Part Five

Chris had forgone the valet parking-- he felt more comfortable parking his car in the underground garage. He was beginning to regret his impulsive decision when he spent five minutes hunting down a vacant space. Finally, he pulled into one of the spaces reserved for the tenants of the penthouse.

One raised eyebrow signaled his partner's disapproval. "What!" Chris muttered defensively. "We *are* tenants, for tonight anyway."

The excuse didn't warrant a rebuttal, so Sean just unbuckled the strap as he reached into the backseat to extract the six-pack of beer. Beer was a must with pizza, in Sean's opinion. The meal was one that he was very familiar with--it had become a tradition with the detectives to relax with the food after a strenuous day.

"Has anyone checked that out?" Chris' waved his hand toward a shiny, gray BMW that he had parked beside. Chris walked over to a window and peeked inside. The interior of the car was a soft shade of pearl gray leather, meticulously neat, and marked with the indelible impression that this was a family car--a baby seat, a backpack and several stuffed animals laid abandoned on the backseat and the floor.

Sean pulled out his notebook and flipped through the pages until he found the inventory list for Beecher's car. "Yeah. There was nothing in the glove compartment that was telling: a pair of sunglasses, the registration, a campaign ad, a package of chewing gum and a set of binoculars." Sean sighed while he read off the list, in a mechanical tone. "There was a backpack--filled with sweaters for the kids, sunscreen, and boxes of tissues and crackers, some stuffed toys, a water pistol and a baby seat. The trunk had a jack and a spare tire." He closed the book dismissively and shoved it back into his pocket.

Murphy was surprised by his fascination with the baby seat; he couldn't stop looking at it. "Whoever did this deserves to FRY!" He felt his partner standing beside him, offering his silent support.

"Come on,". Chris waved the pizza box in his partner's face hypnotically. "Pepperoni, mushrooms, olives, red peppers AND extra cheese. Still hot and gooey. It's only gettin' colder the longer we stand out here."

"Umm, truer words were never spoken."

"Have you got the beer?" Sean waved the six pack in the air. "Good. I am dying of thirst. I feel like we haven't stopped talkin' to potential suspects since this morning."

The two men were heading toward the elevator, as Sean's cell phone rang. Chris trotted over and pushed the button while Sean answered the call. Chris wanted to give him some privacy in case it was Diane.

//It must be nice to have someone special in your life. None of my ex-wives ever called to check in with me while I was on duty. A mental image of the gray car flashed into his mind as he wondered, would Toby have called me?//

Sean ran to the elevator when it arrived and scurried in as the doors were closing. "That was Mike Healy. He said to swing by the lobby. A Ms. McClain is giving the doorman grief. She demands to be let upstairs to visit *Tobias.*"

Chris hit the button for the lobby with the hand that wasn't holding the pizza box. "You'd think rich folks would listen to the news more often. Cripes."

Sean slid his jacket off and was transferring his notebook and cell phone to his suit jacket pocket. "If only to listen to how their stocks are doing."

"Ya know, I am going to buy you a purse for all your shit. You're worse than my ex-wives."

"Thanks, I'll take it." The elevator beeped and opened. Sean bowed and waved his hand. "Just make sure it matches my shoes."

Chris accepted the invitation and walked out of the elevator. A striking looking woman with dark hair was standing next to George and a leashed spaniel, waiting for them.

She stormed up to the detectives. "HE said that I had to wait until you got here before I could go upstairs. What is this, a police state?" She turned to the doorman and hissed," Give me the dog. I'll take it up for you so that you can go harass someone else."

Her heated gaze turned toward the detectives as she brushed past them and hit the up button. "I know he's here, so don't try to fob me off." Katherine pointed toward the dog wildly, "He wouldn't dare leave that Prima Donna of a dog alone in the apartment and I know the children are already down at the party!"

The detectives exchanged long looks, as they silently dared the other to tell the angry woman that her friend was dead. Finally, Chris broke the staring contest--he'd lost. When the elevator arrived, they walked in together. Turning to face the woman, he realized that she had been staring at him speculatively.

"You're friends of Ronnie, aren't you?"

She turned to openly stare at Chris more closely as he uncomfortably shifted the pizza from his right hand to his left. "You look familiar...I know that...I think--NO, Tobias described you SO precisely to me, that's why I thought that we had met. *You're* the guy from the park--the prostitute!"

Sean couldn't hold back a cackle of laughter. Chris felt his face flush with embarrassment, as he slowly and precisely asked, "Miss, do you have a ride home? I feel that I should advise you that the law will not look favorably on drinking and driving."

Katherine's shoulders stiffened in outrage. "I have a *chauffeur*, but I really don't NEED his services since I am not the least bit tipsy. I never touch alcohol."

"A-ha, " The doubtful tone made the woman's face flush with embarrassment too as Chris casually strolled out into the carpeted hallway. 'Take that, bitch' his inner voice yelled gleefully.

The police tape was still blocking the front door so he headed down a corridor toward the backdoor, that would lead them into the kitchen.

"You have a KEY!" The woman stared down at Chris' key chain as if it were a poisonous snake. "So, he finally had the courage to ask you up, eh? Is that why he never came to pick me up? He was too busy playing house with you!"

Chris was starting to get irritated with the woman's insinuations about him. He couldn't hide the disdain in his voice when he replied, "I have NO IDEA what you are talking about, Miss. I'm a police officer. "

"You're a-- hey! Wait! " Katherine finally noticed the yellow tape over the door and she stared at it for several seconds before she hurried after the detectives.

"Why is there tape over the door? What has happened here?" The woman called out as she hastened her typical brisk pace to catch up with the detectives, who had left her behind and were unlocking the door to the apartment.

Chris put the pizza on the counter as he grabbed a bar stool and held it out graciously. Katherine smiled and slid onto the seat. Sean leaned down and released the dog, who bounded away. He sat on the stool next to the woman, while he simultaneously elbowed his partner in the ribs--a clear indication that he would handle telling the woman about the crime.

//I guess I'll tell her after all, Sean decided. Chris had a problem with this woman before they met, and now he really can't tolerate her. God knows how Mr. Tactless would break it to her.//

"There was a crime committed here last night. A shooting--"

"Is Tobias a witness? How horrible for him, he--"

"HE'S DEAD", Chris snapped out. "He *witnessed* a guy shoot him in the FACE and that's why he didn't come to meet you." He threw his coat over the back of a stool as he turned away and walked over to the cupboard to get some plates and glasses, while Sean scurried over to the sink and brought the woman a glass of water.

She took it automatically, as she studied Sean's friendly features. "Is that true, he's really DEAD?" When she saw the man's gentle nod, she collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

When Chris turned around, he saw the woman crying on his partner's shoulder and rolled his eyes in exasperation. //Oh, for the love of Pete!!// "I'm gonna go take a leak," he called out over his shoulder as he hurried out of the kitchen.

His steps led him unerringly to the study, to Toby. He stood in front of the portrait, staring up into the cornflower blue eyes. He rubbed his chin pensively as the woman's words echoed in his mind.

//She seemed to think you had the hots for this guy in the park, Toby. Were you two timing me before we even met?//

The blue eyes continued to stare down at him, but Chris thought that he perceived sorrow in the penetrating, intent look. Chris slid out the photograph from his pocket, the one that he had borrowed out of the photo album when Sean had been preoccupied.

// I really need to look at those journals. As soon as the 'weeping willow' is gone, Sean and I will eat and I'll be alone. //

Chris slid his prize back into his pocket and glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. //I'd better get back into the kitchen and back up my partner before he drowns. The histrionics should be under control--by now. I can't stomach the sight of that gold-digger weeping crocodile tears over the loss...of all this money.//


Chris did stop at the bathroom before he returned to the kitchen. He would have walked the length of the park if it ensured that he wouldn't have to deal with 'the bitch'.

"He really was a dear man. I can't imagine that anyone would want to hurt him--another end please. That one with all the pepperoni."

Chris walked into the room and found his friend pouring the woman a glass of beer as she practically inhaled her piece of pizza.

//Christ, I've seen famine victims who eat more delicately than she does.// "I see that grief doesn't affect your appetite, lady."

Katherine laughed and reached for another piece, "No. I wish that were my problem. When I'm sad, I just eat anything in sight."

The detective lowered himself into a stool. As he reached into the box, he tried to surreptitiously nudge it further away from the voracious eater. Murphy's speaking glance made him freeze and smile sheepishly at his partner before he gave up and grabbed a slice of pizza.

Chris groaned as he bit into the cold piece.

"It was delicious when we first opened the box--" Katherine wiped the corners of her mouth delicately, and gulped down most of the glass of beer before she continued, "--if you had come back from your excursions earlier, it would have been warmer."

"Grr."

"What was that--I didn't catch that." She raised the empty glass, which Sean promptly filled with more beer.

"Gas!" Chris muttered as he bit into another piece of the cold pizza. "I had the runs something awful today. You could see the bits--."

"Christ. I'm EATING here!" Sean finished his last mouthful and sat back to observe his partner. Chris had edged his seat further away from the woman. It looked as if he wanted to avoid their arms brushing against each other--as if she were contaminated.

//I have never seen this side of my partner. Chris is usually the epitome of poise and courtesy--a real charmer. He is always respectful toward--ah, the green eyed monster is rearing its head. //

Sean appraised the young lawyer sitting beside him. //Dark hair, classy-looking, intelligent. He hates her with a passion. This should be very tedious, but it will also be damn amusing, since a defensive Chris is an awe inspiring sight to behold.//

"What was your relationship with the deceased?"

Katherine paused and eyed an olive thoughtfully. "We were close friends." Her voice got softer as she elaborated. "I was in love with him. He had gone through a great deal and he was still not ready to make a commitment." Katherine looked up at Sean, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "He *was* very old fashioned. He valued love and monogamy. Toby told me that premarital sex wasn't something that he'd ever engaged in--I knew that was his way of implying that he wanted to wait until we were married. He was so sweet and shy sometimes."

Chris smiled down at his plate in satisfaction. "That didn't sound like a proposal to me." Chris look over at his partner and shrugged his shoulders--wounded innocence flashing in the blue eyes.

"Well, Tobias was busy with the campaign and he was starting to break free from the apron strings, finally." Katherine brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face as she glanced appraisingly at Chris. "He was also being invited to the best parties, and expanding his social circle. No one that you would know--these were the icons of the political world. Tobias had the world spread before him, and with the right woman at his side--he might have even become the president someday."

"Miss McLain, where were you last night?" Sean took a sip of his beer as he watched his partner stare down at the pizza, mentally counting the pieces that were left as the woman reached for another serving.

"MMM! Well, I was at my home. Waiting for Tobias to stop by and pick me up. His mother had promised that he would drive me down to the party, so I knew that he would be coming. He did leave a message that he would be late--he'd run into an old friend and they were going out to dinner, so I didn't worry when he was delayed. "

Katherine and Chris' hands collided as they both grabbed the same slice. After a short tug of war, Chris surrendered it with an audible huff of air. He settled for one with less toppings on it. "So, you just sat there the whole night. You're a very *patient* woman."

"Actually, I fell asleep. I had a cocktail party this afternoon, so I was tied up." Katherine poured herself some more beer, before she continued. "I tried calling Tobias' cell phone, but I only reached his voice mail. I feel a little bit embarrassed now that I was a bit curt in the messages."

The men exchanged startled glances when Katherine mentioned the phone. It wasn't in the apartment or the car. Chris raised his eyebrows and Sean shrugged. He hadn't seen it at the campaign headquarters either.

Katherine finished her glass of beer and snagged the last piece of pizza, before Chris could claim it. Chris sucked in an audible breath and folded his arms. His dark blue eyes began to sparkle with mischievous humor as he advised, "You know, you should *chew* your food thoroughly. It will help to keep the extra pounds from going straight to your hips." Chris emphasized his helpful suggestion by glancing toward the woman's hips dubiously.

"Oh, I don't exercise. I just have one hell of a metabolism I guess. I can just eat and eat and eat--but I never gain a pound."

"A-hah." Chris arose from the counter and grabbed his unopened beer bottle. "Well, if you'll excuse me--I have some...calls to make." Chris hurried out of the room, with the dog accompanying him.

"Boy, he really should take something for his digestion problems." Katherine advised as she picked up her purse and prepared to go home.

"I think something just *disagreed* with him. He'll be fine in a few minutes." Sean watched her stagger out the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she was gone.

He stared down at the mess on the kitchen counter ruefully, before he muttered to himself, "Thanks for offering to clean up. It was nice to meet you to. Have a nice night. HA, she did a good job on our beer for a woman who never drinks alcohol."


"I'm outa here! Remember, we have the appointment to talk with the talk show host, so I'll be by bright and early."

"Hey, could you stop by my place and pick up a change of clothes for me?" Chris tossed his keys to his partner, who caught them deftly.

"Just clothes, don't you need your toothbrush and a razor?" Chris began to rub the counter vigorously with a sponge, but Sean wasn't fooled. Chris was trying to avoid looking up at him, like a guilty child. "You're gonna use HIS stuff aren't you?"

Chris shrugged as he paused to study the gleaming surface of the counter. "Hey, except for his little walk on the wild side--with Barlog--the guy is as pure as the driven snow so I am not worried about using his stuff. Gees, I saw more action than this guy has when I was in high school. And that says a lot. I went to a catholic- boarding school run by brothers--that was situated just east of nowhere." Chris waved the sponge in the air to emphasis his point as his partner chuckled. "The place was nicknamed 'Our Lady of the Perpetual Virginity'. I had to learn to be very resourceful, believe me. Prisoners probably see more action than we did!"

Sean had to hold his stomach, the image that Chris had created was making him have difficulty breathing. When he could finally catch his breath he inquired, "Boarding school, eh? Did this occur before or after your dad caught you playing doctor with the assistant coach."

"After." Chris' wicked smile appeared as he recalled Reyna Davis, the assistant coach of the Wrestling Team. Chris had been thrilled when she offered to help him practice his holds. When it went further than that one afternoon, a fifteen year old Chris hadn't complained. It didn't get very far, because his father had forgotten to lock up his office. He had been *quite* surprised to walk in and interrupt his attractive assistant--who was licking his son's chest enthusiastically. She was let go and Chris was sent to boarding school. To this day, he was sure that his father never allows his students to use the gym unless they are supervised by two adults.

"I'm sure the guy was *clean*, but don't you think he'd be pissed if you used his stuff. That's--kinda intimate. And you're already going to be reading his journals."

Chris threw the sponge into the sink as he turned to face his partner. "Murph, give me a break. It's not like the guy is going to be needing them." As soon as the words left his mouth, Chris' stomach churned. The image of that smiling face being lowered into the ground floated into Chris' imagination and suddenly his dinner didn't want to stay put.

Sean walked over to the counter and grabbed a pile of napkins. He handed them to his partner once he had stopped vomiting into the sink. Sean rubbed his back with his hand as the man continued to tremble with the shock of his realization. Chris scrubbed his mouth until the skin was red from his efforts.

"Murph,", the quiet voice whispered. "I-I've never felt like this about anyone, this connection and this attraction." Chris walked over to a stool and sat on it gingerly. He kept staring down at his hands, which he kept folded on his lap. He noticed that they were trembling as they gripped the napkins in a tight hold.

"What if Toby was 'the one'? Wouldn't that be a bitch?" Chris felt his eyes filling up with tears that he impatiently tried to blink away. "I've always been too self-centered to ever fall in love. My needs always came first." He began to shred the paper in his hand, as he tried to articulate his turmoil to his sympathetic friend. "Wouldn't be a cosmic joke if he was intended to be my soul- mate, so that I could finally find love? But fate intervened and he died before we could ever meet."

Sean gathered the man into his arms and offered what comfort he could. He felt so inadequate to deal with his friend's obvious grief. He had always known that Chris was desperate to find love, even he had recognized that. "Let me stay here and read those damn books. You should go home and take a break from all of...this." As he said the words, he felt Chris shaking his head, denying himself the opportunity to escape his responsibilities.

"No," Chris eased out of Sean's arms and wrapped his arms around himself. "The timing sucks, but I am glad that this happened. At least I know that I am capable of love." He looked over at his partner and tried to reassure the worried man. "I want to get to know the real Tobias Beecher and the last chance to do that is through those journals. I'll skim through them tonight and have you help me look through them more closely tomorrow."

"I'll stay here, get drunk and put the ghosts to rest. If I don't, this will haunt me--pun intended."

"Yeah, I know!" Sean picked up the receiver of the phone and help it up. "But if you need to talk, I'll keep checking my voicemail. I'd promise to leave my phone on, but Diane's mother would rip out my spleen if I did that."

"She sounds like a real peach."

"Ha, you thought those S/M guys were scary--well I would rather take them on than go home and deal with a cantankerous old woman that's been trapped in the house all day with my wife, teenage boys, two dogs AND a hamster."

Sean waved a farewell as he walked out the kitchen's backdoor, into the hallway. As he closed the door, he knew that he was doing the right thing. Chris needed the time alone to lick at the new wounds in his heart, and the man was much too private to ever accomplish that with someone else there. Sean knew that he was only allowed to see facets of the real Chris Keller. Sometimes Chris reminded him of a funhouse, with those mirrored rooms, that distorted people's perceptions.

He was certain that the man would be fine, love never killed people-- it just made people wish for death. Chris was already dealing with his emotions by acknowledging them. He needed the time to be alone with his love and the pain. Sean turned away from the door and forced himself to walk down the corridor to the service elevator.


Chris found himself wandering around the study picking up photos and touching the artwork. The fragile pieces were all safely stashed away on high shelves--out of reach of little hands.

Then he spotted something sitting on a corner of the desk--the answering machine. The FBI had removed the incoming message tape, but the outgoing message was still in its tape deck. Chris collapsed into the chair as a trembling finger activated the tape.

"This is Toby. You know the drill. And if you leave me a nice message, I *might* call you back." The message ended with a gentle laugh that was light and full of warmth.

That's what he sounds like! Chris looked up at the picture and thought--Funny, all this time I felt like I knew you. But I had never even heard your voice.

Chris turned the tape back on several more times until he had memorized every nuance of the man's voice and greeting.

//He sounds friendly, and articulate. I could get to love listening to that voice. I wonder how it would have sounded when he'd say 'Chris'. Better yet, what would it have sounded like when he'd scream 'Chris' in ecstasy? I would've made you scream, baby.//

//I'd start at those lips. Those soft pouty lips. I'd lick the outside, tracing them with my tongue. Memorize their shape. Then I'd slide my tongue between your soft lips--you'd open your mouth for me eagerly. I'd lick your tongue first before I would begin to ream the inside--exploring and savoring.//

Chris' hand sank to his jeans and began to rub his cock, which was already hard. It felt uncomfortable in the tight jeans, but Chris was too lost in his fantasy to consider unzipping them. His familiar fingers began to stroke the hardness, increasing the pressure as his skin began to tingle.

//I'm drowning in your taste--you taste so good, baby! I'd release your mouth to take a breath, because by this time we are both panting like dogs. I'd nuzzle that supple neck and breathe you in. Then, I'd lick your neck right where the pulse is beating wildly--where your neck and shoulder meet. Wildly--you're moaning and gasping, calling my name as I suck on your tender skin. My lips would press down as I suck you in. Claiming you--marking you for everyone to see.//

The hand was moving faster and Chris' body was arching off of the chair. Suddenly it was too much. Forcing his eyes to focus on the sky blue ones in front of him, Chris stroked his aching flesh once more and the shivers turned into a flood of sensation that exploded from his groin and traveled up his body in waves of ecstasy. Chris closed his eyes and began to scream as he felt himself drowning in the sensations.

When Chris finally had the energy to open his eyes, he was panting and covered with sweat. He found that he was still looking into blue eyes and he couldn't suppress the grin that formed on his face.

// Shit. You're a little firecracker!! I guess I'm kind of a disappointment for ya. I promised to make you scream and I didn't make it past your shoulders. A stellar reputation right down the drain.//

Chris wriggled in the seat and tried adjusting his pants but nothing helped. The cool, sticky sensations of drying semen and sweat were bothering him.

"God. I'm a fuckin' mess. I think I'll go grab a shower. Do you mind if I use your shower, Tobe? Oh, I might as well ask if I can use your comb and toothbrush while I'm at it."

Chris rose to his feet with a groan. His eyes spotted several decanters on a credenza. Chris sauntered over and took one of the bottles off of the tray. He stopped to turn off the light before he closed the door.

On his way to the bathroom, he placed the decanter on a night table. // Now I'll be ready for a night of it. Just me, the booze and the journals. I'll curl up on the bed and get good and drunk. That's probably the only way I'll get any sleep at all tonight.//

He walked over to an armoire and opened a drawer that was full of underwear and socks. Chris couldn't resist the impulse. He grabbed a pair of the silk boxers and rubbed them against his cheek as he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the slim blond wearing them. He sniffed the fabric, which smelled of fabric softener--a clean, fresh scent.

Chris spent several minutes folding the underwear and placing it back in the drawer, just the way that Toby had left it. That was important to him, that Toby's presence in the room should be preserved for as long as possible.

Chris closed the drawer carefully and tried another. This one had sweaters and sweatshirts. Jackpot. One set looked worn and wrinkled. Chris pulled out an old gray Harvard sweatshirt and some jogging pants.

//This'll do me.// Chris could imagine Toby wearing the sweats and it made him smile. He walked toward the bathroom with his prize tucked under his arm.

"Now, I'll take that shower."


Chris closed the journal and placed it beside him on the bed. He reached over and slid the decanter off of the table and took a large gulp. He hadn't bothered to get a glass; he was planning to get sloshed and the glass would just get in the way.

Years of higher education had taught Chris the valuable skill of skimming text, until something caught his attention. He'd already looked through the other two books. They weren't diaries per se. The entries were sporadic--written in small, precise writing. They were full of humorous observations, fears and truthful depictions of the major disasters that were significant in Toby's life. Some of the pages contained drawings. Other pages had tickets to shows, pictures and even articles from the newspaper.

The decanter was almost empty now. He'd drank most of the contents during the entries about Gen--that was Toby's first sexual encounter, so he'd needed a buzz to get through that section.

There had been another whole section devoted to the children-- Garrett (Gary), Hollis (Holly) and Harrison, III (Harry). He had taped everything from baby teeth to a lock of hair from their first haircut in the book.

//You were a very sentimental man, weren't you, Toby? You treasured everything. Your kids are gonna love these books--maybe that's why you kept them. How pathetically sad--this is all they have left, almost as if you knew that you would die young and leave us to grieve.//

Chris found himself skipping over the sections about the divorce-- he'd save those for Sean. From what he had read, the detective felt that he understood Toby's stunned and angry reaction to the failure of his marriage. Chris learned that Gen had been the one to file the papers; Toby only agreed to the divorce when she promised to grant him custody of the children. Toby had also agreed when he found his wife in their bed with the UPS guy--he hadn't been impressed by the same day service of that company.

Now he was on the third book, which seemed to start with the move into the new apartment. Chris settled back against a propped up pillow and opened the book.

//I'll read this one more carefully. This is the one that could help me write the profile for this case.//


Excerpts from the journal Of Tobias Beecher

8/24

The move is complete. Thank god that dad likes to dabble in real estate--I love this apartment. I'm sure that he got it through one of his cases; it wouldn't be the first time a client used property to pay dad's exuberant fees.

That's what happens when you're the best; not that he'd ever admit that he was one of the most sought after criminal lawyers in NYC. He's on the other end of the gavel now--it's clear that he adores dispensing justice. There's talk of him getting a show--my dad could be the male 'Judge Judy'!!!

I'm thinking of dabbling in the world of politics. More on that later.

Back to the apartment--the pent house. From the balcony I can see the park across the street, and it looks like a forest; Holly already calls it her enchanted forest. The place has a security system and a doorman, so I won't have to feel trepidatious about moving my family here.

The rooms are decorated in green--representing a new start, away from the sorrow and the disappointment. Mother can't look me in the eye. She blames herself for the failure of the marriage even though she won't say a word about it. She did sort of coerce me into dating Gen; she wasn't doing it to be manipulative, she knew how shy I was. Hell, I was still an innocent virgin until Gen came along. Mom saw so much of herself in that girl, she sort of took her under her wing. Gen stabbed us both in the back with her betrayal.

I heard a song today on the radio, by a group called Vertical Horizon; the song is titled "Grey Sky Morning". It's a song about abandonment. The singer knows that it will get better, but he scathingly sings: 'It's not so bad. You're *only* the best I ever had'--implying that he can do better. I felt like that for a long time after the divorce; I had such plans for our family. Now I wonder how much of it was my own delusions--the reality of my marriage is that we loved each other but we were never in love. I can do better than that, too. I'm going to buy a copy of that album.

8/27

Mom's started drinking again. She's not talking to dad and I know she sure as hell isn't talking to me. Dad made her go back into therapy. Why does my family retreat into their shells when the problems become insurmountable? Shouldn't we pull together and talk?--no, Beechers don't discuss unpleasantness like infidelity and debilitating remorse.

I am going to try to get closer to Gussie again. We were close. But we seemed to drift apart during my marriage and divorce--I distanced myself purposefully to protect him. He's very easygoing, like dad--I miss having him to confide in.

Gen stopped by to see the kids--about damn time! She is going to have the children every other weekend, and she has promised not to have any of her male friends visiting while they're with her--the UPS guy is a regular visitor form what I understand. His name's Peter Schibetta. Gen's eyes seem to glow whenever she talks about him. She looks good, much happier. We actually sat and talked instead of the usual uncomfortable silences. She'd like us to remain friends--I agreed for the sake of the children.

8/30

The pt is finally over--no more sessions with my favorite head torturer. Goodbye Mr. Simon Adibesi, don't let the door hit you on the way out. I will have to keep up with the exercise--being in those leg casts really did a number on the muscles that I didn't use. I promised him I'd run in the park to keep in shape. I'll also use the pool at the house and I will start riding again.

Midnight Angel is the size of a brood mare--Gussie doesn't know how to handle her. She's all sleek muscle and very fierce, but once you penetrate her outer defenses and earn her respect she's as gentle as a lamb.

I have to take these muscle relaxants when the spasms get bad--I probably always will. I swear, I'm in Oz when I'm on those pills. My brain feels like it's surrounded by a force field. I have been told that I am easily distracted and susceptible to coercion when I'm on one of those trips over the rainbow--I'll have to be careful about when I am driving. I will also never let the kids see me take a pill--I'm the role model.

9/1

There's a big blue pill for insomnia. I keep having these vivid dreams were I relive the accident in glorious Technicolor--the blood is especially red. Once I have one of those, I can't fall back to sleep. Mother always did say that I was a high strung child; now I'm a high strung adult. God, I hope none of the kids inherit that.

I was lucky. Two broken legs and some back injuries. It could have been worse--Cathy Rockwell wasn't so lucky. She was an intern at the firm. (Her grandfather went to college with dad, so he knows the family.) I was giving her a ride home because the roads were a mess and I was worried--how's that for irony? She died in my arms. The demons never let me forget that debilitating guilt.

9/2

Ronnie showed me the two portraits (that feature me) that he painted; I didn't pose for them, but he had asked my permission to paint me. I'm a court jester in one and I'm dressed to go to an opera in the other. They are both brilliant.

I love his style--it's reminiscent of the Impressionists, but it's also unique too. Very realistic. I hung the family portrait in my bedroom. The kids have changed so much since dad commissioned that painting. God, the kids have grown so much--especially Harry.

Dad's playing matchmaker and setting me up with an attorney from the firm. I've met her before and she seems nice. People are inviting me to parties now that they know I'm single--if nothing else, she can protect me from any of the gold-diggers who don't understand the meaning of the word *no*.

9/4

Ron says that I have a luminous life-force, a charisma that fascinates him. (O-kay!) He thinks that it attracts people to me. I do make friends easily--I also make enemies almost as effortlessly when I get worked up. I say whatever I'm thinking; I'm trying to learn to control my compulsive honesty . I need to remember to think of the consequences of my words--if I'm going into politics, I can't be such a loose cannon.

9/10

Lot's of changes at the Emerald City--that's what Gussie calls the apartment. Ok, so I like green.

I found a dog that was abandoned in the park. Some kids had thrown gasoline on her and were going to light her on fire. Gussie chased them off while I rescued the dog. She tried to bite me--it looks like she's been abused. Maybe she ran away--like I did. I took her to the vet and spent a fortune on shots and vitamins. She is doing fine so far, although she is very skittish. Understandable.

Jazz is painting the kids rooms to represent an aquarium. He is very talented, although he seems to suffer from an inferiority complex. I am trying to help him--I am very good at adopting wounded things and healing them. The only people I seem to consistently fail are my mother and me. I don't ask her up to the apartment, although she has finally started to call. That's progress, right?

Jazz Hoyt is another change. He's the new nanny--excuse me, childcare provider. I defended him about a year ago when some woman falsely accused him of stealing her car. He had a record and she knew it. My investigator, Jefferson Keene, found out that she'd secretly sold the car to her sister. Hoyt was so grateful that he was hanging around the office, making a pest of himself when he tried to help. I needed a nanny, so it's working out. (I just have to remember to never refer to him as a nanny--when he's around to hear it.)

He's built like a mountain and Gary adores him--since the divorce, he doesn't warm up to many people. He's surprisingly thoughtful and no one bothers the kids in the park with him there. That kid who stole Harry's lunch box at school took one look at Jazz when he dropped him off one day, and wet his pants.

Jazz is an artist. His current canvas seems to be his own skin. I'm trying to encourage him to use paper before he runs out of skin. He has started running with me--I can't run as far as he does, but at least he ensures that I actually get out there. He's a real drill sergeant--he missed his calling.

9/15

The dog let me pet her. Harry has started calling her Freckle--I'm assuming it's because of her spots, but where Harry is concerned you can never be sure of anything. The kids adore her, but she gives them a wide berth--they are so full of energy that they make her nervous. I have never seen her act aggressively toward them, so I've decided to keep her. It'll be baby steps, but I think she will need time to get used to us.

9/16

Ran into Dev at a party Kate dragged me too. He had more hair when I knew him in Harvard.

He is running for reelection, as a democrat. He has some good positions on education and business. He also supports legislation for same sex marriages. He was hinting that he might like me to come on board his campaign.

I also met Vernon Schillinger; that's the press secretary for Dev. He has a very dynamic presence. He was very friendly, but I felt like I was being grilled by the CIA by the time he was done. He looked at me with this appraising stare that made me a little nervous. He's a very demonstrative man and he kept touching my arm or putting his arm around me. I could have done without the invasion of my personal space; hell, I'm doing it again. Gen always said I was a distant bastard. Maybe she's right. Just because the guy was a little touchy-feely doesn't mean he has designs on my virtue.

9/27

Ronnie is painting another portrait of me. I think he has a crush on me. It's actually kind of flattering for an artist to think you're attractive. He is also very insightful about people--he seems to innately possess this gift to peel away the false layers off people and reveal their true personalities.

He dressed me in this oversized sweater--I felt like a kid playing dress up. I'm alone on my ship in front of an ocean backdrop. To set the tone of the portrait, he had me think of being in LOVE--that simple request made the internal demons howl. I'm not a cold person, but Gen never did it for me. I've heard people talk about shaking and screaming--I've never screamed when Gen touched me. Maybe I'm frigid. God knows that Gen called me that many times. I digress.

I started thinking about someone that I could laugh with, share my thoughts with, reveal my true self to. Yes, and someone who likes long deep kisses, and can make me scream. That's all there in the picture. I am going to have to hang it somewhere. I thought of the bathroom or a closet, but Ron is all over the place and he'd feel bad. I will place it in my study--that's my sanctuary and no one else except the family will ever see it.

10/12

Jogging isn't that bad. Ok, I despise it, but the scenery is great. There is this one guy that wears these sleeveless tee-shirts--I have a new appreciation for sleeveless shirts! They show off these sculpted muscles that I envy. He also has a tattoo that's making me reevaluate my opinion of them. Not that I'd let Jazz get within ten feet when he's getting one of his creative ideas!!

10/16

The guy's a machine!!! I've seen him with *three* different women. He must eat piles of protein.

The dog is sleeping on the bed with me. As long as I don't try to pet her, she stays there. She always keeps a paw pressed up against me; it reminds me of a child seeking companionship.

I met my old dorm-mate from college who is now the head of an environmental protection group. Nik is still anti-technology and anti- establishment though---he doesn't even drive a car!! Some things never change, I guess. We promised to 'do lunch' the next time he's in town; he'll make me eat tofu or vegetables--the guy's a fanatical vegetarian. Yuck!!

10/23

The dog let me pet her the other day. Now she follows me everywhere; I've almost tripped over her a few times.

Gen's married--she is now Mrs. Schibetta. They ran off to Vegas, and the children are disappointed that they missed it--typical Gen behavior, never considering anyone else but herself.

Ok--I admit it--I've been going to the park earlier so that I can watch the guy. Since I am attracted to him, that means that the person for me could be a man. You'd think this revelation would please me, but all that I keep thinking is--two genders to choose from and I'm still *alone*. Maybe I should start getting more packages from UPS--it's worked for other Beechers.

10/27

I met Vern at another party. I mentioned my interest in politics and he's trying to coerce me into working with Dev's current campaign. I won't be Vern's assistant, that's for sure--he's got one. I get the distinct impression that the man was jealous of the attention that Vern practically drowns me with--he can take that place anytime.

I'm getting a little sick of him treating me like I'm this art decoration to be displayed as an example of what a good American should be. The hugs also don't help me to warm up to the guy.

11/16

Well, I'm the head honcho of the campaign now. Whoop de do! I wish someone would explain that to Vern. He treats me like I'm some sort of precocious child. He is always there hovering, giving advice. Sure, some of it is useful, but a lot of it is common sense.

I love the adrenaline rush--I made the right decision. I needed to wake up my life. Since the divorce, I've felt like I was in a dream, going through the motions. I am only ever happy when the kids...ok-- Angus and my dad too, are around.

11/20

Katherine is very proud of my accomplishments. But she's talking about white house while I'm thinking about getting a haircut--sheesh, I do need one. I'm starting to get those curls that make me look like Bozo the Clown.

Kate. That rhymes with ate. She ate most of my steak when I took her out for dinner last week. She says she's on a diet---yeah, right. Tell me another one. The way she eats, it's surprising that she's not the size of a blue whale--but she does have an attractive shape. She kissed me last night. I should have been turned on, but I just felt like another appetizer that she's devouring. She just jumped me and knocked me onto the couch. I finally escaped, with my virtue still intact, by reminding her that the kids and Jazz were just down the hall.

I'm going to tell her that I only have sex with people that I'm married to--which is disturbingly true. There was Gen--and that's it except for my hand. I do believe in marriage as an institution--I hope to get married before frustration leads me to be committed in one. I just have to find that special person; luckily, I'm young and I have time to wait.

12/10

Wonder of wonders. I have a new neighbor; Ron moved in next door. I don't know whether to feel flattered or trepidations. The jury's still out on that one. He keeps hanging around in the hallway as I'm leaving and the next thing I know--he's going with me to the political parties.

He's got this whole harem of people that follow him around everywhere, except to these parties--I put my foot down about that. When he's alone with me, he loses the attitude--I have told him I'll leave him on the side of the road (with money for the taxi fare) if he starts getting pompous. He doubted my sincerity once until I pulled over and hit the automatic locks. He changed his tune fast after that.

He's very insecure and those sycophants that he surrounds himself with aren't helping. They just feed his ego; those aren't true friends. I attended a few of his parties--that was eye opening. I am a real babe in the woods. I had men and women flirting with me. I also walked in on some escapades--I never even knew the human body could be that flexible. I saw sexual positions I never imagined were possible.

12/12

I'm seeing someone--that's how mother puts it anyway. I'm seeing her psychiatrist, Gloria Nathan. The demons have been active lately. I keep seeing Cathy Rockwell's face in the car when we skidded and hit the tree. Her parents still blame me for that death--they'd have me incarcerated if they could.

I have an appointment every Tuesday and Thursday at 8:00 am. I also have little green pills to take--how ironic that it's the signature color of my new life. I painted most of the apartment green to signify a new beginning for us. Now I have green pills so that I don't hit the bottle--I told her about that, that I occasionally indulge. She seems to think the pills will help by being an alternative to the alcohol. I'm not sure I agree.

I already have the little red pills for my muscle spasms. The muscles in my legs are coming along but that damn back will never be the same. I try to only take those pills in dire emergencies--they make me a little too happy and malleable. If I took them while Kate was around, I'd wind up in a little chapel in Vegas or in her bed. Not that the idea doesn't have merit but she wants a ring, and I'm not ready to share my heart or my children with her or anyone else right now.

12/20

Mom and I attended an appointment together--it was the doctor's bright idea, not mine. She said we needed to work on opening the lines of communication.

We tried sharing our deepest concerns. Mother is concerned that Dad doesn't love her--that she is a trophy wife for him now. I know he adores her, but I'm not sure that he's still in love with her. She can be very assertive and dad is a passive man--I think that aspect of her personality drives him away--I 'shared' that. She said that she would try to let him take a more active role in their relationship, but that won't be easy.

Then it was my turn. I told them about my fear of winding up alone and lonely. Then I brought up the subject of my instant attraction to the guy in the park. (I'm still drooling from a distance, even though some of his companions have been men.) She suggested that I might be bisexual. I think I'm trisexual--I've been so horny lately that I might try having sex with just about anything with a pulse. I have never seen my mother's face turn purple before--I think I have witnessed a conniption, and it isn't pretty.

12/21

Well I'm off to another Yule Tide celebration with my dysfunctional family--the kids love going to the estate for Christmas. I am inviting Ronnie to attend the festivities, since he confided to me that he would spend the holiday alone. His mother is deceased and his father is in prison for possession of stolen cars.

I also found out that his father abused his son--mentally--he wasn't too happy that his only son wanted to be an artist, and when Ronnie came out, the fur really flew. He confided all this to me last night, when we were watching videos together. That explains a lot--Ronnie's low self-esteem and this drive to surround himself with the best that money can buy. He's very young--you can't buy the best things--I can look into three pairs of blue eyes and see that my assertions are accurate.

1/1

I spent New Years Eve over Ronnie's--in his bed to be exact. I made the mistake of asking him what he wanted this new year, and he said that he hoped that he would be able to give me a blow job. Toby Jr. betrayed me. My brain was screaming that this was a majorly bad idea but the other head convinced me to lower my inhibitions and try something new.

It was amazing. That guy definitely isn't just good at art--Gen never made me feel like she was sucking the life out of me. But I still felt empty and alone when it was over. It was disconcerting for me too--he kept licking me as if he wanted to devour me. Considering where my penis was--that image made me nervous. He didn't ask me to reciprocate. I did feel guilty about being another person who is using this vulnerable person, so I stayed over and held him. He cuddled against me like I was the most precious person in the world to him. I'm scum.

1/12

Mom isn't attending her sessions because she found out that dad is having an affair. Dr Nathan tried to persuade her to come back, but mom just took off on a shopping trip to Paris. When the going gets tough, she goes shopping. I feel horrible. I confronted my father about it and he's giving the tart her walking papers; I hope that it helps.

1/27

Ronnie and Vern seem to be acquainted. They belong to some sort of lodge or fraternity. Vern did get very worked up when he saw Ronnie try to kiss me--I wouldn't let him do that; it's too intimate. Vern sent over Robson, who had quite an argument with Ronnie. I wish I could have defended him more strenuously , but my back was giving me problems and I was having trouble staying focused. Vern took me home and gave me a pill. He seemed content to hover until Jazz (and the dog) showed up and escorted him to the door.

2/11

I have been so busy that I haven't had time to think. Vern said that it will get worse before it gets better--that's politics for you. I love every minute of it. I am trying to spend less time alone with V. He is making me feel rather uncomfortable with his attention and his touching. I am probably reading too much into it, right?

Freckle has conquered her fears and she is finally playing with the kids--she adores them and she is very gentle, too. Harry is fascinated with her.

She still adores me, though--she is very protective. She gets jealous of Ronnie and Kate, she'll try to stay between us when they're over. She's very possessive toward me, except with the family. It's probably gratitude, since I rescued her from those kids. She can't stand Vern. She has tried to bite him on several occasions. She isn't an aggressive dog--she is actually very timid. I don't understand what she sees in that man that brings out her protective streak.

3/25

I had Jazz find a butler for Ronnie. The guy seems like a hard worker, his name is Augustus Hill--he's a real character. He has an opinion about everything. I get the impression that he's narrating a play and we are the actors. He is a very astute observer. And he isn't intimidated by Ronnie's wealth and reputation. He keeps that young man from doing foolish things and he doesn't allow him to get pompous. Ronnie resents it at times, but I talked him into keeping him on. It's a love-hate dynamic, depending on what day you talk to them.

3/27

The kids and I are going skiing--the kids are thrilled. I'm going to hold Harry's birthday party up there, so he is just bouncing around the apartment with excitement. Ronnie and Hill are going to watch the apartment and dog-sitting the dog.

4/10

I caught Vern watching me when Katherine came to the office to visit. She was her usual self and I had to practically beat her off me with my laptop. Over her shoulder I saw him peering at us. It would have killed the mood if there had been one--I can't believe she embarrassed me like that at work!! Maybe Vern disapproves of public displays of affection or he's attracted to Kate. I would set that into motion if I thought I could unload her on someone. She costs me a fortune when we go out to eat!! Maybe she has a tape worm.

4/17

I was propositioned by Vern. He finds me very attractive and feels that we could accomplish great things together--it went something like that. I felt very much like the fly in that movie--'Help me, help me!' Vern was the spider, of course.

I articulately told him, once I was sure that my knees weren't knocking together, that I was very flattered but I am not interested in pursuing a relationship with him. He asked me if I ever would be-- he said that he is a very rich and influential man, and that he would give me the world. I said that I admired him, but I wasn't attracted to him.

He confided that this attraction for a man was new to him and that he didn't quite know what to make of it. I told him that I believe that everyone is bisexual to different degrees. We have been working closely together for months, hand in glove--so, of course he feels close to me, but I think he is confused about the love aspect of his feelings.

I was worried that he wasn't going to accept my refusal--he looked ready to persuade or force me into submitting to his request. Luckily Dev came along at an opportune moment and saved my ass-- literally.

Personally, I don't think the man could love anyone. He is a master manipulator whose venue should be the political arena or a pulpit. He could sell ice cubes to polar bears, and he could put a spin on anything. The man is incredible at getting the Gov. not only out of trouble, but also making the man come out of adversity looking even better than when it started. Dev can be a real idiot sometimes-- making him look perfect is quite a Herculean task.

4/25

I have just discovered that Vern is a white supremacist. We were at the gym--it's been way too cold to run. I saw a tattoo on his hip--a small nazi symbol; I forget the name of them. He didn't want me to see it, but the towel...slipped. I also got to see a lot more of him and I wasn't impressed.

Robson looked ready to rip my heart out with his teeth when I wasn't supportive enough of Vern's elucidation. He believes that the white race is becoming the minority and that we are actually debilitating the country's resources by providing people with equal opportunities-- blah, blah, blah. Vern's beliefs are very Darwinian--survival of the fittest.

I've known Dev a while and I know that he doesn't share this view. I am not going to make an issue out of it--this is America and everyone has a right to their beliefs. Even if I find them revolting. I have to respect their right to privacy and free speech.

5/10

My oldest son is another year older. (I'm putting the pictures in as soon as they're developed.) I felt very odd when I looked down at the cake and started counting candles. How time flies--I can remember changing his diapers. We were so young and so afraid that we were making mistakes. Dr. Spock was practically our bible back then.

Now he is becoming interested in computers--god help us. He loves to read. I worry about that; he needs to interact more with other children. All of the children take riding and swimming lessons--I insisted on that. Now he wants to learn about graphics---he is a fantastic artist. I still have the first picture that he ever drew-- when he was three. I framed it and put it in the hallway. He needed that--the breakup with Gen affected him more than the other children. He glows with pride every time some pompous ass asks about 'the artist of that stunning abstract'.

5/20

There are discrepancies in some of the contributions and the programs that the money was allocated to. I am having my staff look into it-- without really letting them know what they're doing. They are going back into the records and checking the figures. It should take a while, but this left me uneasy. Vern thinks that I'm getting worked up over nothing. I wish that I was so sure of that.

Kate and I are having difficulties. She has been talking to my mother--mom let her know a *few things* and that I 'needed a woman in my life'. Kate took that as an open invitation to pursue me. She keeps hinting that I should marry her, but I am immune to her suggestions. She isn't the one for me and I am not settling this time.

5/30

I bought Hoyt a minivan--he has mixed feelings about that. It has a luxurious interior, but I think he is worried about his image again. He was appeased when I mentioned that the seats were removable and he could easily transport the Harley in this van.

Hill found out that Ronnie is also part of Vern's little group (who knows how) and he isn't happy. It's a good thing that Ronnie is a generous employer or Hill would have quit. He's tenacious, I'll give him that. Ron keeps him on because he is a hard worker and he is painfully honest--Hill seems hell bent on staying to torment Ronnie in subtle ways. It will be interesting to see who surrenders first.

6/13

The staff confirmed my suspicions. There is money that isn't accounted for. It's missing from the official budget, reports and I am not sure what to do. I am going to triple check the results myself even if I have to knock on the door of every contributor.

6/17

Ronnie's father died. He is very sad and I tried to cheer him up. I don't know how it happened, but he gave me another blow job and I spent the night again. Just call me a slut-- I feel like one.

I wish I could give him what he thinks he needs, but I can't force myself to have feelings that aren't there. I sat down with him and told him where things stand--I only want to be his friend, but his determined pursuit of me is making me uncomfortable. It got heated and he accused me of being in love with Kate. I didn't deny the assertion.

6/20

I am arranging a gift for Ronnie. Gloria is dating a talk show host-- you'd think she'd be sick of hearing people talk with her job. She graciously offered to have Ryan invite Ronnie onto his show. It will mean that his art can be showcased to a mainstream audience. Ron doesn't care for the show, but he isn't going to turn down the opportunity for free publicity. He is still a bit miffed at me--he says I'm not willing to explore my sexuality further with him because I'm afraid to face that aspect of myself, and that I'm not taking him seriously because I still perceive him being an immature boy.

6/29

I have decided not to talk to the man in the park. I mentioned him to Kate--since my mother did let the cat out of the bag--and she went wild. She did bring up some good points though. I am looking for a monogamous relationship and this guy likes to play the field. Also, I am actually starting to wonder if he makes his living selling his services (her supposition).

He *is* sexy enough to make a fortune doing that--a body similar to a Greek sculpture, the most gorgeous ass I have ever seen. His walk is as graceful as a dancer--it almost is a type of dance. He exudes charm and confidence. And let's not forget the tattoo--it looks like some sort of crucifixion scene; I wonder what it symbolizes?? I've never seen his eyes--we've never made eye contact. Maybe that's for the best. He can maintain his mystique for me and be this unattainable, perfect person.

I wonder what his name is.

6/30

I am going to have the contributions officially audited after the holiday, I think. I am being indecisive, but I keep thinking of the people that could get hurt if that audit ever went public. Dev's whole career would be tarnished. I told Vern about it; he told me that I should give it some thought before I committed to a course of action that could destroy lives. I knew that he'd feel that way--it's his job to protect Dev.

Mother is having her soiree at the house and the kids are going down early with her and dad. Gen will be there so I am not sending Hoyt-- Gen deserves to have the kids to herself without a (200+) biker interfering. I am going to try to persuade him to take a vacation. I don't think that I will be successful.

I am also going to break it off with Kate. Her presence in my life is just more pressure that I don't need right now; the kids were picking up on the tension too. I'll miss her, she is someone that I can converse with who understands how I think. Her daughter is still welcome here, since she is friendly with Holly.

I tried to break it to her gently last night, but she wasn't listening to me, as usual. I'm going to try again when we're alone, with no distractions--the car ride to the party might be a good setting.

7/1

Ronnie scheduled the interview for the 3rd. I promised to watch the show--so I guess I'm staying in town until the show is over. I could tape it, but I would hate to disappoint my friend. He was very eager to have me call in and ask him an intelligent question about his art. That remark was a tad patronizing, but I am just glad that he is taking an interest in life again.

He seemed to withdraw this last month--I think that I may have contributed to his depression and I feel guilty about that. He's also been having some financial difficulties--his extravagant lifestyle would cause anyone to have concerns--I guess artists make more than I ever imagined.

I tried to have one of our old discussions with him. I brought up my upcoming talk with Kate--he cut me off before I could tell him my intentions. He said that I 'should do whatever the hell I wanted, even if it ruined my life.' I think he believes I am going to marry her to further my career in politics. I had to go to a meeting -- so we didn't get the chance to work through the emotions, as Gloria advises me to do.


That was the last entry. Chris stared down at the blank page for a long time before he finally closed the book. His head was surprisingly clear--the entries seemed to sober him like a strong cup of coffee. But now his eyes felt dried out and his muscles ached with fatigue.

The detective traced the embossed letters on the journal as he contemplated what he had read.

//He saw *me* in that park. Why didn't he ever speak to me? If he had, I know that we would have hit it off. Hell, we could have been fucking like rabbits by now!!//

//He fell in love with a runner and I fell in love with a portrait-- funny how both of those men are unattainable. I should feel really shitty that we missed our chance, but I am just glad that he was attracted to me, too. It's not what I want, but it will have to be enough.//

Chris looked at the family portrait longingly. //All of that could have been mine. But I won't dwell. I have a profile to write and the pieces are finally starting to come together. I'll fill Murph in tomorrow.//

The detective pulled the sweatshirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. The borrowed tee-shirt had ridden up, so Chris pulled it down before rearranging the pillows and turned off the lamp. His wallet with Toby's picture tucked inside it was on the nightstand. Chris heard a loud sigh and spotted the dog staring at him from the floor. She was staring at him accusingly with her big brown eyes.

"Have YOU got anything to offer me, since you're technically the only witness?" The dog just continued to stare up at him, and Chris smiled gently. He reached down and stroked her soft fur. "I know that you wish someone else were here in this bed--so do I, actually. So do I."

He heard the dog sigh again--the tags on her collar clinked as she curled up on the carpeted floor, beside the bed. //She seems content to sleep there, since she still doesn't trust me. But I'll win her over--no female could ever resist me.// As he settled onto the pillow, he turned his face into the fabric and took a deep breath. The pillow smelled like Toby and Chris fell asleep surrounded by that comforting scent.

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