had called, then he stopped suddenly and went off on the tangent of you and Michelle."

"Mom called?" Steven asked. "I can't believe it. What does she want after all these years?" His heart started racing. He had absolutely no memories of her. Except--he could recall that her hair was soft. A faint impression, like deja vu, made him picture long hair and his chubby fingers running through it. A contented lassitude swept through his mind.

"I don't know," Jim interrupted Steven's reflections. "And maybe he didn't mean that exactly. Just stay alert. Let me know if you see or hear anything strange. I want to know what's going on."

"I will," Sally agreed.

"Fine," Steven answered. Big brother was sounding authoritative again.

"Anyone want coffee?" Blair asked, entering the living room. "I can make decaf or regular."

Everyone chose decaf, so Blair went back into the kitchen and brought out a tray of mugs. Michelle followed closely with milk, sugar and spoons.

"Have a seat, Michelle," Blair told her. "I'll bring in the pot when it's done."

Michelle took a seat next to Sally. "Tell me what the boys were like growing up."

There was a dark silence. Sally looked back and forth between Jim and Steven, then gave Michelle a teasing grin. "Imps. Constantly on the move. Noisy. I think that's what I miss the most. The house is so quiet, now."

"Do you have family here in Cascade?" Michelle continued her questions, as Blair passed around the full mugs.

"Yes. I have a sister, one niece, and two nephews, who I visit a lot."

Steven didn't know that she had family. In all the time she had worked for them, he had selfishly believed that they were her world.

"My oldest nephew, Shawn--thank you, Blair," she said as she accepted the steaming coffee. "Shawn is the first in our family to go to college. My sister and I are very proud."

"That's great." Blair flashed a smile. "College is so important."

Steven looked for evidence of disillusionment or falseness in Blair's tone. It wasn't that long ago that Blair had to announce to the world that he was a fraud because his dissertation had been leaked to the press. His college professors and the dean hadn't stood up for him or tried to protect him from the media circus that followed. Steven marveled at the way Blair still defended the intrinsic value of a higher education.

"Hey, Jim." Blair had a sly look on his face as he asked for Jim's attention. "I think it's time for dessert. He's been very secretive about what he's planning."

For some reason, Steven was able to discern a teasing note to Blair's voice. There was some inside joke here. Steven looked at his brother, who reciprocated the teasing with a wide grin.

However, it was Sally who spoke up, after a shared smile with Jim. "I brought some apple pie. Jimmy and Stevie loved it as kids. Jim, you promised to have ice cream."

"So, I did." Jim wore a self-satisfied smile on his face. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go bring it in."

Blair was taken aback, but recovered quickly and was soon happily shoveling forkfuls into his mouth. "This is great," he mumbled, without slowing much. "Jim, you're forgiven."

Steven laughed inside. Blair thought he had one-upped Jim, but his brother turned the tables on him at the last minute. The two roommates shared a look, then went back to their pie.

"What are you all doing for Thanksgiving?" Sally asked, as she stood up to take the empty plates into the kitchen.

"I'll do that," Blair insisted, taking the plates from her and making her sit down.

"We're going to Michelle's parents in Seattle," Steven volunteered first.

"I think we're going to Joel's."

Blair came back into room. "I thought we were going to Henri's."

"Naw, he's got his whole family descending on him for Christmas," Jim informed them. "Lori would have a fit if she had to entertain for both holidays. What about you, Sally?"

"My sister always cooks. Sometimes I go, sometimes I stay and cook for your father."

Jim and Steven shared a look, but Steven was determined not to have anything mar his first real holiday with Michelle. Jim could do what he wanted.

It was past midnight before anyone began leaving. Michelle gave a wide yawn, which spurred everyone out of their lethargy. Amid the murmurs of, "Great meal," and "Wonderful dessert," Steven felt that for the first time, his life was really looking up. It was probably one of the most enjoyable evenings he had ever had. "Thanks, Jim," he said, as he entered the elevator. He knew his brother heard.

William sat at his desk contemplating the picture frame. There were two pictures inside. One was of Jimmy and the other Stevie. He couldn't remember what ages they were when the snapshots had been taken, but he didn't care. Jimmy had longish hair and was wearing some kind of sports hero T-shirt. He was also grinning from ear to ear. Something must have made him laugh just before the camera snapped the picture because the smile was so natural, so full of life. Could this be the last time Jimmy had smiled? The accident couldn't have taken place much later.

Stevie on the other hand was older. His hair was short. He was wearing a cotton button-down shirt. There was no smile on his face, only a grimace of determination. William began to recall a ceremony. Could it be the National Honor Society induction? Quite possibly. This one had been taken years after Grace had abandoned them. She had chosen something different from their family life. Was she regretting that decision now? Was that why she was coming back?

William gripped the highball glass in front of him and took a large gulp of the Southern Comfort inside it. The warmth spread within his body only to be overcome by the chill seeping from his soul. He rocked the glass back and forth, listening to the ice as it clinked against the side. The sound echoed in the empty house. Sally had left early to visit a friend. It was a relief not to have to worry about witnesses.

The doorbell rang. His body froze as panic rippled up his spine. There was no way he was going to get through this encounter. His breaths came in gasps and his brain became fuzzy. No! He wasn't going to let her get to him like that. The doorbell rang once more. This time a melodious voice accompanied it. It still had the power to make his insides melt.

"William? Are you there?"

With one last deep breath, a vain effort to regain his equilibrium, he stood up from his chair and trudged to the front door. He opened it wide. "Hello, Grace."

She took long strides inside. Her eyes bounced off the different objects in the front foyer, but lingered on the mirror, the original location of the cougar painting. "It feels strange to be in this house again. It's home, yet it isn't."

William was reluctant to look into those eyes. They had the uncanny ability to turn his mind blank. Instead, he appraised her figure. It really hadn't changed that much. The years had been good to her. One would think that doing bench work in a chemistry lab would make her soft. This was definitely not the case. Her arm and leg muscles were well toned. There were strands of gray hair intermixed within the dark, that she hadn't bothered to touch up. Her clothes were different, though. He had subtly encouraged her to wear nice clothes back then, but she had ignored him and worn what she liked. It appeared that she now recognized the value of dressing to make an impression. Maybe she wasn't doing experiments anymore, but had a more administrative position.

While William was studying Grace, she was busy appraising him. What would she think? He hadn't gone to fat, but that wasn't saying much. His hair was completely gray and he needed glasses to see for any distance. He shifted nervously from foot to foot when her face revealed little of what she was thinking.

"Why are you here?" he found the courage to ask.

"To see you and hopefully the boys," she responded evenly.

"Why now?" He still couldn't meet her eyes. Fear of her effect on him was foremost in his mind. "You're the one who decided to leave." There was an involuntary note of surliness in his voice.

"I saw a little blurb on Jimmy being in some charity auction."

"Steven was in it, too," William added, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"At first I couldn't believe that he was my son. He's grown into quite a man."

"It's just curiosity? You want to barge into his life because you're curious?" Fear metamorphosed into hostility.

"Somewhat," she agreed, coolly. "Do you think he'll want to see me?"

William couldn't answer. His raging emotions were threatening to overtake his good sense. Only if he stayed in control would he survive this. Stalling for time, he motioned her into the formal sitting room. She walked over to the small wet-bar and poured herself a drink. He watched her every move.

Suddenly, she turned around and captured his eyes. At first he was stunned, afraid of the consequences. When they were first married, nothing would arouse him more than looking deep into her beautiful blue eyes. Then when the problems started, she used them to force her opinions and then cut him to ribbons. He tried not to let his devastation show, but she always knew. Gradually he realized that her eyes no longer had the same effect. He felt nothing. Her eyes, once warm, were now lighter, more of an ice blue. For the first time since she had contacted him the night before, he was able to look at things rationally.

Grace broke the eye contact and went to sit on one of the chairs. "So, what are my boys up to?" she asked as her right leg crossed on top of her left. In a smooth motion, she pulled her dress down over one knee, only to have it rise once her hand had released it. Fidgeting, she switched legs and crossed her left on top of the right.

William smiled inwardly. Maybe she wasn't as calm as she appeared. "Jim's a detective and Steven works for Griffin Enterprises."

"A policeman?" She stiffened, then relaxed with deliberate casualness. "How intriguing. What made him decide to do something so dangerous?"

"He was in the Army. It's not such a big step from the military to law enforcement."

"I guess not."

William could see the wheels turning in her head. Was she finally going to remember her other son?

"And Stevie followed in your footsteps. How sad that one of them didn't go into science. Jimmy had such a logical mind, I just assumed--well, it's not important now."

"How in the hell would you know if he had a logical mind?" William couldn't believe her audacity. "Jimmy couldn't have been more than eight when you left."

"Eight? That young? Maybe he just seemed older."

"I remember exactly how old both Jimmy and Stevie were. I also recall how devastated they were when you didn't even remember their birthdays." William took a deep breath. "I was there. I had to cover for your forgetfulness. When Jimmy's logical mind came to the conclusion that you just didn't love us anymore, I couldn't even find it in myself to disagree." Damn. He needed to stay calm in order to find out why she'd decided to contact them now. Going off on tangents wasn't helping matters. What did she want? Each time he broached the question, she avoided answering.

"How long are you staying in Cascade?" William asked bluntly, tired of the emotional roller coaster he'd been on during the last twenty-four hours.

"Trying to get rid of me? I just got here." She bent down and pulled her purse onto her lap. Opening it up, she withdrew a memo pad. "Give me their addresses and phone numbers."

"No." He was no longer cowed by her presence. All of her power, whether he had imagined it or not, had evaporated. "You're the one who left your real family because of someone else. I don't see how you have the right to come in here and disrupt everyone's life."

She flinched as he said real family, but William couldn't be sure if it was a result of his finally finding his backbone or the subject matter itself. He didn't care.

"Don't you think they'd rather make the decision for themselves? I am their mother," she stated with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

Again, he was dumbfounded at her brazenness. "How dare you come in here and tell me how to raise my kids. You gave up that right years ago. I've been making all the decisions for them; it's what a parent does, you know." William could feel his face grow hot in his anger.

"They're adults now," she responded disparagingly. "You can drop the omnipotent father routine. It's not like I'm going to hurt them."

Both of their voices had risen until now they were shouting at each other. It was so much like their argument just before she left. Back then, the betrayal had been more than he could handle. "There are ways to hurt someone without using physical violence."

"You would know," she retorted, bitterly. "All I want is to see my boys. I thought that you might make my reappearance easier for them, but I see I'm wasting my time." She shoved the memo pad back into her purse and closed it with a sharp snap. Standing, she gave William one last beseeching look, then turned abruptly and strode purposefully to the front door.

William scrambled to keep up with her long strides. She had the door opened and was halfway through by the time his hand grabbed hold to prevent her from slamming it.

"I'll be in touch," she threatened, despite her eyes welling with tears.

He watched for a few minutes as her form dissolved into the shadows. A brief flare of light from the interior of the car illuminated her expression; then the door slammed and it was gone-- but he could still see it engraved in his mind. Haunted, he closed and locked the front door and returned to the den.

The ice had melted in his tumbler of Southern Comfort; he hardly noticed. All he could visualize was her face etched in pain. Was he being selfish? Jealous? For so long, neither Jim nor Steven had talked to him. They were now making an effort to get together and mend their broken relationships. Her appearance threatened those efforts. His emotions were out of control and deep down, he knew he was taking it out on Steven. He only wanted what was best, but didn't know how to achieve it. Tipping the glass, he finished off the watered-down whisky.

Jim would have to be warned. It was too late to call now, but first thing tomorrow morning he'd get hold of Jim and explain what was going on. In fact, Jim had to be warned since she seemed preoccupied with him. There was no way Grace could be prevented from seeing either of her sons, so he'd better prepare them for the shock. After all, he thought with a grimace, she'd indirectly asked him to.