Armando Langostini/Ray Vecchio, Benton Fraser, Suzanne Chapin and
Nero are property of Alliance	ALAN RICHARDS University Library 2 488
2000-02-13T23:01:00Z 2000-02-13T23:01:00Z 43 27565 157123 Indiana U. -
Purdue U. at Indianapolis 1309 314 192958 9.2720       0  6 pt 6 pt 0	  
			 Armando Langostini/Ray Vecchio, Benton Fraser,
Suzanne Chapin and Nero are property of Alliance. All other characters are
mine. Casey Sinclair is used with the gracious permission of Cassandra
Hope. No infringement of any copyrights is intended. This story is written
for the private enjoyment of Due South fans and not for monetary profit.
Permission to use this story for profit is not given. Lyrics to "For What
It's Worth" by Buffalo Springfield and "Learning What Love Means" by
Michael Franks are used without permission.    A big "Thank you kindly"
goes to Kerra for supplying me with the words to "For What It's Worth"
within minutes of my request.     For What It's Worth  Rated: R Adult
Language, Violence, Sexual situations.     Cass Lindsey stood to the side
of the concourse at Dallas/Ft. Worth International Airport, a cellular
phone pressed tightly to one ear, her free hand pressed to the other to
block out the noise of the other passengers and the announcements coming
over the Public Address system. "Hi Nero, it's Cass. I wanted to call and
let Michael know my flight has been delayed.   "Look, I know Armando said
he was going to be busy today so if he needs the car to go someplace, tell
him to go ahead and take it and I can get a cab home from the airport.  
"I'll let you know if anything changes. Thanks, Nero."   She flipped the
phone shut and sighed. She had spent the week in Texas at a knitter's
conference, teaching classes, taking classes, promoting her business and
generally enjoying herself. But now she was ready to go home. Wandering
the airport trying to kill some time, she found a one-hour photo shop. She
thought about the many rolls of film in her bag and decided to go ahead
and see about having them developed and printed.   The shop was empty of
customers when she walked in and the young man behind the counter assured
her he could have them all done before she would have to board her flight.
She left them with him and wandered off in search of a place to sit down
and pass some time. She found a food court and explored the many
offerings. Finding a place that served fruit drinks, she ordered a
smoothie and then continued to walk around the airport.   An hour later,
she returned to the photo shop to pick up her pictures. Paying a princely
sum for the expedited service, she looked expectantly at her pictures. She
was very pleased with the quality of the prints. Some times, these kinds
of shops hurried to meet the deadline and in the process sacrificed
quality. She knew that she was no great photographer but she was pleased
with the prints she glanced at. She walked the long way back to the gate
where her flight was to board and found the lounge to be fairly
unpopulated. Looking at the screen she saw no change in her flight's
status so she decided to wait there. Soon she heard the  boarding
announcement and stood up to walk towards the Jetway.   She stowed her
carry on bag in the overhead compartment and settled into her seat.
Closing her eyes she tried to visualize her farm. She had called Otis
every day that she'd been gone and knew all the animals were doing well.
The third day he chided her gently but he knew that this was the first
time she'd been gone for so long since she'd acquired all her animals. She
took the ribbing in good humor but continued to check in daily. In her
mind's eye, she could see the driveway to her home. She was lost in her
musings when she felt someone plop into the seat next to her. She looked
over to see a woman who was quite obviously out of breath.   "Whew!" she
exclaimed. "I wasn't sure I was going to make it."   "Well, that's
probably why they say to arrive at the airport an hour before your
flight," Cass observed.   "Yes, well, that's all well and good until your
connecting flight gets delayed. Thank God I only had my carry-on bag.
Otherwise I would have had to leave my luggage and go on without it."  
The flight attendant's announcements over the intercom interrupted their
conversation. Cass was a somewhat nervous flyer and gripped the arms of
the seats tightly until they were safely in the air. She noticed that the
woman had opened a book and was reading. She took a few moments to study
her seatmate.   She was a beautiful woman, Cass thought objectively. Her
dark brown hair had highlights that one could almost classify as mahogany
and hung in long waves. Her facial features were very delicate, especially
her nose that was narrow at the bridge and broadened slightly at the tip.
Full, dark, professionally arched browns framed her dark brown eyes. She
looked at the hands that held the book, saw the perfectly manicured nails
and realized that the polish perfectly matched the woman's lip color.  
Cass had never had any illusions about her own looks. Though she was
generally not dissatisfied, she knew she was no great beauty despite what
Armando continually told her. But now sitting next to this woman, she felt
hopelessly unattractive. She did not possess the lithe, thin body of this
woman. Her features could never be called delicate. She looked at her own
hands with her short, squared nails and the words that came to mind were
'sturdy', 'plain' and 'rugged'.   Cass sighed quietly and pulled the
envelopes of photographs out of her purse. She wanted to begin labeling
them now while names and faces were still fresh in her memory. The first
three rolls were pictures of her students during the seminars. She
marveled at the intense concentration on some of the faces, as though the
small squares they knitted were priceless pieces of art. Other faces
showed the carefree smiles of the more happy-go-lucky students. The fourth
roll contained pictures from the 'show-and-share' time they'd had where
people talked about some of the favorite items they had knitted.   Cass
glanced over to see the woman was no longer reading but looking at the
pictures.   "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I was admiring some of your
pictures."   "Thank you."   The woman extended her hand in introduction.
"I'm Ronnie Mitchell."   "Cass Lindsey."   "There are some really nice
looking things here. Where were these taken?" Cass explained about the
conference using the photos to help her while trying not to get too
technical. As she flipped through the photos, she found one of a woman who
was nearly covered in a pile of knitted items.	"We support the 'Warm Up,
America' project that collects knitwear to donate to various charitable
organizations. This year our group alone, donated enough hats, scarves,
mittens and the like to practically bury Diane, here."   "That's amazing,"
she marveled continuing to watch as Cass thumbed through the photographs.
Ronnie's hand darted out and stopped Cass at one particular photo. Cass
realized that she was the subject. Someone must have picked up her camera
and snapped a few pictures for her. In this photo, Cass was modeling a
green mohair coat that she had designed and knitted.   "Oh, my that's just
gorgeous. Did you really make it?"    "Designed and made every stitch,"
she admitted proudly.   "How do you find the time to do that kind of
thing?"   "It's what I do for a living."   "You knit for a living?"  
"Knit, weave, spin, etc. I'm a fibre artist."   "Now there's a job
description I've never heard of."   Cass reached into her purse again and
pulled out one of her brochures with her business card attached and handed
it to Ronnie.   "Oh, you're located in Las Vegas," she commented. "That
must mean you're on your way home."   "Yes," Cass sighed wearily as she
idly flipped through the last envelope of pictures.   She recognized these
as the ones she took the first day of the convention in the dealers' room.
She wanted pictures of the new yarns that would soon be available so she
would remember them. As she got to the bottom of the stack, she found
pictures that had nothing to do with her trip to Texas.   "Gee, those
don't look like trip pictures," Ronnie commented.   Cass smiled. "They
aren't. They're the Christmas pictures I had on the beginning of the roll
of film. My parents came out to spend the holidays with me so I had to
make sure I had plenty of photographs."   "Ooh, who's that?" she
questioned as Cass turned over a picture of herself and Armando, who was
wearing his Christmas sweater, snuggled together near the tree.   "That's
a friend of mine."   "A very close friend, I'd say," she commented as she
studied the photograph.    "He looks vaguely familiar. Is he from Las
Vegas?"   "Not originally. He moved to Nevada from back east."   "I just
can't get over the feeling that I've met him before."   "I felt the same
way when I first met him," Cass admitted. "I guess he just has one of
those faces."   "I guess he does."   The woman conversed about many
subjects as their flight continued. Cass was especially interested in the
book of poetry the woman was reading. She was unfamiliar with the poet but
the words were almost melodic. Soon the captain was announcing their
arrival at Las Vegas, asking all passengers to fasten their seat belts.  
"Cass, I hate to sound boorish but how much would it cost to have a
sweater custom made?"   "Well, it depends on factors like the yarn and the
complexity of the design. A basic wool/acrylic blend pullover sells for
about forty dollars. Fancy yarns and complex designs drive the cost up.
Shawls, shrugs and stoles, because they're smaller and generally less
complicated items are less expensive than say a mohair coat."   "I'm going
to be Las Vegas for several days but I'm not sure of my schedule yet.
Would it be possible to call you and set up a time to meet and see some of
your work in person?"   "Sure. You have my card and my brochure. Give me a
call and we'll set up an appointment."   Soon they could feel the descent
of the jet and Cass once again closed her eyes and gripped the armrests
tightly. Once on the ground, they taxied to the terminal and came to a
gentle stop. Ronnie was out of her seat in a flash and made her way
quickly towards the exit. Cass preferred to wait out the rush and
subsequently, was one of the last people off the plane.   Inside the
terminal, Armando paced restlessly with a bouquet of white, yellow and red
roses clenched in his hand. He watched the crowd exiting the jet and
filling the gate with bodies and noise. He was trying to keep a sharp eye
open for Cass, knowing she didn't expect him to be there. Wanting to
surprise her, he'd told her that he was tied up but would send Michael to
pick her up. Scanning the crowd for female faces he saw one woman walk
into the throng very quickly. He caught only the barest glimpse of her
face but thought he recognized her. He looked again to confirm his
suspicions, but she had faded into the crowd. He shook his head in
disbelief and turned his attention back to the people getting off the
plane.   He saw Cass come through the gate craning her neck, looking for
Michael. While she was looking off to her left, he walked to her right
side and thrust the bouquet in front of her.   "Hello, gorgeous."   Cass
stopped in her tracks, completely stunned to see him there. "What are you
doing here?" she demanded.   "Gee, it's nice to know you're happy to see
me," he replied sarcastically.   "No, that's not what I meant. I'm
stunned. You told me you were busy today."   "I lied," he admitted. "I
wanted to surprise you."    "Well, in that case..." She dropped her
carry-on bag, grabbed the flowers from his hand and flung her arms around
him in an enthusiastic embrace and kissed him passionately.   "Oh yeah,
that's more like it," he admitted when she finally released him. He smiled
warmly at her. "I missed you, Cass."   "Thanks, it's good to be missed.
You were on my mind a lot, too."   They walked hand in hand to the luggage
carousels, not realizing that someone was watching them from behind a
concrete pillar. The spy followed them at a discrete distance until they
were safely in the back seat of Armando's limousine. On the trip home she
showed him her photographs and told him stories about the conference. When
he saw the picture of the two of them he commented on what a fine looking
couple they made.   "You know, the woman in the seat next to me said the
same thing. In fact, she said you looked familiar. Her name is Ronnie
Mitchell. Ring any bells?"   He searched his memory. "Nope. Is she in real
estate?"   "You know, I'm ashamed to say that we talked more about me than
her. I really don't know much about her except her name and that she likes
poetry. Oh yes, and she likes my work and has my card and brochure. Maybe
I can get a sale out of this little encounter."   "That's my girl. Always
taking care of business."   Cass looked out the window and realized they
were not headed towards her farm. She lowered the partition to speak to
the driver.   "Michael, you missed the turn to the farm."   "Yes ma'am."  
"So when are you going to turn around and correct this mistake?"   "It's
no mistake ma'am."   "Are you saying you deliberately missed the turn?"  
"Yes, ma'am."   She returned the partition to its former position and
looked at Armando.    "You know this could be classified as criminal
confinement."   "Ah, would you really have me arrested for taking you home
with me?"   "Armando, I've got a farm to take care of," she protested.  
"No you don't. I talked to Otis and he's going to stay on through tomorrow
morning."   "I can't believe you did that without talking to me."  Armando
was a little stunned that she seemed angry.   "I didn't do anything. It
was his idea. Besides, after a week straight of fiber business, I wanted
to give you some time to get used to being back. I could tell by your
voice last night that you were pretty burned out."   "Yeah, you're right.
When we wrapped up yesterday I was thinking that I never wanted to see
another strand of yarn again."   "So, you see. You come home with me
tonight. We'll eat dinner, maybe soak in the hot tub and relax your stress
away. Then when you go home tomorrow, you'll be able to tackle all the
things you've got coming up."   "You know, you take pretty good care of
me."   "I like taking care of you."    With all his heart he wanted to
broach the subject of a future with her but knew it wasn't possible yet.
Too many obstacles stood in the way. Even though he was aware that she
knew who he really was, she didn't know why he had assumed this role. If
she did, that could change everything. He knew he wouldn't be Armando
Langostini forever, but didn't know how long it would endure, or what
would happen when the job ended. Would he be able to return to his job in
his beloved Chicago? Or would the Feds try to place him in the witness
protection program?   He thought about his family and friends back in the
Windy City. He really wanted to see them again and hoped that he'd be
allowed to return. However, that didn't mean Cass would want to go with
him. Admittedly, she'd left Chicago to bring her brother to the warmer,
drier climate of the dessert. But she had remained even after he died.
She'd built a life here, a life that would function quite well whether he
was here or not. Her skills as an artist could be taken anywhere. In fact,
he thought, she'd make more money in Chicago because there were more
people willing to pay for quality handcrafted wearables. But there was no
way she could relocate the farm to Chicago and he knew how much she loved
her animals.   His sigh over unresolved issues caught Cass' attention. She
watched his face for a moment and observed that far off look in his eyes.
It was the look she'd learned to identify as him thinking about his life
before Las Vegas. He looked down at her face and fashioned his mouth into
a smile but it didn't reach his eyes. She smiled back, a look of wicked
mischief twinkling in her eyes.   Cass slid out from under his arm that
had wrapped around her so protectively and moved to the seat across from
him. Armando watched her closely; his brows pulled together in a puzzled
gaze not knowing what she planned to do. When she saw she had his
undivided attention, she began unbuttoning her shirt. His eyes opened
wider as he watched her fingers move down the placket. When the final
button had slipped through its hole, she ran her index finger up across
her abdomen to the small piece of plastic that connected the two cups of
her lacy white bra. The finger stopped there, between her full breasts and
with one small motion, the garment was unfastened. She had his rapt
attention when she began to pleasure herself.   "What's the matter,
Armando?" she asked in her huskiest voice. "Did you think I was kidding
when I said you'd been on my mind? After all, it's been nine days since
we've been together."   Armando had completely lost his voice. He tried to
speak but couldn't get the words out.   "You know, Wednesday and Saturday
night I just ached for the feel of your hands. I wanted nothing more than
to feel your body pressed against mine. To hear you call out my name in
passion."   She looked directly into his eyes and moistened her lips with
the tip of her tongue. She could tell he was nearly panting with desire.
She slid off the seat to kneel on the floor in front of him. She reached
for his waist to unbuckle his belt but at that moment, she felt the car
come to a halt at the gate to his home.   "Oops, guess were gonna have to
stop here," she announced returning to her seat and making sure she was
fully dressed before they got to the front door of the house.   Armando
was stunned nearly motionless. When Michael came around to open their
door, he sat for a moment trying to collect his thoughts as Cass exited
the limousine. When Nero opened the door to the house, Cass practically
skipped in saying a cheery 'hello' to the butler.   "Are you all right,
boss?" Michael asked, as his employer didn't move.   "Yeah, just a little
distracted," he explained as he shifted his long legs to get out of the
car.   He followed Cass into his home and saw her waiting for him in the
gallery.   "So, now that you've kidnapped me, what are you going to do
with me?" she asked cheerfully.   He groaned lustily before he grabbed her
and hauled her off to his bedroom.     I think it's time we stop,
children. What's that sound? Everybody look what's goin' down.     Tuesday
morning Cass returned home early and was back at her desk entering figures
into her computer. She despised the bookkeeping end of her business. But
after much work with her accountant, they'd devised a way to keep accurate
records with minimal fuss. Still, she resented the time she could be in
her studio designing. She had come home full of ideas that she wanted to
get out of her head and onto paper. Sighing heavily, she looked out her
window and saw Otis bringing the Corgis out of the kennel. She walked
through the French doors and out onto the deck.   "Good morning, Otis!"
she called.   "Good morning, Cass. I didn't expect to see you home so
early," he replied bringing the dogs up onto the deck.   Cass gave him a
big hug and thanked the man for staying the extra day.	"I really
appreciate being able to take the extra time to ease back into my life
here."   "I figured you would. The tough part was getting a hold of that
beau of yours to tell him."   "Yeah, how did you do that?" she asked
suddenly realizing that she didn't have his phone number written down
anywhere Otis would be able to find it.   "I remembered him showing up at
the center looking for you a couple of months ago. So I just worked the
process backwards. Although getting that lawyer of his to believe me was
tough."   "Otis, you're amazing. And thanks again for staying out here
while I was gone. Even though I called you every day, I really did feel
much better knowing that someone was here all the time."   "Any time,
Cass." He hugged her again. "So what are you up to this morning?"  
"Paperwork." She grimaced.   "Well, then I'll leave you to it. The boys
were feelin' extra frisky today so I thought I'd take them for a nice long
walk and maybe tucker them out before I left," he said nodding to Benny
and Ray.   "Don't tucker yourself out as well," she admonished.   "Don't
worry darlin'. I feel better than I have in a long time."   Cass smiled at
the man before she went back inside. She had to admit that asking him to
help her out with the farm chores had worked out well for both of them.
She now had more time to work on her designs and he felt like he had a
purpose in life. She didn't doubt that he felt better. To have a fatal
disease was bad enough. But to live without any aspirations could drain
the soul. She noticed that he looked better than he did had when she'd
first met him. His face looked less haggard and he no longer walked as if
he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. She knew he'd been
having regular counseling sessions for the depression he was fighting with
Martin, the center's psychologist. She wondered if working for her was
part of his "treatment". If it was,  it certainly seemed to be effective.
  An hour later Cass saw Otis and two panting Corgis come back to the
deck. She had just finished all her paperwork and motioned for them to
come inside. Ray and Benny, though obviously winded, still had enough
energy to greet her enthusiastically.   "How's Almak doing?" she asked.  
"He got his long walk last night once the temperature had dropped. And I'd
say he's still feelin' the effects of it. He went back into his kennel and
went to sleep after breakfast."   "Would you mind bringing him inside
before you leave? I'd kinda like to have all the guys with me today."  
"Sure thing Cass."   Since the skies were clear and the view from her
office was so inspiring, she opted to do her design work from her office
computer. A few minutes later the French doors opened and Otis led a quiet
Almak inside. The dog sniffed once at Cass and realizing she had no food
to offer him, walked over to a darkened corner and laid down. The Corgis
took their usual position in the sunbeam to nap.   "I'm headin' out, Cass.
Will I see you at the center this afternoon?"   "No, I hadn't planned on
going back until Thursday. There's plenty of fleece that needs to be
carded if anyone's interested in doing fibre art this afternoon but
doesn't feel up to spinning without me there. Oh, and you can spread the
news that I while I was in Dallas, I arranged for a distributor to donate
a couple of hobby type knitting machines to the center. We should have
them in a week or so. Then you folks can have another way to use up all
the yarn you've been spinning."   "Great. You know, we don't often tell
you this, but we really appreciate all that you've done for us."   "It's
my pleasure, Otis."   The man left the room and Cass turned her attention
back to her computer. She sat in contemplation for a while of all the new
sweater designs she had thought about. The boutique that sold most of her
clothing wouldn't be likely to take anything too avant gard. They
specialized in basic designs. Most of her Fair Isle and Scandinavian
designs sold well. But she'd seen a yarn in Texas that practically had her
salivating with how it would look when it was worked into knitted fabric.
  She had spent almost two hours sketching out her ideas on the computer
when the ringing of the phone interrupted her thoughts.   "Cass Lindsey,"
she answered.   "Cass, this is Ronnie Mitchell. We met on the plane
yesterday."   "Yes, you slipped away so fast that I didn't have a chance
to say good-bye."   "Well, what with all the delays, I was in a bit of a
rush. But I wanted to see if you were available to meet tomorrow around
noon. I'm planning a trip to Chicago next month and I wanted to have a
couple of warm sweaters to take with me."   "Noon, tomorrow? Yes, I can
arrange that. How long can you stay?"   "I have a meeting at three
o'clock. Will that be long enough?"   "Well, it depends on how long it
takes you to make a decision," she laughed.   "Oh, I'm pretty decisive."  
"Generally, I like to allow an hour to an hour and a half to make
decisions and get all the information. Now, you probably need directions."
  "That would be a good idea. I'm staying at the Excalibur. Where do I go
from here?"   Cass took a few minutes to give the woman detailed
directions, including landmarks to make the trip easier. After
disconnecting, she immediately dialed Armando. Nero informed her that his
employer wasn't home, so she left a message to let him know that they'd
have to delay getting together for their usual Wednesday date. She also
told him that Armando could call her at home if he needed her then rang
off. Moments later, she had the appointment with Ronnie scheduled into her
computer. And just for good measure, she sent Armando an e-mail message in
case there was a delay in getting the phone message from Nero.   At that
moment, he was having lunch with Edward Hoover, head of the FBI's
Organized Crime Bureau. Since coming to Las Vegas, he'd been having
regular meetings with the OCB but this was the first time he'd ever met
just with the Assistant Director. The very fact that this man was here
made Ray uneasy. The fact that he seemed to be in a jovial mood had the
undercover detective nearly unhinged but he hid it well.    They ate at a
small Japanese restaurant in Henderson, a place no one would expect to see
Armando Langostini. He'd thought long and hard about having Michael drive
him here. He knew it would not be good to have his chauffeur see him with
a Federal Agent. But he also knew it would seem odd to the Scarpetta's and
the rest of the Iguana family if he drove himself to a business meeting.
The one axiom that had been drilled into him as he prepared for this job
was 'Trust no one'. As he looked at the man across the table from him, he
wondered if he should even trust the people who sent him out here.   "So
Edward, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" Ray asked casually.  
"Well, I wanted to check and see how you were doing, on a personal level.
Do you like it out here?"   "Well, it's not Chicago."   "No, I suppose
it's not. But really, level with me now, are you happy here?"   Ray looked
at him warily. He was never much in favor of baring his soul so he
considered his words carefully. "Honestly, I miss my friends and family
back home. It was a little rough getting through the holidays without
them.   "So is this your way of preparing me to be out here for quite a
while longer?"   The A.D. laughed. "No. No decision has been made yet for
your return."   "Meaning, I may not return? I may just have to assume yet
another identity and go into the Witness Protection Program? What's wrong?
Did that yahoo you picked to pretend to be me blow our cover?" Ray was
trying to hide the small panic that was growing inside him by being angry.
  Hoover looked startled. "Not that I'm aware of."   Ray looked doubtful.
  "Let me put my cards on the table. While I'm here in an official
capacity, I'm just checking on how you're doing personally. I heard about
the altercation with Frankie Gianelli..."   "Yeah, and as I told your
underlings, it was just a blow up over a business deal gone sour. Besides,
Frankie and I had a meeting last week and we've buried the hatchet."  
"Then there's the matter of your girlfriend." Edward shot Ray a look of
disapproval.   "What? A young single guy like me's supposed to live like a
monk? Boy, wouldn't that look suspicious. Besides, I don't remember anyone
telling me I couldn't have a social life while I was out here."   "It
isn't a matter of having a social life. It's the fact that you're keeping
consistent company with this one woman. Have you ever considered that she
might not be who she says she is?"   "Yeah, it had, several months ago
when I first met her." He declined to mention the fact that she knew who
he really was. "That's why I've been forwarding all the information I've
gathered on her to your people at the field office here. Are you just now
getting around to finding out that there's something she's not told me?"  
"No," he responded sliding a file folder across the table, "she checks
out. Okay, there were a few things we didn't expect to find out but it
doesn't appear that she was deliberately holding back information."   Ray
opened the file folder and the first few documents he saw were all real
estate related. He glanced over these carefully, just as he would if he
were discussing any normal business transaction, and then found the papers
that related to Cass. These he scanned quickly, not finding anything he
didn't already know.   "So," he said, "cut to the chase. Why are we
talking about Cass if she checks out?"   "We're a little concerned that
you took her to Scarpetta's party. And we've had reports that she had Sam
Scapetta out to visit her farm. Do you think it's prudent for her to be
involved with these people? Do you realize what kind of a security risk
she could pose?"   "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do realize it. But tell
me what I'm gonna do to stop her without blowing my cover.   "Well,
there's the obvious. Break it off."    Ray's jaw dropped and Edward knew
that his agent had deep feelings for this woman. It wasn't just a casual
fling he'd started out of loneliness.   "Look Edward, even if I wanted to,
and believe me I don't, I have no plausible reason for breaking up with
her. I took her to Scarpetta's party because they specifically invited
her. And yes, I did everything in my power to try to dissuade her from
going. As for Sam's visit to her farm, I was there. The kid just wanted to
see the animals. Now that he's seen them, I doubt he'll come back."  
"Hey, I'm not ordering you to break up with her. I'm just saying that if
you did, it might make doing your job a little easier."   "You wanna know
what would make my job easier? I'll tell you. Not having to talk to some
goon in a black suit with an FBI badge every time he gets a damn fart hung
crosswise. Remember that you guys came to me. You knew I could do the job.
Now would you get off my ass and let me do it?"   It was all Ray could do
to keep his voice down and still express the frustration he felt.   "Cass
has no negative effect on my job performance. She's the one thing that's
keeping me sane. If I had to do nothing but be 'Armando Langostini, mob
soldier', all day long, you'd find me in a nut house."   Ray could see he
was starting to get through to the FBI man. So he took a deep breath and
tried another tack.   "Look," he said in his most reasonable tone of
voice, "why don't you have dinner with us tomorrow night. Meet her and
then you'll see that she's no threat."   Edward thought for a moment and
decided to take the man up on his offer.   Ray called Cass and arranged
the dinner. She told him about her appointment with Ronnie and he agreed
to meet her at three o'clock at the center's gymnasium to shoot some
baskets. When he hung up, Hoover looked at him quizzically.   "You're
making a date to shoot free throws?"   "What? Your extensive background
check didn't reveal the fact that she was the Indiana High School Athletic
Association's 'Miss Basketball' for 1978?"   In fact, it hadn't but he
wasn't going to admit that. "It just seems like a strange thing to do
during a date with your girlfriend."   The Assistant Director peppered him
with more questions throughout lunch, several of them pertaining to Cass
and each getting more personal than the last. Ray finally called a halt
informing him that he'd stepped over the line.   "Sorry. I get a little
carried away trying to make sure security isn't compromised. The last guy
who held this position wasn't so careful and the results were disastrous.
I guess it makes me a little paranoid now and then."   "Yeah, that's why I
like being a Chicago cop. Fewer things to worry about."     There's
something happening here. And what it is ain't exactly clear.  There's a
man with a gun over there, telling me I've got to beware.     Cass and
Ronnie spent nearly an hour designing the basic shape of the sweaters
Ronnie wanted. She wanted something she could wear by itself without a
shirt underneath and still keep warm. She finally settled on a round yoke,
turtleneck style with an abstract snowflake design knitted into the yoke
and the shoulders. Then came the difficult part, choosing yarn. Cass made
several recommendations as to fiber content, keeping in mind that Ronnie
wanted something warm. They finally decided on a deep reddish brown that
accentuated the highlights in her hair and a soft ivory for the contrast
color. For the second sweater, Ronnie chose to stay with the mahogany
background color and use black for the contrast. Cass wasn't thrilled with
it but she'd long since learned to keep her mouth shut about customer's
choices.   Cass pulled out a cloth tape and began measuring Ronnie to get
a proper fit. Once the measurements were plugged into the computer, it
began to spit out calculations on the amount of yarn needed. Cass checked
her inventory carefully and once satisfied that she had enough, she began
to plug figures into a different computer program to calculate the cost of
the garments.   Ronnie was amazed as Cass' fingers flew over the keyboard
manipulating the various data fields and coming up with the information.  
"How do you keep it all straight?" she asked.   "Lots of practice. Just
like any other job."   It was nearly two o'clock when the women were
finally finished. Cass noted that despite the cost, Ronnie opted to pay
her in full instead of just the normal fifty per-cent deposit. And she
paid for them in cash. She didn't want to insult the woman by making a
close inspection of the bills to see if they were counterfeit, but she did
feel something prickle at the back of her neck. Once her customer was
gone, Cass rushed to her bedroom to change her clothes for her afternoon
with Armando. While leaving her driveway, she called the center to leave
word for him that she had to stop at the bank and she might be late. It
was a several hundred dollars and she didn't want to keep that kind of
cash in her house. She also knew she'd feel better once the people at the
bank verified its authenticity.   Fortunately, everything checked out and
the money was safely deposited. Cass hurried to the center to make her
afternoon game with Armando. She ran into the gym to find him standing at
the three-point line, launching the ball at the hoop. His aim was off and
she rushed in for the rebound and scored a quick two points.   He was
chagrined but laughed anyway. They decided to play a game of 'Horse'.  
"Let's make it interesting," he suggested. "Let's put a little wager on
the game."   "Oh? And what would you be willing to wager?"   "Sexual
favors?" he replied.   "What kind of sexual favors?" she asked
flirtatiously. "If I'm going to wager, I want to know exactly what the
stakes are."   After a few minutes of haggling, they came to a mutually
agreeable bet. Cass won the first game quickly but instantly offered to go
best of three. She needn't have been so magnanimous. Although she took it
easy on him in the second game she still managed to beat him by a letter.
  "So, I have to give Nero and his wife the night off for Valentine's Day
and spend the night at your place, huh?"   "Oh, is that such a bad thing?
After all, they deserve a little romance too."   "No, I guess it isn't. I
was just kinda hoping you'd want to let me win and then you'd be bound by
the wager to do what I wanted."   "Did it ever occur to you that if that's
what you want, all you had to do was ask? You don't necessarily have to
coerce me through a bet."   "You mean you'd really...?"   "All you have to
do is ask. After all, just because I'm inexperienced, doesn't mean I'm a
prude."   He stood behind her wrapping his arms around her shoulders and
nuzzling her neck. "So, when can we start?" he asked suggestively.   "Not
tonight. We're having dinner with that friend of yours."   "Friend?"
Armando asked, clearly not knowing what she was referring to.   She rolled
her eyes at his obtuseness. "Remember, you called me yesterday and asked
if I'd be willing to give up my night alone with you to have dinner with
you and your friend?"   "Oh yeah. But he's not a friend. He's just someone
I'm trying to do a deal with."   "And so once again, you want me along as
a decoration; an ornament on your arm to make you look good."   "Oh but
you do it so well," he said softly in her right ear before he kissed
behind it.   "Smooth talker," she retorted and looked up at him to be
kissed.   "Hey, hey, none of that," a voice issued from across the
basketball court.   Startled, they broke off the kiss and looked to see
who had joined them.   "Hi Trevor," Cass called to the center's chaplain.
  "I'd ask how you two are doing but that's obvious by the sparkle in your
eyes," he commented.   "We're young and in love. Forgive us," Armando
replied.   "Nothing there to forgive."   Several other people began to
flow into the gym. Cass and Armando took their cue and left.     There's
battle lines being drawn. Nobody's right if everybody's wrong.	Young
people speaking their minds are getting so much resistance from behind.  
  Dinner was not a pleasant experience for Cass. She didn't like Edward
Hoover from the moment she shook his hand. He was too smooth and obviously
fake. He seemed to be intently interested in her but for what reason she
couldn't fathom. By the time they were having dessert, her head was
pounding from the effort to be cordial to this man. She excused herself to
visit the ladies room and take some aspirin, which gave the men a chance
to talk unrestrained for several minutes.   "Well Edward, what did I tell
you?"   "I don't know, Armando. She's obviously in love with you. And I
don't think she'd purposely do anything that would compromise your
position. But I'm still afraid that she could be used against you. It's
not unheard of for the Scarpetta's to keep a member of the family in line
by hurting their loved ones."   "Yeah well, that's my problem, not yours.
And you know that if the boys back in D.C. would get off their asses and
do something with all the information I've been feeding them, the
Scarpetta's would be in jail, I'd be outa here and it wouldn't be anyone's
problem."   "Detective, may I remind you that you weren't put here solely
to bring down the Iguana family. You're here to gather information on
organized crime in general and the Iguana family is your pipeline to that
information," he whispered fiercely.   "So, you're telling me that I'm
stuck out here 'til my cover's blown or you get every last bit of
information there is on every syndicate currently operating on U.S. soil."
  "Calm down. When you come in from the cold is not solely at my
discretion. People higher up the ladder have a definite say in the matter.
And even when the word is given, it's not something you can simply walk
away from. Your exit from the family will be carefully planned and
executed."   "Who's going to be executed?" Cass asked overhearing only the
last word.   Both men jumped at the sound of her voice. Neither one had
noticed her return.   "The deal. I was just telling Armando that it was
going to take careful planning and execution. You see, this is a big deal.
Getting all the parties to agree to the terms could be difficult. That's
why I asked your friend here to get involved. He's very good at getting
all the information we need."   "Yes, he is very good at finding things
out," she responded, thinking of how he'd managed to track her down after
the masquerade.   The evening finally ended. Cass and Armando were safely
enclosed in the back of his limousine with Michael speeding them back
towards the farm.   "I tell you Armando, that man is hiding something,"
Cass insisted   "What?"   "I wish I knew. But I don't trust him any
farther than I can throw him."   Armando hid his smile from Cass, knowing
full well what Edward had hidden from her.   "Look, he's an okay guy. He
just needs a few lessons in how to do business."   "Arrgh! Why won't you
listen to me? He's a dirty rotten liar right down to the pit of his soul.
How can you be taken in by him? Mark my words, he's going to be a big
source of heartache. Cut your losses now and dump him."   Armando found it
ironic that they both suggested that he sever his ties to the other
person. He knew Cass was in no mood to be placated so he didn't even try.
He felt it was better to go on the offensive.   "What? Do you think I
can't take care of myself? Just because I didn't live in a big bad
neighborhood in Chicago doesn't mean I can't deal with people like him.
Yeah, Eddie's a punk but he's got a great deal goin' here. Besides,
there's nothin' Edward Hoover can dish out that I can't handle."   "Look,
I don't want to get into a big argument with you. Just please promise me
you'll be extra careful. I really don't trust him."   He put his arm
around her and drew her close to him, kissing her hair and whispering
endearments. "I promise I'll be extra careful," he agreed.   He felt Cass
relax against his side. He suppressed a laugh at the thought of her
distrusting an FBI Assistant Director, yet she had no problems dealing
with organized crime bosses and their thugs. He thought again about the
scenarios that Hoover had set in front of him at lunch. He didn't think
that she wasn't working undercover for another agency out to nail 'Armando
Langostini'. His one run in of that type with ATF Agent Suzanne Chapin had
been disastrous. But he'd learned his lesson. And if Cass had assumed that
role, the FBI should have known about it by now. The thought that she
might actually be working for the Scarpetta's or another syndicate out to
prove he was really Ray Vecchio reared its ugly head again. She had
confronted him with that accusation only once. But he'd stuck to his story
and she'd never questioned him about it since. Was she just waiting until
he slipped? Did she know who Edward Hoover really was? What would happen
next?   Fear set in. Silently he cursed Hoover and every other federal
agent he'd ever dealt with. They had managed to infect him with their
deadly paranoia. He had to consider his next move very carefully. Since it
was Wednesday night, he had planned to spend the night at the farm. He
considered breaking those plans but he knew it would be odd for him to do
so at this point in the evening. He knew he had to start pulling away, at
least for a short while, to get some perspective. He also knew he couldn't
do it abruptly or she'd know something was up. He'd start by canceling
their plans for Saturday evening, claim that he had to make a business
trip that would keep him out of town for several days at least.   He hated
the duplicity he was about to participate in. His mother had always told
him that one lie inevitably led to another and then another. When he left
Chicago, those had been her final words of warning. Now they were coming
home to roost in a way he'd never thought possible.   The sound of Cass'
voice brought him out of his reverie. "Armando," she said softly.   "What,
cara?"   "I'm sorry," she whispered.   "For what?" He was truly uncertain.
  "For acting like a mother hen. Christopher used to get so mad at me when
I'd do it to him. I should know better but I seem to keep on doing it."  
"Hey, it's okay. You only do it because you care."   "That's no excuse.
But thank you for understanding."   "Of course I understand."   He kissed
the top of her head again. "Yes", he thought. "Let her think everything's
fine. No sudden moves tonight. Tomorrow night you can call and tell her
you'll be out of town for a while."   It wasn't long until they were at
the farm. Michael bade them a respectful 'good-night' as they walked into
Cass' home. Armando followed Cass to her bedroom and stood there watching
her as she changed into her nightclothes.   "What are you staring at?" she
asked as she caught a glimpse of him in the mirror.   "Just you."   "Well,
it's nothing you've never seen before," she responded before walking over
to him. "Really, what's the big deal? Why are you suddenly so interested
in watching me?"   He didn't want to admit that he was drinking in the
sight of her, knowing it would be the last one he'd have for a while. "Oh,
I was just thinking how beautiful you are."   She could tell he was lying
but decided to let it go by. "Smooth talker. You're just trying to find a
way to get into my bed with me."   "Aw shucks. You figured me out," he
said facetiously. Then his face shifted and his mood was somber.
"Seriously Cass, where would you like me to sleep tonight?"   She seemed
taken aback by his question. Did he think their words in the car meant
he'd be relegated to the guestroom? She thought of many ways to answer his
question, including with a few queries of her own.    "Okay, what's going
on here?"   "What do you mean?"   "You know damn good and well what I
mean. You come in here staring at me all moony-eyed like it's the last
time you're gonna see me before you go off to war or something. And then
you actually ask me where I want you to sleep like we've never been
lovers?"   This was not going the way he wanted. He was sure she suspected
something was up. Regaining control of the situation the only way he knew
how, he swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately, letting his
hands wander all over her body arousing her passions as well. When he
finally let go of her, he stared deeply into her eyes.   "My God, Cass, I
want you so badly, I can taste you. All I could think of during dinner was
getting back here and being alone with you. Then we had that silly
argument in the car and I wasn't sure you even wanted me to stay here
tonight. And when you walked back here and just started changing clothes
without even saying a word to me, I knew I couldn't presume you wanted me
as much as I want you."   She pulled him close and embraced him tightly.
"I'm sorry, Armando. I know I seem to be saying that a lot tonight. I'm a
little edgy today."   "What's wrong?"   "I don't know. It all started with
Ronnie coming over here this afternoon. I mean, she appears to be okay.
But she kinda gives me a creepy feeling. She paid for her order in cash,
large bills. My first thought was that they might be counterfeit but the
guy at the bank says they appear to be fine so I don't know what I was
picking up. Maybe I'm just tense because I don't have a lot of time to get
this order done before she goes to Canada."   Armando began to rub Cass'
shoulders. "You do feel pretty tight up here. Why don't you go wash your
face and brush your teeth and when you're finished I'll give you a back
rub."   "You'd do that for me?"   "After all the massages you've given me?
I think I owe you at least a back rub or two."   "Thanks Armando. And by
the way, I'd like you to stay in here with me tonight."   He kissed her
and gave her a gentle shove in the proper direction. Changing into a pair
of silk pajamas himself, he walked to the other bathroom and got ready for
bed himself. When he met back up with Cass in her bedroom, she handed him
a small bottle of massage oil. Soon she was melting under his slow sure
manipulation of her back muscles.   Thursday morning she woke up to the
sound of the shower running. She rolled over and saw that she was the lone
occupant of the bed. Looking at the clock, she realized it was later than
she normally would have slept, especially with Armando there. She thought
for a few moments and then became aware that she had fallen asleep while
he was rubbing her back so she hadn't set the alarm.   The noise of the
water stopped. Moments later, a damp Armando appeared in her doorway.  
"Good morning," he said cheerfully.   "Morning. What do you want for
breakfast?"   "I had a bagel and a banana before my shower."   "And that's
all? Mr. 'Breakfast-like-a-king'? "   "Okay, I also had a glass of
buttermilk but I've really gotta get movin'. It's gonna be a busy day."  
"Yeah, I guess we did sleep in a little bit this morning."   She watched
him as he dressed, observing the way he clothed his long lean frame. She
sighed as he put his shirt on, covering the hair that graced his chest.
Within minutes he was completely dressed and tying his shoes. Cass got out
of bed and threw a pair of sweats over her pajamas. She slid her feet into
a pair of slippers and walked to the chair he sat in, kneeling before him.
  "How you feelin' this morning?" he asked gently brushing a stray tendril
of hair away from her face.   "A lot better, thanks. So, what's on the
agenda for Saturday?"   "I haven't decided yet. I'll call you tonight and
we'll discuss plans then."   "Great." She stood up as he did and hugged
him briefly. Walking to the front door, she heard the dogs barking wildly
outside. Kissing him with sweet speed and wishing him a good day then
watched as he drove away.    She wandered out to the kennels to see what
had the boys so riled up. What she saw there startled her. It was a snake
coiled on the side of Almak's pen. From her vantage point, she couldn't
tell if it were poisonous or not but she decided not to be foolish about
it. Walking into the building, she got the dogs to their inside pens,
making sure the connecting doors were tightly shut and then called animal
control.    When no one arrived within 30 minutes she wandered a little
closer to see if she could identify what kind of reptile had slithered in.
The sound of a rattle split the air and Cass stopped instantly. The raised
head was definitely diamond shaped and she saw the tail vibrate its
warning. Backing slowly away, she returned to the house, went to her
bedroom and pulled her gun from the nightstand. Making sure it was loaded,
she walked back to the kennel. The snake had not moved from the sun warmed
concrete pad. Though she preferred to wait for the proper authorities to
arrive, she knew that she needed to protect all her animals. Though not
likely to attack the livestock for food, she knew it would strike out in
fear and the results would be just as fatal. So she stood and watched.  
An hour had passed since she'd placed the phone call. Still no one came.
Deciding to take matters in her own hands she approached the run. Aiming
would be difficult. Even coiled the snake was a small target and she
didn't know enough about reptile anatomy to know exactly where to shoot to
do the most damage so she decided to aim for the head. Walking slowly and
quietly to the edge of the run, she flipped up the gate latch with the
barrel of her gun and let the gate swing open. The rattles vibrated even
faster. She knelt on the ground and braced herself taking careful aim.  
She took two deep breaths to steady herself. As she exhaled the second
time, she squeezed the trigger. The sound of the shot was partially masked
by the sound of a vehicle approaching on the gravel driveway. Cass didn't
bother to see who was coming. She kept her eye on the rattlesnake, trying
to discern if she'd hit her target. She didn't see any movement or even
the head but didn't trust that. She picked up a stone and lobbed it
towards the reptile as if she'd been tossing a basketball from the foul
line. Her aim was equally as accurate. The rock falling onto the coiled
mass of snake didn't make it move either.   "Cass, you don't have to
practice on snakes. I said you could come out to the training center
anytime you wanted." She looked up and saw the face of LVPD Captain Mike
Euhler.   "What are you doing here?" she asked. "Isn't this a little out
of your jurisdiction?"   "Yeah, I heard the call to Animal Control go out
on the radio and it gave me an excuse to come over. I take it they haven't
gotten here yet?"   "Would I have been taking target practice if they
had?"   "I suppose not. So you gonna go collect your trophy?"   Cass
shuddered violently. "Are you kidding? I didn't even want to kill it. You
think I want to look at it now that I did? Sorry Mike, but the sight of
snake guts on an empty stomach just doesn't thrill me. However, if you
want to take it home and show it off to the grandkids, be my guest. Or do
we have to wait for Animal Control to come out here and do something
official?"   Mike laughed and walked to his car. She watched as he grabbed
the radio and gave some incomprehensible code to the dispatcher. Seconds
later, they were walking back to the run, picking up his prize.   "You got
something I could put him in?" he asked as he held up the now dead viper.
  Cass wandered into the kennel and got a trash bag for him. She watched
as he slid the snake into the bag.   "Wow! A Western Diamondback."   "Is
that good or bad?" she inquired.   "It's rare. They don't usually get this
far north. Most of what you see around here are the Mojave rattlers."  
Fear began to creep up her spine. "How rare, Mike?"   "Why?"   She took a
deep breath. "What I'm asking is this. Did the snake come here of its own
volition? Or did someone put it here?"   "Which answer is going to make
you feel better?"   "It's not a matter of feeling better. It's a matter of
protecting myself and my business."   "Well, they're not unheard of. In
the ten years I've been out here, there have been a few sightings. There's
probably someone at UNLV who could give you more information."   "Thanks,
Mike. I'll make a few phone calls and see what comes up."   "Have you been
having anymore trouble with vandals?"   "No. That's why the snake made me
nervous."   "Well, for now, my recommendation is would be to keep your
eyes and ears open. It's probably just a fluke that it decided to wander
into your kennel. But as you say, you have a business to think about so
just stay alert."   "I will."   "So other than this, how are things
going?"   "Well, I just got back from a week in Dallas for a knitters
convention and had a great time. And I met a woman on the plane who has
since ordered two custom made sweaters, which I'd better get to work on or
she won't be able to take them to Chicago next month."   "And the
boyfriend?"   "Is just fine. In fact, if you'd been here about an hour
earlier, you'd have met him."   "Glad to see things are going well."    He
walked back to his car and held up the bag he was carrying. "For what it's
worth, Cass, that was one hell of a shot. And if you ever need me for
anything, don't be afraid to call."   "Thanks again, Mike."   She let a
deep sigh escape her lips as the police officer left her driveway. Taking
a moment to get her thoughts in order she looked around the farm for
evidence of any other disturbances. Finding none, she walked back to the
house and started her day.     Paranoia strikes deep. Into your life it
will creep.  It starts when you're always afraid. Step outta line, the man
come and take you away.     Once Armando arrived home, he went straight to
his study and closed the door behind him. Sitting at his desk, he let his
head sink into his hands and sighed. He didn't know how long he sat in
that position. It was only the stiffness of his back that caused him to
straighten up and attend to matters at hand. Turning on his computer, he
stared at the blank screen for several minutes before placing his hands on
the keyboard and starting to type.   It was nearly an hour later when he
finished the document. Feeling somewhat better, he picked up the phone and
called Donnie Scarpetta. He wasn't sure how he was going to word his
request. He just prayed the right words would come to him and that Donnie
would understand.   He tried not to sound tired and paranoid when speaking
to the gentleman. "Donnie, this is Armando," he greeted.   "Armando, I
wasn't expecting to hear from you today. Is everything all right?"  
"Well, not really. I was wondering if you'd mind if I took off and got out
of town for a few days."   Donnie was not expecting to hear this from his
partner. "Armando, what's wrong? Is there trouble with the law?"   "No,
nothin' like that. It's a personal matter."   "Personal eh? Something
going on with the lovely Cassandra?"   Armando wasn't about to tell the
man the whole story; or even half of it. "Oh, you know how it is. We've
known each other a few months and now she's acting like a mother hen. You
know, I'm thirty-eight years old and fully able to take care of myself..."
  "I thought she made you happier than you'd ever been. You two seem so
comfortable with each other."   "She does make me happy but she can get a
little smothering."   "Ah, those long suppressed maternal urges are
kicking in. Remember, I've been married twice. I know how it goes. You
take a few days off. Say, how do you like snow? I've got the vacation
house in Aspen. You can stay there and no one but you and I will know
where you are."   "Thanks Donnie. I really appreciate the offer. And I'll
check in daily. If you need me to come back, don't hesitate to say so."  
"Oh, I think we can get along without you for a few days. There are no big
deals to be done. What are you going to tell Cassandra?"   "I hadn't
gotten that far yet. I wanted to check with you first."   "Well, you just
tell the young lady you're going to check out some property in Colorado.
That way you won't be lying. Would you like to leave tonight? I can have a
jet chartered for you."   "No man, I can't ask you to do that."   "You're
not asking. I'm offering. You tell me when you want to go and I'll make
all your travel arrangements."   "Tomorrow morning will be soon enough."  
"Fine. You take a few days off and get yourself together. Then when you
come back, you make an honest woman of her."   "Thanks, Donnie. I
appreciate it."   "You're welcome."   When Armando hung up the phone, his
first task was to tell Nero to pack some clothes for a few days in the
Rocky Mountains and to bring a big glass of buttermilk to the study. He
spent the rest of the day in his study making arrangements to be gone for
a while. His final call before phoning Cass was to his lawyer telling Tim
he'd be bringing a document to the office on his way to the airport in the
morning.    He returned the receiver to its cradle, preparing to call Cass
and tell her he was leaving. He knew he'd feel better if he could give her
an exact return time but knew that it was impossible to say at this point.
Who knew how long it would take to work through his paranoia, especially
since he had to do it all on his own. Finally he picked up the phone and
dialed the number he knew so well.   She answered on the second ring but
he could tell she was distracted.   "Cass Lindsey."   "Hi honey, calling
just like I promised."   Her voice brightened as she made the recognition.
"Hi sweetie. How's it going?"   "Hell of a day."   "For you too? Gee, I
was hoping it had affected only one of us."   "Why, what's wrong?" he
asked, wondering if this were a good time to be leaving.   "Oh just your
normal, run-of-the-mill bad day." She marveled at her ability to lie to
him. As if finding a rare poisonous snake in your yard was an everyday
occurrence. "How about you?"   "I got bad news. I gotta break our date for
Saturday. Donnie's got some property out in Colorado he wants me to look
at. I'm flying out in the morning."   "Well, I can't say I'm not
disappointed. But I do understand when duty calls."   "You do?"  
"Armando, it's not like I'm some infatuated teenager. I'm an adult and I
do understand that sometimes things like this happen. Remember how you had
to fly out of town right after our first night together?"   "Yeah, as a
matter of fact, I do. I also remember that you used it as a convenient way
to try to ditch me."   Cass, attuned to nuances in voices, heard the
masked anger in Armando's. She'd expected to be teased, not reprimanded
and wondered what was eating at him.   "I didn't know you as well then.
It's different now. And I promise to be here when you return from your
trip. Any idea when that will be?" He was hoping she wouldn't ask that
question. "No idea. I'm not even really sure what I'm walking into. But
I'll call you as soon as I get back."   "Okay. Have a safe trip. Love
you."   "You too, Cass. Good night."   "Good night."   She stared a the
receiver in her hand for a full minute before putting it down. Something
was terribly wrong. She didn't know what but she refused to sit idly by
and watch the man she loved succumb to it. She looked at the ball of yarn
in her hand and decided that Ronnie's sweater could wait until the
morning.   Walking upstairs she thought about what she wanted to do.
Getting ready for bed, she thought about her plan. She rubbed a fragrant
oil on her forehead and temples and then went to bed. Lying on her back,
she visualized Skinner Park in Chicago. It was near the neighborhood where
she and Christopher lived and was one of her favorite places to go and
sketch. The vision of a park bench near the playground was firmly in her
mind as she drifted off to sleep.   Sleep did not come so easily for
Armando. His brain was spinning with images from his past. The voices of
the women he'd loved and lost mocked him, telling him that try as he
might, it would be no different with Cass. His father appeared to him,
telling him, as he'd done so many times before, that he was a loser. His
mother's voice admonished him to stop the lies but he knew he couldn't. He
even saw his nemesis, Frank Zuko, laughing at him, pointing out that the
fine line between the two of them had blurred a little more.   When
morning came, his normally bright hazel green eyes were dull as the most
faded lichen on any fallen tree. His head ached and felt heavy on his
neck. His whole body slumped as he walked to the dining room. Dark circles
under his eyes completed the look of a man who was wrestling with his own
thoughts. Mrs. Petropolis brewed him an extra strong cup of coffee but
that did little to dissipate the mental fog that surrounded him.    He
left the house at eight o'clock, making a short stop at his lawyers with a
plain manila envelope in his hand. He instructed Tim to put it in his
personal file. When the lawyer tried to question him about his itinerary,
Armando waved him off and walked out of the office.   For Cass, the day
began better. Her first business was to work the Corgis and the sheep. She
noticed that Ben worked with his usual precision. Ray, on the other hand
was a little less controlled than normal. With most dogs this would not be
a cause for concern, but Ray never was the most levelheaded herder. And
today he verged on going over the top. Several times she had to speak
sternly to him in addition to her normal whistle commands.   Once the
animals were worked, she returned to her studio to start Ronnie's
sweaters. She didn't do many round-yoked sweaters and looked forward to
the challenge. A few hours later, she stopped for a quick lunch and then
went straight back to work. The pattern had a certain rhythm that once she
got into it, she found made the work go easier. The radio playing softly
in the background helped ease her into an almost Zen-like state.    The
sound of tires on gravel announced Otis' arrival at five o'clock. She
stood up from her chair and stretched her joints and muscles. Walking
stiffly up the stairs, she joined the older man at the kennel.   "What's
wrong with Ray?" he asked.   "I wish I knew. He was the devil's own to try
to work this morning."   She looked at the dog in his kennel. Whereas most
days he would have greeted Otis with perked ears and a wagging hind end to
make up for his lack of tail, today he just laid on the concrete floor and
looked at them forlornly. She looked at the other dogs. They all seemed to
be subdued. She wondered if there'd been another snake and Ray had been
bitten. She picked up the dog and took him to the area reserved for
grooming and minor veterinary treatments.   Once on the table, she gave
him a thorough checking but couldn't find any signs of snakebite. She
checked his temperature and pulse to find that they were both normal.
Looking through her books on dog care, she couldn't pin down any specific
malady that might be causing the change. But after several minutes of the
individualized attention, he seemed to perk up a bit. S he called her
vet's office to see if Dr. Jarvis thought she should bring the dog in.
After a lengthy phone consultation, the veterinarian said she'd stop by
the farm on her way home and take a look at the dogs. She knew Cass didn't
call for trivial things. And if all the dogs were affected, she preferred
to take a look for herself.   Cass chose to pass the time by working with
Otis. Since she had hired the man to take over most of the farm related
chores over a month ago, she hadn't spent as much time with any of the
animals. She wondered if that were the source of the dogs' melancholy.
Though she also wondered that they hadn't exhibited any symptoms before
this.   Dr. Sonnet Jarvis arrived just as they had finished up the chores.
She gave each of the dogs a thorough examination and, like Cass, couldn't
find any obvious problems. Cass mentioned her suspicion that they were
reacting to the change in the routine. The veterinarian pondered the
possibility but said if that were the case, they'd most likely have
reacted just after the switch. She told Cass what signs to watch for and
then suggested that perhaps it would do them all good if the dogs spent
the rest of the evening in the house.     Time we stop, hey, what's that
sound? Everybody look, what's goin' down.     Armando tried to enjoy the
trip to Aspen. He had to admit that the view of the Rocky Mountains
afforded by the plane was spectacular. A car and driver awaited him at the
airport and took him directly to the Scarpetta's mountain retreat. A young
man called T.J. greeted him at the door.   "Mr. Scarpetta called ahead and
asked that I have the place ready for you."   "Yeah, thanks T.J."  
Armando looked closely at the young man. He appeared to be in his mid to
late twenties. His dark brown hair and deep blue eyes reminded Armando of
a certain Mountie back in Chicago.   "Do you ski, Mr. Langostini?"   "No,
I never got into winter sports much, other than watching hockey and
cheering for the Rangers."   "Well, if you're interested, I'm a ski
instructor and would be happy to teach you."   "Thanks T.J., but I'm not
planning on getting out much while I'm here. I just want to kick back,
relax and let the world spin without me for a few days."   "Certainly sir.
Well, the refrigerator and the cupboards are well stocked. There's a
vehicle in the garage if you wish to go into town. And if you need
anything, my number is written down by the phones. Don't hesitate to call
me."   "I don't think I'll need anything but I'll call if something comes
up."   "Oh yes, and when you're ready to return to Las Vegas, just let me
know and I'll arrange for your transportation."   "Thanks."   "I'll see
you later," the young man said as he left.   Armando pulled of his coat
and took a good look around the place. This may have been a vacation home
for Donnie but it certainly didn't lack any of the amenities he was used
to at home. Armando turned on the stereo, lit the fireplace and sat in a
large wingback chair to stare somewhat vacantly into the flames.   His
thoughts wandered as he knew they would to Cass. He couldn't believe he'd
let her get so close in such a short amount of time. He was normally more
cautious about women. He thought about how things would be different
between them if he'd still been Ray Vecchio back in Chicago.   Ray Vecchio
would have played the "Italian Stallion" role. Chased her, wined and dined
her, perhaps even bedded her. But he would not let his heart get involved
so quickly. Even if he'd had feelings for her, it would have been a while
before he let them show. He had learned his lesson. Getting involved only
led to heartache. His ex-wife Angie, Suzanne Chapin, Irene Zuko, Casey
Sinclair, they were all evidence that when it came to maintaining a
relationship, Ray Vecchio didn't have what it took.   So why was it so
different now? What was so special about Armando Langostini that made him
feel like this one could go the distance? He thought about the duality of
his situation and wondered how much he'd changed by becoming the mob
soldier. He kept telling himself that Armando Langostini was just a role
he could assume at will just like one might put on a suit of clothes. But
he knew that analogy was flawed. He, more than most people, knew the
reality behind the clich that 'the clothes make the man'. Dressed in one
of his silk Armani suits he was a far different person than he was here
dressed in jeans and the sweater Cass had given him for Christmas. And it
didn't matter what name he went by when he was wearing either outfit.   He
sighed deeply. It was one thing to get away and try to work out your
problem. It was quite another thing to say what the problem was. And
that's where he was stuck. Was the difficulty with him? With Cass? With
the job? Which job? The FBI work or the mob work? He felt a headache creep
up just behind his eyes.   "Well," he said to himself. "Time to see just
how well stocked this place is." He found aspirin in the downstairs
bathroom medicine cabinet and then wandered out to the kitchen to make
some coffee. As T. J. had promised, the cupboards were well stocked.   A
few minutes later, with a steaming mug of coffee in hand, he walked to the
large windows that over-looked a near-by ski resort. He could see that
they'd be very busy this weekend. It was only early afternoon on Friday
and already there were hordes of people checking in. He saw people
hustling to and from their cars, some wearing sweaters with intricate
patterns knitted into them and thoughts of Cass instantly sprung to his
mind.   Sleepiness washed over him in a wave. He looked at the coffee he'd
prepared to try to keep exhaustion at bay and then realized that there was
no real reason for him to stay awake if he didn't want to. He was on
vacation, damnit. If he wanted to take a nap in the middle of the day, why
shouldn't he.   He retired to the master bedroom. Finding a light blanket
draped over the back of a chair, he stretched out on the bed, covered
himself and let fatigue take over, wishing he had someone to talk over his
problems with.   He found himself sitting on a concrete bench in Dailey
Plaza, downtown Chicago. It was warm for Chicago in February, he thought.
  "Yeah, I didn't think you'd be able to take a normal Chicago winter now
that you're used to the desert heat."   His head whipped around to look
behind him. The woman who stood there looked like Cass but different. Her
hair was short. She was far thinner, without the curves he loved so much.
And she was dressed in a far more hip style than he could ever imagine
Cass wearing.   "That's because I'm not the Cassandra Bartholomew Lindsey
you know."   "Then who are you? And how do you know what I'm thinking?"  
"Who am I? Now there's an interesting question coming from a man living a
dual life," she replied somewhat sarcastically. "I think the more
important question is 'Who are you'?"   Armando shook his head and looked
around once again. People were passing by but didn't seem to see him or
the woman.   "Would you please explain to me what's going on here?" he
whined.   "Sure. Are you familiar with the many worlds theory of quantum
mechanics?"   The blank stare on his face was answer enough for her.  
"Okay, ever take a physics class?"   The blank stare remained and the
woman sighed.   "Okay, let's start with the basics. Have you ever heard of
parallel universes?"   "Yeah, I've heard about it. But I never put much
stock in it."   "The gist of the many worlds theory is this. Whenever you
come to a major decision point in your life, you turn a certain direction.
But somewhere in a parallel universe, you turn the other direction."   She
could tell he still wasn't catching on. "For example, there's the Ray
Vecchio that's divorced from his wife Angie. That's the one you probably
know. But in another universe, Ray and Angie stayed married, worked out
their problems and raised a whole pack of kids. Then that divorced Ray
Vecchio had the opportunity to go to Las Vegas to work under cover. One
Ray did, but in another universe, he stayed in Chicago and continued to
work with the Mountie.   "Are you following me so far?"   "Yeah, I think
so."   "That's why I'm not sure who you are. And the fact that one Ray
turned into Armando really complicates matters. I was kind of afraid that
I'd found the real Armando."   "I'm that Ray but you're right, leading a
dual life has really been tough."   "I can see that. And I thought it was
hard just being one of the many Cassandra's."   "So which Cass are you?"  
"I'm the Cass you used to see with Benton; the one who loved your Riviera;
the one who dug her heels in and stayed in Chicago when Christopher went
to Nevada."   "And you know about the other Cass?"   "Sure, I know all the
other Cass's. That's the beauty of the many worlds' theory. With a little
practice, it's possible to visit your other selves."   "So why am I
visiting you? Why aren't I visiting one of my other selves?"   "Oh, you're
not visiting me. I came to visit you. But I wasn't crazy about Aspen and I
figured we both might be more comfortable here. But if you're feeling more
like Armando than Ray, we can go back to Colorado."   "No, this is fine.
But why did you come visit me? Why not the Cass that moved to Las Vegas?"
  "Because she's just as confused as you are."   "Really?" The thought
seemed to cheer him up a little.   "Yeah, you see while she went to the
desert and built a wall around her heart, I stayed here and made a life.
And in that time, I've had more experience with men than she has."   "Okay
but that still doesn't explain why you're visiting me."     "Oh, well Cass
came to visit me last night. Like I said, she's just as confused as you
are."   "What does she have to be confused about?"   "Same things you
are."   "Oh, poor girl," he said sympathetically   "Well, not the exact
same things. She came to me last night to get a little advice on how to
successfully maintain your relationship. Not that I'm any great expert on
maintaining them. But hey, I did what I could for her."   "Which was?"  
"None of your business. I gave her the benefit of my experience but that
doesn't mean she's gonna act on it. And if she does, you don't need to
know about it in advance."     "So could you be a little more specific on
what's confusing her?"   "Simple. She doesn't know who you are. See,
there's a little piece of her that recognized you as the Ray who left
Chicago. But she has forced herself to accept you as Armando. That's all
well and good except for that little piece that wants to know why you're
living a lie and how it's going to affect her. When you called her last
night to say you were going out of town, she saw a 'big dark cloud of
negative energy', as she called it swallowing you up. And that on top of
the rattlesnake really scared her."   "Rattlesnake? What rattlesnake?"  
"Oh, she didn't tell you? She found a rattlesnake in Almak's kennel
yesterday morning. The variety of snake is not common to the area so she
was kinda freaked out that maybe somebody was trying to warn her away from
you. Then you tell her you're going out of town and that you're 'not even
really sure what you're walking into'. Can you see why she'd be paranoid?"
  "Yeah, I can. So she's confused and paranoid. She visits you. You visit
me and now what. Are you gonna go back and tell her we talked?"   "Oh no.
She doesn't even know I'm here. You see, I'm kinda tuned in to you through
her so when you wanted someone to talk over your problems with, I figured
I'd give it a shot. So what's up?"   "You don't know? You mean after all
this talk about alternate universes and out of body experiences and you
being tuned in to me and you don't know what's up?"   "I know what I think
is wrong. But that may not be your perception of the problem."   "Please,
share your perception with me."   "The problem, as I see it, is that you
and Cass don't really trust each other. Now, admittedly, she has reason
not to trust you. But why don't you trust her?"   "Give me one good reason
why I should."   "Has she ever lied to you?"   "Yes."   "She has?"  
"Yeah, the first time we met. She gave me a fake name. She said later it
was because she didn't plan on seeing me again after that night."  
"Really?" The other Cass laughed. "Good girl. I didn't think she had it in
her."   "And you condone this?"   "Ray, you lived in the big city once.
You, of all people, should know how the game is played. Guys do it all the
time."     "Yeah, I suppose," he admitted grudgingly.   "Other than that,
has she ever lied to you?"   "Not that I know of. But Edward says there
are some details of her life that he found out about that she's never
mentioned."   "Edward?"   "My boss at the FBI."   "Like what kind of
details?"   "I don't know. I didn't read the background report that
closely."   "And Edward didn't mention any specifics?"   "No."   "Then how
important could they be? Did it ever occur to you that these 'details' are
just little bits of trivia that she finds so unremarkable that they don't
need mentioning? Okay, so Grandma Lindsey was six months pregnant with dad
when she and Grandpa got married. Mom didn't even know about that until we
brought it to her attention about ten years ago.    "So we left the church
after propositioning the priest. And we broke Jerry Lloyd's arm when he
tried to drag us into the boys locker room to do God only knows what. And
the lawyer we worked for after high school had some pretty sick fetishes.
Are these things that really affect your relationship?"   "No, I suppose
not. And she did tell me about the priest."   "See? She tells you one
little lie, for a very good reason I might add, and now you want to hold
it over her head for the rest of her life. Yet you live a big whopping lie
every day and Cass accepts it. Why are you so damn paranoid?"   "Because
it's in my job description!"   "Oh so Cass is just part of your job. No
emotional attachment. Just a convenient ornament for your arm. Someone
there so the Scarpetta's don't try to fix you up with one of their
relatives." Her voice was full of scorn.   "No, that's not what I mean,"
he insisted.   "Then say what you mean."   "Look, you don't know what it's
like being a cop undercover."   "We don't?"   "No. Just being a police
officer makes you a little extra suspicious. Going undercover means you
can't trust anyone but yourself. I went to a masquerade ball. I met a girl
who I like. But then I got all these scenarios running through my mind.
First, she could be an undercover cop who doesn't know about the real me
and is just trying to bring down Armando. Second, she could be working for
the mob trying to make me as a cop. Third, she could be an agent who knows
who I am and is watching to see if I blow my cover."   "Or she could be
just a woman who believes that you're Ray Vecchio. And a woman who
believes that, for reasons known only to him and God, Ray Vecchio is
pretending to be Armando Langostini."   "Are you telling me that all my
scenarios are wrong?"   "I'm not telling you anything. In the first place,
it's not for me to tell. You have to make up your own mind. Secondly,
there's no guarantee you'll remember any of this conversation. It's the
first time I've tried contacting someone who isn't another version of me.
Obviously, it can be done but who knows if either of us will have any
memory of it."   "So I'm no better off than when I started," he stated
glumly.   "Maybe. Maybe not."   "Hey, could you check in on my family?
Make sure they're doin' okay?"   "They're fine, Ray. Cass asked me last
night to check on them. They miss you a lot. They're doing a good job of
accepting the other Ray but you're the one that's in their hearts."   The
sunbeam that had been shining on them through their conversation began to
dim as if a cloud were passing by.    "Oops. Time for me to go," the
alternate Cass stated.   "Will I ever see you again?" he asked as his
vision slowly began to fade with the decreasing sunlight.   "Anything's
possible. But now that you've got learned the possibilities, try
contacting your other selves. It'll probably be easier."   Her voice grew
faint as his vision faded. He really believed that his spirit had left his
body because now he could feel it entering again. He forced himself awake
and looked around the room trying to find paper and pen to write with. He
wanted to get all the details down before the memory faded.   He began
scribbling what he could remember of the conversation. His hand stopped
writing in the middle of a word. Something very specific came back to him.
When he said she didn't know what it was like to be an undercover cop, she
replied in the plural. 'We don't?' she'd said as if she were speaking
about his Cass as well. She'd used the plural before when talking about
things that had happened before Chicago. Why would either of them know
anything about undercover police work?   He went back to the living room
to find his briefcase. Perhaps there was something in Cass' background
check that would answer the question along with many others. Pulling
documents and file folders from the leather bag, he couldn't find the one
that Edward had given him. Then he realized that he'd lift it at home
purposely trying to put Cass out of his mind. He thought about calling the
O.C.B but knew it would be too risky. Sighing heavily, he looked at the
clock and realized that he'd slept away the afternoon. His stomach rumbled
causing him to also realize that he'd never eaten lunch and now it was
time for dinner. He went to bed early that night and slept soundly. No
dreams or out-of-body visitors disturbed his sleep. When he woke up
Saturday morning, he felt better than he had since Cass went to Texas.  
The persistent ring of the phone awakened Cass from a sound sleep. Knowing
that she would have Saturday night to work she'd stayed up late Friday
night watching an old movie on television.   "Hello?" she mumbled into the
phone receiver.   "Cassandra?"   "Yeah."   "Dear, are you all right?"  
"Yeah mom. I'm fine."   "Why aren't you up yet? It's after eleven
o'clock."   Cass pried both eyes open and looked at the display on her
alarm while making a fast mental calculation.   "Mom, it's after eleven
where you live. I assure you it's much earlier here."   "Oh dear, I'm
sorry. I wasn't thinking about the time difference."   "It's okay mom.
What do you need?"   "We just got word last night that Craig's been
accepted into the police academy."   "Curtis' son?"   "Well, what other
Craig would I be calling about?"   "Wow, so we've got a third generation
Lindsey boy going into law enforcement. So when does he go?"   "Well, he
won't graduate from college until May. But he'll go into the first class
available after that."   "That's great. My nephew, a police officer. Send
Curtis my congratulations and I'll get a card in the mail to Craig this
week."   "I'll do that. So what are you doing today?"   "Well, my original
plan was to sleep late and then take the dogs out for a long hike. They've
been a little out of sorts the past couple of days so I thought this would
be a good way to get back in their good graces after being in Dallas for a
week. But it looks like the sleeping late part is blown to hell now."   "I
truly am sorry dear. But if you wanted to sleep, why didn't you just turn
the ringer off and let your voice mail answer?"   "I was hoping Armando
would call this morning."   "Oh, you two have plans for tonight?"   "No,
he had to fly to Colorado yesterday on business. He sounded funny when I
talked to him Thursday night so I was hoping he'd touch base with me and
let me know how things were going."   "You're worried about him."   "Yeah,
and I probably shouldn't be but you know how I get. Christopher was right.
When it comes to the people I love, I turn into a mother hen."   "If it's
any consolation dear, it's genetic."   "Thanks. I was afraid of that," she
said with a gloomy tone of voice.   "Well, I'm sure that if anything bad
happened, you'd be notified. After all, you said that his partner's son
had been out to the farm so they obviously know how to contact you in case
of an emergency."   "Yeah, you're right. I'm probably worrying for
nothing."   "Well, I'll ring off now so you can take my grand-dogs for
their hike. I'm sure you'll feel better after you've eaten and gotten some
exercise."   "Thanks for the words of wisdom, Mom. And make sure to tell
Curtis I'm really happy for him and Craig."   "I will dear. Good-bye."  
"Bye."   Cass rolled over and thought about her mother's advice. Though it
seemed so simple, she was probably right. Fresh air, good food and a
change of scenery were probably just what she needed. She showered and
dressed first before eating breakfast. Once her belly was full, she began
to pack for their hike. Almak had a backpack that would carry food and
water for him and the Corgis. She would carry her own supplies in a fanny
pack.   The dogs greeted her with excited barks as she drove her truck out
to the kennel. Whatever mood swing had affected them the day before seemed
to have dissipated. She loaded their kennel crates into the bed of the
truck and then loaded the dogs into the crates. She made one last check to
be sure the crates were secured, hopped into the cab and took off for
Spring Mountain Ranch State Park.    Armando spent the day logged onto the
Internet doing research. His experience the day before with the other Cass
had piqued his interest and he wanted to know if he'd really had an
out-of-body experience or if it had just been a figment of his
imagination; a scenario constructed by his desire to talk to someone about
his problems. After several hours of sitting in front of a computer he had
little to show for it but some stiff aching muscles and a severe case of
eyestrain. He didn't expect to find much in the way of scholarly research
on the subject but the anecdotal evidence both pro and anti was
overwhelming and pretty evenly balanced. He still wasn't sure that what
he'd had was a true out-of-body experience but he knew enough to try to
recreate it.   Cass and the boys returned to the farm at dinnertime. She
felt much better for having taken the day off to go hiking. Her muscles
ached slightly from the exertion but she knew a warm bath with some
eucalyptus and peppermint oil mixed with some Epsom salts would help ease
the pain. She took care of the dogs first, making sure they each got a
brief rub down and checked for any parasites they might have picked up.
Once she was certain they were okay, she went to the barn and took care of
the animals there as well. Going in the house, she first checked her
voicemail and found no messages waiting for her. She wandered to her
bathroom and began to draw her bath. While the water was running, she
wandered to the office, turned on the computer and checked her e-mail.
Scanning the contents of the in-box carefully, she found no messages from
Armando, only the digests from the spinners, weavers and knitters lists
she subscribed to. She left the computer on, knowing she would return to
it later, and wandered back to her bathroom.   She sank slowly into the
warm, soft, fragrant water and turned on the jets to let the water massage
away the stiffness in her muscles and joints that she knew would turn to
an ache if she let it. She was glad she'd taken the dogs for the hike. She
realized that over the past few months she'd let herself slowly slip out
of shape. Whereas at one time she never went a day without at least a half
hour of aerobic exercise, she now might go as much as a week. Part of it
had come from letting Otis take over most of the farm chores. In freeing
her from that task, she had also allowed herself more time for sedentary
activities and that would have to change. But for the moment she was
content to lie in her whirlpool tub and relax.   She pondered the fact
that that she'd not heard from in almost forty-eight hours. Since
Thanksgiving, never had a day gone by that he hadn't contacted her, even
if it was just a quick phone call or a virtual greeting card to her e-mail
account. Even when she'd been in Dallas for a week, she could always
expect to hear from him. What was different about this trip?   Cass
thought about the fact that he'd left town so quickly after their less
than pleasant Wednesday night. She wondered about the timing. Yet, when he
called, he had made mention her trying to ditch him after their first
night together. And he had extracted a promise from her to not do it
again. So why did she get the feeling he was trying to run away from her?
She thought back to his actions when he'd left Thursday morning. He'd
certainly been edgier than she was used to seeing.    After a 20 minute
soak she still had no answers, only speculation. Not knowing what else to
do, she chose to eat a light supper and go downstairs to work in her
studio. The day before she had finished the front and back of Ronnie's
first sweater. She wanted to get the sleeves done tonight so she would
have all day Sunday to put it together. She flipped through her music
collection looking for something to play while she knit that would be
stimulating but not distracting. Picking an Ed Van Fleet CD, she put it in
the stereo and set it for repeat so that she could have constant music and
then sat down at her knitting frame. The pattern for the sweater was still
clipped to the steno stand she had clamped to the worktable. Scanning the
computer-generated sheet quickly she found the starting point for the
sleeves. Cass threaded her carriage and set her needles then began to
knit. Once again she fell into the rhythm of the pattern and didn't notice
how much time had passed until she finished the second sleeve and looked
at the clock. It was nearly midnight, yet she wasn't really in the mood to
go to bed.   Turning off the stereo and lights in her studio, she climbed
the stairs to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. She knew
that alcohol was no way to guarantee a good night's sleep but for some
reason, she didn't want chamomile and valerian tea. Knowing the night
would be chilly, she threw a sweater on and took her bottle out to the
deck. Sitting on one of the Adirondack chairs she looked up at the sky. It
was cloud covered and no stars shone through. She tried to cast her
consciousness and see what it brought back to her but there was only
emptiness. No good, no bad, just nothingness for as far out as she could
project. And then the lyrics to a song her brother Curtis had favored
popped into her head.   Stop children, what's that sound? Everybody look
what's going down.    As Armando prepared for bed Saturday night, he
thought about everything he'd read during the day. He tried to discount
all the negative information and focus just on the positive. On some level
he instinctively knew that if he paid any attention to the naysayers, he
might as well not try. Digging through his travel bag he found the blend
of oils that Cass had put together for him to help him relax. Following
her instructions, he rubbed the mixture into his temples and over his
forehead. Finally ready to call it a night, he donned his favorite silk
pajamas and went to bed.   Counting backwards from one hundred and
breathing in the scented oil he concentrated on his old desk at the 27th
Precinct. He visualized it just has he had last seen it before he'd been
contacted by the FBI, with piles of papers in manila folders strewn all
over it. He tried to imagine it from the viewpoint of someone seated in
the chair beside his desk. Soon he was there.   "So, who are you?" Ray
asked looking up from the mountain of reports he'd been working on for
some time.   "I'm you," Armando answered. "Or at least I used to be. Last
spring I became Armando Langostini and went to Las Vegas."   "So what? Now
you're telling me you want to come back and be me again?"   "Well, as a
matter of fact, I do. But that's not why I'm here."   "So why are you
here?"   "I'm lookin' for answers," Armando admitted.   "Well, I never
claimed to have any but you're welcome to what I got. Shoot."   "Do you
remember Cass Lindsey?"   Ray thought for a moment. "No, can't say that I
do. Somebody we arrested?"   "No, she was a neighbor of Fraser's. Medium
height, thin, short hair, cut like that figure skater we liked."  
"Dorothy Hamil?"   "Yeah, that's the one. Hair cut like that but more the
color of Suzanne Chapin."   "The ATF agent."   "Exactly. Think Suzanne
with a Dorothy Hamil cut but thinner and a little trendier dresser."  
"Okay, I'm thinking but it still doesn't ring any bells. Should it?"  
"Well, she knows us."   "Oh? And you've determined this how?"   "She moved
to Las Vegas. I met her there. She knows I'm not really Armando
Langostini. She confronted me with the information the second time we met.
Says she named her two Pembroke Welsh Corgis Benny and Ray after him and
me...you...us...whatever."   Ray thought some more but still didn't come
up with anything. "Sorry, no memory. When were they neighbors?"   "Near as
I can tell she lived there before he moved in and she'd have left about
the time of the Victoria incident." Just the mention of her name made both
men shudder.   "Well, since I didn't split off from you 'til after then,
there's no reason I would remember her if you don't."   "Yeah, I know but
I was hoping maybe it was just some sort of temporary memory lapse. You
know, kinda like a brain cramp or something."   "Sorry I can't help you,
but why did you want to know?"   "We've been seeing each other and it just
spooks me that she knows me and I don't remember her. I started thinking
maybe I'm not the only one who's lying about their true identity."   "So
you came back here hoping I'd say, 'Oh yeah, she's the girl who lived in
apartment 2J.' and then everything would be better?"   "It was worth a
shot."   "Sorry, no help here. But hey, at least you've got a girl, which
is better than I can say right now."   "So you're tellin' me you're still
having the same bad luck?"   "Yeah, ever since Casey, no one's seemed
right."   "Boy, I know the feeling."   "Well, I wish I could help you some
more but I can see it's time for me to go."   Ray stood up, put on his
overcoat and began to walk to the Squad Room door.   "One other thing?"
Armando called out.   "What?"   "Can you tell Fraser I'll be lookin' for
him?"   "Sure."    Once again he experienced the now familiar feeling of
his spirit re-entering his body. He let himself drift completely up to
consciousness and then opened his eyes. He looked at the clock and
realized he'd been out longer than he realized. He thought about trying to
contact Fraser but decided against it. He had plenty of time to try it
again. Rolling over on his side, he punched up the pillow and drifted off
to sleep.   Time we stop, hey, what's that sound? Everybody look, what's
goin' down.   A soft breeze against her cheek awakened Cass. She realized
that she had fallen asleep on her deck. Moving stiffly from sitting in the
low-slung chair so long, she staggered to her bedroom. Not even bothering
to change her clothes, she laid down on her bed and fell asleep again.  
Sunday morning found Armando attending Mass at a nearby Catholic Church.
St. Joseph's cathedral reminded him of the parish he'd grown up in back in
Chicago. The architecture was very similar even with the Stations of the
Cross incorporated into the stained glass windows. When he went to the
alter to take communion, something about the priest seemed very familiar
to him though, for the life of him, he didn't know why. The few strands of
gray hair at the man's temples conflicted with his youthful good looks.
After the service, he took a moment to look again at the structure and
reminisce about the church of his youth. Walking out the door, he stopped
to greet the priest.   "Good morning," the man said with a wide welcoming
smile. "I didn't recognize you when you came forward for communion. Are
you new to the area or just visiting?"   "Armando Langostini, just
visiting for the weekend," he replied.   "Nice to meet you. I'm John
Harrison."   Recognition began to tickle the back of Armando's brain.
"Have you been the priest here long?" he asked.   "Oh, about ten months.
Before that I was at a much smaller church in northern Indiana."  
"Really? I used to live in northern Indiana," he lied. "What town?"  
"LaPorte. Did you live near there?"   "No, but I know where you're talking
about. Well, it was nice to meet you and if I'm ever back in the area,
I'll be visiting again."   "Good to meet you, too."   Armando whistled to
himself as he walked back to the car that had been provided for him. He
wondered what Cass' reaction would be when he told her that he'd met the
priest she had once propositioned. He considered sending her an e-mail
once he got back to the house but decided against it. He knew that if he
did, she would send a reply. And once he started a correspondence with
her, it would interfere with what he was trying to accomplish by getting
away. He instead chose to eat lunch at a nice restaurant and then go back
to the house to watch basketball on the big screen TV.   Cass woke up late
Sunday morning. Stretching mightily she rolled out of bed and stood up
slowly. Her stomach rumbled hungrily and she realized that she had slept
much later than she had planned. For once, a shower was not her first
order of business for the day. Instead, she chose to go straight to the
kitchen and get something to eat. She felt a little weak in the knees and
figured that she needed to get her blood sugar level raised.    Having
consumed a small feast, she then showered, dressed and went down to her
studio to grab the pieces of Ronnie's sweater. The weatherman had forecast
a bright sunny day so she chose to work on the project outside. Leaving
the sweater parts on a chair on her deck, she sauntered over to the kennel
to let the dogs out. She knew they would appreciate the chance to sun
themselves on the deck with her. Sitting down in a lounge chair she
carefully stitched the pieces of the sweater together. Round yoke sweaters
were always difficult because the patterning had to match perfectly. One
of the reasons she chose to work outside was so she would have good
lighting to see her work.    She stopped to take regular breaks,
stretching her back and neck and refocusing her eyes from the small
stitches. Occasionally she would stop altogether and pet the dogs for a
few minutes or toss a ball for them to chase. Several hours later, the
sweater was finished and she cheerfully took it back downstairs. She knew
she would still have to wash and block it but decided to wait until she
had the second one finished before she did that.   Looking around the
studio and then at her watch she contemplated what she should do next. She
could start on the next sweater. Now that she  was back in the groove of
doing the pattern the second one should go even faster. She knew she had
about 5 hours of working time before she'd need to call it a night. She
checked her e-mail account and still not finding anything from Armando she
sighed heavily. She decided to eat an early supper and start on the second
sweater for Ronnie.    Climbing back up the stairs, she headed for her
kitchen and looked at what she had to fix. Nothing really tempted her. And
the truth was she wasn't particularly hungry. She decided to make herself
a large orange, peach, mango smoothie and head back to the studio. One she
was there she sat listlessly in front of her knitting frame and stared
blankly at the pattern. She wasn't sure how long she sat that way before a
tear rolled down her cheek. It was followed by another and then the
floodgates opened and soon she was sobbing openly. Mindless of the sharp
edges of the frame, she put her head down and simply let the tears flow.
She hadn't felt so abandoned since Christopher had died. She raised her
head and gave herself a stern shake but it did nothing to stop her sobs.
She couldn't understand why she was so upset. Armando had only been gone
for three days. But that was three days longer than she'd gone without
some sort of contact from him. For a moment she wondered if something had
happened to him. But she knew that the Scarpetta's would inform her of any
bad news. She could only assume that where ever he was and what ever he
was doing, she was not on his mind.    She continued to cry until her
throat was raw and her sides ached from her sobs. She understood now why
Christopher had chosen not to have another companion after David had died.
And she also admitted to herself that it was the same reason she'd kept
free of romantic entanglements. It hurt too much.    Knowing it would be
useless to try to knit, she went back to her computer and decided to just
get caught up on her e-mail digests. She could read about what her fellow
knitters, weavers and spinners were up to and not have to think about men.
It proved to be the best thing for her to do as there were many success
stories from people just beginning to learn the fiber arts. Some were
people she'd met in Dallas. Others she only knew of through the Internet.
But she felt a connection to them anyway.   When her in-box was empty she
stared at the monitor for a moment. Her hands, seemingly on their own,
began to compose a letter to Armando.    'I hope your trip is going well,'
she wrote. 'Things have been quiet here at the farm. Took the boys for a
hike out at Spring Mountain Ranch yesterday. We were all a little stiff
when we came back. I finished the first of Ronnie's two sweaters today.
I'll start the second one tomorrow. Now that I know the pattern so well,
it will go faster. With any luck, I'll have it done by Wednesday. I think
she'll be happy to have them a week earlier than I had estimated.   Well,
must go. I want to make one last check on the boys before I go to bed.
Look forward to seeing you when you return.'   She re-read the letter
three times before deciding that it sounded neutral enough. Taking a deep
breath, she clicked the send button and watched the virtual envelope fly
off her screen. Sighing once more, she shut down the computer and left the
studio to climb the stairs and go to the kennel.   Armando sat once again
in the wingback chair in front of the fireplace. He wondered how he was
going to find Benny in his dreams. Finding himself had been easy. He just
went to the police station. Finding the other Cass had been a pure fluke
since he wasn't really looking for her. But Benny could be difficult.
There were so many obvious places to look. Armando looked at his watch and
calculated the time difference back to Chicago. Most likely at this hour
he would be at his apartment as opposed to the consulate. However, he
could be out with some alternate Ray on a stake out. Well, he'd try the
apartment first and see what happened.   He repeated his ritual of the
night before, including anointing himself with the fragrant oil. Counting
down from 100 he visualized the interior of Fraser's apartment. He could
see it as clearly as if he'd just been there. The place was neat as a pin,
not a single thing out of place, not even a Mountie. He sighed, figuring
that he'd either have to hang out here for hours on end or else go looking
for the Canadian. A noise at the door made him spin around. He was taken
aback by the sight of Fraser walking in clad in just a white towel.  
"Ray," he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Did you forget something?"
  "No," Armando answered. "Why?"   "Well, you just left a half hour ago. I
figured you'd be home by now. And what have you done to your hair?"   "My
hair?" he asked as he ran a hand over his close-cropped scalp and looked
in the mirror that was hanging on the wall. "Fraser, my hair looks the
same as it has for the last eighteen months."   "It most certainly does
not. In fact, just yesterday morning you were explaining to me about the
statement your hairstyle makes. 'Deadly and dangerous, but not afraid to
cry' was your description if I'm not mistaken. Now I realize you said you
needed a new style but where in Chicago did you find a barber at this hour
of the night?" Suddenly it dawned on Armando which Benny he'd found. It
was the one who was still new to the Windy City. In fact, from his
description of their conversation, Armando could just about pinpoint
exactly when he'd landed. And there was no way he could ask this Benny the
questions that were on his mind.   "Look Benny, my hair isn't the issue
right now."   "Well then, what is?"   Armando thought a few moments. "Have
you ever heard of the multi-worlds theory of quantum physics?"   "As a
matter of fact, I was reading about that just before I came to Chicago. It
states that whenever we reach a fork in the road to our personal
development, where we turn one direction, in a parallel universe, we turn
the other direction."   "Right. Then you also know that some people
believe that it's possible to visit their mirror images in those alternate
universes."   "Well of course Ray. How do you think I know all the things
I do? I often visit myself in those alternate universes."   'Too bad no
one ever warned you about Victoria,' he thought.   "Well, at the moment,
I'm looking for a different you. One that's a few years into the future."
  "Oh, try the cabin. I understand that in the future, I'll be spending
quite a bit of time there."   "Thanks Benny."   Armando felt himself float
away. He focused his mind on the interior of the cabin he'd visited after
being caught by a bomb blast in a trap set for them by Francis Drake, the
man who'd shot Benny's father. And this time he visualized Benny in the
cabin, an older Benny than the one he'd known when he first met the
Mountie.   A man clad in jeans, a thermal top and a flannel shirt greeted
him from the fireplace. "Welcome back, Ray."   "Thanks Benny."   "I was
wondering if I was going to be the one you visited."   "You were expecting
me?"   "Well, you told one of the Rays to tell me. So he told the Benton
Fraser he works with and the word got spread from there."   "Yeah, well,
the word didn't make it to the last Benton Fraser I met."   "One of the
younger ones?"   "Yeah, the one that had just saved a baby from being sold
on the black market."   "Well, you have to understand, most of us didn't
know we could contact anyone other than another version of ourselves. Dad
found out that first Christmas I was in Chicago. Of course, he was really
more of a ghost than an alternate reality. Though if you think about it,
some cultures believe that death is just an alternate reality."   "Look
Fraser, I'd love to sit here and discuss philosophy with you but I got
more important questions. And I know we're not gonna have a lot of time to
get them answered."   "Certainly Ray. What do you want to know?"   "Do you
remember a neighbor named Cass Lindsey?"   "Cass?" he replied
thoughtfully. "Yes, I remember Cass. She and her brother lived in
apartment 2J. What about her?"   "How well did you know her?"   Fraser
smiled at the memory of his meeting with Cass and their subsequent
relationship. A slight blush colored his cheeks. "Pretty well. Why?"   "Do
you think she could be a spy?"   The Canadian looked startled. "Cass?
What's this all about?"   "Do you know who I am? I mean, which Ray I am?"
  "I'm not entirely certain."   "I'm the Ray Vecchio that in the spring of
1997 went to Las Vegas to work undercover for the FBI. I met this woman
named Cass Lindsey who says she knows us from when she lived in Chicago."
  "Oh, you're the one she wrote about in her Christmas letter."  
"Christmas letter?"   "Yes, she sent me some things she knitted and
tatted. In her letter she said she had met someone and that I'd probably
like him. I should have known it was you."   "So, do you think she could
be a spy? You see, she says she knows us but I certainly don't know her.
Should I?"   "Well, I know you've seen her. You even commented on her a
few times."   "I did?"   "Yes, there was one time, not long after I'd
moved into the apartment, that you came by and took me grocery shopping.
Diefenbaker had just knocked her down the steps and I helped her up. She
kissed my cheek before she went on about her errands. And then two days
later you suggested that I'd had carnal knowledge of her when all I did
was stay with her while she was ill."   Armando thought back. He had
witnessed so many women, including his sister, throw themselves at the
Mountie that they all sort of blurred together. He tried to remember the
specific time Fraser mentioned but had only the vaguest recollection.  
"You know, she loved your car." Fraser said bringing his friend's
attention back to the present.   "She did?" The other Cass had said the
same thing but he'd just passed it off as being of no consequence.   "Yes,
I think she would have loved you too if things had been different back
then."   "Different how?"   Benton thought for a moment and decided, for
once, not to tell his friend the complete truth.   "Oh, you know. Had she
not been taking care of a terminally ill relative. That kind of a thing."
  He left out the fact that he and Cass had shared a special bond, forged
that first weekend together. One that could have become permanent if it
hadn't been for Christopher...and Victoria.   "So you don't think she
could be a spy?"   "Ray, what are you talking about? Why do you keep
asking if she could be a spy?"   Armando sighed heavily. "I'm probably
just being paranoid. The FBI warned me that my life wouldn't be the same
if I took this assignment. Anyway, it spooked me that she claimed to have
known me. I thought maybe she was working for another crime syndicate
trying to get me to break my cover."   Fraser thought about this for a
moment. "Well, I suppose it is possible for a person to change.
Circumstances will drive people to do things that they normally wouldn't
do."   "Fraser, you're not being a lot of help here."   "I'm sorry, Ray.
But you're asking me to give you assurances where none exist. The Cass I
knew in Chicago would not have been capable of such duplicity. She wasn't
very good at hiding things even when she wanted to."   It was Armando's
turn to think for a moment. "So what do I do now?" he asked quietly.  
"Follow your heart, Ray. If deep down inside, you really believe that
she's working undercover and is out to get you, then break it off. Yes, it
will hurt for a while but in the long run it will be better for you than
constantly looking over your shoulder. And it would be better for her to
have you out of her life if you don't trust her."   Armando looked up at
the Mountie, hurt beyond words that the Canadian would make such a
suggestion. He loved Cass and the idea that they'd be better off without
each other was abhorrent to him.   They both felt the sunlight that had
been streaming in the cabin windows start to dim.    "Looks like our time
is up," Armando stated. "I guess I'd better get ready to go back to
Aspen."   "For what it's worth, Ray, in her letter she said you were a
good man; charming, kind, gentle and fun loving. She said you made her
think that perhaps there was some happiness to be had in this world."  
"Thanks, Benny."   "Follow your heart, Ray."    For one last time, Armando
felt himself drift slowly towards consciousness. He opened his eyes and
looked at the clock. 1:00am it said. He laid there for a few minutes
assessing his state of consciousness wondering if he should try to even
get back to sleep. It wasn't long before he could tell that would be a
futile effort.   Walking slowly through the unfamiliar darkness, he
returned to the wingback chair in front of the fireplace. He didn't bother
to start the gas fire, preferring to look out the window and let the
snowfall mesmerize him. He thought of Fraser's advice. 'Follow your
heart,' he'd said. Someone else had told him that. He thought for a few
moments and realized that it had been Tim, his lawyer. The advice had been
given to him when he first considered pursuing Cass, back before he knew
she was aware of his past.   'Follow your heart.' It seemed like such good
advice. But every time he'd followed his heart, it had ultimately led to
disaster. The last time had be particularly painful. He had followed his
heart to Casey Sinclair. And then he'd failed her personally and
professionally. He was supposed to protect her from a stalker and yet the
nutcase had still managed to abduct her, sexually assault her and try to
kill them both. He knew she had forgiven him. But he'd never learned to
forgive himself.   His heart wanted to give it another shot; wanted Cass
in a way he'd thought was no longer possible for him to want someone. He
just didn't know how, when the time came, he was going to explain his
double life. She'd said she knew who he was. But did she realize that one
day, he might have the chance to become that person again, to return to
his former life in Chicago? What would that mean for them?   The snow fell
fast in large wet flakes. He watched them fall as they covered the ground
in a fluffy white blanket. Here in the mountains, he didn't expect the
same kind of snow that he was used to in Chicago. He'd always heard how
the ski resorts reported so many feet of powder. This definitely wasn't
powder. Struck by a sudden burst of energy, he dressed, put on his
overcoat, gloves and hat, found his boots and went outside. It had been
snowing for quite some time judging by the amount of the white stuff that
now covered the ground. Scooping up a large handful of the flakes, he
compacted it into a snowball and set it aside on the ground. Soon, several
more were stacked together by the original. Packing more snow around them
he made a sphere the size of a basketball. That sphere was rolled around
in the snow until it was as tall as his knees. He repeated the process,
this time stopping the ball when it was slightly smaller than the first.
He hoisted this large snowball on top of the first on and packed some snow
in around the joint. He looked around and realized that he'd used all the
snow in the yard just to get this far. Well, at the rate the snow was
coming down, he estimated that by morning he'd have enough to make the
head of his snowman. Laughing at his childlike activity, he went back into
the house, stomping his feet in the entryway to remove the snow on his
boots. Stripping out of his clothes, he jumped back into his pajamas and
went back to bed, tired by his exertion.    The phone rang in Donnie
Scarpetta's office. Though it was only six thirty in the morning, he'd
already been there for a half hour. Very few people knew where to find him
at this hour so he knew the call would be important.   "Hello?" he
answered.   "Mr. Scarpetta, this is T.J. Burke."   "Good morning, T.J.
How's everything in Aspen?"   "Well sir, you asked me to call you and let
you know what Mr. Langostini has been doing. Truth be told he hasn't
ventured out of the house much. He went to Mass yesterday morning and then
out to lunch. And as I was driving by there about two o'clock this
morning, he was outside playing in the snow."   "At that hour?" Donnie was
stunned.   "Yes sir. He appeared to be making a snowman."   "Did he see
you?"   "No sir. As I drove by, he was just going back into the house."  
"So, he hasn't gone out and socialized with any of the tourists or the
residents."   "No sir. As far as I can tell, he even ate lunch alone.
Hasn't spoken to anyone except Father John."   "Well, that's quite
interesting, T.J. Thank you so much for your report. You'll let me know
when he's ready to come home won't you."   "Absolutely. I'll call you as
soon as he gives me the word."   "Wonderful. I'll talk to you later."  
"Good-bye, Mr. Scarpetta."     It's time we stop. Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down.     Cass looked at her computer and
realized that her Monday was going to be very busy. She'd reserved an hour
at the shooting range in the morning and had scheduled an appointment for
her annual physical as well. When she made the appointment she had planned
on talking to the doctor about taking birth control pills. She didn't like
the contraceptive measures they'd been using and wanted to try something
else. But now she wondered if she should even bother. She showered and
dressed and then ate her breakfast.    Within an hour she was at the range
shooting with her usual accuracy. After a half hour of round and human
shaped targets, she asked the manager if he had any snake shaped targets.
  "Snakes?" he inquired.   "Yeah, I had a rattler at the farm the other
day. I got an incredibly lucky head shot on him but if I'm going to have
to do this more often, I'd rather be ready."   "Sorry, Ms. Lindsey.
Nothing like that on hand. But I can probably rig something up if you'll
give me a day or two."   "I'll give you two. And schedule me for another
hour Wednesday morning at this time, please."   "Sure thing."   Cass
returned to her lane and finished the hour trying to obliterate the center
of the round paper targets. At the end of the hour, her arms ached as she
took off her ear protectors. She rubbed them briskly trying to dull the
pain and restore normal circulation. Turning to leave, she saw that
several of the other lanes were filled as well, many of them with women.
One appeared to be Ronnie Mitchell. Cass contemplated letting the woman
know how the sweaters were going, but looked at her watch and realized
that she wouldn't be able to talk to her and still make it to the doctor's
office on time.     Armando woke up feeling very good for the short amount
of sleep he'd gotten. His first act of the day was to call T.J. to make
arrangements to get home as soon as possible.   "Sorry, Mr. Langostini. I
don't think there's any way you'll be able to get out today."   "Why not?"
  "Well, in case you haven't looked out the window yet, we got one hell of
a snowstorm this morning. The airstrip is socked in. I'll check to find
out when they're going to be letting planes go out again but I doubt it
will be until tomorrow at the earliest. They won't even bother to start
plowing the runways until the wind dies down."   Armando cursed
inventively in both Italian and English. "Well, if that's the way it's got
to be, I guess I'll just have to live with it."   "I'm afraid so, but I'll
call you as soon as I know anything."   Armando thanked the young man and
rang off. Frustrated, he showered, dressed and ate breakfast. It was only
then that he had the nerve to look outside. T.J. had been right. The snow
and the wind had worsened considerably after he'd gone to bed. The bottom
of his snowman was partially covered in a drift and the wind was still
flinging snow across the landscape. He sighed heavily as he watched the
snowstorm. Not knowing what else to do with himself, he sat down at the
computer and logged on to his e-mail account.   The first message he
noticed was from Cass. He opened it eagerly looking forward to seeing what
she had to say. He read the short message looking for some clue as to what
she was feeling but found none. Her message was dry and factual, a simple
recitation of her activities. He sat and stared at the monitor not knowing
what to think.   "Well, what'd you expect?" he said to himself. "Cass told
you she was confused. And considering how abruptly you left her, she
probably thinks you're still mad at her over that incident with Edward
Wednesday night.    "What now? Do I answer her in the same tone she set?
Do I tell her exactly what I've been doing out here?"   "Follow your
heart, Ray."   Armando looked up to see if a Mountie had suddenly entered
the room, but he was alone. The voice had only been in his head. Sighing
once again, he began to type back his reply.   'Dearest Cass', no that
didn't sound right. He needed to be a bit more casual.	  'Cass,' he
wrote, 'I found your e-mail this morning. Things have been really busy
here or I would have written soon, but you've been on my mind quite a bit
for the last few days.'    "Now there's an understatement," he said to
himself before he continued.   'I had hoped to leave for home today but
Aspen's gotten hit with a bad winter storm. They say it'll probably be
tomorrow before they even start to plow the runways. I'll let you know as
soon as my plans are firm. I hope to be back for our Wednesday together.
The last one was so bad that I know I've got a lot to make up for. Hope
you've still got those wine colored shorty pajamas I love. See you soon.'
  "Well, that should do it," he said to himself as he hit the send button.
    When Cass returned home from her appointment, her first act was to
take another shower. She hated going for her annual physical, it made her
feel gross. Though Dr. Arthur was kind and made as little fuss about it as
possible, it was still an unpleasant experience. After much discussion
about contraceptive options, she had chosen to take an injectable method
so she only had to think about it every three months. That made her happy.
However, the doctor insisted she be tested for every known sexually
transmitted disease and that required a blood test.   Cass wasn't an
inherently squeamish person. She had suffered all sorts of minor injuries
as a child and teenager. And caring for her brother had toughened her even
more. But when it came to needles, she had a definite weak spot. She had
nearly passed out while the lab technician was getting the samples, only
managing to hold it together until the syringe was removed from her arm.
The cold clamminess that had overtaken her, combined with the intimate
examination had taken their toll on her and now she reveled in the warmth
of the shower spraying down on her.   Feeling better for her ablutions,
she wandered down to her studio to start on Ronnie's second sweater. Once
again she turned on her stereo to keep her company and began manipulating
the needles of her knitting frame to create the sweater back. And as
before, she found the rhythm that allowed her to merge with the pattern.
Finishing the back quickly, she decided to forge ahead and do the front as
well. It was nearly dinnertime when she finished. As she stood up to climb
the stairs to her home, she felt weak kneed and light headed.    She sat
down again quickly and lowered her head trying to regain her equilibrium.
Moments later, she slowly tried standing up again. This time she made it
to the kitchen where she immediately poured herself a big glass of juice.
She recalled the night that Benton had taken her to the hospital and the
doctor had warned her about keeping her blood sugar level consistent. She
realized that she had not eaten lunch and had only consumed her usual
bagel and banana for breakfast. Well, that was no way to maintain a decent
glucose level. Emptying the glass in a few large gulps, she poured another
one and set about making herself a pot full of spaghetti. She heated up
some sauce she had in her cupboard and soon she was consuming a
carbohydrate rich meal.   Dinner finished, she returned to her studio and
continued to work on the sweater. She felt blessed that it was going so
well. She didn't quite understand what was driving her to finish this
project so quickly, she just knew that she wanted it done and out of her
home as soon as possible. Working late into the night she managed to get
both sleeves knitted as well. She considered starting to piece it together
but knew her powers of concentration were flagging quickly. Instead, she
left the pieces on the worktable and went to bed.   Tuesday found Cass in
a bad mood. The cursed sweater pieces refused to fit together the way they
were supposed to and she struggled for most of the morning trying to get
garment seamed properly. When she arrived at the AIDS center for her art
therapy group, she was short tempered. After she had snapped at two other
volunteers, Otis tried to take her aside to speak to her but she glared at
him and walked out of the room. He didn't catch up to her until he arrived
at her farm to feed the animals.   He found her sitting on her deck
drinking a beer. It was obvious by the empty bottles scattered around the
chair that this was not her first.   "Cass, hon, what's the matter?"  
"Nothing's the matter, Otis."   "Don't sass me girl. You're on your sixth
beer and I know you couldn't have been home for more than an hour and a
half. Now what's bothering you?"   She threw the bottle at him but due to
the consumption of so much alcohol in such a short period of time, her aim
was way off. The brown bottle missed him by several feet and she collapsed
in tears on her deck. She buried her head in her forearms as they rested
on the chair she'd only just been seated in.   Otis sat down and pulled
her into his arms. He stroked her hair softly and murmured calming words
to her. But it was several minutes before her sobs subsided to the point
where she could speak.   "What's wrong with me Otis?"   "What are you
talking about, Cass?"   "Isn't it obvious? I let him get to me. The day I
left LaPorte, I swore I'd never be dependent on another person for the
rest of my life. And now here I am reduced to a drunken sobbing fool just
because I haven't talked to him in nearly a week. I've let myself get so
wrapped up in him that I can't bear not hearing from him for five days.
What's wrong with me? Why can't I be the strong independent person I
always wanted to be? Why did I let him do this to me?"   Otis had no words
of comfort for her. He knew that her inebriated state had left her with
little rational thought so he didn't even try to talk to her. Her simply
wrapped his arms around her and rocked her like one of his grandchildren
until her tears stopped. She looked up when he proffered his clean white
handkerchief. She blotted her reddened eyes and blew her nose.	  "Come
on, Cass. Let's get you inside." He slid his arms under hers and helped
lift her from the wooden boards to make an unsteady way to her office
where he let her flop into the chair behind her desk. "You stay right
there. When I get through with the animals, I'm coming back to check on
you and you'd better not have moved."   "Yes, sir." She attempted a salute
but merely succeeded in hitting herself in the face. She put her head down
on her arms and knew she'd have a raging headache later as penance for her
excesses. She turned on her computer to check her e-mail and stared
blankly for several minutes at the contents of her in-box. The sound of a
trumpet fanfare alerted her to yet another incoming missive. She looked to
see who it was from. The initials A L showed in the sender's column. The
header on the message said, 'Coming home'. Her heart lifted as she opened
it.   'Cass, Snowstorm finally let up. They're about to start plowing the
runways. I'll be back tomorrow. See you at noon?'   Anger flared up in her
briefly. She resented the fact that he could make her feel this worthless
and then just expect to waltz back into her life as if nothing had
happened. Then she noticed a previous message; one he'd sent her yesterday
morning. After reading it she didn't know what to think. Was he really
toying with her? Or had he really been extremely busy? And how busy was
too busy to send an e-mail that said nothing more than 'thinking of you'?
She thought for a long time about how she would answer him. Finally she
chose a neutral answer. She hit the reply button and typed in 'I'll be
here.' The way she was feeling at that moment, it was all she could
promise him.   Otis came back to the house and found Cass just as he'd
left her, sitting behind her desk, showing the effects of her
intoxication. He managed to get her to drink a big glass of water to fend
off the dehydration he knew she would soon be suffering from. He looked at
her computer and saw the message she had typed before she'd gotten sick to
her stomach. Once he got her to bed he grabbed the trashcan from her
office and cleaned it out. Returning it to its spot by the desk he looked
at the computer again. He didn't want to interfere in her business but he
couldn't let the message sit there unsent. Gingerly taking the mouse in
his right hand, he pushed it across the desk until the arrow the screen
pointed to the send button. Taking a deep breath he pushed the left button
on the mouse and watched as a message flashed on the screen, 'Your message
has been sent,' it said. He smiled to himself before leaving the house and
setting the security system behind him.     There's battle lines being
drawn. Nobody's right if everybody's wrong.  Young people speaking their
minds are getting so much resistance from behind.     Armando bounced
around the back seat of his limousine like a Mexican jumping bean. He was
happy to be back in Las Vegas and nervous of what waited for him at Cass'
farm. Her reply to his last message had been short and somewhat cryptic.
He wasn't sure just what kind of a welcome he'd get from her but he was
determined that she would listen to him and hear him out. What she did
from there, he couldn't predict. But he had to make her understand what
was in his heart.   Looking out the heavily tinted windows, he knew he was
close to his destination. Had he been driving he would have seen her house
standing atop the pinnacle of a slow rise in the land. He felt the car
turn into her long driveway and took a deep breath wondering what he'd
find waiting for him. The car stopped and he waited impatiently for Gino
to open his door.   Exiting the black Cadillac, he was surprised to see
Otis walking down the side of the house apparently coming from the deck.
It was odd to see the man here so late in the day. And he had a look on
his face that made Armando wary as he waited for Gino to fetch his bags
from the trunk of the car.   "Otis," he said cheerfully, "I didn't expect
to see you here this late in the day. Is everything okay?"   "No, it's
not. I figured I should stay since I think you and I need to have a talk
before you go inside." His tone was slightly menacing but his eyes showed
no real anger.   "Sure," he replied before dismissing Gino.   "Why don't
we go back and sit on the deck?" the older man invited.   The two walked
to the wooden porch that wrapped around the house from the back and
partially down the side. Otis indicated that Armando should have a seat on
one of the wooden chairs.   "You know," he said thoughtfully, "If I were
thirty years younger and in better health, I'd probably think about
beating the shit out of you. But since I can't, you're just gonna have to
take the beating verbally."   "Why? What's up? Where's Cass?"   "Last I
checked on her about an hour ago, she was still in bed."   "In bed? What's
wrong?"   "She had a rough day, yesterday. She stormed out on the art
therapy group at the center and when I got here to do the chores, I found
her working on her sixth bottle of beer in ninety minutes. She was dead
drunk and none too happy with you. I have to admit that I'm not that happy
with you either, but I'm willing to hear your side of it."   "My side of
what?"   "What's been going on between you two. Maybe you haven't noticed
it, but down at The Center we're pretty protective of Cass. Everybody who
works there is nice but she's special. She knows exactly what we're all
going through. She doesn't sympathize. She empathizes. So tell me, what's
goin' on with you two that would drive her to drink."   "I don't know."  
"Don't bullshit me, man."   "Otis, I'm not. I've been out of town on
business and haven't had more than a moment to myself. I sent her a couple
of e-mails letting her know when I would be back. But I can't imagine that
I have done anything that would push her over the edge. Has she said
anything to you?" Armando was definitely worried.   "What she said was
pretty incoherent. She was babbling about being dependent on you and how
she swore she'd never do that."   Armando suppressed a smile. He knew the
older man would likely misinterpret it.   "Otis, I'm not sure what set her
off. I had to leave quite suddenly and there were some unsettled issues
between us. The timing of this trip wasn't good but it had to be dealt
with. I'll tell you this. I spent a good deal of my time thinking about
Cass and how she's affected my life."   He knew his words were true but
wasn't sure if the man would see the underlying meaning. Seeing that Otis
wasn't going to answer he continued.   "I'd do anything in my power to
keep her from being hurt. She means too much to me."   "Yeah, I can see
that. But you've still got to convince her. And that's gonna be the hard
part."   "I'm sure it will be."   "You go on inside. I warn you, it won't
be pretty. When I got here this morning, she'd been sick a couple of times
over night. I made her some tea and toast but beyond that, I don't think
she's had anything on her stomach."   "Thanks Otis, you're a good friend."
  "Yeah, you just say that because it's true." He smiled as Armando
gripped his shoulder in gratitude for the care the older man had given
Cass.   He walked quietly through the French doors that opened into Cass'
bedroom. He was glad that Otis had warned him for she was truly a sight.
Her hair was disheveled and stuck out at all angles from her head. She was
wearing jeans and a t-shirt and looked like she had flopped onto the bed
without bothering to get under the sheets. A light blanket lay wadded up
on the other side of the bed showing that she been covered at one point.
With the southern sun streaming in her windows, the room temperature was
quite warm so she'd probably thrown the blanket off her recently.   He
walked on through the room to the kitchen and on the counter found the
ginger tea that Otis had used. He put a fresh kettle of water on the
burner and popped two slices of bread in the toaster while the water
heated. When everything was ready, he put it on a tray and took it to the
sleeping Cass.	  Setting the tray on a nightstand, he sat down and
watched her for a few minutes. Dark shadows smudged the skin under her
eyes. Her face was creased with dehydration and exhaustion. And at the
moment, she was snoring like a beast. But he still had to smile. Even in
this less than pleasant state, he felt his heart melt at the sight of her.
  He knelt by the side of her bed and kissed her awake. Her eyes flew open
and she sat up very quickly nearly knocking him over.   "What?" she
exclaimed.   "Cass, calm down. It's just me."   The nausea and headache
that had kept her in bed all morning, came back to her and she slid back
down to a supine position.   "What are you doing here?" She eyed him
suspiciously.   "Well, it's Wednesday afternoon, which is usually when I
come over."   "But you're supposed to be in Colorado."   "And yesterday I
e-mailed you and told you I'd be back today. Then you replied saying that
you'd be here. I was hoping to find you in bed waiting for me but not like
this," he joked.   "Oh God," she moaned.   "I made you some tea and toast.
I thought they might help settle your stomach."   "Thanks. You take such
good care of me," she replied somewhat sarcastically.   "I like taking
care of you. I want to take care of you forever," he admitted handing her
a piece of toast.   "No."   "No? What do you mean 'no'? How do you know
what I want?"   "This isn't about what you want. It's about what I don't
want. I don't want to be dependent on you. I don't want you to take care
of me. I don't want to be falling to pieces just because I don't hear from
you for a few days."   Armando was stunned by her words. One of the things
he loved most about her was her independence. It shocked him to hear her
claim she had 'fallen to pieces' during his absence. He walked to the
other side of the bed and joined her there. Despite a weak struggle, he
gathered her into his arms and held her close to his chest.   "Cass, I
don't want you to be dependent either. I love you just the way you are. I
love the fact that you're willing to tell me where to get off. You're one
of the strongest people I know. I just like doing nice things for you,
like takin' care of you when you're sick."   "You don't understand. I went
nuts while you were gone. And I'm not sick, I'm just dreadfully hungover."
  "Yeah, I know. Otis told me about your little binge yesterday. Why'd you
do that?"   "Because you took off and then I didn't hear from you for
days. After Wednesday night, I thought you were just looking for an excuse
to get out of town, to be away from me. And when I realized how much that
hurt me, I got mad at myself and tried to drown the pain in a six-pack."  
He tried not to wince as the truth of her words hit home. "Cass, I don't
think there's anyway that I can convince you of this, but I did nothing
but think of you while I was gone."   "You're right. You'll never convince
me."   "Try to believe it. I know the timing of the trip was lousy. And I
admit that after all the friction between us, some time away didn't seem
like such a bad idea. But I didn't expect to be gone this long. If it had
been in my power, I'd have come home Monday morning. You wouldn't believe
how upset I was when I heard about the airport being shut down. All I
wanted was to get back here to you."   "Really?"   "Really."   "Great so
you hurry back and here I am, a mess."   "That's the way it looks. Say,
why don't you drink your tea and eat the rest of your toast and then think
about taking a shower."   "Oh God, I'm not sure I can stand up that long."
  "I'll help you."   She eyed him suspiciously. "You just want to get your
hands on my naked body."   "Yes, I do. But not today. Today, I want you to
get through this hangover so you're feeling better for Saturday night."  
"Okay," she complied reaching for her tea.   It was nearly four hours
later before Cass felt better. During that time Armando had made sure she
drank plenty of ginger tea to ease the nausea. He'd even convinced her to
take a shower with his help and had gotten her to change into a short
cotton t-shirt type dress. They spent the afternoon curled up together on
her couch with the dogs at their feet watching old movies on the
television.   That night he did not even think about making love with
Cass. He knew the best thing he could do for her was simply to hold her
and care for her and try to let her feel safe in his arms.     There's
something happening here. And what it is ain't exactly clear.  There's a
man with a gun over there, telling me I've got to beware.     Saturday
morning, Cass was up early. She had a lot to accomplish before Armando
came over that night. She was so glad she had convinced him to let Nero
and his wife have the night off for a little romance of their own. Over
the past few months she had grown to enjoy the couple and felt like they
should be able to enjoy a little Valentine's Day tryst as well.   She had
gone shopping on Friday and picked up everything she needed for the dinner
she planned to cook. While at a party store, she picked up decorations in
red, silver and white. She even bought several strands of small heart
shaped lights that she planned to string up on her deck. The weather
service had forecast and unseasonably warm day and the thought of dancing
on the deck struck her as exceedingly romantic.   Now she stood in her
kitchen combining tomatoes, garlic, red wine and a variety of herbs into a
delicious pasta sauce. She'd been given the recipe by one of her mother's
best friends. She marveled at her audacity to actually fix Italian food
for Armando but she knew that this sauce was as authentic as they came.
She smiled to herself knowing that this lasagna would probably be the
healthiest he'd ever eaten thanks to some special modifications she'd
learned when she cooked for Christopher. Once everything was combined in
the pan, she turned the temperature down so that it could simmer.  
Turning to leave the kitchen, she saw the small square box that waited on
the counter. Inside was the photograph of Cass and Armando. She had gone
to one of the members of the local artist's guild and had a sterling
silver frame made for it. She'd bartered a large woven throw rug for it
but she knew that it was worth the price. Though she preferred the look of
gold to silver, she wanted it to look as authentic as possible. She
thought about having it cast in platinum but knew that would be cost
prohibitive even if it would more closely resemble the original chrome.
She realized it was a silly present since he spent most of his time being
chauffeured in his limousine. But it was her way of acknowledging his
other car.   She was out on her deck at noon when she heard the sound of a
car in the driveway. The dogs barked furiously at the newcomer. Cass
walked down the side of the house to greet Ronnie.   "Hi, looks like
you're a busy beaver today," the woman greeted her.   "Yeah, just getting
ready for a romantic evening with Armando."   "Well, this is the day for
it. I got your message that the sweaters were done. I called from the car
but I got your answering service. I hope this isn't an inconvenient time."
  "No, not at all. I've just been really busy today so I've let all my
calls go to voice mail. The sweaters are downstairs in the studio. I
haven't wrapped them up yet. I figured you'd probably want to try them on
and check for any problems first."   "I'm sure they'll be fine but I
appreciate the thought."   The women walked in the house and down to the
basement studio. The sweaters were folded and waiting on the worktable.
Ronnie scrutinized them closely before slipping the first one on over her
head.   "Oh, it's wonderful. This yarn is so incredible. I didn't realize
it would be so soft and warm." Ronnie fanned herself.   "We do seem to be
having an early heat wave here in the desert. But I'm not complaining."  
"Oh?"   "Yes, if it allows me to dance under the stars tonight with
Armando, then I'll deal with the heat."   "Ooh, sounds like you've got a
really romantic evening planned."   "Well, as you said, this is the day
for it."   "So what are your plans? Please, let me live vicariously
through your love life."   "You don't have a special person in your life?
I find that hard to believe."   "Oh, I did once a few years ago, but it
ended badly. So I've been a little gun-shy ever since."   "Sorry to hear
that."   "Oh, it's not like I've led such a bad life since. I've got my
work and it allows me to travel a lot. Or should I say, it forces me to
travel."   "I never did ask. What do you do for a living?"   "I'm a
security analyst."   "Securities analyst," she repeated. "You mean like
stocks and bond and other investments."   Ronnie chuckled. "No, not
securities; security. As in locks, alarms, cameras, guards. Businesses
hire me to inspect their security systems and make recommendations for
improvements."   "You mean like that movie 'Sneakers'?"   "Something like
that but not nearly as exciting. It's pretty mundane work, actually."  
"Oh yeah, and spinning, weaving and knitting are glamorous? Really, now,
which one of us is going to Canada with two new sweaters?"   "Oh, but you
have that gorgeous mohair coat."   "And nowhere to wear it out here."  
"Haven't you designed anything else just for you?"   "Oh, I've got a
couple of cotton sweaters but for the most part, I don't create for me.
I'm too picky."   Both women laughed as Cass wrapped the sweaters in
tissue paper and carefully placed them in a bag. Cass shared her plans for
the evening with Armando as they walked up the stairs. Cass led the way
out of the house through the garage. A van had pulled in the drive and was
blocking Ronnie from getting out. A young man hopped out of the van with a
tissue wrapped floral bouquet.   "Cass Lindsey?" he asked.   "That would
be me."   "Sign here please," he instructed handing her a receipt and a
pen.   She did as he asked and handed the document back to him. He handed
her the vase, murmured a brief thank you and ran back to his van.   "Well,
well. Looks like the boyfriend is treating you well."   Cass set the vase
down on the workbench of her garage and tore off the green tissue. Under
the wrapping were a dozen yellow roses. Digging through the flowers and
greenery she found the card and read it.   "For my best friend, yellow
roses, the rose of friendship. Armando"   "I'm impressed. Most men don't
know that the colors of roses have any symbolic meaning," Ronnie commented
to Cass.   "I'm sure he didn't either until the clerk at the florist's
shop told him," she replied laughing.   She left the flowers for a minute
to walk Ronnie to her car.   "Have fun in Canada," she said as the woman
turned her car around and pulled out of the driveway.   Cass took the
flowers inside and placed them on the dining room table. She had planned a
different centerpiece for their dinner but she knew she could incorporate
the flowers into her design. She drew the sheer curtains so the delicate
flowers would not fry in the early morning sun. Inhaling deeply the
fragrance of the blooms, she smiled to herself and returned to decorating
her deck.   An hour later she was satisfied with her project and returned
to the kitchen to check on the sauce. She dipped a piece of bread in it to
taste it and found it lacking in garlic. She added some, stirred the sauce
and tasted it again. Better, but it would undoubtedly improve with some
more time to simmer. She knew that Mary had always let it cook for at
least five hours to allow all the herbs to fully infuse the sauce with
their flavors.   Taking a deep breath she looked around and decided to
tackle the housekeeping next. Saturday mornings were normally spent in
this pursuit so the routine was ingrained. However, she had abandoned the
chore last Saturday so she knew that it would take longer today. She
started in the kitchen and worked her way through cleaning the dining and
living rooms. Her office was a mess. She had let important paperwork stack
up for over a week. Now she paid the price for it. Cleaning the office
took the better part of a half hour.    She changed the linens on the bed
in the guest room and quickly ran the vacuum cleaner and dusted the
furniture. The bathroom didn't look much the worse for wear considering
that Otis had spent a week living in her house. Finally ending up at her
master suite, Cass could feel her energy flagging. But she wanted to get
the work done so she chose not to stop yet for lunch. As she changed the
bed linens and cleaned the room, she thought about Armando and the way he
lived.   He was a study in contrasts. While he was fastidious about his
personal appearance and his home always seemed neat and orderly, she'd had
the occasional glimpse of his study and it was as chaotic as her office
ever was, if not more so. She wondered what the home would look like if he
didn't have a professional staff to keep it looking so immaculate.   She
harbored a private suspicion that there was, indeed, a touch of slob in
him She wondered what he'd be like to live with on a daily basis. Their
Wednesdays together had given her the vaguest idea but she always cut off
those thoughts before they boomed into full-bred speculation. But now, as
she finished her chores and walked to the kitchen to fix some lunch, she
decided to let herself speculate.   Sitting at her breakfast nook, eating
a turkey sandwich, she tried to imagine what it would be like to live with
Armando Langostini. The problem she had was that the Armando she knew was
really a fake. The man was really Ray Vecchio, no matter how much he
denied it. And Armando and Ray were two very different people.   For not
the first time in her life, she appreciated having family members in law
enforcement. Just after New Year's Day, Cass had asked her brother,
Curtis, to check on the status of one Raymond Vecchio, detective, Chicago
Police Department, 27th precinct. The report he'd returned to her was
startling. It said that Ray was alive and well and still working at the
27th. However the physical description of him and the photo that had been
enclosed didn't match the Ray she had seen so many times with Fraser. This
man was shorter by a good two inches at least, had blue eyes and was
thinner and more wiry than the real Ray. And the most obvious difference
was that the man in the picture had hair, lots of it, and it was blonde.  
As she had studied the photograph, she knew the angular planes of his face
were in no way related to the Italian cop who had good naturedly berated
her neighbor for every kind act he performed. No, that Italian cop was now
in Las Vegas using the name Armando Langostini. From everything her
brother had told her, she could draw only two conclusions. Ray was either
undercover or he was in the witness protection program. It would explain
his reluctance to have her meet the Scarpettas. It would also account for
the way he tried to keep his past away from her. Did he hope to return to
it?   Staring down at the other half of her sandwich, she sighed heavily
and wondered if this romantic celebration were such a good idea. Knowing
what she did, it could possibly serve to bind him closer to her. Her
father had forced her to admit that she loved him. But she knew that love
would never be whole until she could trust him. It was hard to trust a man
who lived a lie, for whatever reason.   She marvelled at the fact that
he'd gotten involved with her in the first place, especially after she
accused him of being Ray. Why did he stay with her? Was he using her as
part of his cover? She'd heard Fraser's stories of the women Ray had
pursued in Chicago and she was nothing like them. Well, if he was leaving
Ray's identity behind, it made sense that he'd leave Ray's taste in women
behind as part of it. And yet, she found it difficult to discount his
assertions that he truly loved her. They always felt completely honest.
She'd been around enough to have a good idea of what true love was and
what it wasn't. She could usually spot the real thing and something in the
back of her mind told her that this man wasn't that good of an actor.  
She finished her lunch but felt no better for her ruminations and realized
that she'd never gotten around to imagining what it would be like to live
with Armando. She laughed at herself and the predicament she'd gotten
herself into. Trust didn't come easily to Cassandra Bartholomew Lindsey
and yet she had fallen in love with the one man she could never completely
trust.   "Oh cruel irony," she said to herself as she rinsed her dishes
and stacked them neatly on the counter. She checked the sauce, still
simmering on her stove and found it to be perfect. She stirred it one more
time and then turned the burner down even further so that the sauce would
just stay warm.   She was just finishing her preparations for the evening
when she heard the doorbell ring. Looking at the clock, she realized it
was too early for Armando to be arriving and she wasn't expecting anyone
else. She looked out the window and saw another man with a large floral
arrangement. Going through the routine again, she signed the delivery
receipt and took the vase. She once again unwrapped the green florists
tissue and this time found a dozen red roses. Eager fingers searched for
the card.   'To my lover, red roses, the rose of passion, Armando.'  
"Okay, now, where do I put these?" she thought. After some consideration,
she chose to put them in her office where they'd get moderate sun light.
Once in the room, she decided to check her e-mail. She found virtual
greeting cards from her parents and each of her brothers and smiled as she
read them. They were full of love and good thoughts for her. It suddenly
dawned on her that she hadn't checked her real mail box yet.   Deciding it
would be good exercise, she got the dogs out of the kennel and they all
walked the quarter mile down the winding driveway to the road. She reached
into the mailbox and pulled out a few envelopes. Most of them were junk
mail that would never be opened and sent directly to the recycling bin.
The return address of one caught her eye. It was from Chicago. She eagerly
ripped open the envelope to find a card from Ben. In addition to the
Valentine greeting there was a handwritten note.   'Please accept this
belated thanks for the wonderful Christmas presents. They've kept me very
warm so far, this winter. It has been difficult keeping them away from
Diefenbaker. I think he's still harboring memories of the tam-o-shanter.
The ornament is also lovely. It's so delicate that it's hard to believe
you made it out of dog fur. I always said that you were a talented artist
and this just proves my point.   'Work at the consulate has kept me busy.
Inspector Thatcher's behavior puzzles me at times, even more so than most
women. There are times I wish you still lived here. Our conversations were
always enlightening. I felt like I was beginning to understand my fellow
Chicagoans when you explained them to me.   'Of course, Inspector Thatcher
is Canadian, as is the new Constable, Renfield Turnbull. But they're both
a mystery to me at times. Ray is no help in this matter. He simply calls
Inspector Thatcher "Ice Queen" or "Dragon Lady" and dismisses Turnbull as
a moron. You were always so good at helping me see the feelings behind
people's actions.   'Miss you, Ben.'   Cass' jaw hung open for a few
seconds. She didn't know what surprised her more; that he had spoken of
Ray as if the man were truly there or that he admitted his feelings, such
as they were, for her. The comment about seeing 'the feelings behind
people's actions' was interesting. She remembered the many discussions
they'd had. Now she tried to find the feelings behind his action of
sending her this card.   The message that was printed on it was a fairly
neutral 'thinking of you' greeting. But the fact remained that it was the
only card he'd ever given her. She re-read his message. There was
loneliness in his voice. She could only imagine that the replacement Ray
wasn't quite filling the void left by the original.   She took the dogs
back to the kennel and gave them their dinners. She then walked to the
barn to do her chores. Once the livestock was fed, watered and their pens
cleaned out, she went back to the house, leaving the card on the kitchen
counter. Looking at the clock, she knew it was time to begin assembling
the lasagna. Once it was in the oven, she went to her bedroom to get
herself ready for the evening.   She'd asked Armando to wear a suit so she
felt she should also be appropriately dressed. Having spent so much time
outside, she felt dusty and decided to take another shower.   Digging
through her lingerie drawer, he found a bra that would mold her breasts
into the perfect shape for the scoop necked black tank top she would pull
on over it. The long slender black skirt she pulled on was made of the
same clingy knit fabric and was slit up both sides. Over this, she layered
a tunic length top with a deep V-neck and capped sleeves. She had
fashioned it from some wonderful cotton yarn, imported from Greece that
was variegated in black, turquoise and coral. Its open shaker rib design
allowed both her skin and the black fabric to show through. Black
stockings and her favorite black shoes covered her legs and feet. Moving
to her bathroom, she skillfully curled her hair so that it would stay off
her face. She really preferred to pull it back off her face but she knew
Armando liked it loose and she had to admit that it was more flattering
that way. But it could be such a nuisance. She stared intently at the
mirror for a moment before deciding that she liked what she saw.   She
glanced at the clock on her bathroom wall and realized that it would be a
while before Armando would be there so she chose to curl up in the papas
an chair in her living room for a short nap. She hadn't been in the chair
for more than a few minutes when her doorbell rang. She got up and opened
it, expecting to see Armando but instead was nose to nose with yet another
person delivering flowers. This time there were a dozen white roses and
the card read 'For my dearest Cassandra, white roses, the rose of pure
love, Armando.'   She smiled and decided to put this bouquet in her
bedroom. Just a she was clearing a spot on her dresser, she heard the
doorbell ring again. She hurried to open it and saw Armando standing at
the threshold, smiling winningly at her. She invited him in and he saw the
flowers on her dining room table.   "I see you got the roses," he
commented.   "And the roses, and the other roses," she replied gesturing
vaguely towards the other two rooms.   "Yeah, well, there I was in the
florist's shop. All I wanted to do was send you a dozen roses for
Valentine's day and the clerk starts telling me about how the different
colors symbolize different things and I realized that you're all those
things to me."   "So, it didn't occur to you to get one dozen with mixed
colors?"   "You can do that?" he asked innocently.   She swatted him
playfully. "You're insane and far too extravagant. But they're all
beautiful. Thank you so much."	  "You're very welcome," he replied as he
reached to embrace her.   "Well," she said when he finally let her go,
"stow your bag in the bedroom and then come back out to the kitchen.
Dinner will be ready soon."   She left him to check on the dish that was
bubbling in her oven. She added a final layer of cheese to the entree and
tossed the bread in to warm. She took the salad out of the fridge and
carried it to the dining room table. It seemed strange to be eating here.
Virtually all the meals they had ever eaten here had been consumed in the
cozy breakfast nook. But tonight, she felt, required a more formal setting
so she chose to actually eat in the dining room and pull out her
Grandmother Bartholomew's good china and crystal. Candles had been
combined with the yellow roses to create a stunning center piece that
accented the dishes so well.   Returning to the kitchen, she heard Armando
behind her. He had picked up the Valentine's card from the counter and
glanced at it.   "So, you got another boyfriend or have the dogs learned
to write?" he asked noting the signature.   She shook her head and sighed
quietly. Why would he not admit the truth to her? Did he not trust her?  
"No silly," she responded. "It's from my old neighbor in Chicago, the one
I named the dog after." She shot him a mildly rebuking look.   "Some
neighbor. You move two thousand miles away and he still sends you a card
that says he misses you."   "Armando Langostini, are you jealous?"   "No,
not me." In truth he had felt a small flare of jealousy but would never
admit it.   "If you must know, Ben and I had a very special friendship. We
learned a lot about ourselves and each other during the few months we
lived in the same building. About a year after I moved, someone else he
was close to moved away as well and I think he's feeling a little lonely
without his two best friends."   "You think?" He seemed a little
surprised.   "Pretty sure," she asserted before handing him a glass of
wine. "Here, try this and tell me what you think."   He inhaled the rich
bouquet and smiled before he took a judicious sip.   "Very nice," he
pronounced. "Almost as good as whatever it is you've got in the oven. If I
didn't know better, I'd suspect that you somehow got your hands on my
mama's baked ziti recipe."   "Better," she said with a smile. "Go sit down
and I'll bring dinner to the table."
 
 "Can't I help?"   "No need, but I appreciate the offer."    She brought
the lasagna to the table first. Armando's eyes widened when he saw what
was in the glass baking dish. She followed with the half the loaf of bread
in a basket and the bottle of wine. She lit the candles and sat down.  
"So, for your dining pleasure, I present to you a Hoosier Italian feast."
  "Hoosier Italian?"   "Well, seven layer salad is a very common dish
where I come from. The sauce in the lasagna is from a recipe given to me
by one of my mom's oldest and dearest friends. She's second generation
American, born and raised in Indiana but she still has family residing in
Tuscany. The wine you're drinking is called 'Indianapolis Red'. It's from
Gaia Winery in Indy. Cameron sends me some of their wines every year for
Christmas. So I think that qualifies this as a Hoosier Italian feast."  
"Yes, I suppose it does. But what about the bread? No Indiana connection
there?"   "No, but the basket was woven and purchased in Nashville,
Indiana. Is that close enough?"   "Close enough."   They consumed the meal
and talked over the events of their day. Cass mentioned that Ronnie had
picked up the sweaters earlier in the day. Armando told her that he'd
talked to his business partners and didn't expect any more business trips
for a while.   After dinner, Cass carefully rinsed the dishes and stacked
them gently on the counter. Armando offered to help her wash them but she
declined.   "They can wait until tomorrow. Tonight is not for doing
boring, mundane things like housework. It's a night for reconnecting, for
reminding ourselves just what love means. Come on. Let's go out on the
deck."   She took his hand and led him through the French doors of her
living room. He smiled at the little heart shaped lights that she'd hung
and then realized that there was something different under his feet. He
looked down expecting to see cedar boards but instead saw...   "Sheet
linoleum?"   "Yup," she answered. I installed it this morning. I thought
it would make a much better surface for dancing on."   "You linoleumed
your deck?" he asked incredulously.   "Only temporarily. I thought it
would be nice to dance outside under the stars tonight."   "Oh, Cass. This
is too much. First you feed me a lasagna that my own mother would be proud
to call her own. Then you remodel your deck just so we'll have a place to
dance. How do you do it?"   "Do what?" she asked clearly not understanding
what he meant.   "How are you so good at so many things? You cook
divinely. Your sweaters are works of art. You keep this farm in tip top
shape..."   "With help from Otis," she reminded him.   "Yeah but you
didn't always have Otis around and now you tell me you can lay linoleum?"
  "Well, it's only a temporary fix and I'm sure I'll have to do some work
on the deck once I pull it up. But it really wasn't that hard."   "You're
amazing."   "I'm self-sufficient," she replied as she turned on the
stereo.   Armando took her into his arms and kissed her softly. She
responded with controlled passion. She knew where she wanted the evening
to end but had a long way to go before they got there. They danced through
several songs then sat down on the back side of the deck and watched the
sun set. Armando commented on her preparations for the evening.   "Well
Cass, I gotta give you credit. Your Hoosier Italian feast was incredible.
I never knew there was an Italian connection to Indiana."   "There really
isn't much of one. The early settlements were along the Ohio River and
made predominantly by German speaking people coming in through North
Carolina and Kentucky. LaPorte County got its name because in French it
means 'the door'. It was considered the door to Indiana from Lake
Michigan. The northern part of the state was heavily influenced by the
French fur trappers and some English people as well though they were much
more nomadic and didn't actually settle the way the southern counties did
That's why the original state capital was in Corydon, which is about 30
miles north of the river. The big Italian influence in the state is in its
architecture. If you visit the county courthouses you'll find all kinds of
buildings but many of them have distinctive Italian design elements. And
there's a chapel down at Camp Atterbury which was a prisoner of war camp
in World War II that was designed and build exclusively by Italian
prisoners who wanted a place to worship."   "How do you know so much about
this?"   "Well, when I was in school, fifth grade social studies was
devoted to Indiana history and geography. Plus my mom was the county's
clerk of the courts for twelve years and then was the county recorder for
another eight. I kinda grew up in politics so I've seen a good deal of the
counties."   "Like I said, you're amazing. But I do have something to add
to this Hoosier Italian feast."   "You do?"   "Yeah, sit tight." He got up
and went into her bedroom where he retrieved a box out of his overnight
bag. Bringing it back, he handed it to her and she looked at it
quizzically.   "What is it?"   "Unwrap it and find out."   She tore the
heavy wrapping paper from the box and sat in astonishment when she saw the
name embossed on it.   "Donaldson's chocolates? How did you know?"   "A
little birdie told me."   "And would that bird be named Catherine
Lindsey?"   "Yeah, I called her and asked her what I should get you for
Valentine's Day. She suggested these and then laughed. I asked her what
was so funny, cuz I was afraid she was yankin' my chain. But she said I
had to ask you."   "She didn't."   "Yeah, so what's the story?"   Cass
sighed. There were times when she just wanted to kill her mother. "One
year we were making our annual pilgrimage to Lafayette and then to
Indianapolis to visit relatives. As we were driving down the highway, we
saw this sign for a place called Cullane's Candies. Of course,
Christopher, Cameron and I started hollering about stopping. Love of
chocolate is a genetic trait in my family. So Dad very kindly stopped and
we got these great hand dipped chocolate covered caramels. The next year
as we were going through, the place was gone. It had been in an old school
house on the outskirts of Lebanon, but the building was now abandoned and
falling in on itself.   "Well, I raised one hell of a stink about how we
had to find the chocolate shop. It was just imperative that we stop and
get more caramels. Dad stopped and found out the place had moved and the
owners had given it their name. But when we got there it had closed for
the day. I pouted for the rest of the trip. So when we headed back home,
Dad made a short detour through Lebanon to get us chocolates. And I've
been hooked on Donaldson's ever since. Mom and Dad usually have a box
shipped to me every Valentine's day."   "Yeah, so I'm taking over the
tradition."   "Hmm, flowers, chocolates, very traditional. And very
sweet." She stood up and kissed his cheek lightly before opening the box
and offering him a confection. She snagged herself a caramel and moaned
ecstatically as she savored the taste of it on her tongue. she thrust the
box back at him.   "Take these away before I do something stupid like eat
the whole box."    Armando obliged by placing them on a table and then
taking her in his arms and leading her back to the temporary dance floor
she had fashioned on her deck. They danced for nearly an hour straight.
Cass had set up a mix of jazz CD's in her stereo. Knowing Armando's
preference, she had loaded it heavily with Michael Franks' music. The
stars did indeed twinkle while they danced, and the full moon added its
illumination to the red heart shaped lights that flickered in rhythm to
the music.   'Remember the first night we met? Your eyes convinced me to
forget How easily love can fail. Revive my hope I never could Inside I'd
given up for good. Until you broke that spell.   Heartache, and making all
those obvious mistakes Hindsight reveals is learning what love means. 'Til
you I once thought I knew the subject But I guess I'm still just learning
what love means.   Poets are right. Time slips away. It seems like only
yesterday That I held you for the first time. More perfect love than this
is there? Compared to ours it can't compare And I've been happy since the
day I made you mine.   It's a slow dance, balancing desire with romance.
How high it feels this learning what love means. 'Til you I once thought I
knew the subject But I guess I'm still just learning what love means.  
Heartache, and making all those obvious mistakes Hindsight reveals is
learning what love means. 'Til you I once thought I knew the subject But I
guess I'm still just learning what love means.   It's a slow dance,
balancing desire with romance. How high it feels this learning what love
means. 'Til you I once thought I knew the subject But I guess I'm still
just learning what love means.'   Armando had begun to kiss Cass' neck and
that spot behind her ear making her weak in the knees. She heard his voice
whispering to her.   "I've got something else for you but we'll have to go
inside for it."   "Oh, and what would that be?" she asked pressing her
body against his.   "Ah, ah. None of that. If you want to know, you have
to go inside and see it."   She moved her pelvis against him suggestively.
"Is it something I've seen before?"   He pulled away from her slightly.
"No, you haven't."   That piqued her curiosity. When the song faded out,
she turned off the stereo and let him lead her inside. He walked towards
her bedroom but she veered off and grabbed the box that had been waiting
for him on the kitchen counter. Walking back quickly, she joined him at
the door to her office where he waited for her. Hand in hand, the two of
them went into her bedroom where she saw a small gift-wrapped box on her
dresser. She looked at him with just a hint of disapproval in her eyes.  
"Three dozen roses, my favorite chocolates and now something else to
unwrap? Armando, this is just way too much," she protested.   "No it's
not. It's not nearly enough. You deserve to be surrounded by roses and fed
your favorite chocolates every day."   "You're spoiling me."   "Call your
lawyer. I doubt he'll tell you that you have a lawsuit."   She smiled at
him and unwrapped the box he handed to her. The box bore the imprint of
one of Las Vegas' nicer jewelers. She felt her heart skip a beat in
anticipation as she lifted the lid on the box. Inside there was a red
velvet jewelry box. She lifted the hinged lid with her eyes closed. Inside
were a pendant and earrings of blue topaz and tiny diamonds. The settings
were virtually identical to the ring her parents had given her for her
birthday. Her eyes grew wider the longer she stared at the items.   "How
did you? How could you possibly duplicate the setting? This ring hasn't
left my hand since my birthday," she whispered even now twirling the ring
on her right hand ring finger.	  "I have my ways."   Tears of happiness
welled up in her eyes and spilled out on to her cheeks. She hugged him
tightly to her and whispered 'thank you' in his ear several times. She
tried not to cry, knowing that the mascara she had put on earlier would
not survive an onslaught of tears. But she couldn't hold them back. She
knew how much thought must have gone into this gift and she was truly
touched by it.   Grabbing a tissue from the dresser, she dabbed at her
eyes and then sniffed delicately before handing him her gift.    He
carefully unwrapped the paper and looked thoughtfully at the rectangular
box. "Well, I can safely say it's not a sweater," he speculated.   He
lifted the lid and saw silver frame in the shape of a stylized 'R". A
picture of the two of them was surrounded by the loop of the letter. He
looked at her quizzically.   "I realize that you hardly ever drive
yourself anywhere but when you do it's in the Riviera. So, I thought you
might like a picture of us 'in the Riv' so to speak."   "I do. It's
beautiful. But it doesn't look quite like the emblem on my car."   "No, I
took the design from a much older Riviera. Did I ever tell you I had an
uncle in LaPorte who drove a 1967 Riv?"   "No, I don't think you did," he
replied neutrally.   "Your car is nice. But the old Riv's are classic,
long and sleek. Anyway, I hope you like it."   In fact, he loved it. It
was incredible and he cursed everything that kept him from telling her how
much it meant to him. "It's wonderful, Cass. Not many people would notice
how much my cars mean to me."   She was grinning from ear to ear, thinking
that it was also an 'R' for Ray, even if he wouldn't admit it.   "What are
you grinning at?" he asked.   "I'll tell you later," she teased.   "Tell
me now," he insisted as he drew her into a passionate kiss.   Her response
was not verbal but it was oral. She opened her lips and let her tongue
dance with his as they fed each other's hunger. They spent a long time
making love that night. She was willing to let Armando guide her to new
and different positions that let her experience pleasures she'd never
imagined. And when they had finally satiated each other, Cass rolled off
the bed and staggered to her bathroom.   She performed her nightly ritual
of washing her face and brushing her teeth. She returned to her bedroom,
feeling ready to fall into a deep restful sleep. Armando had crawled under
the covers while she was in the bathroom and appeared to already be sound
asleep. As she was pulling a nightshirt out of her bureau, she heard a
noise. The dogs were barking ferociously. She threw on her bathrobe and
walked out to the back deck to cast out her consciousness and see what it
picked up. Knowing her focus wasn't what it could have been she picked up
only a hint of dark energy. She feared that another snake had gotten into
the kennels. She sighed as she returned to her room and pulled on a pair
of jeans and a t-shirt. She sat down on the bed to pull on a pair of socks
and her boots. The movement of the mattress caused Armando to open his
eyes and look at her.   "What's up?"   "Something's got the dogs upset.
I'm going to go check it out."   "Hang on a minute and I'll come with
you."   "No, you go back to sleep. It's probably just a rodent or
something."   "You sure?"   "Positive. I'll be back before you know it."  
He rolled over and seemingly fell back to sleep in two breaths. She waited
for a few minutes to make sure he was down for the count. Once she was
certain that he'd was out, she reached into her nightstand and drew out
her gun. She loaded it quietly. Before leaving the room, she grabbed the
flashlight that her brother Cameron had sent her at Christmas. It had a
flexible shaft and allowed her to loop it around the back of her neck to
keep her hands free. Walking out the doors to the deck, she jumped over
the railing to land softly on the ground and make a fast track to the
kennel.   Armando was awakened by a voice and a nudge.   "Wake up,
detective."   He closed his eyes tighter and willed himself to fall back
asleep. But the voice and the nudging was insistent.   "Come on, Ray. Rise
and shine."   He opened on eye, half expecting to see Cass playing some
sort of a joke on him. But the person he saw bore no resemblance to the
woman he'd spent the evening making love with. Her features were too
delicate. She had brown curly hair that cascaded over her shoulders like
hot fudge sauce on a sundae.   "Victoria!" he exclaimed.   "So good to see
you again, detective. Now get up and get dressed. We're going for a little
ride out into the desert."   "What's this all about?" he asked as he sat
up.   "Oh, just extracting my pound of flesh."   "What?" He hoped he could
keep her talking long enough to distract her and take away the gun she had
pointed at him.
 
 "You kept Ben from leaving Chicago with me. If it hadn't been for you,
we'd be living happily ever after right now."   "Don't give me that shit.
If it hadn't been for you, he wouldn't have a bullet lodged in his back
right now."   "I didn't shoot him. That was your doing."   "Yeah, but I
was aiming at you. I saw the gun in your hand. I told you once that if you
hurt him, I'd kill you. I just figured that the train station was my
chance."   "You need to get your eyes checked, detective. I didn't have a
gun. Ben had taken it away from me just before I hopped on that train
car."   He was nearly dressed and Victoria was obviously in a rush.  
"Hurry up," she commanded as she took a quick glance around.   "Where's
Cass?" he asked, a feeling of panic creeping into his gut.   "She's out
chasing the red herring I left for her. But she won't be gone forever. And
I don't want to risk a confrontation with her, especially since she
doesn't know who I am."   As he pulled on his socks, a realization slowly
dawned on him. "You're Ronnie Mitchell."   "Yes, I am. I must say that I
was quite surprised when I saw those pictures of you and Cass. I had no
idea you had moved out to the wild west. When I saw you at the airport
waiting for her, I knew it had to be you even with the cheesy mustache."  
He finished dressing and stood up. "So what's your plan?"   Cass could
find nothing out of sorts while wandering outside the kennel but the dogs
were still barking. Going inside, she flipped the light on and checked for
anything out of place, but could find nothing. She went first to Almak's
run. Examining him carefully she couldn't find evidence of any injury that
would make him howl like his lupine ancestors but knew that it may just be
Benny and Ray's barking that had set him off. He quieted as she touched
him but kept pacing as soon as she took her hands off his body. She
repeated the examinations on both of the Corgis, but still couldn't find
anything amiss. The dogs were quieter now that she was in the building
with them, but they still ran around in circles. It was Ray's behavior
that gave her the first clue as to what was wrong.   She listened again
and heard a sound she'd not detected before. Walking to the other end of
the kennel, she looked out the window and saw three of her prized Merino
ewes wandering away from the barn.   "Good boys," she praised as she
looked at the dogs. "Well, let's put you two to work."   She let Benny and
Ray out of the kennel and they ran off in the direction of the sheep.
She'd never done any herding at night but the boys worked well together
and hardly required a single command to get the escapees back to the
holding pen by the barn.   Walking to the other end of the barn, Cass
wondered how they could have gotten out. The door to the holding pen was
latched from the inside of the barn. And she recalled locking the other
door after she'd finished her chores. Arriving at the door, she saw the
lock lying on the ground. It hadn't been cut and she could only assume
that someone had picked it. She ran through the barn and quickly brought
the sheep in to their pens. Running out the barn door, she flipped the
hasp closed and slammed the lock shut over it and then took a look around
hoping to catch the perpetrators still on her property.   A movement and a
sound from the house caught her attention. She saw two figures coming out
of her home. She stopped and signaled the dogs to drop as well. The full
moon gave some illumination as she watched the figures step off the porch.
She knew one of them had to be Armando but couldn't tell who the second,
shorter person was. She thought about shining the flashlight in their
direction but knew the beam would not reach that far. And it might just
draw attention to herself.   Softly she ran forward trying to get a better
look at the situation. As the pair stepped off the porch onto the brick
walkway, she could now see that Armando was leading and the second person
was directly behind him; one hand on his shoulder, one in the small of his
back. The glint of metal struck Cass' sight and she realized that it
wasn't a hand in his back, it was a gun. Someone was kidnapping Armando?  
"Not while I have anything to say about it," she muttered to herself.
Saying a hasty and brief prayer of protection, drawing her gun and
releasing the safety, she ran forward again and watched as the pair moved
towards Armando's car. She despaired that she didn't have a decent shot
the abductor. Any shot she took had the potential of hurting Armando as
well. She knew that she needed to get the person to move to his side.  
Soft whining at her side gave her an inspiration. She looked down at the
two Corgis who had remained at her side and directed them both for a 'go
out'. She hoped that the ruckus they raised as they ran away from her
would be enough to distract the person who held Armando captive and allow
her to get a clean shot.   The dogs sat quivering in anticipation. She
knelt and braced for the shot. "Okay, boys, take off!" she commanded. Ray
and Benny ran towards the house as fast as their short Corgi legs would
take them. They barely made a noise until they were at the edge of the
driveway. At that point Cass, whistled and they began looking for
something to herd. Seeing only the two humans on the driveway, the boys
ran in their direction barking loudly as if trying to move them the way
they would have if they'd been herding sheep.   That was all the
distraction needed. Victoria spun around still keeping a hold of her
captive's shoulder. But her gun was no longer aimed at him. Cass fired
once but thought she had missed. She fired a second time, knowing she was
pushing the range of her .38 caliber pistol and then fired a third bullet.
  Victoria felt the impact of the first bullet but was stunned. The second
bullet entered her body and she knew she could not stand up any longer.
Just as she felt herself collapse, a third shot rang out and she knew she
was in serious trouble. She fell into an already unbalanced Armando and
they both dropped to the ground; his head bouncing off the front fender of
his car as they went.   Cass ran forward the minutes she saw both of them
collapse. Fear gripped her for a moment. Fear that her aim had been bad
and that one shot had hit the man she loved.   Armando opened his eyes to
see a white legged Pembroke Welsh Corgi staring into his face and whining.
A long pink tongue reached out and slurped the man's face repeatedly.  
"Oh, yuk, dog germs!" he exclaimed.   At that moment Cass reached both the
fallen bodies. His cry of disgust was music to her ears; an assurance that
he was all right, even if he didn't think so. She hugged him tightly, as
if to reassure herself that he was really okay.   "Cass, where did you
learn to shoot like that?" he asked as she turned her attention to the
other body.   "LaPorte County Sheriff's Department," she answered
distractedly just before she realized who it was that she shot.   She
looked down and saw the face of Ronnie Mitchell and then looked back at
Armando. Utter horror washed over her as the realization of what she had
done struck her.   "Why?" was all she could ask before she dissolved into
tears.   Armando lifted Cass into his arms and took her inside the house.
Ray and Benny followed them closely. Once inside he put her on the sofa
and draped an afghan over her trembling body.   "I'm going to call the
police, Cass. And then I'm going to call my lawyer. I don't want you to
say anything to anyone without Tim at your side." He took out his cell
phone and walked into her office. His mind was racing over the
implications this shooting could have. He knew he had to protect his cover
first, but he also felt the need to protect Cass.   He made a quick call
to the FBI field office giving them just enough information to let them
start doing their job to help protect him. Then he picked up the office
phone and called 911 to report the shooting. He didn't give many details
to the dispatcher but told her to send police and an ambulance. Lastly he
called his attorney. Tim was none to happy to be awakened in the middle of
the night but when he heard what had happened, he assured his client that
he'd be over promptly.   Within fifteen minutes, Cass's usually quiet home
was swarming with deputies from the sheriff's department as well as
paramedics. Tim managed to get there just as the first sheriff's car was
arriving. He made sure that Cass and Armando were protected throughout the
questioning and that the cut on his client's head, obtained when he fell
against his car, was properly bandaged.   Armando hoped that the FBI would
intervene soon and save him a lot of trouble but didn't hold out much hope
for that. He knew that bureau could move with incredible speed and that
they could get bogged down in trivia just as easily. So for the time being
he stuck to his story that he didn't know who Ronnie Mitchell was and that
she had him confused with someone else. Cass, not knowing any different,
corroborated his story. She told of how she and Ronnie had met on the
plane and how Ronnie felt Armando looked familiar.    It was several hours
later when the police left with a strongly worded suggestion that neither
of them plan on leaving the county until their investigation was
completed. Armando began to protest that he had a business to run, but Tim
shut him up fast and made sure that his client remained silent.   Armando
went to the kitchen to make Cass a cup of herbal tea to soothe her nerves.
Tim followed him closely.   "Okay man, what is it you're not telling me?"
the attorney asked.   "Nothin'," Armando protested.   "Look. I smell a big
rat here but I can't figure out just who it is. Now if you want me to
protect you and Cass, I need the whole story, and I need it now."   "Tim,
you've got all the facts. This psycho bitch comes in here calling me by
some else's name, points a gun at me and tells me to get up and get my
clothes on. She says I stopped her boyfriend from runnin' off with here
years ago and now she's gonna get her revenge. I tried to tell her she was
mistaken but she wouldn't hear it. If it hadn't been for Cass, I'd be a
corpse in the desert right now."   "And you think she let the sheep out of
the barn to get Cass out of the house? That sounds a little far fetched."
  "Look, all I know was she told me Cass was out chasing a red herring. I
can only assume that's what she meant. Cass has had problems with vandals
in the past. Maybe they've talked about it. I don't know. But I do know
that she went outside because the dogs were barkin' like there was
something wrong. And you heard what she said about Ronnie saying she knew
security systems. If she was any good at all, it wouldn't be hard to pick
a padlock on a barn. Look, I'm sure the cops will be checking into her
background. Why don't you do the same thing and see what you come up
with."   "Trust me, I'll have investigators on this as soon as I leave
here."   "Yeah, and let me know what you find out," Armando replied as Tim
walked back to the living room.   "Ms. Lindsey," he said, "I'm going to
leave now. Armando's going to stay here and take care of you. Don't you
worry about a thing. You've got the best legal defense on your side."  
She smiled tremulously. "Thanks Tim," she replied as she shook his hand
and started to get up.   "Don't bother yourself. I can find my way out."  
Armando was just bringing Cass the tea when her phone rang. He started to
pick it up but she waved him off.   "Let it go to voice mail," she
instructed.   Armando joined her on the sofa and held her close to him.
The tears had stopped but her body still shook with suppressed sobs. He
kissed her softly and stroked her hair to try to calm her down.   "I can't
believe she was so unhinged, that she used me as a way to get her revenge
on you."   "She wasn't trying to get revenge on me. She thought I was
someone else."   "Whatever. Armando, I was so scared when I saw you walk
out and she had that gun in your back. I keep thinking about what could
have happened to you."   "Hush, nothing happened. You, my guardian angel
were there and took care of me. And where'd you learn to shoot like that
again?"   "LaPorte County Sheriff's Department."   "They let you come out
and shoot on their range?"   "Well, sure. Dad was chief deputy for 8 years
before he became the sheriff. He was allowed to bring us out anytime he
wanted if the range wasn't busy."   "And you've been doing this how long?"
he asked incredulously.   "He wouldn't let any of us start shooting until
we turned ten. But I've been at it ever since."   "Then that was you I saw
at the gun range after Christmas," he thought to himself. "You little
vixen. You've been practicing all this time and never let me know."  
Aloud, he simply said, "For what it's worth Cass, that was one hell of a
take down."