Hopeless Hearts

Joan Joyce Massa

HOPELESS HEARTS

By Joan Joyce Massa Titan Press LLC

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HOPELESS HEARTS

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

H0PELESS HEARTS Copyright © 2006 by Joan Joyce Massa ISBN: 1-59836-244-5 Cover art and design © 2006 by Nix Winter All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.TitanPress.net

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Joan Joyce Massa

Dedication:

I dedicate this book to my sister, Ellen--the psychologist, from her sister Joan, the writer. No matter that you prefer the solidity and knowledge of life on land while I need the waves and water to ebb and flow around me, your love is with me every day in every tide as mine goes out to you. My world is better for knowing you’re there. I hope you like this book. Thank you Tracey, my editor and friend, for helping me through this new endeavor, and Nix my friend and artist, for the beautiful cover and the support while I wrote something that I hope is worthy of it. Thank you to my husband and children for your support.

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Prologue

“Tatiana, my darling, you’re looking pale.” Tatiana froze with her key in the lock of her apartment door. She stood immobile as she watched her worst nightmare emerge from the shadows. “Ri, there are cops right downstairs, you’re a fool to be here tonight.” Breathless, she struggled to keep her head together. “But, Beloved, it’s our tenth anniversary. I had to see you.” Her blood chilled at his words. Ten years. Ten years was long enough. She would end this tonight. “Is it? I’d forgotten.” She sounded indifferent to her own ears. Good, she couldn’t let him know how his appearance had shaken her. “Tatiana!” Bill...shoot! She hoped she had enough time to push this madman over the edge before Bill could make it up the stairs. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember what I did to you--how it felt--how I altered your entire life. Don’t pretend...” With effort, she managed not to shake as she turned to him and looked into his eyes. “Only one man’s touch has ever affected me. It’s his touch I think about every day, not yours.” “You’ll die with my touch on your body and on your mind!” he roared, grabbing her by the back of the neck. “My touch, Darling,” he snarled, his voice like broken glass. She heard Bill’s shouting and the sound of feet pounding up the stairs as if from far away. “A little caress then, My Precious, until later,” he purred into her ear. Pain exploded in her as he slammed her head into the wall and flung her backwards toward the stairs. As she began to lose consciousness, she knew that Bill had caught her and that her tormentor had escaped.

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Chapter One

Startled from a sound sleep, Von Branigan sat up in his cold and lonely bed. Angel? She’s not here. She’s long gone. What had awakened him? Oh, the phone. The phone was ringing. He glanced at the clock, reaching for the telephone. Good news never comes at two in the morning. “Yeah?” he grunted. “This is Detective Bill Lester of the Yonkers, New York, police department.” Von sat up, disoriented but coming awake. “How can I help you, Detective?” “Sir, is anyone at this number acquainted with Miss Tatiana Branigan?” “Yes,” his answer was clipped; he was now fully alert. “I need a friend or family member to come here to the station, please. I’ll be here till ten in the morning. You need the address?” Von grunted negatively. “Thank you, Sir.” With that, the detective hung up. Stunned and frightened, Von pulled on his clothes, urgency fueling his actions. He drove like a man possessed, his teeth clenched tightly the whole time. He didn’t care if he got stopped. He was going to the police station anyway. What was normally an hour drive took him less than forty-five minutes. During the trip, he tortured himself ceaselessly. What if she was dead? Would he be left with only memories? His Angel, Tatiana Branigan, his estranged wife. At his lowest point, when he felt like he’d wasted his life and was worthless to his family, Tatiana Dmitri, the little angel from his childhood, had come along and showed him another way. She had been barely eighteen and he had been twenty-four years old. Even then, she had been ethereal and enticing. Every move she made had been magic. He’d come home in disgrace, having failed in his family’s business and she’d found him in the process of drowning his sorrows in the usual fashion. 6

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Tati had taken the bottle from his hand and told him that he didn’t need it. She’d then placed her hand in his and led him along the seashore, talking to him of all the things she’d loved about him for her whole life. It had been her encouragement that convinced him to turn his back on the business of his family and build sailboats, his true life’s love. Now, he was wealthier than the rest of them and his services were much sought-after in the boating world. His craft had sustained him during the last ten years since he’d sent her away. He’d been drunk on her when he’d spread their clothes on the sand and taken her virginity. I always wanted you to be my first--my only, she’d told him. He’d married her as soon as he could convince their parents that they were serious. They’d had a year and a half of happiness that had ended ten years ago. That was when he’d caught her with his younger brother, Rian, and had banished them both. Sometimes Rian, his younger half-brother, showed up at the family home, but not often. Von hadn’t heard from Tatiana since she’d begged him to listen to her and he’d refused, telling her not to come back until she was ready to claim her place in the family crypt.

**** Von told the sergeant at the desk that he’d received a phone call from a Detective Lester. The sergeant showed him to a small room and said he’d let the detective know he was there. Trying not to think the worst, Von settled in a chair and waited. After he had been sitting for a few minutes, a large man came in. “Detective Bill Lester, sir.” A beefy, forty-something giant with a ruddy complexion, and a shock of red-blonde hair stepped in front of him with his hand out. He looked like a bar fight waiting to happen. “Von Branigan.” Von replied, shaking the man’s hand. “Look, what’s... The large man handed Von a Polaroid. The photo showed a thin, frail, young woman laying on a black surface. Her features were pale, her eyes were closed, and blood could be seen around a wound at her temple. “Can you identify that person, Mr. Branigan?” Von nodded, swallowing. “Her name is Tatiana Branigan.” Detective Lester stood. “Wait here, please, Mr. Branigan.” “Is she...” Von began. “Please wait here, sir.” The detective left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. 7

Joan Joyce Massa Von’s head was spinning. Had he just identified the body of his wife? Was she dead or alive? I don’t know if I can live in a world that she isn’t living in. There must be something wrong with me. How can I still care so much after what she did? As he sat, trying to absorb what had happened so far this night, Von began to notice the quiet of the building. He heard footsteps approaching and began to focus on the voices he could hear nearby. “Go easy, Jim, it’s been a heck of a night.” Von heard a door open across the hall. “Bill, it’s bleeding again. I’m gonna check her eyes.” He had to be addressing the detective that Von had just talked with. “Stop it, Jim. You’re making my headache worse!” Von sat up straight. A voice that sounded seductive even when she was irate. That couldn’t be... “Tatiana, you need to be in the hospital. I know you have a concussion. You’re not really recovered from the pneumonia.” Jim sounded very agitated. He called that woman “Tatiana”! My angel is alive! “You know I’ll refuse further treatment. What are they going to do for me, Jim?” came her soft-voiced reply. “They can’t put my head in a sling.” “Tati, I’m going to call that number you gave me. You need someone to take care of you now.” That was Bill, the big detective. “Bill, nobody at that number wants to care for anything besides my remains. Don’t make me sorry I trusted you.” Is that what she thinks? And why wouldn’t she think that? I made it pretty clear she wouldn’t be welcomed back, didn’t I? “It’s only a happy accident you’re not sporting a toe-tag right now, dang it!” Von wanted to go in there but something made him listen for a minute longer. He waited for the pain of her betrayal to wash over him but he could only feel elation. He needed to get himself together. She’s alive! “He could have killed me any time in the last nine years, Bill. He doesn’t want me dead, he wants me to suffer.” Who is she talking about? “Up until tonight, Tati, I would have agreed. But you tipped the scales, didn’t you?” What is he talking about? “I don’t know what you mean, Bill...” Von could tell that, clearly, she did too know what he meant. “Don’t lie to me Tatiana Dmitri Branigan!” the detective barked. They must be pretty close. “He’s been torturing you for the last nine years, killing you 8

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slowly.” Von moved toward the sound of their voices. “But I heard what you said to him before I got up the stairs. You not only asked him to kill you, I think you gave him a reason, didn’t you?” “What number?” That was Jim again, Von guessed. He’d apparently stayed in the room, whether he could help her head injury or not. She’s even more beautiful than she was ten years ago. She wore a long-sleeved dress that flowed over her. It was dark green velvet and came to her ankles. Her long black hair waved and curled just above her elbows. Blood trickled from a cut on her temple. “Please, don’t call that number, Bill.” “It’s too late, Angel.”At the sound of his voice, she grabbed for a nearby table. “Von,” she whispered. She looked as if she were seeing a ghost. He moved to stand in front of her and cupped her cheeks. Those eyes. Her big gray eyes nearly took up her face. He caressed her delicate jaw with his thumbs. He let his hands slide down her shoulders until he lightly held her forearms. Her whole body shook. “I thought you were dead, Angel,” he couldn’t look away from her. “I am dead, Von.” Her eyes filled with tears and she closed them whispering, “Go home. Please go home.” “I can’t Angel. I can’t walk away from you.” He eased his arms around her until he gathered her trembling body against him. She was obviously too stunned to resist. He leaned his cheek against her head, savoring the satin feel of her soft hair at his face. She continued to tremble but he could feel some of her stiffness ebbing away. Finally her hands moved to grip the fabric at his waist. “Von,” she whispered again. “My knight in shining armor.” It almost sounded like a sigh. He held her a little tighter and kissed her hair. She felt so fragile in his arms. So slight. Why was she so thin and pale? Pneumonia could cause that, he thought, if it was serious enough. “Time to come home, Angel,” he murmured. “He’s right, Tati. You have to go home and you need care. You should still be in the hospital. Mr. Branigan, I apologize for letting you think...” 9

Joan Joyce Massa “I’m sure I’ll want payback later, Detective Lester.” Von turned to accept a handshake of apology from Bill. Tati turned to face the man as well, but Von kept an arm around her. She seemed poised to flee at the first opportunity. As the two men shook hands, Bill began to ask, “How’re you two...” Tati cut him off in her soft voice. “Bill, Von is...” She looked up at Von, her glance questioning. “Are we still...” “We’re still married, Angel,” he confirmed, speaking low. Bill looked like he’d run headlong into a building. Pole-axed. That’s what poleaxed looks like. Did they have an intimate kind of relationship? Is this my angel’s lover? Von began to feel his anger burn as the other man turned to Tati. “Lancelot?” he asked. She nodded. “Angelina?” he asked. She nodded again. Now Von was seriously confused. “So Riley is...” “He’s exactly who I said he was, over and over again,” Tati confirmed quietly. “No way, Tatiana.” Bill sat down hard on his desk. “Damnation, honey.” Looking at Von, he said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Branigan. Please excuse the verbal shorthand. We’ve worked together a lot over the last nine years and it occurs to me that I’ve never really listened to a thing your wife has told me.” Before Von could respond, Tati said, “Its okay, Bill. That happens to me a lot.” Von knew she was talking about him right then and he was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. “Detective, I’d like to know what’s happened tonight.” “Mr. Branigan, your wife was attacked outside of her apartment around eleven p.m., upon returning from an awards ceremony. We believe that her attacker is the same man who has been stalking her for the last nine years.” The man looked carefully at Von, possibly wondering if he’d known about the stalker. Maybe he thinks I am the stalker. No, I’d be in jail already if he really believed that. “Since the event in question was for department employees, associates, and family members, Officer Jim Leeds and myself were escorting her.”

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Von was startled. He didn’t bother pretending knowledge he didn’t have. This man knew her better than he did, and of course he would. He’d been with her tonight-Von hadn’t seen her in a decade. “You work for the police?” he asked his wife. “In what capacity?” “Mrs. Branigan is a profiler, sir. She consults with other departments and agencies, as well. She is not an employee of the Yonkers Police Department.” His angel had certainly grown up, hadn’t she? “Tati, do you need anything from your apartment? I don’t think she should stay there tonight, do you Bill?” “I’ll need some clothes but I have all my meds in my bag. Did someone get that? I think it went over the railing when he clobbered me.” “You still have clothes at home, Angel. We can refill your prescriptions in Stratford if we need to.” “We have your bag right here. Jim, did you grab her little oxygen tank thing?” Jim nodded. He’d been quiet during the entire exchange between Tatiana and Von. Whoa, oxygen tank? This is serious. “Mr. Branigan?” “Von,” he replied. “You can call me Von.” The big man smiled. It softened his features a great deal. “Von, then. When would you like to go by your wife’s apartment to pick up a few things?” To Tati he said, “I’m gonna keep a man on it for a few days. I’d like to have a look to make sure nobody’s been in there. You know this guy’s M.O.” “Yeah, I do,” she sighed. “Detective, I’d like to talk to you about this and everything else very soon. Right now, though, I think it’s past time that I take my wife home. You have our phone number. Do you have a card?” Bill handed him one, scrawling his home number on the back. “Von, I don’t think going back there is a good idea...” Tati began. “Home with me or the hospital, Angel?” If she chose wrong, he planned to overrule her anyway. “Stratford, I guess.” Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but I’ll take it. “Good answer,” he said aloud. “I’ll call you around lunch,” Von said to Bill. He was anxious to get home. 11

Joan Joyce Massa He had no idea what he would do with her. Maybe she wasn’t the treacherous, philandering little witch he’d painted her. Even if she was, he owed her. She’d saved him and he would save her now. He didn’t know if he was doing the right thing but he planned to figure it all out at home.

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Chapter Two

Waking alone in the bed she had once shared with her husband, Tati wondered if she’d ever had control of her life. Off and on during the last ten years, she’d had the illusion of control, but it had never lasted. Now, she was back in the place where she’d lived her happiest memories and her worst nightmares. It was almost as if she’d come full-circle. Her father had worked for the Branigan family since before she was five years old. She’d fallen in love with Von as soon as she’d been old enough to think about such things. Von was six years older than she was and hadn’t been around much when she was a teenager. As a small child, he’d always called her his little angel, teasing her gently and then leaving to go about his life. Time after time, he’d saved her from his younger halfbrother, Rian. In the end, he’d been too late when it really counted. If only she’d never made love with Von. But she had. Closing her eyes, she fought against the memories of their life together before her whole world had gone down the tubes. His dark brown hair, just a little long, had always begged for her fingers. His nearly black eyes had mesmerized her with so many secrets. His hard muscular frame seemed the perfect fit for her smaller, softer one. He was powerful, dangerous, gentle, loving, and she’d always felt safe with him. Stop! Stop this; you just aren’t ready for memory lane yet. One tiny step at a time... She drew herself up. The problem was, while she wanted to go one tiny step at a time, life kept insisting that she hurry up and get with the program. She was dragging a hand through her curtain of hair when the door opened. Von came in, carrying a tray. “Morning, Angel,” he said softly. “Think you could eat something?” 13

Joan Joyce Massa She looked at him warily. This man, the man she’d loved more than life itself, had told her not to come back here while she was alive, and now he was serving her breakfast in bed? Is it me, or is something seriously out of whack here? He carefully put the tray down next to her on the bed and waited. When she continued to stare at his face, he pulled a chair near the bed and sat down. Tati began to investigate the contents of the tray. “I wasn’t sure how much your tastes have changed,” he explained. “The muffin is gooseberry. I remember that you used to like them. Your medicine is on that little saucer.” He smiled one of his devastating smiles. His smiles had always been lethal to her. “Thank you,” she said politely. She tried to lift the small coffee carafe and it began to slip. She just didn’t have the strength right now. Von was there immediately. He managed to catch it before it could fall. Tati tried to control her shaking but she felt so foolish and weak. He reached for her to put an extra pillow behind her and she flinched. Seeing his jaw tighten in anger, Tati was filled with dread. She shrunk against the pillows. He’s still mad at me, I guess. If I really did what he thinks I did, I guess I’d be mad at me, too. Please don’t hit me, please. She closed her eyes and willed herself to stop shaking. Over the last few years she’d become a respected criminal profiler and had a doctorate in Criminal Psychology. Besides that, she had authored a very popular suspense series. She had no reason to cringe like a beaten puppy. That whole being-raped-and-beaten-and-subsequently-stalked-by-his-brother thing could account for some of that... Von rose from his chair and walked to the dresser, obviously trying to control his ire. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt along with some under clothes for her. He laid them all out on the end of the bed. He sat back down in the chair. Carefully, she lifted the half-filled mug of coffee and took a sip. She broke off a piece of the muffin and smiled tentatively, nibbling at it. She watched him cautiously. “Tell me a little about what your life is like these days, Angel.” He seemed genuinely interested. “Do you mean generally or a microcosm?” At her question, his face split in a grin. 14

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“Like that! You were always very intelligent but I know you didn’t know the difference between a microcosm and a microchip ten years ago.” At first she was surprised and then she laughed. He was right. She had gone back to school for fun when they were first married but she had never taken it so seriously ten years ago. Her entire mindset was drastically different. What if he doesn’t like the person I’ve become? Wise up you nit! He told the person you were not to come back while you were still breathing. “I returned to school and got my B.S. in Social Psychology. Since I achieved my degree in a very short time, I continued and got my Doctorate in Criminal Psychology. I had been interning and later working with my most trusted professor. He used to work for the FBI and continued to consult. As his health began to suffer, I took over more and more of his consults.” She turned away when she began talking about Professor Vinton. She’d grown to love that old curmudgeon. “What happened to him? This professor you worked with and trusted?” Von’s voice was deceptively even. She knew he thought she’d been seeing her mentor socially. He’ll always suspect me of infidelity, even though it doesn’t matter anymore. “Gerard--Professor Vinton--died almost five years ago of Pancreatic Cancer. He was sixty-seven then. Everyone thought he was my grandfather. He always called me his ‘little foundling’.” She tried to control herself but she felt the tears threatening. With a sniff, she went on, “It’s because of him that I began writing.” Von sat down on the edge of the bed and poured her antibiotic tablets from the saucer into his hand. He picked up a glass of juice and held them both out to her. She tried not to flinch when his hand touched hers around the glass or when he took her hand to place the medicine in it. He removed the breakfast tray and freshened, both her coffee and his own, placing the tall tray outside the door and putting a smaller one on the bed. After that, he resumed his place in the chair. Tati relaxed a little. “What kind of writing do you do?” he asked mildly. “Um, fiction. Just stories. You know, suspense and stuff.” “Anybody read ‘em? You publish?” He must be teasing me. She looked intently at him, trying to decide if he was serious or not. She published under her real name and she had a bit of a following. She was no Patricia Cornwall or Sue Grafton, but she wasn’t doing too badly. 15

Joan Joyce Massa “Um, yes, I’ve published,” she couldn’t stifle a big yawn. Haven’t even gotten out of bed yet and I’m ready to go back to sleep. Well at least I don’t have far to go. “Why don’t you go back to sleep for a while, Angel?” Von took her coffee cup and the tray and moved them to the dresser. “Anything in particular you want from your apartment?” She felt the bed move when he sat back down on it. “My laptop,” she yawned again. “It’s in the safe. The combination is...why am I so sleepy?” He chuckled. “The combination is your birthday.” She yawned again and rolled over, pulling the comforter over her head.

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Chapter Three

Von backed his SUV out of the driveway and turned it toward Yonkers. He was eager to get another look at Tatiana’s life. The brief time they’d spent together today had created new questions. The combination to her safe was his birthday? Why would she want to remember him every day like that? What else would he find? He thought about how skittish and wary she was of him. He could tell she was fighting it. It didn’t matter, it seemed innate, a reflex. She was terrified that he was going to grab her. And do what with her? Whenever he got just a little too close, her body went rigid. He knew she’d seen the anger in him when she’d cringed earlier. That had really scared her. Didn’t she think he could control himself and his anger? He had wanted nothing more than to choke the life out of her ten years ago. He’d controlled himself then, hadn’t he? Von turned the radio on to escape his thoughts. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get away from them. He was pondering why she’d looked so confused when he’d asked her about her writing when the announcer answered his question. “At the top of the news today, Yonkers resident and celebrated author, Tatiana Branigan was attacked last night in her apartment building. The author of the popular, Life Shadows suspense thrillers, is said to be recovering from her injuries today at an undisclosed location. Wasn’t she attacked just a few years ago, Amy?” Must be a radio show with co-hosts. “Yes she was, Joel. Hey! You don’t suppose there really is a Riley, do you?” Amy answered him. “That just gives me the creeps, Amy,” the male announcer verbally shuddered. “Have you read them all, Amy?” he asked. 17

Joan Joyce Massa “I just picked up my copy of Night Shift, Joel. And I know I saw Evening’s Education on your desk last week,” Amy answered him. “The first three books in the series, for those of you who haven’t read them, are: Angel in the Morning; Hero at High Noon; and Afternoon Delivery. We’re all waiting for the sixth book, Midnight Caller,” Joel informed the listening audience. “So of course Evening’s Education and Night Shift are Life Shadows Books Four and Five, respectively,” Amy clarified. Von listened for a minute as the two talked about her books for a minute, speculating on when the next one would be released. No wonder she’d looked at him so quizzically when he’d asked her if she’d been published and if anyone read her stuff. She was much more accomplished than he imagined. What else was different about her? There was so much he didn’t know. Maybe it was time to find out what had changed in the last ten years. It was time to get to know his wife all over again.

**** Bill greeted Von with a handshake and led him to his office. He’d already decided to treat Von the way he’d want to be treated in his shoes. Of course, he’d never be in Von’s shoes but Tatiana was the little sister he’d never had and one of his best friends. He may have to kill this joker yet, but he planned to give him every chance at survival. Bill suspected that Tati still loved him. When they sat down, Bill handed Von a picture he kept on his desk. It was actually two pictures held together by hinges. On one side, it showed Tatiana leaning against the wheelchair in which an elderly, hawk-nosed man was sitting. They were surrounded by six men in suits, one of whom was Bill Lester. The other man in the picture had to be Gerard Vincent. He did look quite old and frail, Von decided. Upon closer inspection, he realized that Tatiana did favor the old man somewhat. It was no wonder people had thought them related. He felt a little silly for his jealous moments when she’d first mentioned her mentor. In the other picture two other women wearing graduation caps and gowns with the mantle of Doctorate flanked Tatiana. They held champagne glasses in one hand. On the bottom of the picture, written in Sharpie™, were the words, “The doctor is in!” “In the first picture, we’d just closed a multi-jurisdictional case ending a killing spree. That’s Gerard Vincent, Tati’s mentor, in the chair.” He paused, looking at Von for 18

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a minute. “That other picture? Of course, you see little Tati in the middle--that’s my wife, Georgette, on the left and Jim’s wife, Lena, on the right. They all had reasons for being nervous about going back to school, so they teamed up.” Bill got up and leaned his head out the door and yelled out, “When you guys get finished, come in here! I got a good one for ya!” He sat down again, looking at Von, trying to decide how direct he should be. Von must have been considering the same question. “I left her sleeping after eating breakfast. Pretending to eat breakfast, I mean.” Von sighed. “Maybe she’d be better off here.” Bill knew the other man didn’t believe that. He wasn’t sure if the man knew what he wanted, but he was reasonably sure it didn’t include dropping Tati back into her life of the last ten years and leaving her alone. “I was surprised when Tati introduced you as her husband last night, but not for the reasons you might think,” Bill was trying to be tactful and helpful at the same time. A knock was heard on Bill’s office door and three men came in. Both Bill and Von stood up. All three men were in their thirties and all reasonably good-looking, Bill thought. “V.B., I want you to meet the most worthless examples of law enforcement south of the Peekskills. John Young of the FBI, Pete Fleming, Manhattan’s finest, and Nick Del Marco, Bronx,” Bill boomed out the introductions. “Meetcha,” said Nick. “V.B.,” that was John. “Hey,” Pete shook his hand. Bill knew Von was wondering what this was all about. “Freakin’ shame what happened to Tati last night, huh?” Pete asked. “You shoulda taken him down six years ago, when he attacked her in your district,” Nick snapped at Pete. “Need any help from the Bureau, man?” John asked. Bill shook his head. “Maybe later, right now we’ve got some new leads. I had to call you guys in here to help out a brother.” “What’s up?” echoed around the room. “Well, it seems my buddy here,” he indicated Von, “saw Tati when we were at that alumni thing at Manhattan College a few weeks ago.” 19

Joan Joyce Massa The men were getting funny smiles on their faces. Two of them patted Von on the shoulder in a ‘you-poor-thing’ gesture. Bill went on. “Seems he’s thinking of asking her out. Thinks they’ll be perfect together. Got a lot in common, I guess,” Bill grinned. The men seemed to be holding their collective breath. “V.B. asked me...” Bill cleared his throat. “He wondered if she was seeing anybody!” Guffaws were heard around the room. “Sorry, man. No, she’s not seeing a soul.” “You poor fool!” “Don’t do it man, she’s just gonna hurt your feelings.” “Seriously, buddy, if she was gay, you might have a chance,” Nick said. “She’s asexual, dude.” “That sweet little thing has crushed each of our egos at one time or another, but she’s saved all of our bacon enough to make up for it,” Pete told him. “We’re gonna catch that bad guy that clocked her. We’ll catch him and…” John looked around the room with an odd smile on his face. “We’ll put him in the witness protection program. Think he’ll like Wyoming?” “You’re sick, man,” Bill chuckled. Von laughed, too. He was smart enough, anyway. The other men left leaving Bill and Von alone again. There was only silence as they turned to each other. Von glared at him. “You trying to tell me I don’t have a chance with my wife?” He growled. “I’m trying to tell you that nobody has had a chance with her for ten years. I guess if anybody has a chance, you do.” Bill snapped back at him. “If you can get your head outta your anal orifice that is.”

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Chapter Four

Von had tossed some boxes and suitcases in the back of his SUV before leaving home and was now following Bill to Tati’s apartment. When they arrived, Bill led the way up and stopped to talk to the officer near the entrance. As soon as he unlocked the door, Bill stopped Von from going any further. “Is she alone at your house?” Bill asked him. Von was looking around, trying to see what Bill was seeing. Bill repeated his question. “No, Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper is with her.” Von replied. His eyes kept coming back to an odd assortment of objects on the coffee table. Bill looked hard at him. “You see it?” Von nodded. “That’s not hers. Get her on the phone.” Von dialed and when the housekeeper answered, he asked her to put Mrs. Branigan on the phone. “Are you okay, Angel?” he asked when he heard her voice. Before she could answer, Bill reached over and slapped the speaker on the phone. “Tati, it’s Bill, I’m at your place,” he sounded different to Von. Harder. “Go ahead,” she said. Her voice was still soft but it sounded official, somehow. “Tell me what you see, Bill.” How’d she know? Bill approached the table cautiously. “A gingerbread-type cookie...” “Run, run, as fast as you can...” Tati began. “Can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man,” they finished together. “What else?” she asked. “A round-ish thing...it’s white, it has a hinge and serrated edges that may fit together--looks like it’s wearing...” “All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again,” She quoted the nursery rhyme. 21

Joan Joyce Massa “Yeah, I see it now,” Bill responded. Von watched and listened in awe. “A taunt and a threat... Where’s the promise?” Tati asked. Man, what a quick mind and that’s my angel... “Found it!” “Go ahead, Detective.” Tati’s soft voice had the edge of authority to it. That almost sounded like an order. “It’s a flyswatter with a very large roach squished underneath it.” “Just one roach or two?” What’s the difference? “One,” Bill responded. “Okay, Von’s still safe. Order a car in behind his and do something to obscure his plate. Get him a local or something.” I’m still safe? What’s that mean? Bill pulled out his radio and ordered the officer downstairs to pull in behind Von’s SUV. Bill promised her that he’d get Von a department plate for the trip home. Von was impressed with the way that her orders were rapped out and followed. “Von?” she asked. “What is it, Angel?” “It’s important that you stop somewhere and discreetly change the plate back, okay? After you cross state lines.” It seems like a small request... “Okay, I promise.” “Bill? Get some shots of all that, different angles. Also, go see if my bed is screwed up. If the spread looks okay, pull it back carefully.” She was quiet while Bill was gone. He returned quickly. “Bed seemed untouched. Under the spread was a black chalk outline. I’d be willing to bet that it’s proportionally correct.” Bill reported. “Plans to kill me in bed but not in my sleep. All right. Shots of that, too. In fact, just shoot and dust the whole place, and vacuum. I know he probably only made statements in those two rooms, but I bet he ate and even bathed.” “Why do you think that, Tati?” Von asked. Bill was nodding as if he had planned to ask the same question. “He’s arrogant, he’s controlling, and he’s smart. He knows I’ll look. He’s trying to spook me. I’m hoping he washed his hands or left a dirty glass. Maybe he ate fruit and left DNA... A pubic hair in the shower, I don’t know. Just test everything, Bill. If he 22

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doesn’t know I’m here, he’ll never think I am. Maybe we can catch him before he gets this far.” “Gotcha.” “Are you going to be okay?” Von couldn’t help asking. “He’s a bully, Von. He’s afraid of you. Just don’t get caught alone, please. Firearms tend to lend courage to the biggest cowards.” That and the birthday thing could almost make me think she still cares. They hung up the phone and Von moved to the safe and removed Tati’s laptop. He was shocked to find a small photo album containing pictures of him. One had him working on a boat. In another, he was lifting weights. Still another was a birthday photo. In the end, Von cleared out the safe and then took a stack of books that Bill handed him. “I think you’re a smart man, Branigan. She didn’t do what you think she did. If you don’t figure this thing out by the end of the third chapter, I’m coming to get Tati myself. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Bill walked away, mumbling about his own idiocy in that arena. There were five books and Von could see that the author was Tatiana Branigan. He knew he’d be reading them immediately.

**** Rian Branigan shifted in the rooftop doorway, adjusting the focus on his binoculars. I don’t believe it. But he had no other choice. Right there, climbing out of a huge, dark blue SUV was his big brother, Von. His stomach rolled and heaved. It wasn’t fair. He was so close to winning. All his life he’d hated Von. He was pretty sure that his first clear thought as a baby, was how much he hated his brother. Von had been born first. He’d had it all handed to him on a silver platter. The family business had been his for the taking. And what had Von done? He’d rejected it! He’d failed. But had that come with repercussions for him? No, it hadn’t. He’d chosen another field, one that had nothing to do with the investment firm that their father had founded. Von had chosen to build sailboats. Sailboats! They were nothing more than expensive toys and yet, Von was praised for his insight and expertise. 23

Joan Joyce Massa And had Rian been offered the business? No, he hadn’t. Always the younger; always the second son, he was allotted a place in the company, but that was all. Always a bridesmaid, never the bride…and he was the best! And not only that, but Von still got the girl. Rian had been there with her, for her, all her life. She was a servant’s kid. A nobody. But Rian had paid attention to her. That hadn’t stopped her from giving herself to Von, though. Giving herself to him as if he was worth it! As if he wasn’t a failure! No problem though. Rian took what they wouldn’t give him. He took Tatiana’s cushy life, her rich husband, her safety and security. And for the last ten years, he’d taken every bit of joy from Von’s life. Everything but the boats. The boats didn’t keep Von warm at night, though. For a while, that had been enough, knowing that Von was suffering, that his life was all but empty. And he’d enjoyed punishing Tatiana for her mistake. He’d enjoyed dominating her to begin with and for the last ten years, he’d enjoyed toying with her, terrorizing her. Only now, now he saw his brother, the loser, stepping out of his very expensive automobile and going into the apartment building. And he was there too, that big, ugly redheaded cop, right behind him, getting out of a department car. Seething, Rian trained the binoculars on the two men, following their silhouettes through the thick glass bricks as they made their way up the stairs. Fine! Let them both find my little surprise. He knew when they had. He saw Tatiana’s hand in things when the patrol car moved in behind the huge SUV. Smirking, he watched the uniformed policewoman change license plates for Von. Yeah, it made him mad. Tatiana was his. Had been his from the beginning and was still his today. Yet there was Von, irrefutable proof that Tatiana was with him again. He’d watched her closely over the last decade. He knew that she’d been chaste since she left. But it had allowed that beautiful brain of hers to emerge. Tatiana’s mind was beautiful, too. They were more intimate than ever now, Rian and she. He had enjoyed sparing with her, teasing her, testing her. He was not going to let her skip merrily into the future with his brother, oh no. This was far from over.

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Chapter Five

Tati was asleep on the couch in the East Den when Von had returned from Yonkers. She’d felt the cushion go down as he sat next to her and just about jumped out of her skin. His closeness startled her so badly that she began to hyperventilate. She couldn’t catch her breath and her fingernails began to turn blue. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Please, don’t be mad.” Von ran upstairs and brought the portable liquid oxygen tank down and slid behind her, holding her and the tank. At first, she sat rigid while he held her but somewhere between her exhaustion and his gentle consistency, she relaxed. They remained that way for a while, sitting quietly. After a time, the parts of her not touching Von began to feel cold. She sneezed and got goose bumps. Von got up, built a fire in the fireplace and brought back a carafe of hot chocolate and a large plate of cheese and crusty bread squares. “Let’s just sit and enjoy the fire, okay, Angel?” he asked her. “I forgot how much you always loved this room. We’ll eat and talk a little and maybe you’ll want to nap.” “Okay,” she said shyly. “Can I sit with you on the couch, Angel?” he asked gently. He was being so considerate. She wasn’t sure why he was being so thoughtful of her and it made her nervous. Something of what she was feeling must have shown somehow. “It’s been a long time. We don’t know each other anymore. But, then again, you still know me better than anyone else ever did,” he explained. She nodded and scooted to the other end of the couch to give him room. He looked at her and arched a brow and she scooted a little closer. “How is the boating business, Von?” she asked after he poured her a cup of hot chocolate and helped her take her antibiotics. 25

Joan Joyce Massa He smiled, draping an afghan over her legs. “It’s better than anybody but you ever thought it would be.” He grinned proudly. “I’ve been designing for the U.S. Sailing Team. We won the Nationals last year.” She grinned back at him. “Are you working on anything now?” Tati was so proud of him. She couldn’t hide it and didn’t try. “I do have something out there now. Maybe when you put on five pounds, you can come out and see it.” He gave her a severe look. “That’s more than five percent of my total body weight! How about one pound?” “Three!” he countered. “Three? No way! Two?” she gave him a pleading look. “Two, but you have to bundle up and can’t stay long.” He gave her another stern look. “Okay, but if it’s a nice day...” At his fierce look, she subsided. “Okay, you win.” His smile took her breath away. “Come look at the fire with me while we talk, Angel. I’ll hold your mug. Let’s pull the blanket up so you don’t get cold.” She wanted to resist, she was uneasy. “Its okay, Angel, just sit near me, okay?” She nodded and allowed him to pull her a little closer. Academically she knew that he could easily pluck her arms from their sockets. He could overpower her without breaking a sweat. She decided that her subconscious just wanted a fighting chance to get away. After a time, he began speaking again. “I was impressed by how you knew what to do when I was at your apartment today.” She glanced at him. “Okay,” was all she said. “From the time Bill told you what he saw, it was like you were in charge.” He was making a statement, yet still asking if his observations were correct. “I assumed the lead because I have a greater understanding of what the bad guy has most likely done or what his thought processes are. If there had been immediate danger, I would have backed off unless Bill needed me to talk,” she explained. She sipped her hot chocolate and tried to snuggle into the cushions more. “Why might Bill need you to talk if there’s danger present?” Von asked. “Either in an effort to soothe with a woman’s voice or, occasionally, using my skills in psychology.” Unknowingly, she’d confirmed that she’d had to put herself in danger deliberately at work. 26

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“Why did you choose this line of work, Angel?” Even though his voice was soft now, he seemed closer. She was getting sleepy. She yawned deeply but tried to hide it. He took her mug and placed it on the coffee table next to the couch. “Some things happened to me and I was trying to understand them. Behavioral psychology seemed a good place to start. One thing led to another and I ended up doing what I do. I didn’t intend it.” She yawned again and didn’t notice that he turned the lamp off. “What happened, Angel?” he asked. “Just...stuff,” she yawned again. “Can we talk about this later?” He leaned forward and caught her against him as she dozed off.

**** “Von!” Tati screamed, jerking him out of a doze. “Help me! Oh, no! Help me!” She was sobbing and tossing in her sleep. “Angel!” he said, turning her so he could see her face. “Von, stop him, please stop him! He’s hurting me, please, where are you?” “Angel, baby, wake up! Angel! I’m right here, it’s a dream. A bad dream.” He shook her lightly and tapped her cheek gently. “Von?” she collapsed against his chest. “It’s a dream? None of it ever happened? He never touched me?” “Shh, Angel. It was a bad dream,” he told her again. She cried tears of relief now. He put his arms around her and rocked her. “Von, you don’t hate me and want me to die?” she whispered. “No, Angel, I want you to live.” “But you don’t hate me?” “No precious Angel, I don’t hate you, I could never hate you.” “What about him? He’s not trying to torture me and kill me? It’s only a dream?” He didn’t have the heart to see her suffer any further. She’d been nearly hysterical. Her poor little heart couldn’t take this kind of strain right now. Nobody tells the truth to a hysterical woman having a nightmare. “Shh, Angel. It was all a bad dream. Go to sleep in my arms. I’ll keep you safe, okay?” 27

Joan Joyce Massa “I’ll always love you, Von,” she mumbled. He froze. She was dreaming. She didn’t know what she was saying. She doesn’t love me. It was a reflex. He sat, stroking her hair and rocking her until he was certain that she was fast asleep. Gingerly, he reached back and turned on the table lamp. He lifted the first of the books Tati had written and opened it. The story engaged him from the beginning. Immediately, he began to realize that Tatiana was telling her own story. When her Lancelot moved between her thighs and entered her, it was the most beautiful pain Angelina had ever felt. This incredible man had entered her and taken her for his own. As long as she lived, Angelina would cherish the memory of her brief pain and the ecstasy that followed. He read about how Lancelot loved to work with wood and create beautiful things, sometimes restoring old things to remembered glory. For an entire chapter, Angie and Lance lived an idyllic life. Chapter three is where it all came crashing down. Riley, Angie’s sadistic stepbrother had attacked her physically and verbally all her life. He’d been jealous of the successes in her life. He felt that if she did well, she owed him half of her bounty. Riley looked demonic. His rage at Angelina was boundless. How dare she marry a pauper like Lance when she had failed in finishing school? How dare she succeed at things that were independent of the family? Perhaps he couldn’t take those things from her but he could enjoy the bounty she so freely shared with Lancelot. Von had to force himself to read on. He had a horrible feeling that he knew what happened next. “Lance!” Angie screamed. “Oh, please, Lance, please! Help me!” Pain burst in her face as Riley backhanded her. She fell against the wall and sunk to the ground. Riley kicked her in the ribs. “That was for speaking his name while you’re making love with me!” he screeched. “And for making me hit your face.” Sun glinted through the barn window, glancing off the knife he used to cut her dress and underclothes from her body. When she felt his hard but miniscule manhood against her thigh, she began to struggle again. He kneed her in the groin with considerable force. 28

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The pain she felt when he entered her marked her soul for all eternity. He twisted her breasts until she was numb to the pain. He slapped her and punched her as he rutted inside her. Angie removed herself from the horror. When Lance burst into the barn, Angie could have wept with relief. Her Lancelot would save her. Her knight in shining armor would slay the horrible monster and love her back to life again. Von had to close the book then. To his surprise, he found himself weeping and clutching Tati to him. “It was a bad dream,” he moaned. “It wasn’t real, only a dream.”

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Chapter Six

A dream- none of it was real... Sigh. Yes, the bad things were real, the comfort-that part was the dream. As always, when Tati woke up, she took inventory. She was in her husband’s bed. She wore a sweatshirt, panties, and socks. She couldn’t remember much about how she’d gotten to the bedroom from the East Den. She thought she heard breathing nearby. Carefully, she turned her head. Von lay next to her in the bed on top of the comforter. At first she was frightened and kept her eyes trained on him. He wore only a pair of gray sweat pants. Curious, Tati gingerly sat up. He’d had muscles when they were first married but now he was a lot more muscular. She was thirty, so he’d be thirty-six now. He was a very well built thirty-six years old. She watched his face for a minute, satisfied that he was, indeed, asleep. Then she let her eyes wander over his torso and down his abdomen. He had ridges on his stomach. That must be what six-pack abs are--those ridges. She wondered if they’d be hard to the touch. She’d always wondered about that, but didn’t want to get close enough to a man to find out. Any man who had muscles like those would be strong. Her eyes roved back over his bulky arms and well-defined chest. The hair there looked so soft. She remembered how much she’d loved to run her fingers through it years ago. While running her fingers through his chest hair would be too much of a risk, maybe touching one of those ridges on his stomach wouldn’t be noticed. No, I shouldn’t...what if he wakes up? Slowly, Tati climbed to her knees and leaned over Von. Curiosity was tugging at her. He seemed very deeply asleep. 30

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Her eyes darted back and forth between his face and his stomach and she extended her index finger. Her hand was shaking but she gingerly pressed a finger into the stomach ridge closest to her. Von’s hand shot out and his eyes snapped open at the same time. “What the...” With a scream, Tati flung herself backward and fell off the bed, crawling crablike to the door and into the hall. Her mind was in chaos. She’d hurt him and she’d angered him. Where could she go? What would he do to her? “Stop, Angel, stop!” She heard him but she couldn’t stop. Her sense of selfpreservation wouldn’t let her. She was too afraid to turn her back and run. Rationally, she knew it made more sense to do that but she didn’t want to lose sight of where he was. She was clinging to the railing that led to the stairs. Little by little, she was edging toward them. Von dropped to his knees. “Look, I won’t move, I promise. See, I stopped.” Her breathing was ragged. She could hardly take in a breath. It felt like her lungs were going to explode. She forced herself to move sideways for one more rung. “I promise not to move at all. Stop and rest, Angel. Look, I’m going to sit down and pull my knees up, okay?” Von nodded his entreaty. She stopped, but didn’t respond. What just happened? She touched me and I--what? I grabbed for her. I didn’t know... “Angel?” Von tried again to reach her. “I’m going to back up to the intercom and call Mrs. Smith.” He stayed on his rear end and scooted to the doorway of the closest room. He kept his eyes on her and she had her watchful gaze trained on him. “Mrs. Smith, please bring Mrs. Branigan’s oxygen tank to the top of the stairs as quickly as you can.” She was wheezing and her lips were turning blue. She still had both hands wrapped around the banister rails. Mrs. Smith rushed up the stairs and, glancing at Tati and then at Von, she began to hand the machine to him. “Hold the little cup near her face, Mrs. Smith and turn the knob on the front.” Mrs. Smith was becoming flustered and upset seeing Tati struggle for air. “Hand me the tank and you hold the cup to her nose.” 31

Joan Joyce Massa Mrs. Smith did as ordered and Von turned the machine on. Tatiana never took her eyes off of him while she breathed in the oxygen. After several minutes, her color appeared to improve. “Put the cup in her lap and go bring some coffee, please.” He turned to look directly at Mrs. Smith. “Thank you, Mrs. Smith.” Von smiled at her, acknowledging the watery smile she sent him in return. Little by little, Tati loosened her death-grip on the rails. Soon, she was leaning against them and holding the oxygen cup to her face. “You can turn it off now,” she said quietly, after a few minutes. Mrs. Smith placed the coffee tray in the middle of the hallway between them and began to turn back down the stairs. “Check on us in a little while, Mrs. Smith,” Von told her. She nodded. He poured Tati some coffee and slid it across the carpet to her. He poured his own and cupped it in his hands. He watched her as she lifted the cup and sipped it. She stared into her coffee until he moved, shifting his body into a more comfortable position. When he moved, her startled gaze flew to him. “Angel, why didn’t you make me understand what happened? Why?” The words were torn from him. “Make you understand? I told you. I begged you.” She tugged at the hem of her sweatshirt. “Where did you go? Maybe if you’d stayed nearby, maybe if you’d written...” He looked away from her. He had no idea what he was hoping for. “Von,” she said gently. He lifted his anguished eyes to hers. “I did what I could to make you know what happened. I was injured badly.” She tried to lift her coffee to her lips with shaking hands. Von scooted a little closer to her and helped her hold the cup. “I wanted to die. I was going to die. Mrs. Smith wouldn’t let me. Before my father passed away, she had promised him that she would look after me so I’d never be alone in the Branigan house.” She let him put the coffee on the rug. Von’s throat was working. “I wish I could say that you were never in danger of that but I guess I can’t, can I?” He got up and went into their bedroom. When he returned, he had an old pair of her sweatpants. He helped her put them on and sat down again against the wall. “Where did you go, Angel? How did you get there?” he asked. 32

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“She, Mrs. Smith, drove me to Danbury. She has a niece on staff at the hospital there. I stayed with her as soon as I was well enough to leave the hospital. I was in for three weeks and lived with Stacy for another three.” “Why didn’t you write? Call? Why didn’t Mrs. Smith...” “Von, what do you want? I don’t want to hurt you.” He was upsetting her, he could hear it in her voice. “Just tell me straight out, Angel. We’ll never get past this if you don’t.” “What makes you think we’ll ever get past it anyway?” She looked hard at him. “Maybe we won’t but I need to hear this. Tell me why you didn’t try.” Tati sighed. “Oh, Von. I had just been brutally raped and beaten by your brother! I begged you, my husband, to help me. Somehow you didn’t see the bruises and the blood. All you saw was your own hurt.” She turned her tortured gaze to his. “It couldn’t be about you anymore.” He dropped his face to his hands. He knew what she wasn’t saying. ‘You promised to love and cherish me. Why didn’t you come for me? Where were you while I was going through all this?’ Home in bed, safe, that’s where I was...

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Chapter Seven

Tati was on the phone with a homicide Lieutenant from Brooklyn when Von reentered the house early that evening. He’d been out pretending to work on a boat he was building for the last nine hours. In reality, he had finished the first two of Tati’s books and had started on the third. In between books he’d spent plenty of time thinking about the last ten years and what he’d been doing. He compared that with what his Angel had been doing for ten years. Upon entering the house, he found Mrs. Smith and shocked her half to death. Kissing her cheeks, one after the other, he said, “Thank you for taking care of my wife while I was too busy refusing to grow up and act like a man.” He could tell that the starchy old German woman was fighting her tears. “Mrs. Branigan is on the phone with the police, Sir. They have asked that she call them. I heard her say Brooklyn. She is in the Second Study, Sir. I put her computer there, okay?” He nodded. The Second Study was really a small extension to the main study. In years past, it was a place where the woman of the house could manage her correspondence, menus, and grocery lists. It hadn’t been used in decades. Von sat down in a chair next to the desk where Tati sat. He smiled at her and she nodded, focused on the task at hand. The phone on the desk had the speaker turned on and she was using cellular Internet on her laptop, it seemed. He could see that she’d showered and changed. She wore a new, lightweight sweat suit that looked elegant on her. Mrs. Smith had apparently been shopping. “Okay, Reg, here they come. Yikes! All right, it’s obvious that our perp isn’t a mental giant...” “Whaddaya mean, Sweetness?” Hey! Who does this jerk think he is? 34

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“The throats are cut, Reg, wake up! I know people can get pretty creative about suicide, but cutting one’s own throat?” “Shoot, I should really start drinking more. Why didn’t I catch that?” “Forest for the trees, Reg. Now, take a look at the first lover’s wrist. Left, see it?” “I don’t see it, Sweetness. I guess I need your pretty little hands to aim my eyes at the right spot.” I’m gonna aim something at this joker’s eyes in a minute. “Just what I don’t need, a nearsighted dreamer. Try squinting and turning your head... Do I need to circle it and send it back?” Ouch. “Wait! What is that?” “Ligature marks, Bright Eyes.” Double ouch. Tati’s fingers began to fly across the keys. “All right, here’s what I know about this bad guy: He’s got a big ego--an enormous ego, not as smart as he thinks he is, sadistic...” she rattled off a few more characteristics including the man’s probable ethnic background and followed up with an email of observations and suggestions. She recommended that Reg sweep his crime scenes again now that they knew how little attention this criminal paid to details. Before she hung up, she told him to call the consult brief and she’d invoice the department in a week or so. “You comfortable in here?” Von asked her. “Its fine,” she answered hesitantly. “Angel, would you come sit with me for a minute in the Sun Room before supper?” She could refuse. He wouldn’t blame her if she did. She didn’t refuse, turning to follow him. They had just entered the room when Mrs. Smith came to tell them that supper would be ready in ten minutes. After she left, Von took a deep breath and dived in. “Since I got the call from Bill the other night, Angel, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” She sat in a chair across from him trying to make herself small. “I was pretty selfish, Angel. It never should have been about me, but I refused to see it any other way. I was a lousy husband. I was no kind of husband at all.” She didn’t say anything. She just looked at him with her enormous gray eyes. She’s always been honest. Anything she said to deny that last statement would be a lie. 35

Joan Joyce Massa “Angel, you’ve been forced to come here and let me pretend to take care of you.” Her fathomless eyes told him nothing. “I want to be your friend. I want to really take care of you. Maybe, someday, you’ll want me for a husband again. A real husband.” She stared at him without speaking for a minute. “Von, you--I don’t think you understand.” “Tell me what you’re afraid of, Angel,” We’re talking, and she’s not running. This is good. “Von, I can’t help it.” At his questioning look she went on. “I have tried. I’ve worked with others who have been--well--raped and abused.” She expelled a deep breath. “It’s okay, tell me.” “The way I react when you reach for me, I can’t help it. I can’t make it stop.” Her voice broke. “Angel, maybe it will never go away. Maybe, in time, if you find you can trust me, it won’t be as bad all the time.” He moved to squat in front of her chair. “Your friendship is more than I deserve. I’d like a chance to earn it, though. Maybe someday you’ll love me again.” “Von,” she whispered. “I never stopped loving you. That’s not the problem. I just can’t trust you. That’s the problem.” “Trust can be earned. I can be trustworthy. I can be a man you can trust, Angel. Will you stay here, in my company, long enough to see?” He was willing to beg, he couldn’t let her leave him again. “I come with a built-in stalker, Von. You could be in danger just by having me here.” “You were only ever endangered by being my wife in the first place. That stalker is obviously my brother.” “Yes,” she whispered. “Angel?” She still hadn’t answered his question. “Will you stay for a while? Will you let me try to be a friend to you?” She was silent for a long time. After closing her eyes for a minute, she opened them and looked at him. Von waited, holding his breath. Finally, she said, “Okay, Von, I’ll try.” He leaned back and plopped down on his rear-end, grinning. “Von...” 36

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“Don’t worry, I understand that we have a long way to go and may never get there. Not that long ago, I was sure that I’d never see you again. My life was empty and all I had was my work. Work I did at home. This place had become my universe and my prison.” He didn’t know if she understood. It didn’t matter. He had been depressed and living in a cocoon for ten long years. He’d become someone he didn’t like and could barely tolerate. Now he had hope in his life, and in his heart, again.

**** At bedtime, Tati found herself more exhausted from wrestling her misgivings than the other activities of the day. Dressed in a nightshirt and reclining on pillows on the bed, she suspiciously watched Von, as he placed an extra blanket on the bed and arranged pillows in a line down the center. “Angel, don’t look at me that way. You aren’t well. If you need oxygen in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t know if I’m not here.” She couldn’t argue with that but he wasn’t done. “Not to mention that I was there yesterday when you told Bill that Rian plans to kill you in bed. I don’t think that’ll be as likely if I’m in bed with you.” She continued to watch him as he reached over and tucked the comforter around her, shrinking back just a little. He lay down on his side of the bed and pulled his blanket up to his waist. She didn’t see how she was going to be able to sleep. “Von...” her throat was dry. He turned toward her. “I won’t touch you unless you need my help for something. I promise.” Neither said anything for a long time but Tati knew that Von was still awake. When he spoke, she jumped a little. “Angel? What were you doing this morning when I scared you so bad?” he asked after several minutes of silence. He waited patiently for her answer. “Um… It’s kind of embarrassing,” she hedged. When he didn’t respond, she went on. “I was… You know how you have those… I was curious.” “Curious? About?” He remembered that she’d poked him but, curious? “You’ve been working out a lot, haven’t you?” she asked shyly. “Yeah, I guess I have.” She’d get around to it, he was sure. “You’re stomach,” she blurted. “My stomach? I’ve been working out my stomach?” He was confused. 37

Joan Joyce Massa “You have those bumps--ridges--on your stomach. I thought that must be what six-pack abs were. I’ve seen them but I never touched one. I was curious.” Von struggled with a grin. He gave in. “Angel, I’m really pretty glad you’ve never touched any other guy’s abs--six-pack or otherwise.” Even in the dim light, he could see that she was blushing. “I woke you up. I scared you and you jumped. I’m sorry,” she mumbled, turning away. “You know, I’m wide awake right now.” He waited again. Would she touch him voluntarily? “Yeah?” she asked, uncertain what he was getting at. He snapped a dim light on. “You could touch one now and I won’t be surprised.” He crossed his arms behind his head and glanced at her. “Um…maybe I shouldn’t.” Her voice sounded a little funny. “I’m sure you don’t need me pawing at you.” “Angel, if anybody’s ever going to paw at me, I wish it could be you.” He smiled and winked. “If you’d like to feel my abdominal muscles, I’d be honored. In fact, it would validate all the hours I’ve spent sweating and straining with those weights.” She didn’t answer but moved into a sitting position, eyeing him suspiciously. “I hope you don’t get curious with some other guy’s muscles…” he murmured. “Oh no!” she gasped. “I don’t want anything to do with other guys’ muscles. Only yours…” Apparently that had slipped out. She gasped again and buried her face in her hands, pulling the blanket over her head. YEAH! That’s definitely a step in the right direction. He rolled to face her. “Tatiana? Angel? Could we do something else?” Cautiously, she turned toward him and peeked out of the blanket. He could barely see one big gray eye and he fought the urge to tug the bedding away from her face. Smiling at how cute she was, he waited until she poked her head out a little bit more. At her questioning look, he said, “I’d really like it if you could put your hand on my shoulder or my arm for a while.” Her brow furrowed. “I feel really bad still for being such a jerk for so long. I know I don’t deserve your comfort but it would mean a lot to me.”

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He saw her eyes fill with tears. Gingerly, she reached through the pillow wall he’d erected. When her fingers met with his hard bicep, she tentatively inched them around it and splayed them, resting her hand on it. Von wanted to cover her hand with his but he didn’t. He smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said and closed his eyes. After a long time, he heard her breathing become even. Much later, he dozed off.

**** Opening his eyes, Von saw Tatiana’s fine-boned hand resting in his. He wasn’t holding it, her hand simply nestled in his of its own accord. He saw that she was draped over the pillow border with her head resting on one, her black hair cascading in a wave. As he took in the scene, he saw that her sleep-shirt had ridden up and her exposed hip and thigh hung over another pillow further down. Her delicate foot perched on his bent knee. He found her beautiful but so painfully thin. She looked almost emaciated to him. Could it be entirely the fault of the pneumonia? Her hand twitched in his and he glanced at her face. He could tell that she was waking up. He smiled, watching her face. Her toes curled against his leg. Von didn’t move, waiting for her to wake--waiting to see what she did. Her mouth curved in a smile as she opened her hand and touched the pad of his thumb lightly. She slid her foot up and down over his knee. Slowly she looked into his eyes. “I guess I tried to storm the ramparts in my sleep, huh?” she said quietly, a little red in the face. She was still smiling slightly. “Now you know why they’re pillows instead of bricks,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t want you to get scraped up.” “It’s a good thing we didn’t sleep any later, isn’t it?” He could tell that she was fighting the urge to hide her face. “That depends on your perspective I think.” Carefully, he lifted the hand that still lie in his. He kissed it and gently let go. He reached down and stroked her foot then, with a mischievous smile, he tickled the bottom of it. She jerked her foot away, giggling. Sitting up, Von pushed a button on the phone. When she answered, he asked Mrs. Smith to bring a coffee tray. 39

Joan Joyce Massa “I can go down for coffee and breakfast, Von,” Tati objected. “I know you can, Angel. You’re breathing is much better today. If I can refrain from scaring you every time we turn around, you may even get better.” He looked speculatively at her. “Can I help you get situated?” “What do you mean?” She arched an onyx brow at him and waited. Von stood and came around the bed, sitting gingerly at her hip, leaning over her expectantly. She hesitated and then looped her joined hands around his neck, letting him pull her into an upright sitting position. “Maybe you’d like a bath this morning? Or a shower?” he smiled warmly at her, not knowing just what to expect. “Ohhh, no, I mean…” heat crept up her face as she considered the options. “Um, I can really do it myself, Von, you don’t have to help me bathe.” He shook his head. Yes, he was disappointed that she was still so uncomfortable with him but he hadn’t really expected anything else. “What if I just get you some clothes and help you run the water? I’ll wait out here or…” an idea occurred to him. “How about I ask Mrs. Smith to wait out here for you? I know she wouldn’t mind. I can get everything started.” The look on her face was inscrutable. “We’ll sit here and have breakfast together and then I’ll start the water. Mrs. Smith can just help with your clothes and be nearby in case you need her and… What?” He was so sure he’d come up with the perfect solution. She needn’t worry about him seeing her nude, he knew that was a very real concern. It seemed to cover all the bases but there she was, looking for all the world as if she was about to burst into tears. “Angel?” he queried again, not sure where his error was. “Thank you,” her chin trembled as she turned liquid gray eyes on him. “Thank you for understanding.” One thin hand reached out and touched his muscled forearm. Her smile was tremulous at best. He felt as if he’d won the lottery, “I thought I’d messed up,” he grinned sheepishly. He chuckled. “I guess I really do have a ways to go. But now, maybe, I think I can make it.” “Yeah,” she aimed a watery smile at him. “There’s hope for you yet.”

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Chapter Eight

Tati shifted the phone to her other ear, released an impatient huff and reached out, tapping the speaker button. She wasn’t rich but her husband was. She found she was rather enjoying the fruits of his ten years of labor now. Working in the public sector for so long, she’d become used to denying herself luxuries like speakerphones. “You still there, Tati?” Bill’s breathless voice came back on the line. “Yes, Bill, I’m here,” she smiled to herself. Bill was such a good man. She was so lucky to have him as a friend. The problem was that he got distracted so easily. “Sorry about that! I just wanted to see if the lab had anything on the samples we ran the other day. Oh!” She knew what that meant. He’d just remembered that he was angry with her. “Since you know perfectly well who your assailant is, I think it’s time to share,” he growled, his voice taking on a low rumble. She sighed, a long puff of air. “Yeah, okay Bill, you’re right. I guess it’s time to talk about it. But…” she didn’t want to go into too much detail. She was just feeling better. As always, Bill anticipated her. “Just give me something on him, would you please? You know we’re going to have to get all the down and dirty details later, don’t you?” She did. “Yes, I know.” “Good. I expect you’ve done some kind of investigation?” Bill’s voice was a little snide. He knew she had. Tatiana was the consummate professional. Of course she had. “I have all my notes here on disk. They were in my safe, in the stuff that Von brought back.” “You’ll be sharing those with me, yes?” he growled, impatience in every syllable. “I could spank you, Tatiana Branigan, doggone it, I just…” his gusty sigh breathed irritation down the line and she felt bad. 41

Joan Joyce Massa “I’m sorry, Bill, please believe me I am. But there was nothing you could do. If there was anything that would shed one tiny crack of light on him…but there just wasn’t. He’s clever, Bill.” She’d tried everything to find evidence against him. There was never any kind of trail to show that he’d even been within twenty miles of her. “Okay, okay, don’t go getting upset,” Bill grumbled. Her voice hadn’t even risen; she wasn’t upset. Bill often calmed her down when he was in danger of losing his cool. Tati smiled into the phone. “No problem, Bill, I’ll keep it together. Let’s talk about Rian Branigan, Von’s half brother.” She shuddered. His name had become synonymous with everything bad that she could think of. “Vitals first. Branigan, Rian, that’s--spell it?” She knew Bill was taking notes. He’d add what she told him to all the files. He’d find a way to say that she suspected Rian of stalking and injuring her and then he’d support it. “Arr for Ralph, Eye as in India, Aa like alpha, En for Nancy,” she spelled phonetically. “Got it,” he snapped, fully on the job now. “Age, weight, height, address, what else?” “Thirty-two, straight dark hair, pock marked forehead, five feet, nine inches-maybe ten, one sixty maybe, and where he lives? Last address was Dayton, Ohio, but that’s no good anymore. He’s a mutual fund broker, he does most of his work on the Internet, so he can work from anywhere. He had a P.O. box but no fixed address for the last two years.” Bill swore softly but she heard him and giggled. “Sorry, Tati,” he muttered. “It’s like trailing smoke. I guess he can be anywhere, anybody, just…hmmph!” “Yeah, Bill, I know,” she agreed softly. If she’d been able to get a single thing on him in the last decade, she would have.

**** Von ran his hand over the smooth, nine-foot beam of the thirty-two foot sailboat he was currently working on. All the parts were hand laid, balsa and foam cored, carefully fitted for lightweight and strength. He’d added Kevlar to the hull for additional strength. Stepping back, he squinted, imagining this boat skimming the waves. It was too cold to sail now, but by the time spring calmed the sea and the ocean air lost its bitter 42

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sting, this craft could be finished. He didn’t have an order now. He’d sent his last creation out weeks ago. This boat was his. He’d lovingly, painstakingly molded, fitted, shaped it, no clear idea that he would keep it, but knowing inside that it was personal. This one was for himself, and he now realized, if he was very lucky, Tati would enjoy it with him. As he turned away from the boat, a glint across the water caught his eye. He’d spent countless hours right where he stood and knew this area of the Sound very well. There was no building that had glass to shine. Either someone was lying in the cold sand almost directly across the sound or…well, or nothing. That was just about the only possibility. A few long strides took him to the wall-mounted phone. “Sheriff Whitaker? Hey, Von Branigan here. Oh, well thank you,” he responded to the Sheriff’s congratulations about Tatiana’s return. “Sheriff, it’s not something we really want going around right now,” he began to explain. “Von, I know this is a small town,” Whitaker rumbled, “But we’re a full service law enforcement agency here. I’m well aware that Mrs. Branigan is home recuperating from a recent attack. Detective Lester was kind enough to give me a call.” He sounded a little reproachful in Von’s opinion. “Good, sheriff, good,” Von pretended that he’d personally meant to call all along. The Sheriff wasn’t fooled but Von was too prominent a taxpayer to call his bluff. “Listen,” Von went on, “Across the Sound from my property, there’s something, I don’t know what, I think somebody is over there in the dunes. Maybe it’s nothing but my wife has had some trouble, as you know. I’d appreciate it if you’d check it out.” He hadn’t clearly thought of Rian when he picked up the phone to call, but now that he’d said it out loud, he was sure his brother had been in the back of his mind. “I’ll get a man over there right now,” the Sheriff snapped to attention, reminding Von of when Tati and Bill had been speaking on the phone at her apartment. He, too, was in a bigger hurry now to get off the phone. “Thank you, Sheriff Whittaker. Thanks. I’ve had my security system evaluated and improved, thought it was pretty state of the art to begin with. I’d appreciate you helping me keep an eye on things.” Without officially signing off, Von hung up the phone, turning on his heel to head inside. Irrational? Maybe, but he wanted to be near Tati right now. 43

Joan Joyce Massa

Chapter Nine

Binoculars focused on his brother who stood in the doorway of his overlarge boathouse, Rian Branigan swore under his breath. He’d been sloppy. Very sloppy. He rolled over onto his back. He’d been spotted. Maybe not himself but his presence was known. He slammed his binoculars into his bag. Von had moved to the side of the boathouse. He was going to the phone. Rian didn’t know how long before that two bit Sheriff got someone over here or if he’d come himself. It didn’t matter. He had to get out right now. The damned house was like a fortress, the grounds, too. Von didn’t even bother to have someone on the gate. The whole system was electronic. What little Rian knew about the set up, he’d learned from Von himself one weekend during an awkward impromptu visit. He’d thought he’d pop in, remind Von that he didn’t have Tatiana anymore, just by showing up. Well, that mission had been accomplished, sure. But he’d tried to come in unannounced and found that it alerted the house. Another time he’d tried to get in without triggering the gate and had brought the Sheriff down on him. Von had grudgingly vouched for him but he hadn’t really cared one way or another. Any time Rian had tried to discuss Tatiana with Von, he met with cold silence as if he hadn’t even spoken. In reality, he wasn’t welcomed back at the family home over the last decade, just not turned away. He had a feeling things had changed. No, he wouldn’t be turned away. He’d be escorted to a nice, comfy cell. It was possible that he could disprove anything Tatiana said about him, but there would be doubt. Rian crouched low, making his way to his marble green colored day skiff. He slid into it and pushed off with the paddle. The water was a little rough for sailing. It was cold out. The Sound was choppy. Still he unfurled a small sail, hugging the coast. By the time the law found where he’d been dug in, he’d be long gone. 44

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His little boat was painted in such a way that it mostly blended in with the water. Rian wasn’t a sport sailor; it wasn’t fun for him. He preferred to have both feet firmly on stable soil. But for watching his brother and quick getaways, a small boat like this one was necessary. He needed the little sail for speed. A motor could be heard. And he’d have to buy gas for it, oil. No, this was portable and fast. He knew better than to try to enter Von’s property, family property it was really, but he knew better than to show up from the shore. Von had motion sensors everywhere. Hard to believe but there was a lot of espionage when it came to building and preparing boats for sailing races. Those rich bastards were paranoid. Rian wasn’t worried as he pulled his tiny craft up to a deserted sandbar, miles from his brother’s estate. No he wasn’t worried. He was a tactical genius. And he wasn’t done with his precious Tatiana. Not at all. He had a backup plan.

**** “What’s wrong?” Tati knew the minute Von came through the door that something was bothering him. She’d been back in the home they’d shared for two weeks but some things were natural. She had always been able to read his moods as easily as her own. “Nothing, Angel, everything’s fine,” he offered a flimsy smile, turning away quickly. “Von Branigan,” she snapped. “Lying to me is no way to make me trust you. I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I’m trained to spot a lie. Not that I’d need to go to school to see through that look on your face.” With a groan he turned back to her. He’d entered through the kitchen, very likely expecting a quiet word with Mrs. Smith. While that annoyed Tati, she understood it. She knew that she’d grown and changed over the years but Von still saw her as someone to care for. He remembered her young and since then had only seen her ill and in a weakened state. He stared hard at her for several long seconds. Finally he slumped against the counter, shaking his head ruefully. “I’m doing it again, huh?” his chin dropped to his chest making him look like a guilty little boy. “I’m treating you like an innocent teenager instead of a law enforcement professional. You’ve just--you’re just so different,” he trailed off. 45

Joan Joyce Massa “I grew up, Von. It was going to happen, one way or another,” she shook her head, trying to contain her impatience. “I know, Angel, I know,” he snorted at himself. “Okay, I was looking out over the Sound, thinking about someday taking the Tatiana out,” he smiled guiltily at her arched brow, “Anyway, there was a glint, a reflection of glass from the other side of the Sound. I called the Sheriff.” “You couldn’t make out any form?” she was instantly focused now. “No,” he shook his head from side to side. “That’s an area made up of just sand and dunes, right?” She moved out of the kitchen, toward a window that overlooked the Sound. “Yeah,” he nodded, saying nothing else. “This is about the same view, isn’t it?” she turned and looked over her shoulder at him. “Show me about where you think you saw the reflection.” She knew she sounded “official”, like she was ordering him around, but she couldn’t help it. She’d built up her own habits over the years. He came up behind her and she tensed, trying not to start and freeze up. She’d gotten much better at that. She no longer jumped out of her skin every time he got close to her. In return, he took his time, never grabbing her or forgetting himself and taking her by surprise. Settling one big hand on her shoulder, he stood beside her, pointing. “See? Straight ahead, over there. Oh, look, there’s the Sheriff’s Deputy now.” “We’ll know pretty soon if he found anything,” Tati murmured, knowing that he wouldn’t. It probably had been Rian. The only reason that Von had seen anything at all was because Rian didn’t think he was all that smart. There had to be a way to use that, she mused. There had to be a way. The phone rang. “Branigan,” Von answered, sounding stern. He was quiet a minute. “What else?” A pause. “But you’re not sure?” Von scowled into the middle distance, his grip tightening on the phone. “All right, Sheriff, thanks.” He hung up the phone with an aggravated click. “What’d he say?” Tati asked, barely restraining herself from tapping a foot. “Oh!” Von looked guilty again. “I just forget to tell you things, don’t I? I never did treat you like an equal partner, did I, Angel?” he reached out and touched her cheek with two fingers. 46

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“Von, that was another lifetime. We’re two different people now. What did the Sheriff say?” she asked patiently. “He said there were impressions in the sand. Some behind the larger dune and some sliding into the water just a little east of that. The impressions could be anything but those in the wet sand were definitely a small skiff or something with a keel. Thing is, even though there was somebody there, it could’ve been anybody, for any reason.” She nodded. It could’ve been anybody. She knew it was Rian, but it could’ve been anybody.

47

Joan Joyce Massa

Chapter Ten

Bill Lester shook his head. He was stumped. No two ways about it. He was stumped. They’d tried everything. Absolutely everything. It was time to call Tati. Nobody could out a killer quite like she could. And this killer wanted something. These murders appeared random. But there was something--something he just couldn’t put his finger on. They were too random to be random. The fourth largest city in the United States and right on the New York city line, bordering the Riverdale, Woodlawn, and Wakefield sections of the Bronx, Yonkers was famous for its negative image as a high crime area. In fact, Yonkers could boast the lowest crime rate of any city of its size in the United States. While violent crime wasn’t unheard of in Yonkers, murder was murder and the victims deserved whatever justice could be found for them. Or for their families at the very least. The pictures spread across his desk would look scattered to the casual onlooker. They weren’t. There was an order to them that only Bill, Jim, and Tatiana would spot. “Don’t know what the heck is going on, Bill, but I think it’s time,” Detective Jim Leeds said from behind Bill. Bill released a heavy sigh. “Yeah, Jim. I just--I want her to be safe and well and outta this, but I just have this gut feeling.” “These pictures mean something. These bodies, these people, we can’t wait for another one. And I really think there’s going to be another one soon if we don’t call her,” Jim muttered. “Yeah,” Bill agreed, exhaling gustily. “Yeah.” He lifted his digital camera and took several pictures of the layout on his desk. In minutes, he’d uploaded the images to his computer and emailed them out. Dialing a number from a card in the corner of his desk, he waited, receiver pressed to his ear. Jim flipped open a case folder, thumbing through some loose pages while they waited. “Branigan residence,” came a sharp, slightly accented woman’s voice. 48

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Bill gave himself a shake. He was so used to calling Tati and reaching her right away. If her cell phone had survived the header over the railing the last time she’d been attacked, he had no doubt he’d be talking to her already. The fact that he couldn’t seem to commit her husband’s phone number to memory bothered him somewhat. “Hi. Mrs. Smith?” He remembered that much anyway, and well, he should. He’d talked to the poor beleaguered woman about four times a week in the last three weeks that Tati had been there. “Ahh, Detective Lester,” her sharp tone identified him. “So good it is to hear from you after such a long time.” Was the crusty old bird teasing with him? Bill barked out a laugh. “I know Mrs. Smith, I know. I’ve been terribly remiss. It’s been all of two days this time, hasn’t it?” He shook his head, laughing at himself, forgetting the terrible nature of his purpose in calling for just a few minutes. If for no other reason, he felt affection toward the usually dry and forbidding housekeeper today. He slid a hand over the receiver, “Mrs. Smith’s teasing me,” he whispered to Jim. The other man smiled wryly. “Mrs. Branigan is, of course, at your service. One moment, if you please.” Before he could say another word, he found himself on hold, waiting. “Tati must be feeling a lot better for Mrs. Smith to be in such a playful mood,” he murmured to Jim. “Good thing,” Jim nodded. “She’s had it tough. I was worried. Lena asks me every single day, even if she does call her every second day,” Jim chuckled. Bill nodded his agreement. “Yeah, she’s had a bad time. She’s due a break,” he agreed in a low voice. “Same thing with Georgette, she calls all the time, too. So what do you think…?” “Bill!” Tati sounded great. Really great! How he hated to take that away. “Tati,” he began. “What is it, Bill?” she asked, her voice going from enthusiastic friend to serious crime specialist in a second. “Are you at your desk? I just emailed you some crime scene photos.” There was no sense beating around the bush. “Booting up now,” she replied. “Hope springs eternal, but old habits die hard.” “Huh?” He had no idea what she was talking about.

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Joan Joyce Massa “I always love hearing from you, Bill,” her voice was soft, kind. “I always hope you call for the fun of it, but I expect its business. I always go to my desk when you call. Always have.” “Huh!” he replied, at a loss for words now. “I’m there now, hang on,” she instructed, so he waited. The seconds stretched into minutes and he began to feel uneasy. He threw a few covert glances at Jim, who simply shrugged. Finally, “These timestamps correct?” she clipped out. “Um, yeah, so?” “The first victim, this young black woman, killed Sunday morning wearing a choir robe?” She seemed to be expecting him to glom on to something. Whatever it was, he wasn’t getting it. “Yeah, she was running late. Her uncle told us that she usually carried it and put it on in the dressing room behind the Sanctuary, but she was so far behind that morning that she put it on when she left the house. He dropped her off and went to park the car,” Bill explained, still not getting it, still waiting. “And she never made it to the church?” Tati prodded. “That’s right. It was really amazing. She was actually abducted in front of her own church. And nobody saw a single thing. It’s just unbelievable. Horrible. No blood, either. The scene was clean as, well as a church.” “Mmm,” Tati agreed. “Bill, close your eyes and then look at her picture. Just close ‘em and then look at her. Say the first thing that pops into your mind.” Bill looked over at Jim. “She wants us to close our eyes then look at the first picture. Say what we think when we open ‘em,” he filled Jim in. Jim shrugged and obediently closed his eyes. Bill closed his as well. “One, two, three…” both men counted together. “Angel, she looks like a little angel,” Jim breathed. He’d obviously opened his eyes when Bill had. “Yeah… She’s got that pretty light blue satin type robe and--it even, Tati, it looks like she’s been posed. Why didn’t we see that?” Bill could have kicked himself. It was so obvious now. “You’ve been knee deep in this, Bill. I’ve followed a little of it on the news. I’d heard bits and pieces of this story. This is quite a big deal for Yonkers. And the other 50

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murder,” she paused, sighed, “murders,” she corrected herself. “You must be pretty overwhelmed. I’m sure the mayor’s office is all over you to solve this and quick.” Her voice, as always, was calm and soft. But Bill had worked side by side with Tatiana for years. He knew there was more. Jim looked hard at him, coming around the desk, getting closer. Bill turned the volume up on the telephone and held it out so they could both listen. “What aren’t you saying Tati? I mean yeah, this is a big deal, but what’s going through your head right now?” He had a loud voice anyway. He didn’t have to have his lips right on the mouthpiece. “Obviously, Bill, this is the first time I’ve seen the crime scene photos. And here I’m seeing them all at once. I’m getting a pretty comprehensive picture here. The second victim. He was a firefighter?” she forced Bill back on task, her quiet voice firm now with authority. It never occurred to Bill to object. “Yeah, he was. You knew him, Tati,” Jim spoke up now, moving closer to the telephone receiver that Bill held out. “In fact, I think you both received awards the same night, the night you were attacked. Michael Fasdazio.” “Yeah, that’s been pretty big news all over, as well, Jim, yeah. Now this timestamp on this picture says 14:26 right? But what time was he actually killed? Do you have an approximate time of death?” Tati was like a dog with a bone. And Bill knew she was onto something. “We have what amounts to an exact time of death I think, Tati,” Bill told her. “His watch was stopped at noon on the button. Of course, that’s not common knowledge. The ME agrees, it had to be about twelve when he died.” “Mm,” she hummed again. She was onto something all right. “This third victim, Bill?” her husky voice was nearly a croak now. “Yeah?” It was hovering; the answer was just beyond his reach. “What was his occupation?” she rasped, seeming to force the words out. “Well,” Bill scratched his head, feeling like he was missing something very important. “Oh, no!” groaned Jim. “Bread,” he blurted. “He. Delivered. Bread,” he said, almost fatalistically. Bill stared at Jim, confused, just not getting it. And then the penny dropped. “Angel in the Morning. Hero at High Noon.” 51

Joan Joyce Massa “Afternoon Delivery,” Tati and Jim finished together.

52

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Chapter Eleven

“There’s no doubt about it, Tati.” Von heard Bill boom out as if he were at the bottom of a barrel. “It’s him, has to be.” “Well yes, Bill, I’d say it’s pretty much a personal note from him to me.” Von heard her chair roll back on the plastic pad he’d gotten for it. “He’s calling me out.” “You can’t come, Tatiana, you’ll be a sitting duck,” Jim’s normally smooth tenor was high pitched and querulous now. Von had already pegged him as the more cautious, almost prissy one among them. He’d never say that out loud, of course. “Jim,” that was his Angel’s calm, soft, reasonable voice. “If I don’t go, then what?” “But if you do come, Tati? What then?” She sighed again. A deep, gusty, full expulsion of air that said more about how she felt than any words could. Still, she answered him. “Maybe he won’t kill a teacher or instructor or professor or whatever. Maybe someone else will be spared.” “But maybe you won’t. Tati, we need to talk about this. Really think this through.” Bill had joined the conversation now. Von had to agree with Bill and stepped into the room. Tati had her face resting in her hands, eyes closed. He glanced at the computer monitor as he approached, gasping at the grizzly scenes on display. Tatiana’s head jerked up and their eyes locked. “I agree, Bill,” Von spoke up. “I think we need to talk this over.” She looked hard at him, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment and opening them again. He could almost hear the words she wasn’t saying. He’d forfeited his right to join in this conversation ten years ago. It was practically his fault that she was in this predicament. She might be his wife but he had been no kind of husband to her. 53

Joan Joyce Massa “Von,” she sighed. “Stop it.” He frowned. “Yes,” she went on, “I am going to do what I think is best, but I can see the self blame on your face. All of that is pointless. Right now, you need to realize what’s going on before you can make some kind of rational contribution to this discussion.” He nodded. Of course she was right. Maybe he was, too, but her reasoning was by far more mature than his was--to a point. “Okay, Angel. Tell me what’s going on.” She stood to lean against the desk and he moved in closer. Cautiously closer, so he didn’t startle her. She gave him a half smile before turning to indicate the computer monitor. With one elegant finger, she tapped the screen, drawing his attention to a sweet looking young lady dressed in a shiny blue gown. She could have been asleep, or posing for that picture, so serene she looked. “Angel in the Morning,” Tatiana said. One hand moved to the keyboard where she held down the ALT key and pressed the TAB button. When she lifted her hand, another picture filled the screen. This one was not nearly as serene. He couldn’t look at the man’s face. It was clear he’d died a violent death. “Hero at High Noon,” she said. His gaze skittered over the gruesome tableau and back to lock on hers. Head angled of its own accord, Von didn’t’ like the sound of what he was hearing. But what other conclusion could he draw? “My brother?” he shook his head in negation. She held the ALT key, pressing TAB again. He sucked in his breath. The third picture was almost stark and all the more horrifying for it. A man of uncertain heritage, possibly in his thirties, brown hair slicked back, sat on the pavement, his back resting against a shiny red automobile. The look on his face was one of disappointment, confusion even, but not surprise. In the center of his forehead, a dark trail of blood led away from a small, perfect hole. “Afternoon Delivery,” she said with a nod toward the screen. Whether she was agreeing that, yes, it was Rian, or just gesturing toward the computer monitor, Von wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. 54

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“Angel, he’s killing people now?” he began, incredulous. “He’s killed three people now!” He had to get his mind around his somehow. “Branigan,” that was Bill, finally speaking up. “He’s calling her out. We’re stuck.” “If she comes, he’ll know and he’ll go after her,” Jim worried aloud. “But…” Von looked into the intelligent gray eyes of the one woman he would always love. “If she doesn’t come, he’ll know and he’ll kill somebody else.” He took a deep breath. “He’ll keep right on doing it, won’t he?” he asked Tatiana. “For as long as it takes. It’s a game to him. He’s really playing against you, Von. But I’m the--I don’t know,” she huffed. He did though; Von knew, “You’re the queen. This is an elaborate chess match and the queen decides if you win or lose.” “That’s it I guess,” she agreed. “Call it what you will, he’ll keep taking what he considers pawns until there are only a few pieces left. He doesn’t really have a sense of remorse. This is his world and we’re all just living in it.” “He’s always seen himself as so smart. So elite. He just hated how easily he thought things came to me. I was such an inferior specimen compared to him.” Von shook his head. He’d seen it for years. He’d tolerated it, too. He wasn’t the only one. Didn’t everyone have a pompous relative? Everyone had a drunken uncle, everyone had a crazy old aunt, and everyone had a self-important, pretentious, conceited cousin or brother or something. But his portentous kin was a psychotic murderer who wanted to kill his wife.

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Chapter Twelve

“Von,” Tatiana rolled her eyes at him. “I’ve slept alone for ten years. I’m much better now.” It was an argument they’d had off and on. She probably shouldn’t have initiated it tonight on the heels of his having to face the enormity of his brother’s madness. Regardless, it was true. She was able to breathe without support and she had been alone for a number of years. Von sunk down onto his side of the divided bed. “Angel, let me stay, please?” He turned to look into her eyes. Those dark brown pools of intensity. They mesmerized her every single time. “You don’t have to remind me how well you can do without me. I know that.” She felt a spear of pain in her heart and steeled herself against it. She wouldn’t feel guilty for the truth. She wouldn’t regret hurting him when it was life, just the facts of life. And if they hurt him, so be it, right? “Maybe,” he paused and started over. “Maybe I need to be near you. You’re a grown woman, fully capable of getting up and going off wherever you want to go. Without me. And you know what?” He looked at her a moment. “I am honestly trying to start over. To see you as someone brand new.” He flopped back onto the bed. “I loved you before, loved you like a goddess or something. It wasn’t realistic. Then, for ten years, I hated you and loved you at the same time. It was impossible. It was painful. It was poisonous. Now, here you are, the real you. All grown up and so different from everything I knew. But at the same time, there she is, that girl who was my best friend.” He rose and walked around the bed, coming to kneel in front of her. Carefully, slowly, he placed both hands on her flannel-covered knees. “I don’t have much in my life anymore, Angel. I build boats and I have two friends. One is Mrs. Smith and I don’t know how she could stand to look at me for the last decade. The other is you. Nothing else really matters. I feel like a toddler learning to walk again. I accepted that we may never live as man and wife again. I do,” he responded 56

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to her dubious look. “I accept that. I’m not trying to redeem myself. All I want is to be beside you while we, and I do mean we, see this thing through to the end. Friends. Real friends, Angel.” He looked at her face, into her eyes, waiting. Not pushing. Just waiting. “Just friends, Von,” she said firmly. He nodded once, still waiting. He’d listen to her and take what she gave. It took a strong man to admit that he had nothing. Von Branigan had always been a strong man. He hadn’t always used the intelligence he’d been gifted with, though it had never been weakness that had kept him from it. She knew he could be a good man. Could he be good for her, though? And did it matter? “This thing with Rian, you have to trust me. I’m not ‘the little woman’ when it comes to this.” “I know, Angel. I’m slow, but I did finally figure a few things out. You’re an amazing woman. Let’s settle this thing with Rian and see what there is on the other side, okay?” He smiled a ghost of a smile. “Be my security blanket for tonight?” She arched a brow at him. Finally, she smiled back. “Be sure you stay on your own side, sir,” she mock growled, turning away and sliding under the covers. She buried her smile in the pillow as his deep chuckle shook the bed. It was her and not him that ended up on the wrong side of the pillow barrier every morning. That was part of why she wanted her own space. It was wildly disconcerting for her to wake up most mornings, cuddled on some part of him, usually his chest, and gazing into those sparkling brown eyes.

**** They lay there quietly for a while but Von knew she was no closer to sleep than she was. She shifted this way and turned that way. He, conversely, lay unusually still, wide awake and thinking. “How do you intend to handle this?” he finally asked. She rolled toward him in the dark. “Medium,” she said, confusing him completely. “Ah--I don’t get it,” he answered, turning toward her, supporting his head on a palm, propped on one elbow. “If I return to Yonkers with a lot of fanfare, it’ll be obvious. If I go too quietly, sneak in, he’ll punish me by killing someone else,” she explained. Her voice shook a little and he understood that she felt responsible. While he wanted nothing more than to offer comfort, he honestly didn’t know how. There had once 57

Joan Joyce Massa been a time when holding her and comforting her was as natural as breathing. He could only hope that understanding of a sort would be acceptable in its place. “So you’ll just go in as if you’d been called? As if it was any other case?” “Yeah, he’ll appreciate the normalcy of that. No fanfare but no avoidance either. Anything else would be an insult to his intelligence,” she confirmed. “In that case, it would also be an insult to suggest that you and I aren’t together. And knowing the way his mind works, he probably believes we’re completely reconciled,” he thought aloud. “Bet that drives him insane!” he all but growled. “Oh,” he gasped. “Shoot, that came out wrong.” Her dry chuckle warmed him. “I know what you mean. And of course, you can’t drive someone to a destination they’ve already reached.” She was quiet for a moment, rolling away, onto her back. “Von, that’s the thing,” she began, her voice a little more urgent. “He thinks you--he doesn’t think you’re, um, well…” she dithered over her thought but couldn’t seem to force the words out. “Angel? You’ve really got me curious here,” he prodded, no idea what could causing her such a hard time. “Um, sorry Von,” he could hear the smile in her voice now. “Its just that he thinks you aren’t very bright. That’s just not an easy thing to tell someone.” Von snorted, scooting to sit up, back against the headboard. “Looking back, I have to wonder.” He headed off her next statement. “I know what you mean, though Angel. He’s always seen himself as superior to me. I think that’s why he resented any successes I’ve had. Especially my success in ‘getting the girl’.” And he felt like he was winning when you and I were apart. As long as you were away from me and fixed on him….” He let the statement trail off. She sighed. “Yes. That’s so. And he’s always made it clear. As long as he could get to me, he was satisfied. By ‘get to me’, I mean that he was content as long as I was estranged from you and he could spar with me in his own special way.” She was quiet for a few moments. He had the sense that she was wrestling with something, so he waited. Finally, she spoke again. “About four years ago, I went into hiding. Gerard--you remember, my mentor?” “Yeah?” he answered. “Well, he’d died a few months prior. Rian sent a card, flowers,” she sneered. “I just couldn’t take it right then. I went away.” He could hear her swallowing, trying to 58

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control her emotions. “It made Rian very angry.” She sighed and gathered her thoughts. Von wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the next part. “The first day he killed my landlady’s cockatoo,” she eased to a sitting position. “He left a card around its neck. Just a plain, gray, cardstock card, with a little string on each corner. It said simply Tatiana Branigan.” She swallowed a few more times. Von reached out and touched her hand. She tentatively slid her hand over his. “You okay, Angel?” he asked, surprised to hear his own voice shaking. She cleared her throat. “Fine,” she said quietly. “The next day, the neighbor down the hall, Mr. Twoony--his cat Muffin was found with a broken neck. Same card. Same thing. The third day there was a picture of the Ramsey’s newborn baby in his crib. Annetta found the picture in the crib with him. His little face was scratched out. The same card was clipped to it. My name on it. I came home.” “So much to deal with all alone,” he murmured, trying not to blame himself completely. He knew he was accountable to some extent, sure he was. But Rian was clearly insane. “I wasn’t completely alone. I had my colleagues. And yes, Bill and Jim and their families. Though, yes, it was lonely, I won’t deny it. I knew it was Rian. I just couldn’t prove it. Just couldn’t pin him down.” “He is a smart man.” Von thought a minute, turning his hand so that hers rested on his palm. “He’s not infallible, though.” In the half-light, he could see Tati turn toward him, looking at him full on. Her lips curved in a soft smile. “That’s exactly right, Von. He’s made a grievous error in judgment.” He lifted a curious brow at her. She knew he was waiting, listening. “He thinks of sailboats as toys. He thinks you aren’t very bright. That’s his weakness.” Von grinned. “It’s only a weakness if I prove to him that he’s wrong.” Tatiana’s hand slipped away as she slid down in the bed. “See that you do, Mr. Branigan,” she yawned. “Just see that you do.”

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Chapter Thirteen

The sharp, tangy breeze whipped off the water, blowing hair around and infiltrating the smart business suits of interested reporters and bystanders. It was cold on the Main Street Pier, the rosy cheeks of those gathered around bore colorful testament to that. There were plenty of places to hide though. Holding the news conference here, one of his first sailboats bobbing in the background as the Mayor of the city of Yonkers rested a paternal hand on Von’s shoulder, was a stroke of genius, even if he did say so himself. “Mr. Branigan, Von,” Mayor Marcel Pepitoni corrected himself with a smile, affecting fondness, “I for one am more than pleased that you took the time today to let us know that Mrs. Branigan is on the mend. We’re even more pleased to hear that her next book, Midnight Caller is due to be released as scheduled.” “Tatiana is a very private woman, as you know, Tony,” he purposely used the Mayor’s well known nickname, pretending the false relationship the other man wanted to project. The sailboat behind them was His Honor’s own, so Von didn’t feel all that deceitful. He at least felt affection for the boat. He continued speaking, “But she felt it was important that she reassure the residents of Yonkers, the hometown of her heart, that she would continue to be there for them in all the ways they need her.” “We all love that woman, as I’m sure you know quite well. I’m personally very thrilled that you and she have reconciled.” More pretense since no one had known of their relationship at all. The mayor turned to face the reporters and cameras full on now. “Most of you are aware that Tatiana Branigan consults with our police department from time to time, offering her expert insights as a criminal profiler. She’s done a lot for our fair city, both of you have, Von,” the older man wrapped a muscular arm around Von’s shoulder now, a wave of musky cologne all but choking him. “We thank you so much for coming out today and for bringing your sweet wife, still recovering from pneumonia and that 60

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assault. If anyone can help us get to the bottom of these terrible murders, it will certainly be due to her input, at least in part.” “I know that she is as dedicated to helping the city and keeping people safe as every law enforcement officer in Yonkers, Tony. We arrived yesterday and I’ll be right here with her until this case is concluded.” Von smiled warmly at the assembled crowd. Only a handful of reporters were approved to ask questions and each of the answers was pre-scripted for the most part. The point of the exercise today was to be seen. To stake his claim on Tati publicly. She didn’t even have to be present for that. Bill, Jim, most importantly Tati, all agreed that Von had been Rian’s target all along. Tati had pointed out to him that Rian thought he was keeping them apart. As long as Rian believed that he was controlling Von’s happiness, he was satisfied. “In his convoluted reasoning, Von,” Tatiana had explained, “attacking me and stalking me just ensured that you would be miserable. That’s what he believed.” She’d shrugged. “If you’d begun dating, started seeing someone else, he would have gone after her.” Von had reached out, squeezed her hand. “How could I have done that?” Something else had occurred to him. “What if you had started seeing anyone?” At the surprised look on her face, he’d rushed on, “Wouldn’t that have changed the dynamic for him?” “No,” she smiled sadly. “He was pretty certain he’d made sure that I wouldn’t want to see anyone. He’s very smart, he’s right about that.” “Besides,” Bill had joined in, “Tati was the prize, wasn’t she? Your career which he thought you’d ended. And your marriage.” Von had to agree, “He always saw the boat making as a glorified hobby. He was sure I made money from the family business and was humiliated from it. You’re right, the only other thing in my life of value was my relationship, my connection to my wife, however tenuous.” “He wanted you to know I was out there but not available to you, Von. And he didn’t mind punishing me for making the wrong choice,” Tati confirmed. At present, mulling over the brainstorming session they’d had the day before, Von wondered where his psychotic brother was hiding. Maybe it was a sixth sense, maybe it 61

Joan Joyce Massa was just blind hope, but he felt sure he could feel Rian’s eyes on him. He knew he could feel the eyes of his “team” on him. Countless officers were stationed throughout the dock area and even along the routes that Von would later take, heading back to either the police department or the hotel. He’d be safe, of that he had no doubt.

**** Rian sneered at the image of his brother standing on the pier. They thought they were so smart. Fools, all of them. He’d been anticipating their moves all along. He didn’t need inside information. All he needed was a set of eyes and a little logic. He’d known that they’d call Tatiana to help them at some point. He’d been prepared to find targets that fit all of her book titles. If they hadn’t figured it out soon enough, he would have started over. Six people, twelve, what did it matter to him? His entire life had been geared toward this showdown with Von. The people between him and his brother were just sheep in his opinion. Their lives weren’t important. With a flick of his fingers, Rian ended the feed from the remote closed circuit camera he had in place on the pier. He’d watched the police headquarters where he knew that Tatiana would be. When he’d seen some of the officers begin to head out, officers that he could identify, all he’d had to do was follow them. It had been so easy to stroll along the docks an hour before Von and the mayor had come along. He’d had his camera in place well before the area was even cordoned off. These people were so simpleminded. He’d known Tatiana wouldn’t be making a public appearance. Of course not. And who really wanted to see Bill Lester’s florid face? No, Von would get up and talk about his sweet little wife. So predictable. Rian kicked his digital camera across the space of the weekly rental hotel room that constituted his current home. Anger boiled in him as he thought about Tatiana and Von. He looked so happy on the screen of the cheap television. Not just happy, satisfied. Von wouldn’t win. No. They just didn’t understand. They just weren’t smart enough. Von wasn’t smart enough. Rian had seen the plainclothes and undercover cops all over. He’d been watching them for so long, he knew where most of them lived. He was under no illusions about who was a cop and who wasn’t.

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The problem was theirs. They were confused, mistaken. Rian didn’t want to kill Von. He never had. What he wanted was for Von to suffer. Punishing Tatiana had accomplished that just fine. Killing her would make it last. He grinned to himself. Sibling rivalry was a beautiful thing. Tatiana had disappointed him greatly when she’d chosen brawn over brains, looks over smarts. Now, Rian’s average face and build got him into and out of more places than a platinum credit card. In fact, his very unobtrusiveness gained him entrance to places even the wealthy couldn’t stroll into. Rian picked up the phone and dialed. “O’Lears Delicatessen,” came the rough, aggravated voice over the phone. “Hi, I’m on my way to pick sandwiches for the first precinct,” he made his voice sound harried, distracted like the man who’d answered. “Don’t got a order for ‘em,” growled the surly sometime receptionist, seconds from hanging up on him. “Well just give me one chicken salad and one tuna salad. Who doesn’t like that?” he barked back, adopting the tone of one seriously aggrieved. “Yeah, sure,” came the toneless answer, the speaker mollified that his time hadn’t been wasted. Rian hung up the phone, stuffing the fine guitar strings he’d purchased the day before into his pants pocket. Piano wire was so overdone, he thought. The extra light gauge wrapped around his hands nicely and would cut through just about anything. Tatiana’s lovely neck would offer little resistance.

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Chapter Fourteen

Tatiana sat at the desk in the auxiliary office she sometimes used when working with Yonkers detectives on a case. The building was a beehive of activity, officers and city employees passing back and forth beyond her door. It was a day so like many she’d had over the last several years, but then again so different. Surreal. She’d see her husband on television just moments ago, talking about her and her well-being. Proclaiming her value to himself and to the city. The fact that the mayor stood next to him professing similar affections was beside the point. The knowledge that Rian hovered somewhere between the two of them wasn’t quite as disconcerting. From the beginning, Rian had been between them in one way or the other. The fact that only she and Rian had been aware of the barrier, mattered not at all. But now, she and Von were together against him. Together how, she wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, they were a team this time. She was comparing crime scene photos and writing notes when she heard the door of the office open. “One minute, Bill, I think there’s discrepancy here,” she murmured, not looking up. “Take all the time you need, my darling. I’ll never be far away,” came the smug, definitely not Bill response. The door clicked shut. She heard the rasp of old metal and knew he’d turned the lock on the knob. She carefully laid the pen down, moving to straighten the photos into a tidy stack. Finally she looked up. “Rian, you’re looking well,” she murmured. “What brings you all the way downtown today?” “Why you, of course, Precious,” he oozed, stepping away from the door and closer to her. “Ohhh,” she forced her face into a sympathetic frown. “But I already have a date. Well, maybe you can be a third wheel, how’s that?” 64

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“You’re so clever, Tatiana darling,” Rian clucked, shaking his head sadly. “Why would you ever think that I’d let you stay with him? I would die with you before I’d let my brother look forward to growing old in your company. I can’t believe that you didn’t realize that.” Rian moved around the desk, an arm’s reach away. “I just didn’t see it,” she confessed, turning, looking up at the man standing in front of her now. “I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t get it. I knew this was between you and Von. I thought that you only hurt me because you couldn’t reach him.” “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Rian shook his head again, clicking his tongue. “When did you figure it out?” he asked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a coil of thin wire. When she didn’t answer right away, his eyes widened, fixed on her face. “Please tell me you figured it out, Tatiana. I’ll be so terribly disappointed if you didn’t.” Tatiana sighed, “I feel bad, Ri, I do.” She managed to sit casually, not jerking away from him as she saw him winding both ends of the wire around each hand and tug. “I didn’t realize that you didn’t want to kill Von. I kind of did, but not really, you know?” He snapped the wire taut between both hands, causing it to sing like a low-pitched saw blade. “Don’t fret, darling,” Rian’s voice had a soothing, cooing quality. “Everybody will know soon enough. It won’t matter that you didn’t figure it out. Von will simply blame himself anyway. He’s so noble, isn’t he? He’ll miss you so much.” Rian stepped even closer, arms raised to loop the wire over her head. “Von figured it out,” Tati murmured softly, causing Rian to freeze. She blessed the frugality of the Yonkers Detective Division Accounting Department as Von stepped into the room. “I did, Ri,” his handsome face sported a half smile. “I knew you wanted me alive and hurting. Tati is just another game piece to you.” Tatiana could see Bill just over his left shoulder. She assumed that Jim was behind the large redhead somewhere. Von moved forward, allowing the other two men into the room but blocking Rian’s view of them, as well as Tati’s. The sound of his brother’s voice had so stunned Rian that he nearly fell into Tatiana’s lap. She had no doubt that Bill and Jim had weapons drawn, but she didn’t try to see. Instead, she scooted her chair back the few feet to the wall, as far as she could get from Rian. 65

Joan Joyce Massa He seemed to be torn between going after her and possibly attacking Von. Surely he knew that wouldn’t get him very far. His actions answered for him when he scooped Tati out of her chair, pinning her in front of him. She shuddered to be held so close against the one man she hated. The one body she despised above all others. “Unhand my wife, Rian,” Von ordered coldly. “This is between us. You and me.” “Your wife!” Rian spat. “She was never really your wife. She’s just--she’s….” his perfect eloquence appeared to have deserted him now. “You--you,” he sputtered, strong hands crushing her shoulders, shaking her. “You didn’t have any right to her. You didn’t earn her. You just took what you wanted. And she,” he shook her again. “She made a mistake. I taught her better. I showed her. And here she is back with you,” another teeth rattling shake. “Neither of you are all that bright!” “We must be bright enough,” Von moved a little bit closer. “We did figure you out.” “You couldn’t do it alone,” Rian objected, his voice going high. “No,” Von said calmly, edging another step closer. “You stop!” Rian shrieked. “You stop right there!” “Rian, lets talk about this. You wanted my attention and you’ve got it. Talk to me, brother. You don’t want to hide behind a woman. Tell me what all this is about?”

**** Von studiously avoided looking at Tatiana. He wanted to, how badly he wanted to. He feared that, if he did, it would somehow make her that much more real, more tangible, more killable to his insane sibling. She understood, of course she did. Rian was firmly a member of the clinically insane now and any logic processes he had would be sorely skewed. Rian, for his part, seemed to be vacillating between using Tatiana as a shield or tossing her aside. Von feared she’d come away with whiplash given the way he was jerking her left and right to punctuate his words. “You don’t care about me,” he screeched. “None of you ever did! Fools! I’ve always been smarter than you. I learned the family business. I’m a broker and you make toys! Stupid!” “You’re right about some of that, Ri,” Von agreed, no formed plan beyond keeping his brother talking, and hopefully calming him. “You are smarter than I am in 66

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many ways. And you succeeded in Father’s business where I couldn’t. But we did care about you. All of us did, do.” “Well, how come they treated you better? How come I didn’t get the business when you failed? Did you tell them? Did you tell Father’s family not to give it to me? Why didn’t I get it?” Rian was practically whining now, as if Von had gotten a fire truck for Christmas that he didn’t want, but his brother did. “It wasn’t my company, Rian. It belonged to the board of directors. Sure, Father’s name was on the door, but he wasn’t the sole owner. You know that. I would have had to work my way up the same as you. And I just didn’t want to.” Von thought for a moment that he’d gotten through. The grip on Tatiana’s slim shoulders seemed to slacken. Rian’s face was a study in concentration, as if there was a kernel of knowledge just out of his reach. Tatiana obviously thought her freedom was at hand. In what seemed slow motion to Von, she jerked forward, almost breaking free. Rian, tugged back to the current situation, yanked her back against his chest, one arm coming up to press against her throat. “Oh, no, my precious,” Rian rasped. “No, this isn’t over yet.” “Rian, surely you know there’s no way out now,” Tatiana wheezed through the tightening vice pressing at her windpipe. “Ah, precious Tatiana,” Rian hissed. “Don’t you know I don’t need to walk out? As long as you don’t.” Von felt his blood freeze. Now it was all crystal clear to him. Rian would die happy if he could keep Tatiana away from Von. The only way he could do that was to kill her before he could be killed. Nothing else mattered to the crazed man. Only that he win. Von sprang forward just as Rian’s other hand moved to the side of Tati’s head. It sank into the thick waves pressing, turning. Rian was trying to snap her neck before Bill or Jim could shoot him. After that, it wouldn’t matter. Years of nothing but lonely sailboats and cold weights had turned Von into a powerful man. Years of hunching over a computer and hiding in shadows had bled away Rian’s strength and fitness. The snapping sound of Rian’s wrist splintering as Von turned it like a tight doorknob filled the office, followed immediately by an ear-splitting scream. Tatiana 67

Joan Joyce Massa slumped to the floor gasping for air. The only thing keeping Rian from following her down was Von’s clamp-like grip on his hand. Gun aloft in his left hand, Jim eased forward and pulled Tatiana from between the two men. Bill, gun in one hand and handcuffs in the other, moved forward. “I got him now, buddy,” Bill murmured, voice shaking slightly. When Von didn’t let go, Rian’s whimpering increased in volume. “Shut up,” Von growled, grip tightening for a moment. Rian yipped and began to sob. “Um, Von,” Bill pressed the barrel of his gun against Rian’s temple and patted Von with he handcuffs. “Yeah?” Von squeezed again, eliciting another keening wail from his half brother. “You keep doing that and he’s not gonna shut up,” Bill told him evenly. “Yeah,” Von sighed, squeezing again, and producing another shrieking wail. “Guess you’re right.” He looked at Bill, wrestling the urge to squeeze the broken bones against each other until the injured man passed out. “Sometimes I’m just not all that smart.” He opened his hand and let go of Rian. The younger man slumped to the ground in a sobbing heap. Bill holstered his gun and cuffed Rian’s uninjured hand above the wrist, pulling it behind him and snapping the other cuff just below the elbow. “Jim, you got medics on the way?” He called out. “Sure do, two sets of ‘em,” he answered back. Von whirled around. “Angel?” Was she alive? Was she injured? If so, how bad? Jim was holding her head still. Von sunk down beside her. “I think it’s just about over, Angel,” he murmured brushing her hair back from her bruised neck. “Hi there,” she croaked. Von could see that she was barely hanging onto consciousness. “Shh, don’t try to talk yet. He’s going to go away now. Jim’s got emergency folks on the way. Just try to hang on for me, Angel,” he all but begged. What else could he do? “Its selfish after all you’ve been through,” he whispered. “But I need you. I’m--I…” he felt his eyes fill. He knew it was stupid but “I’m building us a boat. You have to hang on and come sailing Angel. Otherwise I’ll just have to throw it away.” “A whole boat?” her eyes drifted closed. “A whole boat?” she managed to open them a little. “Can’t do that.” 68

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“I will if you won’t sail on it with me,” he insisted. “I mean it,” he promised. “Stubborn,” she accused, one side of her lip curling in a smile. “Yeah,” he breathed, pushed back by the arrival of the emergency medical technicians. “Very stubborn.”

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Chapter Fifteen

After securing the jib and small sail, Von moved to the front of the boat. The wind was light and the Sound was flat. It was a pleasantly warm day, unusual for Connecticut this time of year. He was just in time to catch a very guilty looking Tati, with her hands behind her back, as she wheeled around. He didn’t need to ask what she was guilty of. The assortment of wheeling sea birds told the story for her, along with the half empty sleeve of butter crackers on the cushion. Giving her a mock-stern look, Von shook his head from side to side. “I thought I told you not to do that.” He tapped his foot in false agitation fighting a smile. She scraped the cuffs of her long sleeved sweatshirt up over her wrists, more to keep from looking at him than any other reason he was sure. “Um, well, you did,” she agreed, glancing at him from beneath a fan of sooty lashes. “But, they looked hungry,” she mumbled, looking away. “You’re hopeless, Tatiana Branigan, absolutely hopeless,” Von laughed, sweeping in close to kiss her on the cheek and then moving away. Her pink-cheeked blush pleased him and he reached for the crackers, removing one and tossing a couple up and back, clapping as the birds dipped and caught them in the air. “Hey!” Tatiana objected. “You just scolded me for doing that!” Reaching slowly, he took her hand in his, tugging lightly to bring her to sit next to him on the deck couch, close, but not touching. “I realized something very important,” he told her. “I just couldn’t find the right way to say it.” “Okay,” she encouraged, relaxing against the backrest cushion.

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She had been out of the hospital for almost three weeks now, having been treated for a month for spinal injuries that could have been much, much worse. She was standing on her own, walking; Rian had hurt her but not nearly as bad as he could have. Together they had weathered the storm of his arraignment. Tati had had to give her report on tape. Given the extent of Rian’s decade long campaign of terror against her, she was allowed to watch via closed circuit taping as Von gave his statement and Rian’s plea was made. He’d pled not guilty by reason of mental defect. That had started a scramble of sorts to locate psychiatrists not associated with Tati who could evaluate him. This was complicated by the tennis match of state demands for reciprocity versus his private attorney’s demands for unbiased care. After weeks in Albany to do their part to ensure that Rian would never be free to haunt them again, Von and Tatiana had returned to Stratford two days ago, greeted by a frazzled Mrs. Smith. She had fretted about both of them for nearly two months and was almost severe in her care. “What did you realize, Von?” Tatiana urged when he’d been quiet too long. “I realized that the only thing lonelier and more hopeless than a sailboat alone on the ocean; is a sailboat builder alone,” he looked away from her, sure that he was talking in circles again. “And maybe a sailboat builder’s wife,” she added, her hand tentatively covering his. Slowly, carefully, Von took her fragile hand in both of his. “I don’t know where we’re going,” he began, unsure of how to continue. “Me neither, Von,” she hesitated, her gray eyes fixed on his. “I wouldn’t mind having a little company for the next leg.” She smiled a little, just a slight curve of her lower lip. “I really don’t care if we ever get anywhere,” Von assured her earnestly. “I just like the idea of not being hopeless alone anymore.” “It took you awhile, both of us awhile,” she amended, her small smile growing a little surer, “I think we’re just about to grow up.” Von sighed, feeling as if a heavy weight had lifted, as if he was finally seeing the light of day. “When that call came, Angel, and you could’ve been injured, dead,” he took a deep breath, “I had to face it—my world was bleak, the only way I’d ever know if you 71

Joan Joyce Massa were living or dead was a call like that one. My heart was broken and my life was hopeless. I was a madman driving to Yonkers. I think I grew up a lot right then.” Tatiana blinked but continued looking into his eyes. “I have to confess, I was still hurt, still angry at you. I loved you, but I didn’t think I could trust you. I’m not sure I really wanted to.” Von could tell that her words had been hard to say. He squeezed her hand. Yes, that had hurt, but it was honest. He could take it. “What about now?” he asked, surprised to find his voice raspy, thick. She shrugged. “Now, I trust you more. I’ve always loved you one way or another.” She pulled in a deep, steadying breath. “Now, I guess I’m ready to find out what that means.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips across the back, surprising himself a second time when a tear splashed her porcelain skin. “Now we have hope,” he whispered. She leaned her forehead against his. “Yes,” she agreed softly, a tear trickling down her own cheek, joining his. “Now, we have hope.”

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About the Author

Joan Joyce Massa lives on the Jersey shore with her husband, nearly grown children, Cosmo, her guide dog, and various other furry and shelled creatures. She loves to write about mystery and magic because its fun and says you can make ANYTHING happen that way. She believes that every day can be an adventure and every person has something to offer. Although she’s traveled to many places in her life, these days she does most of her globetrotting from her laptop.

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