Chapter 33

        Mark Bellmen raked a frustrated hand through his hair until it stood straight up like short, spiky soldiers at attention. It was late on Friday afternoon and he was alone in the Squad Room at Division Headquarters. The amount of sleep he'd gotten since Sunday didn't total more than twenty hours. And now this. He didn't need this on top of everything else.

        "Dammit," he muttered as he read the report in front of him. "I'll get this goddamn prick if it's the last thing I do."

        "Are you taking Lieutenant Selinski's name in vain again there, Mark, old pal?"

        Bellmen looked up as Troy Anders entered the Squad Room. He watched the young man cross to the coffee pot, pick up the mug that read 'Book Him Danno' and pour himself a cup of steaming liquid.

        Eight battered desks were crammed in a room built for half that amount. Troy squeezed between two and moved Mark's in-basket aside so he could perch on one corner of the veteran detective's work space.

        "No, Troy Boy, for a change I'm not cussing out the Lieu," Mark said, his demeanor much more relaxed and unpolished within the confines of the squad room. "I'm cussing out the nameless scumbag I keep seeing in my dreams who tried to snatch Tracy Nichols and Jennifer DeSoto and who put John Gage in the hospital."

        Mark tossed the report in Troy's lap. "Here. Read this. It just came over the wire from a town a hundred or so miles north of here called Bensonville."

        "I've been through there," Troy nodded as his eyes began scanning the paper. "Nice little city. I always thought it would be a good place to raise a family."

        "You might have a change of heart after you read that."

        Troy's pale brows knit with concentration as the words on the paper drew him in. He was everything Mark wasn't. Blond, blue-eyed, good looking in a Nordic sort of way, and still enthusiastic about a job that would eventually beat the optimism out of him. But Mark didn't try to quell that last quality. Troy was had been promoted to the Detective Division just six months earlier. He was only twenty-nine. It wouldn't take much more than two or three years, four tops, before Troy would learn that you had no more than a fifty/fifty chance of solving any case assigned you, and that you saw more ugliness in this job than any one person deserved to view up close and personal in a life time.

        Troy shook his head as he handed the report back to Mark.

        "That poor little girl."

        Mark nodded. Carrie Wrightman's body had been found the previous afternoon in a shallow grave forty miles north of Bensonville. She was naked save for the roller skates still on her feet. She'd been raped, sodomized, and then choked until her larynx was crushed and her neck snapped like twig.

        "You think it's your guy?" Troy asked.

        "The Feds do."

        "The Feds?"

        "Yeah. They got a man working with me. Agent by the name of Quinn Dailey."

        Troy snorted. "Quinn Dailey? Is that his real name, or one he assumed when he became a G-man?"

        "Don't know and didn't ask. He's the head of the Child Abduction and Sex Crimes Unit."

        "Geez. They sent out the big cheese for this, huh?"

        "Yep. He's been on the trail of a guy for ten years now whose M.O. fits the prick we're after. Dailey wants him and wants him bad."

        "What's he know about him? About the perp I mean?"

        "Not much, other than he has a liking for little girls between the ages of eight and eleven. Recently his taste has been for blonds with blue eyes."

        "Just like Tracy and Jennifer."

        "Yeah, just like them. And like Carrie Wrightman."

        Bellmen leaned down and opened a lower desk drawer. He uncapped a bottle of Tums, shook two tablets into his hand, popped them in his mouth, then put the bottle back.

        Troy wrinkled his nose. "I don't know how you can stand those things."

        "When you've done this job as long as I have, kid, you'll know. Believe me, you'll know."

        Troy took note of his mentor's red eyes and drooping mustache. "Rough week, huh?"

        "Whenever a case of mine involves children, it's always a rough week. Not to mention the added fun this one has brought."

        "Our friendly reporter Brian Kessler," Troy easily guessed at the source of Mark's sour stomach.

"Oh, yeah. I needed that asshole and that stunt he pulled like I need a boil on my ass."

        "Mark, come on. What happened...the picture in the paper, the story...it's not your fault."

        "I'm glad you see it that way, Troy Boy, 'cause not too many other people do."

        "Selinski?"

        "Oh, yeah. He chewed my ass good 'cause Kessler managed to get by one of our boys in blue. One of our boys in blue who, by the way, will be walking the beat until the soles of his goddamn shoes are worn out. Not that I necessarily hold it against Selinski. You know what they say, shit rolls downhill. My ass got chewed because his ass had been chewed first."

        Mark held up his right hand. Fingers popped up in succession as he counted off one by one.

        "After Selinski, came the fire department brass. A Battalion Chief by the name of McConnikee threatened to have my balls wrapped in a fire hose. Rampart's administrator yelled at me for twenty minutes non-stop, conveniently forgetting it was one of his nurses who snuck Kessler into Gage's room to begin with. Then came Kelly Brackett. He's Gage's doctor. He tore me up one side and down the other for twenty more minutes. After that came Roy DeSoto. For a soft spoken guy he can have a quite a temper when someone lights his fire. Not that I blame him, you understand. I've got two daughters. It wasn't that many years ago they were nine. I know how the guy feels. This news story not only takes away his best friend's anonymity meaning we have no idea if his attacker might now try to finish the job he started, but it also means the guy could potentially be one step closer to discovering Jennifer's identity. Then, just when I think there's no one left to blame me for Brian Kessler's little foray into Gage's room, along comes Chad Gage, John's father. Christ, does that Indian have a temper. I thought the guy was gonna scalp me. But just like I can't blame DeSoto for his anger, I can't say as I blame Mr. Gage either. If John was my son I'd be furious over what happened. I mean, let's face it. John Gage saved his partner's daughter from certain death, and look how he's repaid. Some asshole sneaks into his hospital room and takes a picture of him half naked, and semi-conscious at best, that hits the front page of the Times. After everything he's been through Gage deserves two basic human rights, his dignity and his privacy. Thanks to Brian Kessler he doesn't even have those things."

        Mark let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back in his chair. He pushed his feet against the floor, rocking the old spring supported chair in a slow, steady rhythm that Troy doubted brought him any comfort.

        "Look, Mark, nothing that happened involving Kessler is your fault. You just happened to be the most convenient guy to blame when he managed to get past our guard."

        "Yeah, I suppose. But you know what really sucks about all this?"

        "What?"

        "That damn Kessler will probably win the frickin' Pulitzer Prize."

        "Yeah, probably so," Troy agreed. "And you're right, that sucks."

        The younger man drained the last of the coffee in his mug. He leaned backwards and set the mug on his desk.

        "Speaking of John Gage, how's he doing?"

        "Better. His condition finally stabilized on Wednesday night."

        "Have you gotten a chance to interview him yet?"

        "No. I talked to Brackett this morning. They still have Gage on the ventilator, though he thought John might come off it by tomorrow. Nonetheless, he wouldn't commit to a day when I can see Gage. I have a feeling Brackett's gonna make me wait until John's moved out of ICU."

        "When might that be?"

        "Beats me. I'm hoping DeSoto will know something more."

        "DeSoto?"

        "Yeah. Dailey and I are going to talk to him in the morning."

        "Why?"

        "To break the news about Carrie Wrightman. And so Dailey can tell him what we suspect."

        "What you suspect?"

        Mark stopped his rocking and sat forward in his chair. He picked up the
report that had been sent to him by the Bensonville Police Department.

        "That his best friend kept his little girl from falling into the hands of a serial killer."

___________________________________        

        At ten-fifteen on Saturday morning Roy was in his garage, oiling the chain on Chris's bike. He thought back to the previous weekend. He could hardly believe that just seven short days ago he was snuggled against his wife in bed, secure in the knowledge that his children were with his best friend, safe and happy and having the time of their lives.

        How quickly things can change for the worse. Roy leaned over the blue Schwinn bicycle. In my wildest dreams I would have never imagined a week ago that today Johnny would be in the ICU at Rampart while Joanne and I are thanking God every night because no harm came to our kids.

         Roy's thoughts faded when he heard a car pull into his driveway. He looked up, expecting to see Joanne. Instead, Mark Bellmen emerged from behind the wheel of the black Pontiac sedan. A man Roy didn't recognize climbed out the passenger side.

        The paramedic wiped his hands on a clean cloth as he stood to greet his visitors.

        "Morning, Roy," Bellmen greeted. "I hope you don't mind us dropping by without calling first."

        "No," Roy shook his head. "Not at all."

        Mark indicated to the man beside him. "This is Quinn Dailey. He's an agent with the FBI."

        Roy held his hand out to the man he guessed to be in his early forties. Quinn Dailey was the stereotypical FBI agent. The man stood six feet two inches tall, broad in the shoulders and narrow at the waist. He had the chiseled features of a Greek god, capped by dark hair trimmed in a military cut and offset by eyes so blue they appeared to be purple.

        Agent Dailey shook Roy's hand.

        "Mr. DeSoto. It's nice to meet you."

        "It's nice to meet you, too. And call me Roy."

        Mark smiled at the bike that was turned upside down and resting on its handle bars against the concrete floor of the garage.

        "I see you've got a serious project going there."

        "Serious to my son. Though nothing more than a little minor bike repair to tell you the truth."

        "Can we interrupt your work for a few minutes? Quinn and I would like to talk to you."

        A few seconds passed as Roy waited for Mark to elaborate. When the detective gave Roy no clues as to what type of discussion an FBI agent wanted to have with him the paramedic nodded.

        "Sure. No problem. This can wait."

        Roy indicated to the door that would lead into the kitchen. "Let's go into the house. Can I offer either of you a cup of coffee?"

        "That sounds good," Mark said.

        "That would be fine," Quinn agreed. "Thank you."

        Roy led the way into the spotless kitchen. Not for the first time in fourteen years of marriage he was proud to have a wife who maintained a clean, well cared
for home.

        The paramedic indicated for the men to seat themselves at the table in the dining alcove. They looked out the patio doors while Roy put sugar and cream on the table, then poured three cups of coffee.

        "Nice deck," Mark complimented of the elaborate redwood deck that had two separate levels and a squared off area for the picnic table.

        "Thanks. Johnny helped me build it a few years ago. He helped me tear the wall out, too, in order to put the sliders in. Joanne and I really enjoy being able to linger at the table after dinner while still being able to see the kids playing in the back yard."

        "Speaking of Joanne, is she here?"

        Roy carried the cups of coffee to the table. His visitors nodded their thanks as Roy took a seat.

        "She should be home in a few minutes. She had to drop Jennifer off at a friend's house for a birthday party. From there she's taking Chris to his Boy Scout meeting."

        Mark was happy to hear the DeSoto children were out of the house. He didn't think either of them needed to be privy to what he and Quinn were here to discuss.

        "If you don't mind then, we'll wait for Joanne to return."

        Mark's words only further puzzled the paramedic.

        "Is this about the guy who tried to kidnap Jennifer? About the guy who hurt Johnny?"

        Mark and Quinn exchanged glances as if deciding who should answer Roy's questions.

        "Yes," Bellmen finally acknowledged. "That's what our visit is about."

        "Have you caught him?"

        "No. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. I know Joanne will want to hear what we have to say so we'll wait until she joins us."

        Although Roy wanted answers now, he knew Mark was right. Joanne would want to hear first hand what he and Agent Dailey had to say.

        Mark leaned back in his chair and took a long swallow of coffee. God knew he was in bad need of the caffeine. He loosened his tie and undid the first button on his shirt collar. He eyes the paramedic's blue jeans and T-shirt with envy.

        What I wouldn't give to get outta this monkey suit and spend a Saturday fixing my little boy's bike. Only my little boy isn't little any more. He's twenty-three and I spent far too many Saturdays working when he was Chris DeSoto's age.

        "I talked to Doctor Brackett yesterday morning," Mark said while they waited for Joanne to arrive. "He said John's improved somewhat the past few days. He said something about being 'cautiously optimistic' about a full recovery. Whatever that means."

        "That's Doc Brackett's way of saying things are looking up, but at the same time we need to keep in mind Johnny has a lot to overcome."

        "In other words we shouldn't be turning cartwheels yet."

        "Exactly. Though the picture's getting brighter."

        "How so?"

        "I talked to Brackett about a half hour ago. He took Johnny off the ventilator this morning." Roy smiled while giving a thumbs up. "So far so good."

        "I'll be able to interview John soon then?"

        "I don't know. Brackett will be the one to decide when you get that opportunity."

        Mark gave a rueful grin. "I had a feeling that's what you'd say. Kelly Brackett appears to rule Rampart with an iron fist."

        "He's tough when he needs to be," Roy acknowledged. "And a bit on the gruff side now and again. But he's a helluva doctor. Johnny couldn't be in better hands."

        "I suppose that's all that counts."

        "To me it is."

        Before the conversation could continue Joanne entered from the garage. She was carrying her purse in one hand and a white bag from a local bakery in the other. She smiled at Mark Bellmen.

        "I was wondering whose car that was in the driveway."

        "Hi, Joanne," Mark greeted as he stood. The FBI agent followed suit. Mark indicated to the man with a nod of his head. "This is Quinn Dailey. He's an agent with the FBI's Child Abduction Unit."

        Joanne entered the dining area with right hand extended. "Agent Dailey. It's nice to meet you."

        "Nice to meet you, too, Mrs. DeSoto."

        Joanne walked back into the large, sunny kitchen. She opened a cabinet and pulled out four dessert plates, napkins, and a platter.

        "I see Roy has gotten coffee for you. Can I interest you gentlemen in some muffins or doughnuts?"

        "No, no," Mark shook his head. "We won't stay long. We didn't mean to interrupt your breakfast."

        "Oh, this isn't breakfast," Joanne replied as she filled the platter with the tempting treats. "We had that several hours ago. This is just a snack to enjoy along with a few minutes of peace and quiet now that the kids have been delivered to their appointed destinations."

        "Nonetheless, Quinn and I didn't mean to intrude."

        "Don't worry about it," Joanne assured with a smile. She sat the platter down in the center of the table, then passed out the plates and napkins. "There's plenty for everyone. Believe me, when Johnny Gage is your husband's partner you learn to buy twice as much of any food you plan on keeping in the house."

        Mark Bellmen took a chocolate doughnut off the platter Joanne pushed his way.

        "Gage is a big eater, huh?"

        Roy rolled his eyes. "We wonder where he puts it all while still managing to stay so skinny. But then he ping pongs around the station like Ricochet Rabbit on most days so I guess that explains how he burns off the excess calories."

        "My eight year old son is like that," Quinn Dailey said. He smiled his thanks at Joanne as he reached for a banana muffin. "Short of tying him to a chair my wife and I can't get him to sit still for more than thirty seconds at a time."

        "The guys and I have considered tying Johnny to a chair a time or two, but then we'd have to gag him as well or we'd never hear the end of it."

        "Sounds like the men of Station 51 make good comrades," Mark said in
light of the teasing tone behind Roy's words.

        "Yeah. Yeah, I guess we do. I've been with the fire department fourteen years now. This is the best group I've ever had the privilege of working with. We know we can rely on each other in a tight spot. They're a great buncha guys."

        Joanne poured herself a cup of coffee and sat next to her husband. The small talk continued until everyone had consumed either a doughnut or a muffin. When the plates had been pushed aside, and everyone's cups refilled, the smile left Mark Bellmen's eyes. His casual posture became a thing of the past as he sat forward in his chair and leaned his arms on the table.

        "You're probably wondering why Agent Dailey and I dropped by this morning."

        Roy nodded while looking at Joanne. "We're a bit curious."

        "I don't know of any other way to tell you this other than by getting right to the point."

        "Tell us what?" Joanne asked.

        "On Monday of this week an eight year old girl by the name of Carrie Wrightman was kidnapped from a school yard in the city of Bensonville. Do you know where that is?"

        "I know the general area," Roy said. "It's about a hundred miles north of here, right?"

        "Yes. On Wednesday Carrie's body was found in a shallow grave in a thick stand of woods roughly forty miles beyond where she was taken."

        "Oh, Lord," Joanne whispered as her hand reached for Roy's. "Oh, Lord, no."

        Mark saw the look of understanding that passed between the DeSotos. When they turned their eyes to him he gave a reluctant nod.

        "We strongly suspect the man who killed the Wrightman girl is the same man who attempted to abduct Tracy Nichols and your Jennifer. A motel clerk identified him based on the sketch we sent up to the Bensonville PD. Unfortunately, he paid cash for the room and registered as John Doe."

        "And they accepted that?" Roy raised an incredulous eyebrow. "They let the guy register under John Doe?"

        Bellmen shrugged. "He paid cash, Roy. And the clerk had no reason to argue with the guy over the name he gave. Let's face it, a motel's staff sees all kinds of people pass through for a night or two for all kinds of reasons. If the patron doesn't cause any trouble they have no reason to ask him any questions. And certainly no reason to argue with him over the name he gives when he registers."

        Roy sighed. "I suppose not."

        Joanne looked from Bellmen to Dailey, anxiously waiting for one of the men to give them more information. When none was forthcoming she broke the
silence.

        "So are you after this guy? Do you have any idea where he is now?"

        "To answer your second question, Mrs. DeSoto, no. No, we don't have any idea where he is now. But to answer your first, yes, I'm after him. If he's who I think he is, I've been after him for the better part of ten years now."

        "And just who do you think he is?" Roy asked.

        "A guy the press dubbed as the Kankakee Killer over a decade ago. His MO,...mode of operation, seems to involve moving from state to state where he preys on little girls between the ages of eight and eleven. They're never younger than that, and never older. Lately, he seems obsessed with blond hair and blue eyes, though it hasn't always been that way."

        "And what do the little girls say about him?" Joanne asked. "What information have they given you over the years?"

         Dailey's eyes flicked to Mark before returning to settle on Roy and Joanne.
He cleared his throat in a way that indicated to Roy he was reluctant to answer Joanne's question.

         "As far as information goes, Mrs. DeSoto, the first information about the guy we've been able to get has come from Tracy Nichols and Jennifer. None of the other girls...none of the others lived more than four hours after their abductions."

         Joanne squeezed her eyes shut to keep her tears from falling. She felt Roy tighten his grip on her hand and knew his emotions must be similar to hers. That Jennifer was alive to go to a birthday party on this sunny April Saturday was only because John Gage fought so hard to protect her.

        Joanne opened her eyes and dabbed them with the corner of a napkin when Agent Dailey began speaking again.

        "I know this won't be easy for you to hear, but I want the information to come from me before you read it in the newspaper. Like all the girls this man has murdered, Carrie Wrightman was repeatedly raped and sodomized before being choked with so much force her neck was broken."

        Roy swallowed hard. It took him a moment to find his voice.

        "How...how can someone do that to a child?"

        "I wish I could answer that question, but I can't. We know this type of criminal has an array of psychological problems that revolve around their sexual performance and identity. Sometimes they come from an abusive background. Many of them grew up in homes where they were physically or sexually abused at very young ages. But then again, that's not always the case. I worked with someone a few years back who was fond of saying sexual serial killers who prey on children are the lowest of the low. The nuttiest of the nuts. The most insane of us all."

        "So this guy...John Doe...or whatever his name is...you think he's a serial killer?"

        "I don't think it, Roy, I know it. And if I'm correct then Carrie Wrightman was his twenty-seventh victim."

        Roy and Joanne sat in silence, absorbing the impact of what the FBI agent had just told them. When several minutes passed and neither of them spoke Mark Bellmen grew concerned.

        "Roy...Joanne? Are you both all right?"

        Roy gave a slow nod of his head while squeezing his wife's hand once more. "I was just thinking."

        "Thinking about what?"

        "If Johnny hadn't saved our daughter last Saturday we might very well be attending her funeral today. I'm...the relief I feel because that's not the case is almost too great to put into words. But at the same time...at the same time another set of parents now have to bury their little girl. I..."

        Overcome by emotion too painful to voice, Roy pushed his chair away from the table. He crossed to the patio doors and looked out at the deck. He recalled the three weekends he and Johnny had spent building it. Typical of the two of them, that time had included a lot of teasing, a few minor arguments, some 'shop' talk, but most of all just enjoying each other's company while they completed a project they'd conceived together in the squad one day. Roy didn't turn around when he heard Mark Bellmen's voice.

        "At some point John will have to be told about all this. I know we'll have to wait until Brackett gives the word, but..."

        "I'll tell him."

        "Pardon?"

        Roy turned.

        "When Doc Brackett says it's okay, I'll tell him. I don't him want to hear this from you or Agent Dailey. I know you have to talk to him. I know you have to question him about last weekend like you questioned me and my kids, but don't tell him about the Wrightman girl. He...for as carefree as my partner appears to be to the outside world, he's got a big heart. He feels things very deeply, even though more often than not he tries to cover that trait with a smart aleck remark or a bad joke. I know Johnny well enough to know he'll blame himself for this little girl's death."

        "Blame himself?" Bellmen questioned.

        "He'll think he could have done more. He'll get himself all worked up thinking of a hundred ways he could have stopped the guy from getting off that mountain last Sunday, no matter how many people tell him he couldn't have done anymore than he did. No matter how many people tell Johnny he did more...sacrificed more for my kids than most men would have, he won't listen because all he'll be doing is mentally beating himself up while asking himself what else he could have done."

        "Nothing," Mark said with firm conviction. "I know what happened up there. I know how hard he fought to keep that guy from taking Jennifer. I saw the knife wounds, and bruises, and welts, that cover most of his body. There was nothing else he could have done, Roy. Absolutely nothing."

        "No, there wasn't," Roy agreed. "But it will take John Gage a long time to come to peace with that fact. That's why he needs to hear this news from me. From his partner. From his friend."

        Roy turned to stare out the patio doors once again. ">From a man whose child he was able to save."

Chapter 34

        
        Johnny was moved to a regular room the following Wednesday morning. Most of the equipment he'd been hooked up to in ICU had been left behind. He was tired, weak, still running a fever, and in some pain, but at least he was off of the heavy sedatives that had kept him in a state of limbo and brought dreams he'd rather not partake in.

        John knew it was going to be a few days yet before Brackett would allow him the mobility necessary to go to the bathroom on his own or stand under a hot shower. He looked forward to both those small freedoms, and was grateful his father was here.

        At least Dad will be here to help me when I need it. I don't really want a nurse hanging onto my elbow the first time I'm allowed to stand up and take a leak. Not that I really want Dad to have to do that either, but it beats the alternative.

        For as much of a ladies man as John Gage was, he also possessed a large amount of pride and dignity. Being undressed by a woman you were about to make love to was quite different from being undressed by a woman who was about to give you a sponge bath.

        It had been Saturday before Johnny was cognizant enough to realize his family was really with him, as opposed to being visions from a dream. In some ways he'd been surprised by that fact, in other ways he hadn't. They'd never been told before when he was injured, but then in the past he'd never allowed it. This time he'd been hurt too severely to have any say-so in the matter. >From what he'd been told by Captain Stanley, almost from the moment Brackett stepped out of the OR he'd requested the Gage family be notified of Johnny's condition.

        Doc Brackett must not have held out a whole lot of hope that I'd pull through at that point.

        Johnny had to hand it to both his father and sister. Neither of them had yet to say a word about his ten year absence from their lives. Yes, there had been frequent phone calls back and forth once he got settled in L.A. and the pain of past events had receded somewhat, but he'd never gone back to Montana for a visit despite the many invitations his father had extended, and he'd never invited his family to his new home. Not even after he moved out of his small apartment and onto the ranch where he no longer had the excuse that he didn't have enough room to properly entertain guests.

        The only comment Gray Wolf had made about the ten years that had gone by was on Sunday. As he stood to leave the ICU after a short visit with Johnny, he bent and kissed the top of his grandson's head.

        "You have been gone a long time, Katori." When the old man straightened he touched his chest with his right hand. "But you have always remained here, within Pacachu's heart. And you always will. You have chosen the right path for yourself, John. After talking to your friends, the men you work with each day and the people here at this hospital who think so highly of you, I can see you're right where you need to be."

        Johnny's voice had been weak and hoarse when he replied, "Does my father see it?"

        "Yes, Katori, your father sees it. I suspect he has seen it for a long time. But you are his only son. He loves you very much. Do not fault him for wanting you by his side. This is the way it’s been amongst fathers and sons for many generations within our family. Within our tribe. Someday, when you have a son of your own, you will understand."

        John supposed he did understand somewhat. The enormity of a father's love is the only way Johnny could explain his dad's presence the previous afternoon when a detective named Mark Bellmen was allowed in the ICU by Kelly Brackett. Both Brackett and Johnny's dad stayed in the room while Bellmen questioned him. Johnny got the impression his father had been told of the detective's planned visit ahead of time so he could be with his son when the interview was conducted. John had to admit he appreciated his father's presence for reasons only the two of them would know.

        Johnny was forced to hide his smile as the questioning began. Kelly Brackett stood at the end of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest while wearing a slight frown. Bellmen kept glancing at him. Johnny had known Brackett long enough to easily guess the doctor had told Mark Bellmen that the interview would end as soon as John grew tired, or if he got upset. Brackett watched over his patient like a faithful guard dog from the first question right up to the last.

        From what Johnny gathered, the story he told Detective Bellmen didn't differ from what Chris and Jennifer DeSoto had told him. The detective was curious about the two hours that passed while Jennifer and Chris hid in the Pow Wow Cave. Johnny's recollection of that time was vague at best. He dimly recalled fighting with his assailant.

        "I wanted to give the kids enough time to get away," he replied in a raw whisper because his throat was still inflamed from the after-effects of the now absent breathing tube. "I...I remember he finally got the best of me. I was on my back, with him straddling my stomach, and I saw the knife coming down. It was headed for my chest. Then I heard Joe growl. He came out of nowhere and knocked the guy off of me. What happened then I'm not sure. I think Joe was going after him pretty good, but I lost consciousness at that point." Johnny had turned to his father then. "Do you know what happened to my dog? Is he all right?"

        Chad nodded. "He's fine. He spent a few days at a vet's clinic. Like his master, he had a dislocated shoulder and had been knocked around a bit, but we picked him up on Friday. He's going to make a full recovery. He's at your ranch. We're taking care of him for you."

        "Good. Roy's kids would be upset if something happened to him. They gave him to me."

        "I know. Jennifer told us. She was disappointed Joe couldn't stay at her house, but as long as we're at the ranch he might as well be at his home."

        It was then that Mark Bellmen redirected Johnny's attention to him. The paramedic had felt like he could simply drift off to sleep in the middle of the man's questions, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open. He wanted to get this over with in one sitting, as opposed to going through it again in a few days.

        Johnny told the rest of his story that Tuesday afternoon, though how helpful he was he wasn't sure. Large chunks were missing from his memory that he attributed to being the times he was unconscious. He was able to identify the knife Bellmen held up that was found at the scene and now encased in a plastic bag.

        "Yeah, that's what he was using. A bowie knife."

        "How about this?" Mark asked when he held up a light blue knapsack. "We found this in a tree. Roy DeSoto said it didn't belong to either of his children, nor did he think it was yours."

        "It's not."

        "Have you ever seen it before?"

        "No."

        The next item Bellmen pulled out of his pocket was a white piece of paper that had been folded in the middle.

        "One more question, John, and then I'll let you get your rest." Bellmen turned the same police artist's sketch around that he'd shown to Roy DeSoto and his children. "Is this the man who attacked you and tried to abduct Jennifer?"

        It wasn't until hours later that Johnny realized how odd Mark Bellmen and Kelly Brackett must have found it when he zoned out just staring at that picture. How many times Brackett called his name he didn't know. In a dim way he was aware of the man beckoning him, and aware that his father's voice chimed in with Brackett's after a few seconds as well, but he couldn't force his mind back to the present. When he finally looked at his father he wasn't seeing Chad Gage as he was today, but rather as he'd looked ten years earlier.

        "It's Kent," Johnny whispered with wide, unfocused eyes. "It was Kent, Dad."

        Johnny heard Bellmen echo, "Kent?" in a voice that seemed excited, as though he'd just made some valuable discovery. Johnny saw his father shake his head at the detective, then watched as his dad stood and leaned over his bed.

        "John, that's not Kent. That's in the past, son. Long in the past. Look again, John. Look at the picture. That man doesn't resemble Kent at all. Not in the slightest." Johnny felt his father gently turn his head until his eyes were forced to focus on the pencil drawing. "John, look. That's not Kent."

        Johnny knew Doctor Brackett had edged closer to the bed. Later he'd realize the poor guy probably thought his star patient was flipping out on him. He heard his father urge him again to look at the picture. He did as his dad ordered. He stared at the photo a long time, then shook his head against his pillows.

        "That's not him."

        "This isn't the man who stabbed you?" Bellmen asked.

        "That's not Kent."

        "We know that, John," Johnny's dad intervened before Detective Bellmen
grew any more confused. "But is this the man who stabbed you and tried to take Jennifer?"

        "Jessie?"

        "No, son, not Jessie. Jennifer. Jennifer DeSoto. Roy's daughter. Is this the man who tried to take her?"

        Johnny blinked a couple times, then stared at the picture again, this time seeing the face in a whole new light. "Uh...yeah. Yeah. That's him. That's the guy."

        Whatever confusion Johnny's comments caused his father handled. The paramedic's eyes closed as conversation buzzed around him. He ignored the men as he sank deeper into his pillows and allowed sleep to claim him. He heard Doctor Brackett tell the detective it was time for him to leave. Later, he thought he heard his father talking with Brackett, and thought he caught the words 'Kimberly' and 'our little Jessie', but whatever sedative Brackett was still giving him was strong and he really didn't care what the two men discussed just as long as they didn't expect him to participate in their little talk.

        When Kelly Brackett had made rounds this morning John thought his smile held a tenderness that wasn't normal for him. When Brackett squeezed his blanket covered foot as he approached the head of the bed Johnny scowled.

        "I can take a pretty good guess regarding what my father told you yesterday after Detective Bellmen left, but I don't want your pity. Or anyone else's. And I hope the conversation the two of you had goes no farther."

        Johnny expected Brackett to be hurt by his words considering how long they'd known one another, or maybe rebuke him for them by pointing out he was Johnny's physician and therefore had the right to know about any private matters that might adversely affect his recovery, but instead all the doctor said was, "You've never even told Roy?"

        "No."

        "Why not?"

        "I...I just haven't. It was a long time ago. It happened before we knew one another. There's no point in discussing it."

        Brackett's, "I see," sounded doubtful, and as if he had a lot more he'd like to say on the subject, but he respected John's wishes. Thirty minutes later Johnny was headed to a private room on the third floor.

        Though Johnny wouldn't admit it to anyone else, he was beat. His family had visited this afternoon, as had the guys from A-shift who had gone off another rotation at eight that morning, followed by Dixie at the end of her own shift. He'd eaten just enough supper to keep the nurses happy, and was now reclining against his pillows drifting off to sleep. He still had an IV in his right hand, and still possessed his sling, his cast, and more bandages than he could count. He was also still resting on his left side, with the ever present pillows behind him. His bed was raised to a forty-five degree angle now, though, which at least made him feel like he was somewhat participating in the world around him. He had a television in this room, too, though he'd been told it was broken so hadn't bothered to aim the remote at it and turn it on. A nurse had promised him a new TV first thing in the morning. Not that it really mattered. He was too tired tonight to even consider watching the thing.

        Johnny wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when he heard the door open. He would have ignored his visitor and allowed himself to be lured back to senseless slumber had he not recognized the voice that whispered, "I think Uncle Johnny's sleeping, Dad."

        Johnny pried his eyes open to find Chris and Roy standing at the foot of his bed. He hadn't seen the eleven year old since Chris took off down the mountain on Cody ten days earlier. He gave the boy the best smile he could muster.

        "Hi, Sport."

        Roy didn't know if it was the weak tone that now passed for Johnny's voice that caused Chris's reaction, or the pale face that was showing signs of both fever and weight loss, or the sling, bandages, and cast that spoke of his many injuries, or simply the memories that flooded the eleven year old's mind as he looked at the man he was now bound together with by a near-tragic incident no one else, save for Jennifer, could really ever be a part of.

        Whatever it was, tears started running down Chris's face as he approached the bed. Roy wasn't sure if he should let Chris stay or take him from the room when the silent tears changed to sobs. He didn't want either Chris or Johnny to get upset, but before he could make a decision Chris buried his head in the space between Johnny's left arm and his chest. Roy was touched by his son's gentleness as the boy laid his right arm across John's stomach, right under his sling, in the best form of a hug he could manage considering Johnny's injuries.

        Johnny seemed to understand exactly what Chris needed from him. He resisted the urge to wince in pain as he moved his right arm forward enough so he could run his fingers through Chris's hair.

        "Don't cry, Christopher Roy. Don't cry."

        Chris's words were muffled by the mattress, but both Roy and Johnny were able to decipher them.

        "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I disobeyed. I know you didn't want me to ride Cody. But I had to get my dad. I hope you understand."

        "I do, Chris. Don't worry, I do."

        "But if you still want to tan my hide like you said, that's okay. I mean,...I know I have it coming 'cause me and Jen were supposed to listen to you and do exactly what you said."

        Johnny couldn't move his hand enough to cup his fingers under Chris's chin and force him to lift his head, so instead he made a verbal request of the boy.

        "Chris, look at me. Please. Come on, lift your head and look at me."

        For a few seconds Roy didn't think Chris was going to do as Johnny asked of him, but then he saw his son's head come up from the mattress. Johnny rewarded Chris with that familiar Gage grin.

        "Now let me ask you this. Do I really look like I'm in any condition to be tanning your hide?"

        Despite the tears still running down his face Chris couldn't help but laugh.

        "No."

        "No," Johnny echoed. "I don't think so. I'm not in any condition to do much more than what I am right now, which is lay here and watch the world go by. But thanks to you, Sport, I'm still around to do just that." John lifted his cast and wrapped his fingers around Chris's forearm. "You made the right decision, Chris. I might not have liked it at the time, and there were many reasons why your decision caused me a lot of worry, but you did what you had to do. I can't fault you for that."

        "So you'll take me camping again?"

        "You bet. Only it might be a while before we can go. I've got a feeling Doctor Brackett's going to be restricting my activity for a couple months to come."

        "That's okay. I can wait."

        Chris beamed from ear to ear as he carefully hugged Johnny once more. John didn't mean to doze off on the boy, but his body wouldn't allow him to stay awake. He was vaguely aware of Jennifer giving him a kiss on the forehead while rambling on about Gray Wolf visiting her classroom, and then somehow managed to open his eyes for his first visit from Joanne since he'd been brought to Rampart. Like Chris, she cried as she hugged him.

        "Geez," he murmured in a voice wrought with sleep, "you DeSotos sure are a weepy bunch. Roy's gonna have to help me change this hospital gown if there's any more of you waiting out in the hall to cry all over me."

        "Oh, you and your teasing," Joanne scolded with a smile. She grew serious as she grasped the fingers poking out of his cast. "Thank you, Johnny. Thank you for what you did for Jennifer. Roy and I...well, there's no way we can ever repay you."

        "I don't expect you to. Or want you to try. You know I love those kids like they're my own. And you and Roy...you're my best friends, Jo. I couldn't have faced either one of you if I had been forced to come off that mountain without Christopher Roy and Jenny Bean."

        "Don't say that. No matter what might have happened, Roy and I would have known without a doubt that you did the very best you could. That you gave all you had to try to save our children."

        "It would have never been enough for me if the kids didn't come back safe and sound. Never."

        Joanne shook her head at the inert man. "You're one stubborn man, John Roderick Gage." She bent and kissed the same spot on his forehead that Jennifer's lips had touched a few minutes earlier. "And we wouldn't have you any other way. We'll leave you alone now so you can sleep."

        Johnny tried to say good night to his visitors, but couldn't stay awake long enough to accomplish that seemingly small task. He thought he heard Roy say he'd see him tomorrow, and for the first time realized he hadn't held a private conversation of any length with Roy since he'd arrived here. Maybe tomorrow they'd finally get a few minutes to themselves without nurses, or doctors, or Johnny's family, or some fireman, in the room with them.

        And unbeknownst to Johnny, that's exactly what Roy was making certain of as he stopped by Doctor Brackett's office on his way out of the hospital that night.
        
        

Chapter 35

        
        Johnny was surprised to see Roy at ten o'clock on Thursday morning. He knew his partner was now off-duty until Saturday, but hadn't expected him to drop by until visiting hours started at two that afternoon.

        "Better watch it," Johnny rasped. "There's a couple nurses on this floor who aren't as willing to bend the rules for wayward paramedics like Dixie is."

        "I've got permission from Brackett to be here. Besides, when have you ever been worried about following rules?"

        "I'm not. But you are. So like usual, Pally, I'm protecting your reputation while at the same time willing to sacrifice my own."

        Roy arched an eyebrow as he pulled a chair next to Johnny's bed. "As usual, huh? I think Brackett's got you over-medicated, Junior. Your memory isn't so sharp these days."

        My memory is better than you give it credit for, Roy. But that's another story.

        Roy wasn't sure what caused the smile to leave Johnny's face. He waited a few seconds, and when it didn't return he broke the sudden silence that had filled the room.

        "Your voice still sounds pretty raw. How's your throat feel?"

        "Pretty raw."

        Roy smiled at the quip.

        That's better.

        "Running a temp?"

        "Yeah. Around one-hundred. Or so the nurse said a little while ago. They've got me on some new antibiotic Brackett is promising will be the miracle drug that will have me dancing with your wife at the Firemen's Ball on Saturday night."

        "I doubt that," Roy laughed. "I hate to break the news to you, but I think you're going to miss this year's ball."

        "Doesn't matter. I didn't have a date anyway."

        "You would have found one in that little black book you keep. Though the term 'little' hardly does it justice."

        Johnny grinned at the teasing. "You could have bet money on that."

        The small talk quickly faded. Roy could tell Johnny was wondering what brought him here at this time of the morning. He didn't have long to wait before his partner asked.

        "Is everything okay? I mean with Joanne and the kids?"

        "Sure. Everything's fine. You just saw them last night."

        "I know. But a lot can happen in a few short hours."

        Don't I know it, Junior. Don't I know it.

        "Well, nothing has happened, so quit worrying." Roy shifted in his chair so he was sitting up straight.

        "Listen, Johnny, the reason I came by is so I can talk to you about a few things."

        "What things?"

        Roy flicked a thumb toward the television set. "The TV for one thing."

        "What about the TV?"

        "It's...uh...it's not broken."

        "Sure it is. A nurse told me it was when they moved me in here yesterday. They're supposed to get me a new one today."

        "No, they told you that because we didn't want you watching it."

        "Whose we? And why would 'we' care whether or not I watch TV? I'm a little old to need someone to police my viewing habits, wouldn't you say?"

        Roy had known no part of this conversation was going to be easy. If Johnny was able, he'd be sitting up on that bed with his arms crossed looking as indignant as he was looking now while forced to remain on his side.

        "We is me, and your family, and Doc Brackett. And the reason we care is because I need to talk to you about some things before you see them on the news, or read about them in the paper."

        "Oh. So that's why no one's shown up with the newspaper I asked a nurse for a few hours ago."

        "Yeah. That's why."

        "What's going on?"

        "Several things. Let me start with the first one."

        "Sounds like a logical place to me, even though I haven't the faintest idea what the hell you're trying to tell me."

        Roy shot his partner a look that said, "Cool it, Junior. You're making this a lot harder on me than it already is."

        "John..."

        Roy's use of the name John, as opposed to Johnny, and the hesitation that followed it told the dark headed man whatever discussion was about to take place was going to be painful for both of them.

        "What's wrong?" Johnny could feel his stomach twisting in knots. "If McConnikee is gonna break us up...transfer me because I'm gonna be off my feet for a while, I wanna talk to him right now. I'm sure Cap will talk to him, too. Unless you...unless you asked to have me transferred. I mean...if you don't wanna work with me anymore because of what happened I...I understand. I know it was my job to keep the kids safe and...even though they weren't hurt physically, I know they went through a lot...and...well...if you..."

        Roy couldn't stand to see the hurt in those brown eyes that made his partner look like a ten year old boy who was about to lose his best friend.

        "Johnny, no. No. No one's gonna have you transferred anywhere. Not McConnikee, and certainly not me. And can this nonsense about me not wanting to work with you! For Christ sake what more could I have asked you to do for my daughter? You let that guy stab you so she and Chris could get away. You let that guy beat you with a goddamn billy club while you hid Jennifer beneath your body! Are you nuts?" Roy jumped from his chair. "Me not want to work with you? Have you lost your mind? What would even make you think such a thing?"

        John refused to meet Roy's eyes. The blond man had to strain to hear his partner's reply.

        "When you're on a mountain waiting to die while at the same time praying you have enough strength left to save your best friend's child if need be, a lot of thoughts run through your mind. You remember a lot of times when you triumphed over adversity, but you,.....well, you remember a few times when you failed as well."

        "I see," Roy agreed quietly, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had arrived. When Johnny offered no more he said, "Look, I'm sorry I got so upset. It's just that I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Like Joanne told you last night, even if the camping trip would have had a different outcome...one more tragic than what already has occurred, we wouldn't have blamed you, John. Not for one second would I have not known you didn't do your best by me and my kids."

        Again, Johnny didn't say anything. As Roy looked at his friend's pale face he wished this discussion didn't have to go any farther. However; he knew he had no choice but to finish what he started. Eventually Johnny would get access to a newspaper or the TV, and then he'd hear what they'd been keeping from him.

        "John, as much as I hate to do this right now, I need to talk to you about why I stopped by this morning. Are you okay? Are up for that?"

        Johnny nodded his head against the pillow, finally making eye contact with Roy once again.

        "Yeah. Go ahead. Sorry for interrupting. And I'll quit jumping to conclusions."

Roy smiled. "That would be helpful."

        The blond man remained standing next to his partner's bed as he began to relay the purpose of his visit.

        "First of all, you know that the guy who stabbed you got away, right?"

        "Yeah. Bellmen told me that."

        "Okay. So, with the guy on the run the cops and the FBI have sent that sketch you saw to every police department all up and down the West coast, and to every state as far east as Kansas. But because he's on the run there's been some concern for your safety ever since you were brought here. There was a cop posted outside the ICU while you were there, and now there's one posted outside your door."

        If Johnny was upset by this news he didn't show it. "The guy doesn't know my name."

        "No, he probably didn't."

        "Didn't?"

        "Look, from the very start Bellmen told me the likelihood that one of these guys ever comes back to the scene of the crime is very rare."

        "So that's good news, right?"

        "Yes, it is. Especially since..." Roy wasn't sure how to break this next part to his partner.

        Johnny winced as he sat up straighter against his pillows. "Since what, Roy?"

        "Since a reporter by the name of Brian Kessler managed to sneak into your room in the ICU and snap your picture. It was on the front page of the paper, along with your name and a story about what happened. Your dad's got a copy of it. He'll show it to you this afternoon if you wanna see it."

        Johnny didn't immediately make a response as he absorbed all this information. Finally, he nodded his head.

        "Yeah. Yeah, I wanna see it. That bastard...Kessler did you say his name was?"

        Roy nodded.

        "That bastard Kessler didn't put Jenny's name in the article, did he? Or yours?"

        "No. He just said you'd taken the children of a 'friend' camping for the weekend."

        "Good."

        "Bellmen doesn't think there's anything to worry about," Roy assured again.

        "I'm not worried. Or at least not for myself. As long as the guy...the guy from the mountain I mean, can't track down Jennifer, that's all I care about." Johnny gave a sarcastic snort. "Besides, what else can he do to me that he hasn't already done?"

        Roy had to bite his tongue to keep from saying the first thing that came to mind.

        Kill you.

        Before Roy could speak again Johnny asked him another series of questions.

        "Do they have any leads? Has that sketch I saw helped? It looked just like him. Do they have any idea who he is?"

        Roy groped behind him until he found the arm of the chair he'd vacated. He pulled the chair as close to the bed as he could and sat down. He hesitated again before restarting the conversation.

        "Yeah, John, they've got a few leads."

        "I wish you'd quit doing that."

        "Doing what?"

        "Calling me John. You never call me John unless you're pissed at me or you're gonna tell me something I don't wanna hear."

        "Well, I'm not pissed at you," Roy assured with a small smile, "but as for the latter...yeah, I have to tell you something you're not gonna want to hear. Not anymore than I wanted to hear it when Bellmen and an FBI agent by the name of Quinn Dailey showed up at my house on Saturday morning."

        "What'd they tell you?"

        "Another....," Roy paused and swallowed hard before continuing. "Another little girl by the name of Carrie Wrightman was kidnapped a week ago Monday from a school yard in Bensonville. Her body was found last Wednesday in a shallow grave forty miles north of there."

        Johnny closed his eyes. Roy got the impression his partner thought if he couldn't see him, then maybe he wouldn't hear the rest of what Roy had to say. Unfortunately it didn't work that way, and now that he'd come this far Roy knew he had to finish for both their sakes.

        "Agent Dailey is on the case because he suspects this is a guy he's been after for the last ten years. Twenty-seven girls from twenty different states have gone missing, or been found murdered. They all of them match the same general description. Between the ages of eight and eleven, and lately all with blond hair and blue eyes."

        "Like Jenny," John acknowledged while opening his eyes.

        "Like Jenny," Roy agreed.

        "How...how did she die? Carrie Wrightman. What did he do to her?"

        "It doesn't matter, Johnny. It--,"

        "Yes, it does matter. It matters to me. It matters to her parents. Tell me what he did."

        "John..."

        "Okay, don't tell me. I'll just hear it on the news or read it in the paper. That's why the TV is supposedly broken, isn't it? And why the nurse never sent a volunteer up here with a paper."

        "That's why. Brackett didn't want you told until you were stronger. Your dad and Reah were going to talk to you, but I asked them if I could. I thought,...well, we've been friends a long time. I thought maybe it would be easier if you heard it from me."

        "So tell me the rest of it. How did she die?"

        Gage, you are the most persistent, stubborn mule when you set your mind on something. You know her death wasn't easy. And far from pretty as well. Can't you just leave it at that?

        "Roy?"

        The blond man heaved a sigh. Deep down he knew Johnny was right. If he didn't hear the details about Carrie's death now, he'd just hear them later on the six o'clock news. Roy had to admit to himself the last thing he wanted was for Johnny to be alone when the rest of the story was revealed.

        "She...she was raped, Johnny. Repeatedly. And sodomized with things the Medical Examiner can only guess at. Then she was choked so hard her larynx was crushed. Her cause of death was from a broken neck."

        Johnny's eyes took on a vacant look as he stared at the wall across the room. He thought of the powerful man he'd struggled with, and pictured those huge hands wrapped around the slender throat of a delicate little girl.

        "That could have been Jenny."

        "Yes, it could have been. But thanks to you it wasn't."

        "I should have tried harder to stop him. I...if I had managed to fight with him a little longer maybe I could have..."

        "Don't, Johnny. Don't do this to yourself. Don't you dare do this to yourself. There's nothing, absolutely nothing, you could have done to prevent Carrie Wrightman's death. If you don't value my opinion on this then ask your father, or your sister, or Gray Wolf, or Brackett, or Dixie. Ask Mark Bellmen or Quinn Dailey. You couldn't have done anything more than you did. You damn near died from the injuries you received at that guy's hands. He's crazy, Johnny. A sexual serial killer who preys on little girls, as Agent Dailey phrased it. He won't be stopped until he's caught."

        "But I had that opportunity. I had my hands right on him and--"

        "No. No more. I won't listen to any more of this crap. If I have to tell you a thousand times over that you did the best you could, that you did more than a lot of people would have in order to keep Jennifer safe, then I will. But I won't sit here and listen to you blame yourself for something that isn't your fault. Do you understand, Junior?"

        It took a moment, but finally Johnny gave a tight nod of his head. He closed his eyes.

        "I'm kinda tired, Roy. I...I'd like to get some more sleep."

        Roy was well aware he was being dismissed. He thought about refusing to leave, but forced himself to respect Johnny's desire for privacy.

        "Okay, I'll head back home then. Your family's going to come by this afternoon. And probably some of the guys as well. I'll call you after supper. If you're not too worn out from your visitors Joanne and I will come up for a few minutes."

        Johnny nodded but never opened his eyes when he spoke. "Bring the kids."

        "You sure? I'm sure they can stay at the Stokers' for a couple hours."

        "No. I wanna see them. And tell Jen to bring Aggravation. Maybe we can play for a while."

        Roy thought Johnny was going to be exhausted long before it was time to play Aggravation, yet he understood his partner's need to be with Chris and Jennifer considering the news he'd just been told about a little girl named Carrie Wrightman.

        "Aggravation it is. I'll make sure to tell her."

        When Johnny heard Roy settle the chair back in a corner of the room he reached out his left hand.

        "Roy?"

        "Yeah?"

        When Roy got no response he walked over to the bed and took a hold of the fingers sticking out of the cast.

        "I'm still here, Johnny. You need something?"

        "No. Just wanted to say thanks."

        "For what?"

        "Being such a good friend. I...I know what you had to say about...about that little girl, was just as tough on you as it was on me."

        "You'd have done the same if our positions had been reversed."

        Johnny didn't make a response. Roy remained standing next to the bed until he was certain his partner had fallen asleep. He gave the fingers he was still grasping a light squeeze before resting Johnny's arm on the pillow once again.

        "You're a good friend, too, John Gage," the paramedic whispered. "A damn good friend. And don't you ever doubt that for a second."
        
        

Chapter 36

        

        John Gage sat in a chair at the small round table in his hospital room. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, while at the same time massaging his throbbing temples, two things he did a lot lately when no medical personnel could see him.

        The paramedic looked down at the newspaper that was now outdated by over two weeks. Carrie Wrightman smiled up at him from the black and white print. She so easily could have been Jennifer DeSoto. Or one hundred other nameless little girls who only wanted to enjoy their childhood and have the opportunity to grow up.

        An opportunity Carrie didn't get because I couldn't stop him. Because I couldn't keep the bastard from running off that night.

Johnny didn't bother to read the article that accompanied Carrie's picture. He'd long ago committed it to memory.

        The man sighed as he gazed out his hospital window. April had turned to early May since he'd arrived at Rampart. The often painful physical therapy he was forced to endure was helping his right arm and leg regain the strength and dexterity they'd possessed before his attack. The cast on his left arm was due to come off in two days which, no doubt, meant more painful therapy on a limb that would be stiff and weak due to its confinement. But those things were minor compared to the back problems he was experiencing. He'd been fighting an infection from those deeper stab wounds on and off for the past three weeks. Doctor Brackett's promise that the new antibiotic would do the trick in clearing up the infection had been repeated with several more antibiotics, until the doctor realized it was to his patient's benefit not to make anymore promises. Johnny's temperature was still bouncing anywhere between the normal ninety-eight point six and the not so normal one hundred and one. But that didn't worry the paramedic nearly as much as the spasms that would grip his back muscles without warning. His physical therapist kept assuring him that time and exercise would take care of that, but those assurances didn't keep Johnny from worrying about his future.

        A fireman who can't carry a victim from a burning building will be out of a job quicker than he can pull on his turn-out pants.

        Three days earlier Johnny's father and grandfather had flown back to Montana. Chad Gage's younger brother, Lucas, was taking care of his ranch for him, but the man worked a full-time job in town as well. That meant Chad couldn't expect Luke to offer his help indefinitely.

        Johnny thought back to their parting. His grandfather had been the first to hug him and say his good-byes.

        "Katori, do as your doctors say so you can soon return to your hearth. You have made a warm and rich home for yourself. Who would have ever thought a person could find a ranch here in Los Angeles."

        Johnny chuckled at the marvel he heard in his grandfather's voice. This visit had been eye-opening for the elderly man who had never before left the state he'd been born in, and had certainly never been in a city populated with more than twenty thousand people.

        "You will always be in Pacachu's heart. I hope you will one day return to his home."

        The paramedic knew this was his grandfather's way of reminding him a visit was long overdue. When Johnny made no response the old man didn't press him further, just like John knew he wouldn't.

        His father was a different story; however. Gray Wolf stepped out of the room so Chad and Johnny could say their good-byes in private. The last few weeks had brought them closer than they had been since Johnny was a boy. And yet, Chad could still feel the barrier his son would erect each time their conversations threatened to go beyond the surface things like how John was feeling, or small talk about ranches, horses, relatives, or John's work as a paramedic.

        Johnny had to resist the urge to turn away when his father laid a hand on
his forehead.        

        "You're feverish again."

        "I know."

        "Doctor Brackett won't let you out of here until your temperature returns to normal."

        "I know that, Dad. But there's not much I can do about it."

        John refused to meet his father's eyes. That was of little consequence though, because Chad voiced what Johnny would have seen there had he been willing to look.

        "You can't run forever, John."

        Johnny laughed. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not running much of anywhere these days."

        "Don't do that."

        "Do what?"

        "Hide your pain behind a smile and a smart aleck remark."

        Johnny's tone warned his father to back off. "Dad..."

        "I want you to come home."

        The apparent shift in subject caught Johnny off guard.

        "What?"

        "Home. To Montana. When Doctor Brackett releases you I want you to fly home with Reah."

        "I can't."

        "Why not?"

        "Because...because I'll have to go back to work."

        Chad raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I highly doubt you'll be returning to work the day after you get out of the hospital."

        "I have before."

        "If you say so. But this was a bit more than a sprained ankle or smoke inhalation."

        "Dad..." Johnny shifted on the bed, then turned his head. In doing so he broke eye contact with his father once again. "Please. I don't want to fight with you."

        "I don't want to fight with you either, son. But you have to face facts. Your health is not improving at the rate your doctor expected once you were moved from the Intensive Care Unit. Your temperature bounces up and down like a yo-yo, you're being plagued by nightmares..."

        John shot his father a dark scowl.

        "Don't look at me like that. And before you say anything else, I do have the right to speak to your doctor, and to expect honest answers from him when I can't get them from you."

        "I've never lied to you."

        "Then I think you and I have a very different definition of that word. When you tell me you slept 'fine', then later I discover you woke up screaming in the middle of the night, I'm forced to conclude you fibbed to me."

        "You know, Dad, I can see why you've gone so far in tribal politics these last few years. You missed your calling as governor of the whole damn state."

        "John Roderick--"

        Johnny's head came off his pillows.

        "Look, I'm not a kid anymore so don't stand there scolding me! I haven't lived under your roof since I graduated high school. I've made a life here for myself. My friends are here. My ranch is here. I work a job I love and don't have any intention of giving up."

        "I'm not asking you to give it up. Nor give up your friends or your home. I'm simply saying you've been through hell. Again. You can't lay there and tell me that this situation hasn't brought back memories of Kim and Jess..."

        "Don't say it," Johnny hissed, the eyes shining with fever only further accented his pale face. "Don't say anymore."

        Chad took a deep breath. He would not allow this to be like the last time he and his son parted ten years earlier. There would be no more shouts or angry words. Instead, he said softly, "Just because you refuse to speak of them doesn't mean they didn't exist."

        Without waiting for a response, Chad rested his callused palms on either side of his son's face. Johnny felt his father's lips touch his forehead.

        "I hope you'll change your mind and come for a visit when you're feeling up to it. But regardless of whether you do or not, I love you, John. And I'm proud of you for reasons too many to name."

        It seemed to Johnny as though his father had barely gotten those words out that night, and then he was gone. He couldn't recall his dad ever having told him he loved him before. Yes, the feeling had always been there. Readily evident in his dad's smile, or a stern word of correction, or in the hands that had worked so hard to provide for him throughout his childhood. But the words of love had never been spoken. And now, just when Johnny was realizing that and wanting to say them in return, his father was back in Montana.

        As he sat in his chair a half a smile touched the paramedic's lips.

        No doubt he planned it this way, hoping it will prompt me to go see him when I'm released from this place. And speaking of release, it's about time Brackett springs me from here.

        Those thoughts had barely run through Johnny's mind when the door opened. He looked up to see Kelly Brackett enter the room.

        "Morning, Johnny."

        "Hi, Doc."

        Kelly read the chart he was carrying as he talked. "How are you feeling?"

        "The same way I felt yesterday. And the day before that. Fine. And if I'm feeling fine, it would only make sense for you to free this room up for someone else who's not feeling so fine."

        "What's the matter there, Johnny?" Brackett smiled as he pulled the chair out across the table from the paramedic. "You've got a complaint about our accommodations?"

        "Let's put it this way. I like your accommodations a lot better when I'm making use of them as a paramedic. I'd prefer not to have to make use of them as a patient."

        "We'd prefer that, too. But if you become any more of a 'regular' Dixie's going to be setting a room aside for you on a permanent basis. You know, kind of your home away from home."

        Johnny wasn't in the mood to partake in the teasing. He latched onto the only word in Brackett's sentence that really mattered to him.

        "Speaking of home, I'd like to go back to mine."

        "You will."

        "When?"

        Kelly set John's chart aside. He sat back in the chair and met the paramedic's intense gaze. He held up his right hand, displaying fingers one by one as he counted off.

        "Number one. When you've gotten through three consecutive days without a fever. Your temperature's been normal for the past twenty-four hours so you're off to a good start."

        "My temperature's been normal for twenty-four hours before, only to have it go up again without warning."

        "That's true. But as you know, I changed your medication again on Monday. Maybe we've finally hit on the one that works."

        "God knows I hope so."

        "I hope so as well. Now; onto number two. That cast is set to come off on Friday. If Doctor Taylor says your wrist has healed in the way he expects it to, and you promise to follow to the letter whatever instructions he gives you in regards to what you can and can't do once you're released,...."

        "I will."

        Brackett tossed the paramedic a skeptical grin. "Yeah, for about two days you will until you decide you just have to climb on the back of one of your horses. Or repair a fence. Or put a new gate on your corral. Or put hay up in the mow. Or,...."

        "Doc, no. I'll do what Taylor says. Really, I will."

        "I've never known you to sit still for more than five minutes once you've
decided you're fully recovered from whatever injury or illness brought you to me, but if nothing else, this time I know I can count on Reah to make certain you do as your doctors order."

        Johnny rolled his eyes. Other than Dixie McCall, there was only one other woman who could make him toe the line when necessary, and that was his big sister. Although she'd told him she was remaining in Los Angeles for a few weeks to assist him in whatever ways necessary when he was released from the hospital, he'd known all along that another part of the reason she hadn't returned to Montana yet was so she could make certain he followed Kelly Brackett's instructions to the letter when he was first allowed to return home. He had a feeling a number of people had conspired to see this took place, including his sister, his father, Brackett, and Roy.

        All Johnny said on the subject was, "I don't like the thought of her staying at the ranch alone now that my dad and Paca...grandfather, have gone back to Montana. Not with that guy still on the loose."

        "Your dad didn't like the thought of it either. Roy and Joanne invited Reah to stay with them until your release, but she refused. Your sister strikes me as a very independent soul."

        "She is. Always has been. And stubborn as a hard headed mule, too."

        "She sounds like her brother in that respect."

        "Her brother's not stubborn. He simply lives by his convictions."

        "I argued enough with her brother seven years ago when he was in my paramedic training class. I'm not going to argue with him today."

        Johnny grinned. " 'Cause you know you'll lose?"

        "Because I know I won't get anywhere. Which, by the way, is quite different from losing."

        John chuckled as he thought back to the brash, bold young man he'd been. Not that he still wasn't brash and bold to a large degree, but as he approached his thirty second birthday time and maturity had tempered a portion of that aspect of his personality.

        "Now, onto the third and last condition of your release. I want you to schedule a few sessions with an acquaintance of mine."

        Johnny's brow furrowed. Though he did his best to act like he had no idea what the doctor was talking about, Kelly knew he understood perfectly.

        "Sessions? What do you mean? Sessions with who?"

        "Doctor Umbridge. Stanford Umbridge. He's..."

        "I know who he is. He's the hospital shrink."

        "Spoken with your usual tact. But yes, he is."

        Johnny's eyes darted to a corner of the room.

        "I don't need to see him."

        "Judging by the nightmares you've been having, and how little you've been eating, I tend to disagree with your opinion, Doctor Gage."

        John's eyes met Brackett's once more. The doctor could see the anger in the brown orbs.

        "Look, Kelly, it's up to me to decide who I see and who I don't."

        In all the years they'd known one another, John Gage had never called Kelly Brackett by his first name. That act alone spoke volumes to the doctor. He knew Johnny was furious with him while at the same time silently telling him he had no right to make a visit with Stanford Umbridge a condition of his release. But Brackett did have that right, and he planned to see it followed through.

        "Sorry, John, but that's the deal. You see Umbridge before you're released, or you remain a guest of Rampart General."

        "You can't keep me here. If I decide to walk out right this second there's nothing you can do about it."

        "No, there's not. Except declare you unfit for duty when the time comes you're ready to return to work."

        Brackett watched the muscle in Johnny's jaw twitch and saw his right hand clench so tight the knuckles turned stark white. John glared at the doctor a long minute, then transferred that glare to the window and the world beyond.

        Kelly allowed the silence to linger for five full minutes. When he thought he was no longer in danger of being decked, he said quietly, "Johnny, I'm sorry. I know you're angry with me, but I'm your doctor...and your friend. I can't do any less for you than what I know is best for your overall health. You've been through a lot. Both in recent weeks and in the...past. You need to let some of what you're feeling out. If you keep bottling it up eventually the cork is going to blow. You can't keep running..."

        Johnny swiveled to face the doctor.

        "Just because my father told you things that are none of your goddamn business doesn't mean you have the right to sit there and judge me or the choices I've made. I didn't run from anything. I've never run from anything in my life. I've faced what I've had to and then I've moved on. Period. End of story."

        "Moving on doesn't mean pretending something never happened."

        "I don't pretend! I know something happened! I know it better than you, better than my dad, better than my sister, better than the whole frickin' world! But get this straight, Doctor Brackett, it's my business and my business alone! Do you understand?"

        There was a long pause before Kelly nodded. He pushed his chair back and stood.

        "I understand. Nonetheless, you'll see Doctor Umbridge or you'll be finding
another line of work because I won't declare you fit for duty until Umbridge gives me the go ahead."

        The doctor turned for the door. It had no more than closed behind him when he heard the plastic water pitcher crash against it. The rookie cop who was standing guard raised an eyebrow.

        "Is Mr. Gage okay in there?"

        The young man wasn't sure what to make of Kelly Brackett's quiet reply.

        "No, he's not okay. But until he reaches that same conclusion there's not much more I can do."

        Brackett walked the length of the corridor and entered the elevator. The cop was left standing outside John Gage's room, listening as anything that wasn't bolted to the floor was thrown against the walls. The rookie sat back down in his chair with a long suffering sigh.

        Geez, I hope I never get another assignment like this.

___________________________________        

        
        One week later Kelly Brackett watched from his office window as Reah Gage and Dixie McCall wheeled Johnny to the Land Rover that was parked at the curb outside the Emergency Room entrance. Ever one of Rampart's most popular paramedics, Johnny's departure drew a crowd of well wishers. Kelly spotted Joe Early and Mike Morton amongst the nurses, physical therapists, and candy stripers. Brackett himself chose not to make an appearance. Johnny was barely speaking to him these days, so he thought it best if he stayed away from the gathering that brought the familiar lopsided grin of delight to the paramedic's face.

        Kelly turned at the knock on his door.

        "Yes?"

        The red head of Stanford Umbridge poked into the room. "Hey, Kel. Got a minute?"

        "Sure, Stan. Come on in."

        The lanky doctor entered and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Kelly who was still standing at the window. His eyes caught sight of the farewell party going on outside.

        "By looking at that smile I'd say this is one happy day for John Gage."

        Brackett nodded. "I'd say so."

        "Unlike your paramedic, you don't look too thrilled about it."

        "Oh, I'm happy for him. It's just that within two days he'll be doing everything he's been told not to. The words 'take it easy and rest' and 'John Gage' hardly go together in the same sentence despite my best efforts."

        "Well, if nothing else you got him to come see me."

        "Yes, if nothing else I did accomplish that. And without breaking doctor/patient confidentiality, can you tell me how your sessions went?"

        "They went well. As a matter of fact I have to say John has a good handle on this entire situation."

        Kelly couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

        "You would?"

        "Yes. His utmost concern was keeping Jennifer DeSoto safe. Because he was able to do that everything that has happened since, from his injuries to having his picture appear in the paper, is of little consequence to him. Of course, every one of us would react differently to what he went through. But if he's at peace with all that's happened because he was able to keep his best friend's daughter alive, then I'd say he'll have no future problems with any of this."

        "Did he talk to you about anything else?"

        "Anything else?"

        "Yes. About another...assault he experienced eleven years ago?"

        "No. Why? Was he supposed to?"

        Brackett folded his arms across his chest as his gaze returned to the parking lot. The crowd was gone now save for Dixie and Joe Early. They were waving goodbye as Reah pulled the Land Rover away from the curb.

        "I thought he understood that he was supposed to, but then this is John Gage we're talking about."

        "What do you mean? Did I miss something?"

        "No, Stan, you didn't miss a thing. Johnny did exactly what I told him he had to,...have some sessions with you. I didn't tell him in so many words what he had to discuss, but he knew damn good and well what I expected of him."

        "Kel, I'm only getting more confused here, rather than the other way around."

        Brackett turned away from the window and offered the man a small smile.

        "I'm sorry. It's...nothing. If Johnny chose not to share it with you then it's not my place to, either. As much as I'd like to kick him in the seat of his skinny ass right now, I know how I'd feel if our positions were reversed and someone broke my confidence regarding a very personal and private matter. I just thought..."

        "Thought what?"

        "I thought he trusted me enough to do what I asked of him."

        "Though I'm still in the dark as to what's going on, Kel, I can tell you this. Sometimes it's not a matter of trust. Sometimes it's a matter of having the emotional strength to open Pandora's Box and face whatever comes out of there. Maybe John just isn't ready to do that."

        "And what if he never is?"

        "I can't answer that question. Maybe no harm will come of it. But then again, maybe not. Regardless, you have my report. I can't give you one reason not to declare him fit for duty once he's recovered from his physical injuries."

        Brackett thanked the man for his time. He watched Stan exit the office, then moved to sit behind his desk. In a way Kelly Brackett was pleased by Stan's findings. The last thing Kelly wanted to do was keep Johnny from returning to work. He was one of the best paramedics in L.A. County, and he loved his job. Those two things alone made him a valuable asset to Rampart General. On the other hand, Kelly didn't like the thought of what Pandora's Box might contain should it ever open when Johnny didn't have the strength to slam shut.

        Before Brackett could mull the situation over any further he was paged. He rushed out of the office, all concerns for John Gage pushed to the back of his mind as Dixie directed him to Treatment Room 3.

        

Chapter 37

        
        Johnny had been home from the hospital for one month when he was given clearance by Doctor Brackett to return to work. The two men had maintained a cool, professional politeness with one another throughout John's physical that Tuesday morning in early June. Johnny didn't shoot the bull with Brackett after the physical ended like was normal for him, or go in search of Dixie or any other nurse. He simply accepted the papers the doctor handed him that he'd have to give to Hank Stanley the next day, said a quick, "Thanks," and walked out the door.

        Dixie looked up from her own paperwork as Kelly passed by the nurse's station.

        "Was that Johnny I just saw leaving?"

        "Yeah. He came in for his physical. He's going back to work tomorrow."

        "That's wonderful." Dixie smiled. "I'm so happy for him. And Roy,...well, Roy will be thrilled to have his partner back. I have a strong suspicion Craig Brice is trying the infamous DeSoto patience."

        "Brice can do that to a person," Kelly acknowledged, though Dixie could tell his thoughts weren't on his words.

        "Kel? What's wrong? Is everything okay with Johnny? You don't expect him to have any further problems, do you?"

        Dixie barely heard the man's mumbled, "None that he'll tell me about," before he turned and walked to his office.

        The nurse shrugged her shoulders.

        I wonder what he means by that?
        

___________________________________        

        
        It was eight o'clock that night when Johnny stepped out from underneath the spray of a hot shower. Though he was loath to admit it, the additional month of recuperation at home had done him good. Reah had been a big help to him the first week he was out of hospital, and while he greatly enjoyed her company, before the second week came to a close he sent her back to Montana. He knew the longer she remained with him the longer she went without a steady income. Aside from the fact that her career, her boyfriend, and her entire life was back in the state they'd been born in. But that's not where Johnny's life was, and though his father was still encouraging him to come for a visit each time they talked on the phone, the paramedic kept putting the man off. At least now, with his return to work, Johnny had a more viable excuse to give his dad.

        Just like Johnny knew it would be, his ranch proved to be the best physical therapy for him. Within two hours of Reah's departure John began doing all the things Brackett told him not to, like mending fences, riding horses, and putting up hay. But what Kelly Brackett and Reah Gage didn't know wouldn't hurt them. Nor hurt Johnny either. As a matter of fact, the hard labor only helped him return to full health both mentally and physically. The nightmares were a thing of the past, too. He'd told Brackett they would be once he was off medication and out of the hospital, but Kelly Brackett could be as stubborn as John Gage himself, and had simply given the paramedic a skeptical look at that pronouncement. Regardless, Johnny had been proven right. Or at least partially right. He couldn't deny he was still experiencing vivid dreams filled with memories he'd rather forget, but at least he no longer woke up screaming Kim's name.

        John finished toweling off, then pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and faded jeans before running a brush through his wet hair. He padded through his house barefoot and bare chested. The animals were taken care of for the night. All of them, including Joe, were locked in the barn. He stopped in the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk, then headed for the living room. He turned on the TV as he passed it, then settled in his recliner.

        The paramedic's mind wandered as he watched the Dodgers game. He knew his family and friends were concerned for his safety, and he had a strong suspicion that his father and Roy talked on the phone at least once a week. But there had been no sign of the man who had tried to kidnap Jennifer, and as far as Johnny knew no other little girls in the area had gone missing or had been found murdered. Mark Bellmen had pulled police protection off Johnny the day he was released from the hospital, which was fine with him. The last thing he wanted once he was free from the confines of Rampart was to be followed around by a cop.

        Johnny's only desire now was that law enforcement officials find the guy before another child died. Other than that, his remaining concern was for Chris and Jennifer. Roy kept assuring him that the kids had come out of the incident remarkably unscathed. Perhaps the sessions they'd had with Doctor St. Clair had helped. Or perhaps they were just young enough, and resilient enough, to bounce back from what could have been a situation of tragic proportions.

        John gave an involuntary shudder as he thought of what could have happened to Jennifer. He wished he'd put on a T-shirt before settling in his chair. He wrapped his arms around himself as mental images too gruesome to dwell on assaulted his brain. Now he knew why Joanne and Roy had asked him to baby-sit this past Saturday night. They'd wanted to prove to him that they still trusted him with their children, and more than likely knew he needed to discover for himself that he could spend time alone with the kids without anything bad happening.

        Johnny had to admit that little ploy on Joanne and Roy's part helped him a great deal. It touched him deeply that they would allow him to have the kids overnight on his ranch again. Johnny suspected the twenty-four hours that Chris and Jennifer were with him were as nerve wracking for Joanne and Roy as they had been for him. But John had done a good job of keeping his uneasiness from the children. They'd done all the things Chris and Jenny loved best, from feeding the animals, to eating at Pizza Hut, to riding the horses, though Johnny had been careful to guide the kids away from their usual trail up the mountain during this last activity. Instead they remained on his ranch, getting all the fun they needed on the acreage he owned. When Roy and Joanne arrived at noon on Sunday Johnny fired up the grill and cooked lunch. They stayed until four-thirty, the adults relaxing together on the deck while Chris and Jen roamed the ranch with Joe trailing behind them.

It was Roy's number Johnny dialed now as he picked up the phone from the end table. His partner answered it on the fifth ring. Johnny didn't have to say hello, let alone identify himself for Roy to know who he was speaking to.

        "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

        "No. I was just helping Chris build a birdhouse for his Scout project while Joanne oversees Jennifer's bath. What's up?"

        Johnny couldn't keep the smile out of his voice. "So, how sick are you of Brice?"

        "Pretty damn sick, that's how sick. Why?"

        "Well...unless you want to keep him for your partner, I'll be rejoining you in the squad tomorrow morning."

        "That's great, Johnny! Great!"

        Johnny smiled at the heart-felt enthusiasm that was voiced with considerable more emotion than Roy usually displayed.

        "So Brackett cleared you? You're okay?"

        "I'm fine. And yes, Brackett cleared me."

        "How's your shoulder?"

        "Good."

        "And your wrist?"

        "Okay."

        "And your back? It's not bothering you any more?"

        "Roy, I'm fine. Really. Gee, if I didn't know better I'd think you were looking for an excuse to keep Brice at Station 51."

        "No, no. Believe me, far from it. It's just that...I just want to make sure you're okay. You know?"

        Without Roy having to say anything else, Johnny understood what he meant. They both carried a lot of needless guilt around about the fateful camping trip. Johnny, because Roy's children had gone through so much at his expense. And Roy because he felt he could never repay his best friend for all that had been sacrificed in an effort to keep Jennifer free from harm.

        "Roy, I know. But quit worrying. Like I told you, I'm fine. You know as well as I do that Brackett wouldn't have signed the medical papers I have to give Cap tomorrow if he had any doubts about my health."

        "No, he wouldn't have," Roy conceded.

        "So like I said, I'm okay. And quit feeling guilty."

        "Johnny..."

        "Roy, let's just drop it once and for all. It happened. It's over. Everything turned out all right. The kids are healthy and happy. That's all I care about."

        "But..."

        "Look, if you're going to say something about never being able to repay me, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, just skip it. Besides, I'm sure at some point in the future you'll even the score."

        "How?"

"Oh, I don't know. Like maybe by pulling me out of a burning building, or picking my sorry butt up off the ground after I've gotten knocked down by an explosion, or pushing me out of the way of a falling beam, or--"

        "I get the message, Junior. But do me a favor, huh?"

        "What's that?"

        "Don't make me do anything like that for you on your first day back. Let's ease ourselves sloooowly and gently back into the old routine."

        Johnny laughed. "You got yourself a deal, Pally. I'll hold off on the fun until at least our second shift together."

        "Fun? You call that fun?"

        Roy sputtered mock indignities until Johnny chuckled and said, "See ya' tomorrow, Roy," then broke their connection. He was still smiling as he stood to shut off the TV and carry his empty glass to the sink. It was barely eight-thirty but he was tired. He had to report for work at eight the next morning and would be on for three days straight. He wasn't fooling himself. He knew this first stint was bound to take a lot out of him.

        Johnny walked through the house making sure the house was locked and shutting off lights. As he headed for his bedroom he never noticed the face peering through the glass of the patio doors.

        

Chapter 38

        Thanks to some quick phone calls from Roy on Tuesday night, the men of Station 51's A-shift welcomed John Gage back in style. They chipped in and purchased a cake from a local bakery that read in blue icing swirls, We Missed You, Johnny. Welcome Back. The A-shift wives rounded out the little party by sending the foods along with their husbands that they knew Johnny loved best. Hank Stanley's wife had baked two pans of lasagna, Mike Stoker's wife sent a huge casserole dish of ham and scalloped potatoes, while Roy carried in a kettle of Joanne's cheddar cheese soup along with a loaf of homemade bread. There's was no doubt the A-shift men would eat like kings for the next three days. Once again, Johnny was touched by the kindness of these people he called his closest friends.

        Of course, a John Gage Welcome Back Party couldn't be complete without a visit from the Phantom. Everyone held their breath and shot Chet dirty looks when Johnny was hit full in the face by a water balloon as he opened the kitchen cabinet that contained his coffee mug. His wet hair dripped on his uniform shirt as he slowly turned. He couldn't quite keep the smile from his face as he said, "I see the Phantom hasn't been transferred in my absence."

Chet patted one wet shoulder and assured, "Never, Gage. Never."

        Johnny had just finished changing his shirt when the klaxons sounded. He ran for the squad, and within seconds he and Roy were off on their first run of the day. Johnny watched the familiar scenery fly past as he told Roy to turn right at the next intersection. Roy must have caught the fleeting smile on his lips. He returned it with one of his own.

        "Feels good to be back, huh, Junior?"

        Johnny's smile turned to a grin. "Yeah, Roy, it feels good. It feels damn good."

        Within minutes Roy and Johnny were aiding a heart attack victim. They worked in well-synchronized rhythm as though it had been only two days since they'd last worked together, rather than two months.

__________________________________        

        The Los Angeles County Fire Department Headquarters was located in a modern office complex on Vine Street. The man waited until twelve-fifteen before entering. He had no idea how many people worked here, but surmised that during the noon hour staffing would be at its lowest.

        He climbed out of his Dodge and walked across the street. He finger combed his hair into place as he pulled open one panel of the glass double doors. He pasted a smile on his face as he entered a vast lobby that was bare of anyone save for the black receptionist sitting at large wooden desk.

        "May I help you, Sir?"

        "Can you direct me to the Personnel Department?"

        "Certainly." The woman pointed with a well-manicured fingernail painted vivid red. "Just go down this corridor to your left. Personnel is the fourth door on your right."

        "Thank you."

        He turned and followed the route the woman had indicated. As he guessed would be the case, he didn't encounter another soul. When he came to the open door marked Personnel he paused and knocked on the frame.

        A heavyset woman in her late twenties sat at a desk typing. The remaining four desks in the large room were empty.

        The woman's nameplate read Karen Cates. She pushed a strand of limp, mossy brown hair behind one ear as she smiled.

        "Hello."

        "Hi. I apologize for the intrusion, but the receptionist told me this is the personnel office."

        "It is."

        "Oh, good. Well, listen, my name is Pete Donaldson and I was recently hired on as a firefighter. I just moved my family here from Chicago. I was a firefighter there, too. I was told to come down and fill out the necessary paperwork before I report to work at Station 8."

        "All right." Karen stood and crossed to the filing cabinets. "Did you have anything sent here from Chicago?"

        "You mean my records with the department and such?"

        "Yes."

        "Uh...yeah, I did."

        "Let me find them, and from there I'll see what else I need to have you do."

        "Thanks, Karen. Thanks so much."

        The young woman returned the man's smile. Most of the firemen who
passed through this door on a daily basis ignored her. Not that she could blame them she supposed. She was ninety pounds overweight and wore glasses with lenses as thick as Coke bottles. Only a few of the men she encountered were genuinely nice to her. She fingered through the D's as Pete chatted with her.

        "You married, Karen?"

        "Me? No."

        "No? I'm surprised."

        "Surprised?"

        "An attractive woman like you still unattached? What's wrong with the guys in L.A., are they blind?"

        Karen blushed, but made no reply.

        "Hey, you don't know anything about the Longwood Elementary School do you?"

        "No, I'm sorry. I don't. Why?"

        "My kids will be starting there on Monday."

        "How many children do you have?"

        "Three. Two boys and a girl. They're a little nervous about having to start over some place new, but heck, so am I."

        "Starting over is never easy. But I'm sure you'll do fine."

        "You really think so?"

        "Sure. Why not?"

        "Oh...you know how it is. New job. New city. New house. New friends. L.A. scares me. If it wasn't that my wife's parents are getting on in years and need us out here to live close to them, I wouldn't have considered moving. I'm a Windy City boy myself. Born and raised on the south side."

        "Well, at least you won't have to fight snow in the winter."

        "That's true. But I worry, you know. For my kids' safety I mean. L.A. seems so violent. You hear so many stories. I mean heck, it wasn't that long ago one of your firemen was stabbed or something while on a camping trip."

        "Paramedic."

        "Pardon?"

        "He's a firefighter/paramedic. Johnny Gage."

        "You know him?"

        "Sure," Karen smiled, while still looking through the files. She couldn't find anything under Donaldson so had started at the very beginning of the D's assuming one of her co-workers had slipped Pete's file into the wrong spot. "Everyone knows Johnny. He's a great guy."

        "He is, huh?"

        Karen thought of the handsome, shaggy haired man who always had a big smile and kind word for her regardless of whether he ran across her at headquarters, or in the grocery store.

        "I don't know of anyone who doesn't like Johnny. He's just that kind of guy. Special. Never without a grin on his face and a joke to share."

        "Does he work at Station 8 by chance?"

        "No. He's at 51's."

        "But he's okay now? I mean, is he back to work after what happened to him?"

        "Coincidentally enough yesterday was his first day back. My understanding is that he's made a complete recovery."

        "Good for him."

        "We're all happy for him. It was so horrible. His doctor was concerned he wouldn't live the first few days he was in the hospital. And that man who attacked him...well, if he'd managed to run off with Jennifer I don't even like to think of what would have happened to her."

        "Jennifer? Was that the little girl he took on the camping trip?"

        At the odd look Karen shot him, Pete quickly added, "I read all about it in the Trib. The Chicago Tribune."

        "Wow. It made the papers all the way in Illinois?"

        "Yeah. It was big news for a few days."

        Karen shut the file drawer when she couldn't find anything under Donaldson. She wasn't ready to give up yet, and moved on to the P's thinking that someone might have filed Mr. Donaldson's records under Peters or Peterson. She didn't want him to realize she was having a problem, so attempted to cover up her actions with small talk while she crouched in front of the wide metal drawer.

        "To answer your question, yes. Jennifer was the little girl Johnny had with him. Her brother was along, too. Chris. Chris and Jennifer DeSoto. They're the children of Johnny's partner, Roy DeSoto."

        "Partner? You mean his squad partner?"

        "That's what I mean. I've worked here since I graduated from high school. That's over ten years now. I know a lot of the firemen and paramedics. I've never seen two closer than Johnny and Roy. They're more like brothers than friends. That's why it was a blessing that God was watching over Johnny and the kids that day. Johnny would have never forgiven himself if something had happened to either one of them. And if Johnny hadn't pulled through Roy would have been devastated. Absolutely devastated. Not to mention the children. I don't like to think of how broken hearted they'd have been had their 'Uncle Johnny' died."

        Karen stood, reluctantly admitting defeat.

        "I'm sorry, Mr. Donaldson, but..."

        "Pete. Please call me Pete."

        "Pete. I'm sorry, but I can't find your file in either the D's or the P's. If you'll leave your home phone number with me I'll call you as soon as I locate it. It's possible one of my co-workers has it, or that it's been misfiled in another drawer. It'll take me a little while to do a thorough search."

        The man stood. It was then that Karen noticed how tall he was. She had to crane her neck in order to meet his gaze.

        "We've only been in town a few days. Our phone isn't in service yet. How about if I stop by again tomorrow morning? In the meantime, I'll use my in-laws phone to contact department headquarters in Chicago and see if the file was ever sent. If I find out it wasn't I'll let you know."

        "That's fine. And again, I'm sorry."

        Pete smiled as he shook the woman's hand.

        "No need to be sorry, Karen. You've been very helpful. More helpful than you'll ever know."

        Karen found that last comment to be rather odd, but she didn't think any more of it after Pete left the room. After all, she had a missing file to search for.

Chapter 39

        
        It didn't take long for everyone to realize that John Gage was 'back in the saddle again,' as the expression went. Roy was probably the only person who detected how much that first seventy-two hour shift wore his partner out, but by the time they reported for work four days later Johnny looked well-rested and once again was raring to go. Even Kelly Brackett was forced to set aside his misgivings over John's mental state. On more than one occasion since Johnny's return to the job Brackett had seen the paramedic rush into Rampart with a patient while performing whatever life-saving skills were necessary with his usual efficiency, or spot Johnny as he was leaving, the younger man tossing a grin over his shoulder along with a, "See ya', Dix." If Johnny was still angry at his doctor for prying into his personal life, Brackett couldn't detect that either. But then that didn't come as a surprise to the physician. Anyone who knew John Gage knew he could be quick to anger, but was also quick to forgive.

        Other than being tired after his first shift back on duty, Johnny felt good. The first call he and Roy had gone out on was both exciting and nerve-wracking, but Johnny supposed that was to expected considering he'd been off work for two months. But once he'd proven to himself that he still had what it took to do all aspects of his job a weight was lifted from his shoulders that he'd never let anyone, not even Roy, know existed. After all, it isn't every day a person gets hacked with a knife while at the same time being forced to protect a child's life. The physical and emotional tolls of that event had been many. But now, three weeks after his return to work, Johnny was finally beginning to put the assault behind him. He still wished he could have stopped his attacker from fleeing that night. His heart still ached each time he thought of Carrie Wrightman and the fate that had befallen her. However; he'd also come to realize he had the right to feel joy over the fact that Jennifer was still alive. It didn't seem fair somehow, that one little girl lived while another died, but that's just the way life turned out more often than not. What was fair and what wasn't didn't seem to matter to whomever it was that controlled the universal happenings.

        Johnny parked his Land Rover at the side of his house. Before he even climbed out Joe was barking a greeting. The dog ran up to the vehicle's door, his tail stirring up dust from the gravel driveway as it thumped with excitement.

        John exited the Rover and bent to pet his dog. When he was working he paid Bob Emery to feed and water his animals for him and lock Joe up in the barn for the night. Bob would come by every morning and let the dog out for the day while also retrieving Johnny's mail and putting it on his kitchen table for him.

        The paramedic enjoyed the feel of the early evening sun on his back while he talked softly to Joe and scratched the dog behind his ears. He thought of all the things he wanted to do during his four days off that ranged from laundry, to mowing grass, to riding Cody.

        Joe followed Johnny to the side door. John fished his keys out of his pants pocket and let himself in the house.

        "I'll be out in a few minutes," Johnny told the dog as he shut the door. Joe sat down, waiting faithfully as though he'd understood every word.

        John kicked off his tennis shoes in the laundry room, then walked down the short hallway that led to the kitchen. The house had that closed up feeling it always possessed whenever its owner had been gone more than a day. Johnny opened the window above the sink and the sliding glass door in the dining area. He paused as he passed the table, picking up his mail. He paid little attention to the bills for the time being. He'd go through them later and put them in date order according to when they were due. The junk mail he tossed back on the table. He'd throw those envelopes in the garbage can without bothering to open any of them. Next he came to three personal pieces of mail. He saw Hank Stanley's return address in the upper left hand corner of the first one. He knew what was inside before he even opened the envelope. An invitation to Cap's annual Fourth Of July picnic was enclosed with the date, time, and the request to bring a dish to pass written in Grace Stanley's neat cursive. This year the A-shift was scheduled to work on the Fourth, so the get together would be held the Sunday preceding the holiday.

        Johnny could tell the second piece of mail was written by a child. The return address on this one said Christopher DeSoto. Inside was an invitation to the birdhouse judging contest and exhibition Chris's Scout troop was hosting Tuesday evening of the following week. Johnny made a mental note to let Roy know he'd be there.

        The third envelope was also addressed by what looked to be a child's hand. Unlike Chris's, the letters on this one were printed.

        I suppose Jen's Brownie Troop has something going on she wants me to come to.

        But the piece of white paper inside the envelope had nothing to do with the Girl Scouts. Johnny gripped the back of a chair when the kitchen suddenly spun in a wild circle around him.
        
        Help me, Uncle Johnny. Please don't let the bad man get me. Help me.
If he hurts me, it will be all your fault. Help me, please.

        Johnny slowly sank to the floor as he read the note through a second time.
He didn't know he long he sat there before he finally made it back to his feet using the table for support. He groped his away to the kitchen counter where he pulled out a drawer. He grabbed the phone book and looked up the number for the Detective Division of the Los Angeles Police Department. When a woman answered the phone he had to swallow hard to keep his voice from shaking.

        "I'd need to speak to Detective Bellmen please."

        "Is this an emergency or may I take a message?"

        Johnny looked down at the letter.

        "I...it's an emergency. I need to talk to him right away."

        Johnny didn't remember giving the woman his name when she requested it, but he assumed he must have because within seconds Mark Bellmen's voice came on the line.

        The detective sounded jovial and upbeat when he said, "Hi, John. How are you?" almost as though he was glad Johnny's unidentified attacker hadn't resurfaced in the L.A. area, thereby making the man some other cop's problem.

        Mark Bellmen's tone took a quick dive, however. When Johnny finished explaining the reason for his call he said, "Don't throw the envelope away, and don't touch it or the letter again. Give me directions to your place. I'll be there as soon as I can."

        Troy Anders looked up from his paperwork as Mark stood and slipped into his wrinkled suit coat.

        "What's going on?"

        "That was John Gage."

        Troy had to think a moment before he could the name with a specific case.

        "The paramedic who was stabbed a few months back?"

        "Yeah. He just got a letter in the mail."

        "Letter? What kind of letter?"

        "The threatening kind, Troy Boy," Bellmen said as he hurried out of the squad room. "The goddamn threatening kind."

___________________________________        

        Mark Bellmen was at Johnny's ranch two hours that night. A quick call to Bob Emery confirmed the man had pulled that particular piece of mail out of Johnny's mailbox, but he couldn't recall the exact day it came. To be on the safe side, Mark toured John's house and ranch with him. Johnny was not able to detect any sign of a break-in or disturbance.

        After sealing the letter and envelope in a plastic bag Mark slid the items into the right side pocket of his suit coat. He'd turn them over to the crime lab, though he doubted they'd get any fingerprints that would be of use. By now who knew how many people had touched the envelope when you took into account the postal workers who would have handled it, though maybe they'd get lucky and get something off the letter other than Johnny's prints.

        Mark stood by Johnny's front door as he got ready to leave.

        "Let me ask you one more question before I go. I know it's difficult to think of ourselves as being the victim of a practical joke, but could this letter have been someone's idea of fun? Maybe a friend of yours, or a co-worker who doesn't quite understand the gravity of the situation? Or simply has a warped sense of humor?"

        Johnny shook his head while giving a firm, "No." The only friend he had who played practical jokes was Chet, but there was no way Chet would do something this cruel or stupid so Johnny didn't even bother to mention the Irish fireman's name to Bellmen.

        "Speaking of practical jokes, your name was in the paper after Kessler broke the story of what happened," the detective reminded Johnny. "This could be a prank on the part of some sick SOB who read the article. Believe me, it wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened."

        "Maybe so. But I wasn't referred to as 'Uncle Johnny' anywhere in that article. That's something only Roy's kids call me."

        "No one else at all? Just Roy's children?"

        "Just Chris and Jen," Johnny confirmed. "My sister isn't married. I don't have any nieces or nephews."

        Bellmen thought back to the events of the camping trip as told to him by Chris and Jennifer DeSoto.

        "So during the attack, if one of the DeSoto kids would have called your name, they would have said 'Uncle Johnny.' "

        "That's right. They would have. They never call me anything but that."

        Bellmen nodded. "I see."

        Without the detective saying anything more than those two words, Johnny knew the odds of this letter having come from his attacker had just increased.

        Mark opened the front door. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

        Bellmen was stopped on his way out of the house by Johnny's voice.

        "Just...just do whatever you have to in order to see this guy doesn't strike again. Doesn't hurt another little girl because he's pissed at me."

        "John, I promise you I'll do everything in my power to prevent that."

        Johnny wanted more than promises that night, he wanted a guarantee. But as he locked up the house and headed for bed he knew he wouldn't get one. Just like he knew he wouldn't get any sleep.

Chapter 40

        
        Roy DeSoto wasn't certain when he first began to notice a change in his partner's demeanor. He supposed it was when he overheard Johnny telling Cap that he wouldn't be able to make it to this year's Fourth Of July picnic. When Hank asked him why Johnny said, "I've already made plans for that Sunday with a woman I'm seeing. I...forgot about the picnic until the invitation arrived. Sorry."

        "No problem, pal. Though we'll miss you. If your plans change feel free to stop on by. Bring your date, too, if you want to."

        "Thanks, Cap."

        Two hours later, as they returned from a supply run to Rampart, Roy asked, "Who's the new woman in your life?"

        "New woman?"

        "Yeah."

        "There's no new woman."

        "Oh. But I thought..." Roy let his sentence trail off, suddenly aware if he revealed anything else he'd also reveal he'd been eavesdropping, as unintentional as that act was.

        "You thought what?"

        "Nothing. I just assumed that when you were in the hospital you came in contact with a whole new group of nurses you hadn't met before."

        "I did."

        "And?"

        "I don't know," Johnny shrugged while turning to look out the window. "I'm just not interested right at the moment I guess."

        Roy had never known John Gage not to be interested in women. He not only found this odd, but also wondered why Johnny had felt the need to lie to Cap when giving a reason for his absence from the picnic.

        Despite his curiosity, Roy let the subject drop there.

        Guess it's none of my business. Maybe he just feels like doing things around his ranch that Sunday but didn't want to hurt Cap's feelings by saying that.

        It was right after the picnic that Roy began to notice other changes in his partner. Johnny looked tired all the time, even when reporting for duty at the beginning of a new shift. He was also quiet, which for Johnny usually meant one of two things. Either he wasn't feeling good, or he was upset about something. Three times over the course of three days Roy asked him if he was okay, and three times Roy had been told, "I'm fine."

        Roy tried a different tactic one day in early July when they were alone in the locker room.

        "Johnny...look...I don't mean to pry, but is everything okay?"

        John glanced up from tying his shoe. "Okay?"

        "Yeah. You've been awful quiet the last couple shifts we've worked, and you look tired. You keep telling me you feel okay so if...well, if something's bothering you and you need a friendly ear you know I'm always available."

        Johnny gave his partner a small smile.

        "I know. And thanks. But nothing's bothering me."

        Roy had enough tact not to call his friend a liar, but nonetheless he had no doubt Johnny wasn't telling him the truth. If he had to put into words what he was sensing from his partner, Roy would be forced to say Johnny was emotionally pulling himself away from not only his best friend, but from everyone around him. Even Chet mentioned Johnny had refused two different offers to go fishing on recent days off, and Marco had said Johnny had turned down the chance to go to a Dodger's game with him and Chet the previous week, even though the tickets had been given to Marco by a friend who worked at the stadium.

        And then there was the invitations to dinner from Joanne that Johnny politely refused by saying he was "busy," and the apology he asked Roy to give Chris for not attending the eleven year old's birdhouse exhibition.

        It's not like Johnny to turn down one of Joanne's meals, or to not attend anything my kids are involved in. What's going on with you, partner?

        That was a question Roy would ask himself more than once as July progressed and he saw the tell-tale signs of stress and worry take its toll on Johnny. His partner was still efficiently performing his job, though how Roy had no idea. Every time he turned around Johnny was popping two aspirin in his mouth or drinking a glass of milk.

        Aspirin for a headache. Milk to soothe and coat an upset stomach.

        Roy had contemplated talking to Hank Stanley or Kelly Brackett, but knew he'd be crossing the line with Johnny if he did. The damage he'd inflict on their friendship by going to either of those men behind John's back might very well be irrevocable.

        As long as he can perform his job I've got no right to say anything. Damnit, Johnny, I wished you give me some kind of a clue as to what's going on. If you're not feeling well then see Brackett. Don't be afraid of what he might tell you, just go get a physical for crying out loud. And if something's got you worried or upset, then talk to someone. It doesn't have to be me. Just...just get it off your chest.

        Unbeknownst to Roy his partner was talking to someone. And on a regular basis. Mark Bellmen. Because more letters had arrived.
        

___________________________________        

        He had never imagined taunting John Gage would be this much fun. The downside was he didn't get to see Gage's reaction first hand. But soon. That would come soon.

        He leaned over the battered desk in his motel room and began to print with a thick pencil in a childish hand.

        Dear Uncle Johnny,

        Can Jennifer DeSoto come out and play?

        

Chapter 41

        
        It was a Wednesday afternoon in mid-July when the phone rang in Roy DeSoto's kitchen. He was out in the back yard, playing a game of catch with Chris and a neighbor boy when Joanne appeared at the patio doors.

        "Roy! Johnny's on the phone!"

        Roy turned to the boys. "You guys carry on without me."

        "Dad, wait."

        "Yeah?"

        "Tell Uncle Johnny me and Jen want him to come over. We haven't seen him since we stayed at his ranch that Saturday night you and Mom went out and that was ages ago."

        "I'll tell him. Maybe he'll come for a cookout the next weekend we have off."

        "That would be great!"

        Roy wished Johnny could see the delight on Chris's face. Possibly that would pull him out of whatever funk he was currently in that was causing him to detach himself from his friends. As a matter of fact, this phone call surprised Roy, now that he thought of it. He couldn't remember the last time Johnny had called him when they were off-duty.

        Roy accepted the glass of cold lemonade Joanne handed him as he stepped into the kitchen.

        "Thanks, hon," he said softly as set his baseball mitt on the counter and picked up the phone.

        "Hey, Johnny."

        "Hi, Roy."

        "What's up?"

        All Roy heard was silence.

        "Johnny? Are you still there?"

        "Uh...yeah. Yeah, I'm still here. Sorry. Listen...I know this is kinda short notice, but I need to talk to you and Joanne. Do you think you guys could come out here tonight? Say around seven?"

        "I think so. Let me check with Joanne though, to make certain we don't have any plans."

        Roy put his hand over the phone's mouthpiece. "Johnny wants us to come out to his place this evening. Are we free?"

        "Sure. The kids will kill us if we say no."

        Roy smiled his agreement as he resumed his conversation with his partner.

        "Joanne says we're free. And she says the kids will kill us if we say no."

        "Oh. Well...I hate to ask this, but could you get someone to watch the kids? Not bring them I mean?"

        "Not bring them?"

        This was the first time in all the years Roy had known Johnny that the younger man had ever asked Roy not to bring his kids over.

        "Yeah. I just...I need to talk to you and Joanne alone."

        "Okay. Well, I'm sure we can work something out."

        Joanne threw Roy a puzzled look from where she stood at the counter beginning her supper preparations. Roy held up one finger, indicating he'd fill her in after he hung up.

        "If we can't find someone to watch them I'll call you back," Roy said to his partner. "Otherwise I'll see you at seven."

        "All right. See you then."

        Before the blond man could ask any further questions Johnny broke the connection. Roy stood staring at the phone for a few seconds before finally hanging it up.

        "What was that all about?"

        "I don't know. Johnny wants to talk to you and me alone. Without the kids there."

        "Do you think something might have happened to his dad or grandfather? Or to Reah? Could one of them be sick? You said he's been awfully quiet lately. And he didn't come to Hank's picnic, and he refuses my dinner invitations, and he didn't come to Chris's--"

        "I know. But to tell you the truth your guess is as good as mine. He sure isn't telling me anything."

        "Evidently that's what tonight's about."

        "Evidently."

        "So, what do we do about the kids?"

        Roy was already dialing the phone. "We call my mother and remind her she's been wanting to take them to dinner and a movie. Then we don't tell Chris or Jenny where we're going."

        "No," Joanne chuckled. "We definitely don't tell the kids we're going to Uncle Johnny's without them."

        The woman began putting the food away she'd gotten out. By Roy's end of the conversation she could tell his mother was more than happy to have the children for a few hours that evening. As long as she and Roy had to go out, they might as well treat themselves to dinner in-between dropping the kids off and going to Johnny's.

        It wasn't lost on Joanne that her husband was preoccupied for the remainder of the afternoon. She was glad when four o'clock came and they loaded the kids into the car for the trip to Grandma DeSoto's. If nothing else Roy now had something to concentrate on besides Johnny. Rush hour traffic. Or at least until Chris spoke up from the backseat.

        "Dad, what did Uncle Johnny want when he called?"

        Roy's eyes slid to Joanne before flicking to the rearview mirror.

        "He had a question about work."

        "Oh. Well, did you invite him over for a cookout?"

        "I forgot, Chris. But I will. I promise."

        "Yeah, Daddy, invite him over," Jennifer urged. "Uncle Johnny must be missing us something terrible. It's been so long since we've seen him."

        "I'm sure he is, Jen."

        Roy was relieved when he pulled in the driveway of the three bedroom bungalow he'd grown up in. The neighborhood had been built during the roaring 20's. The homes were now considered old, but one wouldn't know it by looking at them. The people who lived here still took pride in ownership.

        Roy's mother came out of the house to greet him and his family. As hugs were exchanged the paramedic couldn't help but think of the questions his kids had peppered him with in the car, and then a rhyme his mother had taught him when he was a child.

        Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.

        Roy and Joanne made a hasty departure. All their children knew was that they were going out to dinner and would be back by nine to pick them up.

        Actually, it would be after ten o'clock that night before Joanne and Roy retrieved their children. They stayed at Johnny's a lot longer than they'd expected to, never imagining the news he was about to tell them.
        

Chapter 42

        
        John Gage was pacing the length of his deck when Roy and Joanne pulled in his driveway. He didn't trot down the stairs to greet them like he normally would have. He simply stood at the railing, waiting for them to exit their vehicle.

        Joanne bent to pet Joe who had arrived at her car door before she could get out. The dog followed the couple up the stairs of the deck. Joanne and Roy exchanged puzzled looks when Johnny didn't even say hello. He simply nodded, then held the sliders open while indicating to his guests to have a seat at the table.

        "No, Joe," he told the Malamute when he, too, tried to enter the house. The dog remained sitting on the deck gazing in through the glass with an expression Joanne found comical.

        "I think he's looking for Chris and Jenny," she said without thinking.

        "Sorry," John apologized as he sat down. "I didn't mean to inconvenience you. I hope you found someone to take them without any trouble."

        "My mom," Roy replied. "And don't worry, it wasn't an inconvenience. She's been wanting them to come over for a few weeks now. We just hadn't gotten around to making a date with her."

        Unlike was normal for Johnny, he didn't ask Roy how his mother was, or offer his guests a soda, beer, or glass of juice. Joanne studied the man sitting across from her. Smoky circles rimmed his eyes, and his mouth was pulled in a tight, straight line that spoke of underlying tension and dread.

        He doesn't look like he's slept in weeks. And he's so thin. Almost as thin as when he first got out of the hospital. How could Roy or Doctor Brackett not realize he's lost weight? Why does it always take a woman to notice these kinds of things?

        Joanne watched as Johnny drew idle circles on the surface of the table with his index finger. Every few seconds he'd risk a glance at either her or Roy, as if he was trying to work up the courage to say something. Joanne was well aware Roy had the patience to wait Johnny out half the night if need be, but she didn't. She was worried about him and wanted to get to the bottom of this summons. Now.

        "Johnny, what's wrong?" The woman asked. "Why did you call us to come over here?"

        When John didn't do more than look at Joanne through his bangs she tried again.

        "Are you sick? Or is there something wrong with your father or grandfather? Something we can help you with? Is Reah all--"

        Joanne felt her husband's hand on her arm. When she turned to look at him he gave her subtle shake of his head. She'd been married to him long enough to read his thoughts.

        Don't spook him, Joanne. He'll tell us when he's good and ready. Just give him the time he needs to get his thoughts together.

        When Johnny finally spoke he started by answering Joanne's questions.

        "No, I'm not sick. And no, there's nothing wrong with my family. Everyone's fine. I,...I asked both of you to come over tonight because...well because something's been happening to me for the past month that now affects the two of you."

        "Happening to you?" Roy asked. "What? And how does it affect us?"

        Johnny's eyes dropped back to the table as though he was ashamed of what he was about to reveal. As though he blamed himself in some way for what he had to tell Roy and Joanne.

        "I...I've been getting letters."

        "Letters?" Joanne questioned when Johnny didn't elaborate.

        "Yeah. Threatening...threatening letters."

        Roy could feel the acid start to churn in his stomach. He suddenly wished he'd bypassed that Italian restaurant Joanne suggested they eat at. He had a feeling he knew the answer to his question before he asked it.

        "Threatening letters from who, Johnny?"

        "I...they've never been signed. But Bellmen thinks they're from him." Johnny raised his eyes from the table to take in the couple he called his best friends. "From the guy on the mountain."

        "Is that what you think, too?"

        Johnny's only answer for his partner was a nod of his head. He stood and walked over to the same drawer where he kept his phone books. He pulled out five sheets of paper. He returned to the table and sat down.

        "These are photocopies of the letters. Bellmen has the originals. He has them numbered in the order I got them. The last one came in today's mail. Go ahead. Read 'em."

        Joanne took the letters Johnny pushed toward her. She didn't have to put them in order, John had already done that. She shared the first one with Roy, the two of them reading it silently.

        Help me, Uncle Johnny. Please don't let the bad man get me. Help me.
If he hurts me, it will be all your fault. Help me, please.
        
John refused to meet the couple's eyes when there was a long pause before they moved onto the second letter.

        
        Uncle Johnny, I still need your help. Why haven't you come for me?

        Roy felt anger burn deep inside on behalf of his partner as Joanne held the third letter up. How dare that bastard torment Johnny like this.

        Carrie Wrightman was my friend, Uncle Johnny. I'm sad now 'cause she's dead. You're a paramedic. Why didn't you save her?

        
        Joanne could hardly hold back her tears as she reached for the fourth letter.

        Oh, Uncle Johnny, so many other little girls are going to die. I just know it Can't you help them please? Send all the firemen if you have to.

        It was the fifth letter that made Joanne gasp and caused Roy to squeeze his eyes shut with shock and disbelief.
        
        Dear Uncle Johnny, Can Jennifer DeSoto come out and play?

        "I'm sorry," Johnny murmured as he gazed at the stricken couple. "I'm so sorry."

        It took Roy a moment to get himself together enough to make a reply.

        "Don't," he barked, sounding far more angry and stern than he meant to. Roy softened his tone, his anger certainly wasn't directed at his partner. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault. None of it. You have no control over what this bastard does. None. Absolutely none. But I want you tell me one thing."

        "What?"

        "Why did you keep all this from me?"

        "I...I didn't want you to worry. Bellmen thought...and still thinks...they have a pretty good chance of catching him now that he's made contact."

        "Have they identified him?" Joanne asked. "Have they been able to get his fingerprints?"

        "No. To both your questions."

        "Then how do they think they're going to catch him? What are they going to do? Wait until that madman grabs my little girl off the street and does the same things to her he did to Carrie Wrightman? Is that what they're waiting for? Is that what it's going to take before..."

        Roy put his arm around his wife and pulled her close. He didn't know what was worse, Joanne's upset, or the stricken look on Johnny's face because he was blaming himself for it.

        "Jo, calm down. Please. I know you're upset. So am I. We'll talk to Bellmen. See what he can tell us and what he thinks we should do."

        "Get out of L.A."

        Roy looked at his partner. "What?"

        "Get Joanne and the kids out of L.A. Now. That's what Bellmen's going to tell you to do. He and I have already talked about it. Don't let anyone know where they're going, but get them out."

        Roy didn't have to think twice about that suggestion. Joanne's parents lived in San Diego. She had been planning a two week stay with them in August before the kids returned to school. He looked at his wife.

        "Would it matter to your folks if you and the kids visited them now?"

        "I doubt it. We can see the zoo, and Sea World, and whatever else they have planned in July just as easily as in August. I'll call them when we get home."

        Roy nodded his agreement. He and Johnny didn't have to return to work until Friday morning. He could drive Joanne and the kids to her parents tomorrow. He turned his attention to his partner once more.

        "Is this...these letters, why you haven't been coming to our house? Or going anywhere else someone invites you?"

        "Yeah. I just...I don't know if the guy's following me or not, though Bellmen doesn't think so. They've had a cop tailing me the last few weeks. Regardless, I didn't want to lead him to your house, or risk him getting a glimpse of Jennifer in Cap's back yard. I...I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I know you're pissed at me and I don't blame you. But until this last letter arrived I thought it was just between the guy and me. Bellmen even said the letters might be coming from a practical joker. Or a copy catter. But when he used Jennifer's name, and included her last name, it really scared me."

        Roy could understand why. It really scared him, too. Yes, they had assumed the attacker might know Jennifer's first name depending on how long he'd been observing the campers that day on the mountain. But up until this letter had arrived they'd been unaware he knew her last name. Now he had a way of tracking her down if he was so inclined.

        When neither Roy or Joanne said anything Johnny used his thumb to indicate to the phone.

        "Go ahead and call your folks from here, Joanne. You can use the phone in my bedroom if you want to. This way you can talk to them without the kids overhearing."

        Joanne thought Johnny's suggestion was a good one. She pushed her chair back and stood. John looked so forlorn as she passed by that she stopped to give him a hug. Before her arms made it completely around his shoulders, and before she had a chance to assure him she didn't blame him for this newest set of events, he shrugged away from her and ordered, "Don't." He bit back the lump in his throat. "Please."

        The woman knew Johnny was blaming himself for the fear she and Roy now had to live with. For whatever reason he couldn't except any comfort she had to offer. She hoped that later, before she left, he was ready to hear what she had to say. For now she gave him a kiss on the top of his head before turning to walk through the living room, then to the bedrooms at the back of the house. She was gone several minutes before Johnny spoke to his partner.

        "I'll be telling Cap about all this on Friday. Then I'm going to request a transfer."

        "You're going to what?"

        "You heard me."

        "Yeah, I did. But no, you're not."

        "Look, Roy, if this guy finds out you're Jenny's father there's no telling what he'll..."

        "That's a risk I'm willing to take."

        For the first time since Roy had arrived Johnny showed an emotion other than sorrow or guilt. His eyes flashed his anger.

        "Well it's not one I'm willing to take! If he hurts you, or your family, I'll never forgive myself. You know that! It'll be better if I'm working at another station. And better if I don't come by your house anymore. You shouldn't come by here either."

        "Oh, Johnny, come on. Be reasonable. Yes, I agree with you to a point. Getting Joanne and the kids out of L.A. is the smart thing to do right now. But you transferring to another station at a time when you need your friends the most...no. No way. Absolutely not. I won't hear of it."

        "Regardless of whether you'll hear of it or not, you're not the person who has the final say-so."

        "Then I'll talk to Cap myself. I'll tell him,"

        Johnny slammed his fist on the table.

        "No! Just stay out of it! What I ask of Cap and what I don't is my business, not yours!"

        "Not this time, partner. Not this time."

        Johnny gave a growl of frustration as he shoved his chair back and stood. He stomped over to the patio doors and looked out at the fading light. He raked a hand through his hair just like Roy knew he would. Roy let the silence linger between them until he was fairly certain Johnny had calmed down.

        "John...please. Don't travel this road alone. As your friend...as your best friend, I'm asking you not to. We've both said we're the closest thing to brothers either one of us will ever have. If you were my brother I wouldn't let you walk out at a time like this, nor would I walk out on you, no matter how much potential danger I might be in."

        Johnny didn't turn around when he said quietly, "It's not just you I worry about, Roy. It's Joanne and the kids."

        "I know. But Joanne won't allow me to let you do this either. She's not going to want you to go through this by yourself any more than I do. I'll go with you when you talk to Cap if you want me to. I realize he has to be informed about what's going on, and since this last letter involved Jennifer I know he'll want to speak with me anyway. Maybe it's best if we talk to him together."

        Roy gave an internal sigh of relief when Johnny finally agreed to his words with a soft, "Maybe."

        "So you'll get the notion of transferring out of your head?"

        "I...let's just wait until we talk to Cap, okay?"

        Roy was willing to give his partner that much.

        "Okay."

        Johnny shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He stared out at the dusk a little longer before finally turning around.

        "I just want it to end, Roy. I'm to the point that I don't even care how as long as it doesn't involve your family. If it's me he wants then he can have me."

        "Johnny! You don't mean that."

        "Yes, I do. You don't know what if feels like. You don't know what if feels like to wonder if he's watching you. If he knows when you leave your house and when you come home. If he knows who your friends are, what your habits are, where you work. It's...it's frightening in a way I can't put into words...and hate to admit. It makes me feel powerless. At least if he'd show himself, like he did that night in the woods, I could do something about it. But this game of cat and mouse he's playing...well take it from me, it gets old real fast."

        "I'm sure it does. And if there was anything I could do, anything at all, you know I would."

        "I know. Thanks."

        Before the two men could say anything else Joanne returned to the kitchen.

        "Well?" Roy asked.

        "We can leave tomorrow. Mom and Dad have no problem with the change in plans."

        "What'd you tell them?" Roy asked.

        Of course, Roy's mother and his in-laws knew about the camping trip and what had occurred on it. They also knew Johnny had made a complete recovery and their grandchildren had suffered no ill effects considering what they'd been through. Considering the recent turn of events, Roy hoped they'd never have to be given any news other than that.

        "I just told them August was going to be a tough month for us to get down there what with doing back-to-school shopping for the kids, getting in doctors' and dentists' appointments, and such. And that since you had the day off tomorrow we thought it would be a good time for you to drive me and the kids down."

        "Good. I don't think it's necessary to tell them any more than that right now. They'll only worry."

        "I agree. But what about your mother?"

        "We'll tell her the exact thing you told your folks. We'll tell Chris and Jen the same. If the need arises to reveal more at a later date...well, we'll deal with that then."

        Joanne and Roy almost forgot Johnny was in the room. Their attention focused on him when he once again said, "I'm sorry."

        "Johnny..." Joanne scolded.

        "No. I am. You're being forced to lie to your parents and your kids because
I couldn't stop this guy the night he tried to take Jenny. If I had then none of this..." Johnny faltered as he bit back unwelcome tears. "Or Carrie...or your fear for Jenny...or..."

        Joanne wouldn't allow the man to continue. Or to refuse her hug again. She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. She expected him to remain stiff within her embrace, or maybe even push her away, or rebuke her with a firm, "Don't," like he'd done earlier, but he didn't do any of those things. This time he reciprocated the hug and clung to her like he would had she been Reah. She felt his silent tears soak into her shoulder. She suspected if Roy wasn't present Johnny would break down into gut wrenching sobs which Joanne was sure would be the best thing for him.

        Oh you men, Joanne thought as she held her husband's partner and felt his tears dampening the material of her blouse. Why is it you think it makes you less masculine when you cry? God knows you need the release, Johnny. You've blamed yourself for so much these last three months, and not an ounce of it is your blame to shoulder.

        Whether or not Roy sensed Johnny would be more comfortable if he wasn't sitting three feet from him, or whether he simply had to do something in order to cope with his friend's breakdown, Joanne didn't know. All she did know was that Roy got up from his chair and quietly walked into the kitchen. While she held Johnny her husband rummaged through the refrigerator and cabinets until he'd put a meal together that included a roast beef sandwich and glass of milk.

        It was when Roy poured the milk that Joanne realized he hadn't lost his mind. He wasn't making a snack for himself, he rarely used milk unless it was to pour over a bowl of cereal. No, this meal was for Johnny. Roy had evidently come to the conclusion his friend hadn't eaten all day. Or maybe he'd finally taken note of the weight Johnny had recently lost. Or maybe this was just his way of trying to offer his partner comfort. Joanne wasn't concerned about the reasons behind it. She supposed they encompassed everything she'd just thought of and more besides.

        When Johnny pulled his head from Joanne's shoulder she steered him to the table. Neither she nor Roy had to order him to eat, which led Joanne to believe he knew they weren't beneath doing just that. More than likely he also knew they weren't leaving until they got some food into him.

        No one said anything while Johnny ate. When he was finished and had walked his dishes to the sink Joanne and Roy got ready to leave. Joanne hugged Johnny good-bye. With her words came the unspoken promise that somehow, things would return to normal.

        "I'll see you when we get back."

        "Give the kids a kiss for me. And tell them I said hi."

        "I will."

        Joanne wanted to add a heart-felt, "Be careful, Johnny," but knew it was better to part on a positive note.

        Roy's final words of the evening were, "Make sure you lock the door behind us. And maybe you should have Joe stay in the house with you at night."

        "Yeah," Johnny agreed, though whether that was to both Roy's suggestions, or only one, Joanne wasn't certain. As she stepped out into the cool night air Joanne heard Johnny tell her husband she'd see him Friday morning.

        The DeSotos were two miles away from Johnny's ranch before Roy spoke.

        "I don't like the thought of him being on that ranch alone at night."

        "Maybe you can convince him to stay at our house after the kids and I are gone."

        "Maybe. Though I doubt he'll agree to that. Knowing Johnny he'll be worried the guy will follow him there and figure out where we live."

        "Unfortunately that's a very real possibility."

        "I know."

        Roy didn't say anymore. He spent the remainder of the drive to his mother's home worrying about keeping his family safe, while at the same time worrying about keeping his partner safe. For some reason he had an eerie feeling that before this was all over a price of some sort was going to be paid. He prayed to God that price didn't involve his children, his wife,....or his best friend.

        

Chapter 43

        
        Just as Roy knew he wouldn't, Hank Stanley refused to consider allowing Johnny to transfer from Station 51 considering the reasons he gave. The captain agreed with Roy. John needed the support of his friends now more than ever.

        It wasn't often that Hank Stanley held any type of station house meeting that didn't include all the men on his shift. But that Friday he did. While Johnny and Roy were out on a run he called Marco, Chet, and Mike into the kitchen. He told them what was going on, and let them read the photocopied letters Johnny had handed him.

        "I told John I wouldn't allow him to put in for a transfer. He's concerned for Roy's safety of course. And for the safety of the rest of us. If any of you disagree with my decision please speak up now. Each of you has the right to your opinion, and I won't fault you if it differs from mine."

        Hank wasn't surprised when not one word of objection to Johnny's continuing presence at Station 51 was raised.

        "What can we do to help him, Cap?" Marco asked after the letters had been read.

        "I wish I had an answer for you, pal, but I don't. Just...let him know he can bend your ear if he needs to. I suspect he's keeping a ton of worry, fear, and anger bottled up inside. I get the impression he hasn't even told Roy all he's feeling. Maybe he never will. But he's being put through sheer hell by this guy. A living hell none of us can fully imagine. All of you saw the sketch of John's attacker. I guess the best advice I can give you is to keep your eyes open when we go out on calls. I have no idea whether or not he's following Johnny, but if any of you spot him we'll want to call the cops immediately."

        The men nodded.

        On a final note the Captain pointed a stern finger at Chet.

        "And, Kelly, put the Phantom into retirement until this is over. Got it?"

        For once Chet didn't argue that suggestion. "Got it, Cap."

___________________________________        

        
        Seven days went by in which John Gage received no letters. He was just beginning to think his ordeal was over when the station phone rang. Captain Stanley picked it up in the kitchen. The caller didn't identify himself when he asked to speak with John Gage. Hank put the receiver on the counter and went in search of his dark haired paramedic. He found Johnny and Roy washing the squad in the parking lot behind the station. The engine was parked next to it. Mike, Marco, and Chet were giving Big Red a bath, too.

        "John! Phone!"

        Hank stayed outside shooting the bull with his men for a few minutes. When he'd had just about enough of the hot July sun and was about to reenter the cool interior of the brick building, Johnny came out the back door.

        Captain Stanley knew immediately that something was wrong. John passed by him like a man in a trance. The complexion that was a deep bronze during the
summer months was now deathly white.

        Roy didn't look up from where he was crouched down scrubbing the white walls of the front driver's side tire. He heard Johnny's feet go by and assumed his partner was walking around to the other side of the squad to resume washing it.

        The next thing Roy heard was Chet's, "Gage, what the hell is wrong with you? You just kicked over my bucket of water, you moron!" Then, in a tone that changed from anger to concern, "Johnny? Johnny?"

        Roy saw Cap's feet race by and heard him exclaim, "Johnny!" as well. Roy pushed himself from the ground in time to observe Johnny sway, then stagger as though he'd just tumbled out of a bar after an all night bender. If Chet hadn't reached out to snare his elbow Johnny would have hit the pavement like a rock. As it was Chet almost lost his grip. Hank arrived just in time to grab John's other elbow. Together he and Chet eased Johnny to a seated position on the engine's running board.

        Roy was the next to arrive at his partner's side. He crouched down in front of Johnny while reaching out to take the pulse at his throat. It throbbed in a rhythm that would cause Roy to guess his friend had just run a race if he didn't know better.

        The blond man nodded his thanks to Marco who had retrieved the bio-phone, drug box and trauma box. It was as Roy was wrapping the blood pressure cuff around John's arm that the younger man seemed to come out of whatever daze he was trapped in. He pushed Roy's hands aside.

        "Johnny, stop it. Let me get your b.p."

        "No. I'm...I'm fine."

        "You don't look fine to me. And I've got four witnesses here who saw you damn near take a tumble right onto that hard head of yours."

        "Roy, stop it. I'm okay." Johnny scowled at the bio-phone. "And there's no need to call Rampart. Or get out any of that other stuff either."

        "When you're the captain of this station you can make those decisions, Gage," Hank said, "but for now do what Roy tells you. I want him to check you out. If you don't let him do it here I'll call an ambulance and strap you to the gurney myself if I have to."

        Johnny knew better than to argue with his captain when Hank used that tone. He let Roy take his blood pressure, shine a pen light in both his eyes, and feel the lymph nodes in his neck. Just like he knew would happen, Roy didn't find anything other than to say his blood pressure was a bit high.

        The blond man stood up and motioned for Hank to follow him. Roy could feel Johnny glaring at his back, but he didn't care. He knew Cap would want his opinion on Johnny's fitness for duty.

        When they were far enough away that they couldn't be over heard by the other men Hank asked, "What's the scoop?"

        "Other than to say something must have upset him, I don't know. His pulse was racing when I first checked him, but it's dropped considerably which means he's calming down."

        "Could that alone have caused him to almost pass out?"

        "It could if he was suddenly put under a lot of stress. You know, like if he'd just received bad news or,"

        "The phone call," Hank said.

        "Huh?"

        "He was fine until he took that phone call. I thought he looked pale and kind of dazed when he walked out of the building."

        Hank headed toward Johnny with Roy at his heels. He didn't intend to pry into John's personal life any farther than he had to, but he did intend to get enough information out of his paramedic to determine whether or not he should be allowed to complete the last twenty-four hours of their shift.

        Johnny was pushing himself to his feet when Hank and Roy approached.

        "If you two are done talking about me we have a squad lathered with soap bubbles. I need to get back to washing it."

        "Not so fast there, pal. Not until you answer a couple questions for me."

        Johnny knew this was coming. He had no desire to be put through an interrogation, but he was forced to admit to himself that Captain Stanley couldn't do any less. After all, it was his job to make certain each one of his men was fit for duty on a daily basis.

        The paramedic avoided making eye contact with anyone as he finally gave a slight nod of his head.

        "Look, John, I don't mean to pry into your personal life, and you don't have to give me any details if you'd rather not, but you were fine until you took that phone call. Did you get some bad news, pal?"

        For just a moment Chet forgot he was supposed to be on his best behavior where John Gage was concerned. The first thing that came into his head prompted by Cap's question to the paramedic popped out Chet's mouth.

        Yeah, Johnny, did your latest girl dump you?"

        Marco gave his friend a hard elbow to the ribs while Mike hissed, "Chet."

        Chet could already see a month's worth of latrine duty in Cap's eyes for his smart remark, and Roy was shooting him a glare that gave the expression, 'if looks could kill' a whole new meaning.

        Before Chet had the chance to make a hasty apology Johnny turned to him. But this time there was no anger present like there so often was after one of the Irishman's tactless comments. This time all Chet could see was sorrow.

        "No, Chet, no one dumped me. That was Detective Bellmen. Another..." Johnny's gaze shifted back to Hank and Roy. Though Roy couldn't hear Johnny do so, he sensed his partner take a deep, shuddering breath. "A little girl was found murdered outside Sacramento. Kristy Andrews. They're pretty sure it's the same guy who tried to take Jenny and who killed Carrie Wrightman. I...I guess now we know why I haven't heard from him in a week. He's been busy."

        John brushed by his stunned co-workers. Roy allowed him exactly thirty seconds alone in the station before going in search of him. Hank kept the rest of the men outside. He told Marco to help him finish washing the squad while instructing Mike and Chet to return to work on the engine. The men were just putting their sponges and buckets away when the klaxons sounded. Roy came running out of the station with Johnny at his heels. The blond paramedic handed an address slip to his captain before sliding behind the wheel of the squad. Hank had gotten only a quick glimpse of Johnny, but thought the man looked like shit.
However; he trusted Roy's judgment on this. He'd been alone in the station with Johnny forty minutes. Regardless of their friendship, if Roy hadn't felt Johnny was capable of doing his job he would have told his captain. Hank was certain of that.         

        As the engine barreled down the street with its air horn blaring, Hank couldn't keep his mind off Johnny. He wondered how much more one man could take.

        It would only be a few days before he found out.

Chapter 44

        
        
        It was on Monday of the following week that another letter arrived.

        Uncle Johnny, why did you let my friend Kristy die? Aren't you ever going to help any of us again?

        On Tuesday Johnny found a lone roller skate hanging from a rafter in his barn. He knew Carrie Wrightman had been roller skating when she'd been kidnapped.

        When he arrived home from work on Saturday a pink tennis shoe was wrapped around a railing of his deck. The paramedic's facial expression never changed from the stoic mask he was wearing when Mark Bellmen told him Kristy
Andrews had been wearing pink tennis shoes when she'd disappeared.        

        Like sometimes happened when Mark Bellmen worked a drawn-out investigation with many twists and turns, he got personally involved in the case. He hated what this was doing to John Gage. That Saturday evening he hoped he wasn't overstepping his bounds when he placed a call to Roy DeSoto.

___________________________________        

        Johnny hadn't told Roy he'd received a fifth letter, nor about the discovery of the roller skate. Now this. A pink tennis shoe. Roy didn't think twice when he hung up the phone after talking to Bellmen. He threw a few changes of clothes in a gym bag and packed his shaving kit with his razor, deodorant, comb, shampoo, toothpaste and toothbrush. By the time it was growing dark he was headed to Johnny's ranch.

        John must have heard his car pull up because he was waiting for Roy at the front door. He didn't say anything. Not, "Hi, Roy," not, "What are you doing here?" and most importantly not, "I'm fine. You can go back home," which Roy was half expecting. Johnny simply stood aside and allowed his friend to enter the house.

        "You know where everything is," Johnny said. "Reah changed the sheets on the bed in the spare room before she left."

        The dim light shining from the living room into the wide foyer kept half of the paramedic's face hidden in shadows. Still, it was enough for Roy to be able to tell his partner was on the verge of collapse.

        How long has it been since he's slept through the night I wonder?

        "Feel free to make yourself at home," Johnny continued. "I'm going to bed."

        "Johnny?" Roy beckoned before John could disappear within his bedroom.

        The dark headed man turned around, but didn't say anything.

        "Let me call Brackett."

        "What for?"

        "I...I think he should know what's going on. And he can give you something to help you sleep."

        "No."

        "But..."

        "No, Roy. If you call him he'll want to see me."

        That's exactly what Roy was hoping for.

        "Come on, it won't be that bad. If he's on duty tomorrow,...or even tonight, I'll drive you over there. The whole thing won't take more than an hour or two."

        "No."

        "Johnny..."

        Roy couldn't recall a time when John had ever pleaded with him other than in fun.

        "Roy...please. He'll pull me off duty."

        "You can't be certain of that."

        "I am. You know how he is. Everything's black and white with him. There's no gray in his world. My job is all I've got left right now. It's the only place I can go to get away from this shit."

        Until the next time Bellmen calls you at work to give you bad news, Roy thought, while at the same time making a mental note to ask the detective not to do that any more.

        Johnny held his breath until Roy gave a reluctant nod.

        "Okay. I won't call Brackett on two conditions."

        John's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What?"

        "Number one, you let me fix you some supper and you eat everything I put in front of you. If Brackett catches a glimpse of your waist he'll be giving you a physical so fast your head will spin. And then tomorrow morning, we repeat the process. You eat everything I set on the table."

        Although Johnny's appetite had left him weeks ago, he knew this was a small price to pay in order not to see Kelly Brackett.

        "All right."

        "And number two, you spend the next four days sleeping as much as you can. I'm staying here with you. I'll take care of the animals, or anything else you need me to do so you can rest."

        "Roy..."

        "Don't bother arguing with me. That's the deal. Take me up on it or I call Brackett right now even if I have to reach him at home."

        A tiny grin touched the corners of Johnny's mouth. "It's Saturday night. He's probably out with Dixie."

        "You think so?"

        "I don't know," John shrugged. "Maybe. Him and Dix are like the Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty of Rampart."

        Roy laughed at the mental picture that presented. "Somehow I don't think Dixie would find that comparison flattering, but in a strange sort of way you're right."

        The blond man clapped his friend on the back before Johnny had a chance to say anything else, or offer any further protests.

        "Is your fridge stocked?"

        "Yeah. I stopped at the grocery store on my way home today."

        "Good. Then how about scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and milk, followed by about twelve hours of sleep?"

        "If that'll keep me away from Brackett I won't argue."

        Roy led his partner to the kitchen.

        "I'm not making any promises, Junior, but it's a start."

Part 5