THREE OH SEVEN

by SANDEFUR

Still more of my imaginary third season. Sequel to #306.

THREE OH SEVEN

By SANDEFUR

This episode is intended to tie up a loose end from the series.

10-30-05/Sunday evening.

The gymnasium at Arcadia High has been transformed into a Halloween party scene. Students dressed in various costumes are dancing to popular tunes while costumed chaperones observe. Dylan, dressed as a ghost and Joan, dressed as a ballerina, enter.

"Wow, every year the decorating committee amazes me. You would never know that this is usually a smelly old gym. I just wonder whose lame idea it was to turn the first dance of the season into a crummy Halloween party?"

"That would be my lame idea."

"Dylan, you thought of this?"

Dylan shrugs. "I joined the dance committee as a way to get to know more of the kids at school. The first meeting everyone was stuck for a new idea for a theme. So I said, since the first dance is usually held in late October, why not have it on the Halloween weekend and make that the theme?"

"And they liked that idea?"

"As you can see. Besides, from my point of view, it worked out fine. That ballerina costume really shows off how great your legs look."

Joan giggles. "I just wish I had remembered how tight these outfits are." (Joan tugs at the costume in a couple of places, trying to find comfort.) "I would compliment you on how you look, but in that ghost costume you just look like a large white blob. No different than that guy over there, or that one or that one… Wow, there are a lot of guys dressed like ghosts."

"It's a classic choice. Oh look, we're being waved over by Adam and Glynis. This isn't a problem for you, is it?"

Joan and Dylan wave back at the other couple. They all begin walking towards each other.

"It is a little weird, but not in a jealous sort of way. It's just talking some getting use to."

The two couples meet at the center of the room. Glynis is dressed in an 'I Dream of Jeanie' costume, and Adam is a cowboy.

Dylan says, "Hello Glynis, or should I say, Genie? And howdy, Tex."

"It's Adam, uh…?"

"I'm Dylan."

"Oh right, Dylan. You look cute, Joan."

"Thank you. I never pictured you as a cowboy."

"It was an easy costume to put together."

Glynis says, "Have you noticed the chaperones? It's hilarious. Price is dressed like a judge—complete with white wig and a gavel. And mean ol' Mr. Heugel is dressed like a clown!"

Dylan remarks, "I can't resist saying it. It suits him."

Adam nods. "Unchallenged."

Joan says, "Has anyone seen my Mom? She wouldn't tell me what costume she was wearing. I hope it's not too embarrassing."

Glynis laughs, "Abandon hope all ye who enter here."

Adam says, "Glynis, it wasn't that bad."

Joan sighs. "Oh God, tell me."

Adam responds, "She's dressed like Groucho Marx."

"Oh please tell me she's not doing…"

"Schtick? Oh yes, the big cigar, the funny walk and quoting lines from the movies." Glynis replies.

Joan puts a hand over her forehead. "This is officially a nightmare."

Dylan says, "Joan, try to look on the lighter side."

"Such as?"

"Such as, here comes Friedman, and he's dressed like Superman."

"Oh, this is too funny to be true."

Glynis says, "He doesn't look that bad."

"You'll understand in a few minutes."

Friedman arrives escorting a petite girl who is dressed as a COW.

"Dylan and Joan, Glynis and Adam, I'd like you to meet my date, Rebecca Gold."

Everyone nods, waves or says hello.

"Rebecca, aren't you a freshman?" Joan asks.

"Yes, I was so pleasantly surprised when Theodore invited me."

"I took a page from your book, Joan—dating freshmen."

"And you're letting her use your first name?"

Rebecca states, "Oh yes, Theodore is pulling out all the stops. I told him if he showed me a good time, I would let him touch my teats." (Rebecca points to the udder on her cow costume, then she laughs and claps her hands.) "I love that joke!"

Friedman sighs, "You must. It's the fourth time you've told it."

Joan chuckles, "Oh yes, here comes Grace and Luke. Now the fun begins."

Luke and Grace quickly approach the group. Grace is dressed as the Grim Reaper. Luke is also dressed as Superman.

"Friedman, what the hell?"

"Dude, you totally stole my idea."

Luke, "No way. We were talking about costumes…"

Friedman, "And I said Superman would be a great choice…"

Luke, "And I said I'll go for that…"

Friedman, "Wait. I thought you said I go along with that."

Joan can no longer control herself and begins to laugh. Most of the others join in.

Grace says, "Will the real Superman please fly around the room?"

A miffed Freidman says, "Come on, Rebecca, let's dance."

Rebecca waves to the group as Friedman leads her onto the dance floor.

Glynis says, "Well, I'm going to freshen up. Will anyone join me?"

Joan nods. "Sure, I'll go. Grace?"

"Girardi, you know I don't do girly crap like going to the john in a group."

"Right, what was I thinking?"

Glynis and Joan exit the group.

Luke asks, "Dance?"

"Why not? Rove, hold my stick."

Grace tosses the Reaper's scythe to Adam. She and Luke head to the dance floor.

Dylan asks, "Punch?"

Adam replies, "Why not?"

They head for the refreshments table. Transition to the girl's restroom…

Glynis is primping in front of the mirror. Joan is still tugging at her costume, trying to get a comfortable fit.

"Stupid costume. I adjust it in one place, and it starts to pinch me in another spot."

"At least you look adorable."

"I do? Thanks. And you're a magic genie? Have you granted Adam his three wishes yet?"

"Do you really want to know?" Glynis asks with a slight leer.

"What? Oh God, no. I was just making small talk."

Glynis smiles. "What about you and Dylan? Any granting of wishes one, two or three?"

"Uh, we decided to take things slow. He's very religious, ya know."

"Slow is always a sensible course."

Joan wonders if there is a hint of condescension in Glynis' voice.

"Uh Glynis, as the ex-girlfriend, can I give you a heads-up on something?"

"Certainly."

"Early November is a hard time for Adam. The eleventh marks the anniversary of his mother's death, and it always brings him down."

"I had no idea. Oh thank you Joan, you really are a good friend, and not just to Adam."

Glynis gives Joan a quick. spontaneous hug. She goes to the door, gives a brief wave and exits.

Joan murmurs, "Maybe she won't be so bad for Adam after all."

Certainly she had never seen Adam happier, which was both gratifying and annoying. Of course Adam and Glynis were sexually active. Not that they had made any sort of announcement, but you couldn't keep a thing like that secret in a high school.

Joan sighs and wishes she had felt comfortable telling the truth to Glynis. The fact was, despite their mutual agreement to go slow, October had been a month of growing passion between herself and Dylan. Their make-out sessions had become frequent and intense. Too intense.

Friday afternoon, after school, they had been in his bedroom, and both of them were excitedly losing control. On his bed, half naked, Joan suggested it was time for Dylan to get a condom. He went to the closet where he had a hidden supply, and Joan appreciatively admired his lean, muscular body as he reached up high to the top shelf. Her yearning for him was almost like a form of torture. That's why she was so surprised to hear these words come out of her mouth…

"Dylan, I'm sorry. I think we should stop."

Dylan's reaction had been wordless. He nodded his head, slipped on a robe, and kept his back to her while he waited for his body to calm down. There had been no anger or resentment, no pleas or persuasion, but the look of disappointment on his face had nearly broken Joan's heart. In what was the most humiliating moment of her life, Joan struggled back into her clothes, and offered an additional "Sorry" before fleeing her boyfriend's bedroom.

Joan rushed back to her own home, to her own bedroom and threw herself on her bed and cried. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she so desperately clinging to a virginity she no longer wanted? It wasn't as if she didn't love Dylan, and she was certain he loved her. The fact that he was willing to ignore a lifetime of church teaching against premarital sex in order to be with her spoke volumes to her about how much he cared. And yet, those three little words had never been exchanged between them.

Joan had thought about being the first to say, "I love you," but what if he didn't say it back? Or worse, said it but didn't mean it? For her first time, she needed to have him say it first, needed to look in his eyes and believe it with all her heart. Otherwise, this psychological barrier would always stop her.

And what of Dylan? How long could she hold on to him like this? She knew from bitter experience you couldn't keep bringing a teenage boy to the boiling point and then turn off the heat. It was an unendurable blow to the fragile male ego. With at least half the girls in school openly drooling over her handsome boyfriend, it would be much too easy for him to hook-up should he decide to stray. Her heart could never survive losing another boyfriend for the same reason.

Joan gives a heavy sigh. What a mad society she lived in where it was easier to make love to someone than to say, 'I love you'. Joan goes to the mirror to check her make-up, and immediately experiences a dizzy, disorientation. Reflection God—her own mirror image and voice—is there.

"Not you again!"

"Joan, run."

"What?"

"Run now!"

Scared, Joan turns for the door, but it suddenly slams open. Someone dressed as a ghost stands there.

Joan hesitates. "Dylan?"

The ghost steps towards her, raising his hands. Joan sees he is wearing leather gloves. Definitely not Dylan.

Joan gasps, "No!"

Joan can say no more. The ghost's hands clamp around her throat, and he begins squeezing hard while violently shaking her body. The pain is shocking. Joan struggles, kicking and clawing, trying to break free, but he is much too strong for her. Slowly, her struggles wane, and her eyes begin to close…

Joan is just passing into darkness when the restroom door slams open again. Edgar Heugel, substitute science teacher, and currently dressed as a clown, barges into the room.

"What the hell is going on…"

Heugel spots the scene, gasps and staggers back in horror. The ghost, seeing he is detected, angrily drops Joan's limp body to the floor. The ghost heads for the door and Heugel cowers in fear. The ghost exits and quickly blends into the crowd. Heugel breathes a sigh of relief. He goes over to Joan's body, stares for a moment and shrugs. Heugel opens the door and shouts to the crowd…

"Somebody call nine-one-one! We've got a dying girl in here!"

X X X X X

Much later that night, Joan is asleep in a hospital bed while Helen (still in her Groucho costume) sits beside her. Will and a doctor are near the door, quietly talking.

Joan mumbles, "I don't want to die in a tutu..."

Helen whispers, "Joan honey?"

Joan opens her eyes slightly. "Groucho?"

"It's Mom. You're in the hospital, and you're safe."

Will comes over and says, "Joan, you're going to be alright."

"How do you feel?" the doctor asks.

"My throat hurts." Joan replies in a raspy voice.

"I'm not surprised. You've suffered extensive bruising, but fortunately, no serious damage to the trachea."

"So, I'm okay?"

"You'll experience discomfort for the next few days, and we're keeping you overnight for observation, but we don't anticipate any complications."

Will says, "Thank you, Doctor."

"She's been given something for the pain and will sleep again soon. If you have any questions, have the desk page me."

With a polite nod, the doctor exits.

"Joan, do you know who did this?" Will asks.

Joan starts to shake her head, but it is too uncomfortable. She puts a hand to her bandaged throat.

"No, it was just a guy in a ghost costume. He wore brown leather gloves."

Helen cautiously asks, "Sweetie, did he try to touch you...sexually?"

"No Mom, it wasn't that kind of attack. He wanted to kill me."

Will asks, "Do you suspect anyone of this?"

"Just Ryan Hunter."

Helen sighs, "Oh Joan..."

"Joan, you've got to stop. This is a serious matter."

Joan struggles to keep tears fom her eyes. "Why won't you believe me? Why can't you just once give me the benefit of the doubt?"

Helen responds, "Because it doesn't make any sense. Why would a good man like Ryan wage a vendetta against a teenage girl he barely knows?"

"Dad, can't you at least find out where Ryan was this evening?"

"I don't have to. Ryan was chairing a meeting of the city council tonight. He has at least a hundred witnesses."

"Then he used a hired goon."

Helen says, "Joan, will you listen to yourself? Everyone who knows Ryan likes and respects him. Everyone."

"So that's it? It's back to me being crazy?"

"No one is saying that, but maybe a little counseling would help you gain perspective."

Joan points at her throat. "Did I imagine this? Was the attack on me in September coincidental? Maybe I'm not the one who needs a new perspective."

Will says, "Joan, it's not that we don't want to believe you, but Ryan Hunter is a trusted friend who is kind to everyone he meets."

"He isn't to his brother. He isn't to me. I'm telling you the man is evil, and he's out to destroy us all! I'm sorry you can't trust me enough to even consider the possibility." Joan shouts, and then winces from the pain in her throat.

"Joan, I promise you I won't rest until I find out who was behind this attack. I won't give up no matter where this investigation leads."

Joan sighs. "What you are really saying is that you won't consider what I'm telling you until you've eliminated all other possibilities. Thanks. I hope I'm not dead by then."

Helen cries, "Joan, don't say that!"

"I'm...tired. I'd like to sleep now."

Will and Helen recognize their dismissal. They head for the door.

"There will be a policeman outside your door all night."

Will and Helen exit. After a pause, Joan begins to softly cry.

X X X X X

10-31-05/Monday morning.

As sunlight filters into her room, Joan gently awakens, yawns and stretches. She freezes when she sees a smiling Ryan Hunter sitting next to her.

"You!"

"Good morning, Joan."

Before Joan can respond, she sees Dylan entering the room carrying a bouquet of flowers in a vase.

"Dylan? What's going on?"

"I'm sorry. Did we wake you?"

Ryan says, "She woke up just before you arrived."

"I-I thought there was a police officer on the door to keep people out."

Ryan nods. "There is, but I vouched for Dylan."

Dylan adds, "It helps to have an uncle who heads the police review board."

Joan asks Ryan, "So that's why you're here?"

"Yes, Dylan couldn't get in to see you without my say so. Now tell us Joan, how are you?"

"I'm...okay. More angry than injured. Fortunately, I know the police are going after the guilty party with everything they've got."

Ryan briefly smirks. "And I promised your father the full co-operation of the Herald and the entire city government."

"How nice of you, but I'm sure my Dad can handle it."

"No doubt. Well, I have other obligations. I wish you a speedy recovery, Joan."

"Thanks again for your help, Uncle Ryan."

Ryan shakes hands with his nephew. "Any time, my boy."

With a friendly wave (and a secret wink at Joan), Ryan exits. Dylan takes the chair by Joan's bed.

"Thanks for the flowers. They're lovely."

"You're welcome. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Some bruising and achiness, but I'll survive."

"I'm begining to hate this hospital. First Dad was here, then me, and now you."

"At least we're all walking out of here alive."

"Thank God for that. I'm sorry I couldn't get here earlier, but the police were questioning people for hours--especially those of us in ghost costumes."

"Not a problem. They had me sedated pretty early anyways."

"The guy who attacked you, was it, uh..."

"It wasn't an attempted rape. Whoever it was, he was trying to kill me."

"But why? Do you have enemies?"

"Maybe it was a lunatic?"

"Or someone your dad once arrested?"

"Also a possibility."

"I was with Adam and Glynis when it happened."

Joan smiles. "Despite the ghost costume, I knew it wasn't you."

"Whew. For a moment I was worried."

"I may not know you as well as I would like, but I'm at least certain you're not an insane strangler."

"Gee thanks. High praise indeed."

"Come here."

Dylan comes closer and Joan kisses him long and hard. "You're also a great kisser."

"Wow, what a way to start the day. I wish I could stay for more, but at least one of us needs to get to school."

"And since I'm such an obvious slacker, it will have to be you."

Dylan chuckles. "I better be going or I will be late." (Dylan goes to the door and pauses.) "Be careful Joan, I couldn't take it if anything ever happened to you."

Dylan exits, and as he does, Joan hears him say, "Hello Doctor." Nigerian Doctor God enters, answering over his shoulder...

"Good to see you again, Mr. Hunter."

Doctor God goes to Joan's bed and reads her chart.

"Well, it it isn't deity-come-lately."

"Meaning?"

"A little late on that warning, don't you think? What happened to, 'I got your back, Joan'?"

"That is in you capacity as my agent. In matters of individual choices, consequences must play themselves out. I bent the rules giving you any warning at all."

"But if Ryan was behind this..."

"Ryan Hunter had nothing to do with the attack on you."

"He didn't? But if Ryan wasn't involved, and this attack was the consequence of choices, were they my choices?"

"No, but you have been caught up in the fallout of someone else's decisions."

"What should I do?"

"Be careful. You and your family are at risk."

"Can't you help?"

"Even God is bound by God's rules."

Doctor God makes a notation on Joan's chart, smiles and exits, giving a backhand wave as he goes.

"Bound by the rules? Oh, I get it."

X X X X X

Meanwhile, in the Hunter family backyard, Dr. John Hunter and Kevin are practicing archery.

"Great shot, Kevin. You're really starting to get good at this."

"Thanks, and thanks for the gift of the bow. I've been practicing every chance I get."

"I'm just glad someone is getting some use out of it. In recent years, I haven't made enough use of all of this equipment to justify hanging on to it."

"Really? You seem awfully good for someone out of practice."

"If you ever get to the competitive level, you will understand just how out of practice I am."

"Do you think I could? Get to the competitive level, I mean."

"Certainly. You have a keen eye and a steady hand, and all you need with that is a dedication that borders on obsession."

"Well, I like the sport, but I don't think I'm ready for that kind of committment. Especially since I will be getting married soon."

"Yes, I heard about that from Dylan. Congratulations."

"Thanks. We haven't set a date or anything yet. I still have a month to go before I move into my new place."

"Remember, you have free access to all the equipment, even when you're no longer a neighbor."

"Thanks again, and there goes my last arrow."

"I'll retrieve. Do you have time for another round, or do you have to get to work?"

"Actually, I have the morning off to take Joan home from the hospital. I spoke with Ryan earlier as he was picking up Dylan."

"Anything new to report on Joan?"

"She's going to be okay physically, but she's been through so much lately. I'm begining to worry about her."

"Be sure to give her my best regards, and tell her if she would like some counseling, either formally or just with a friendly neighbor, I'm available."

"I'll pass that along. I know you really helped Mom after the trauma she suffered at the Herald."

"I was glad to help."

"Any idea what kind of person would do this?"

"There's too little data to reasonably speculate. Certainly we're dealing with someone consumed by rage, but as to why? It would help to know if Joan was a random victim or a chosen target."

"Assuming Joan was the target, could it have been someone my Dad arrested?"

"Possibly, but the nature of the attack suggests someone motivated by more than anger. This person has an agenda--a settling of the scales of justice."

"What do you mean?"

"Again, assuming Joan was the intended vistim, consider the risk the attacker took to get to her. Preparing a costume, entering a school with hundreds of potential witnesses, not to mention security staff--and why? If all someone wanted was revenge on Chief Girardi through his family, a gunshot in the dark is a more likely scenario. But if someone felt they, or perhaps someone they loved, had suffered an injustice, there is no limit to how far they would go. Especially if that loved one had recently died."

"Wow, that's quite a theory. Have you shared it with the police?"

"No, it is as you say, just a theory. But if I'm right, you and your family need to take precautions. This isn't the sort of person who will give up after one failed attack. He will be determined to inflict a horrifying form of death to exact his own warped sense of justice."

Kevin shakes his head, appallled.

X X X X X

Later that morning at Arcadia High, the AP Biology class is about to begin. Students are in their seats as an impatient Edgar Heugel awaits the bell. Friedman whispers to Dylan...

"Dude, did you see that line of guys going into the multi-purpose room?"

"Yeah, what was that about?"

"The exhibits for the art show have been set up."

"Art gets that much attention at this school?"

"It does this year. Adam Rove's entry is a nude portrait of Glynis. Every guy in school is lining up to get a look at that."

"And you've seen it?"

"By mere happenstance. My date from last night, Rebecca, had a vase entered in the show, which was actually quite good. I was there to carry it in when I spooted the portrait of the gloriously naked Glynis. Unfortunately, I was so startled, I dropped Rebecca's vase. Needless to say, adios to that relationship."

"I'm surprised the school is permitting a nude portrait of a student, what with her being a minor."

"She hit eighteen earlier this month, but even so, it's art, Dude. It's done in the style of that Botticelli painting, 'Birth of Venus', complete with giant clamshell. You should check it out."

"I don't think so. I'm trying to lead a morally correct life. If I see that portrait, I might start to think of Glynis in an inappropriate way."

"Yeah, I get what you're saying. Every time I glance at her, I can't get that image out of my mind."

Transition to the next table, where Luke and Grace are talking...

"Did you hear what they were saying?" Grace asks.

"Every word."

"Dude, you are not thinking of looking at that painting."

"Well, I uh..."

"That wasn't a question. You're NOT thinking of looking at that painting."

"No, of course not. Looking at the nude portrait of an ex-girlfriend would be...wrong?"

"I was going to say suicidal, but we can go with wrong."

Transition to the next table, to Adam and Glynis...

"You certainly got noticed like you wanted."

"I wanted people to see me differently, but this is more than I expected. Perhaps Mrs. Girardi was right, I din't think this through."

The bell rings. Heugel addresses the class.

"Before we begin, I know everyone is concerned about last night's tragic events. Mr. Girardi, I'm sure the class would appreciate an update on the situation."

Luke stands. "There's not a lot to rerport. Joan's injuries were relatively minor, and she's being released from the hospital today. The police investigaton is in its' early stages, and there are no suspects as of yet. And Mr. Heugel, I wanted to thank you. Your interruption of the attack on Joan saved her life."

"As I told the police, just doing my job."

Friedman begins a slow hand clap that the others pick up. Heugel pompously bows to the light applause.

X X X X X

Still later that morning in Will's office, Carlisle is placing three folders on Will's desk--each one thinner than the last. Carlisle speaks...

"Your felony arrests courtesy of the Chicago Pee Dee, your felony arrests in Arcadia, and a psych profile from our esteemed department shrink."

Will asks, "What does he have to say?"

"Basically, it's too early to speculate, but if we held a gun to his head, he would guess a random attack--possibly the start of a series of attacks on teenage girls."

"Interesting. I just spoke with my son, and he relayed Dr. John Hunter's views on this case."

"The guy who saved our bacon at the storage lockers? I definitely want to hear this."

"The good doctor discounts the idea of a random attack. It isn't even a matter of petty revenge due to an arrest. Dr. Hunter speculates that it was a person with an outraged sense of injustice. That I, or some member of my family, committed such an outrageous breach of what was fair, that only the slow, painful death of a family member will restore balance to the scales of justice."

"So that's why the attacker took such a risk to get to Joan, to avenge the wrong done to him?"

"Or it's the relative of a 'wronged' person who recently died, and he's getting his version of justice for that person."

"Wow Chief, all those politicans and lawyers and businessmen you brought down in the political scandal... Lots of them went to jail, others had their reputations ruined and a few even committed suicide."

"I know. If Dr. Hunter is right, he just increased our list of suspects by a couple of hundred. Even so, we're pulling out all the stops. This bastard is not going to touch a member of my family again."

"The whole force is behind you, Chief. Every detective has volunteered to work over time without pay until this creep is caught. At least a hundred uniformed have offered to help guard your home and family in their off-duty hours."

"Thank you, Sergeant, and thank those officers for me. I'm going to take them up on that offer, and I don't care what the news media has to say about favortism."

"I'll get it organized."

Carlisle exits. Will picks up one of the files and begins reading.

X X X X X

At midday, a police car sits in front of the Girardi home as Dylan's minivan pulls into his family's driveway. The sub-defectives, all of them carrying bags of fast food, head for the Girardi house. A uniformed officer steps from the police car and stops them.

"Can I help you kids?"

"I'm Luke Girardi. This is my house."

"May I see some I.D.?"

Luke shows his driver's license.

"And you vouch for these others? I'll need their names."

"Grace Polk, Dylan Hunter, Adam Rove, Glynis Figliola and Theodore Friedman."

Glynis softly mocks, "Theodore..."

The cop notes the names on a pad, and nods. "Okay everyone, sorry for the inconvenience."

The kids resume walking towards the front door.

Luke says, "Whew, for a second Grace, I thought you were going to call him a pig or a storm trooper."

"After what happened to your sister? No way. For the moment, I'm sticking with what they taught us in first grade--the policeman is our friend."

With Luke leading the way, the sub-defectives enter the house. Joan is on the couch watching TV.

Luke jokes, "Joan, you have company, so stop whatever shameful thing you're up to."

"Very funny Luke. Wow, look, everyone is here. Why is everyone here?"

"My sister gets out of the hospital--of course I'm goign to rush home at lunchtime to see how you are."

"Grace made you."

"Totally, but the others came of their own free will."

Grace says, "You had us worried, Girardi. The last time we saw you was when they were wheeling you out on a stretcher, and you didn't look too good."

Glynis says, "And Joan, I'm so sorry for my part in all of this."

"What do you mean?"

"I violated the girl's code. We went to the restroom together, and we're suppose to leave together. If I hadn't left early..."

"Relax Glynis, no one could have forseen what happened. By the way, what did happen? The last I remember, I was being choked."

Friedman responds, "Mr. Heugel burst into the room thinking he was going to catch some couple making out. Instead, he nearly crapped his big clown pants when he saw what was really happening."

Adam adds, "Yeah, the attacker walked right by Heugel, and he didn't lift a finger to try to stop him. Now today he's strutting around like he's some big hero."

Luke chuckles, "Yeah, Friedman did this fake applause thing, and we all went along. It was hilarious. Heugel didn't suspect a thing."

"Sorry I missed it."

Grace says, "So can we eat now? Some of us have to get back to school."

"Follow me everyone." Luke says as he leads the way to the kitchen. Dylan lingers behind to speak with Joan.

Joan remarks, "You've been quiet."

Dylan responds, "I was just thinking, have you noticed how our dates have developed a pattern of ending in violence and hospitalization?"

"Yeah, we really should learn a way to avoid that. I wonder how other couples manage it?"

"We will have to ask around. So, how are you doing?"

"About the same as when you asked me five hours ago."

Dylan taps his head and his heart. "No, I mean in here and in here."

"Oh. Okay, I guess. Despite the trauma and the drama, I haven't slipped off the rails yet. Maybe I'm in denial?"

"No, I just think you're incredibly brave and strong. I don't know how you go through so much and not let it phase you."

"Oh, I'm phased. Trust me, I'm phased."

Joan's cell phone rings. She answers...

"Hi Mom." (Joan points toward the kitchen, and she and Dylan head that way.) "No Mom, I understand. I knew you had to start setting up for the art show. Kevin got me home just fine." (Pause.) "Yeah, they're all here. Everybody say 'Hi' to my Mom."

Joan holds up her cell phone. Everyone responds with shouts of "Hi." "Hey Mrs G." and "Hello Mrs. Girardi."

"Did you hear that?" (Pause.) "A lunch meeting with Chadwick and Price? Aww, you have all the fun." (Pause.) "About Glynis? Oh, okay, love you too. Bye Mom."

Glynis, voice trembling, "They're discussing me?"

"Something about a painting. What's the big deal?"

Friedman answers, "She's totally nude."

"You're kidding. Adam!"

"It's what she wanted!"

"No doubt you fought hard against the idea."

"Nude portraits are an important part of an artist's development."

Friedman adds, "And it turned out great. I'm going back for another look."

Grace reaches over and smacks the back of Friedman's head.

Glynis says, "I knew the painting would attract attention, but I had no idea how much or how bad it would be. All the dirty looks and comments, and some guys, as I walked by, actually...touched themselves."

Glynis hides her face in her hands.

Grace mutters, "All guys are pigs."

Adam says, "I can't stand this. I'm going to ask Mrs. G. to pull the painting from the show."

Glynis is shocked. "Adam, no. I won't let you sacrifice your beautiful art to spare me a few blushes."

Friedman says, "Besides Dude, it's more erotic than a Playboy centerfold."

Glynis reaches over and smacks the back of Friedman's head. "Ah, somehow that makes me feel better. If only every guy in school hadn't already seen it."

Luke raises his hand. "I haven't seen it."

Dylan raises his hand. "Nor have I."

Joan and Grace in unison, "Keep it that way!"

Glynis says, "Then it's decided. The painting stays in, and if the hazing gets to be too much, I'll skip school until Friday's art show is over."

Adam leans over and kisses her cheek. "You are as brave as you are beautiful."

Glynis smiles. "Unchallenged."

Joan says, "Now that this is settled, let's dig in. I'm starved. Hey, didn't you guys bring me anything?"

Dylan produces a greasy sack that was next to his.

Joan asks, "Ooh, what did you get me?"

"Wings and rings."

"How did you know hot wings and onion rings are two of my favorites?"

"I didn't, but fortunately your ex-boyfriend was along, as usual, to guide me."

Everyone pauses to look at Dylan.

"Wow, that came out totally wrong. Sorry everyone."

Adam says, "No problem, yo."

X X X X X

At that moment in the multi-purpose room of Arcadia High... Chadwick, Price and Helen are in front of Adam's painting, which is the center of the many art projects set up for the art fair. The two men are as transfixed as Helen is uncomfortable.

"You're our art expert, Helen. Is this as good as I think it is?" Chadwick asks.

"It's Adam's best work ever. He should easily win the Arcadia Art Fair for the third year in a row."

Price comments, "If it is allowed to compete."

Chadwick responds, "We have no choice in the matter. A certain art teacher went to the school board last year and got a ruling forbidding us from censoring any student's art project."

"Surely we can't allow the level of disruption this painting has caused to continue. Can we at least cover it until Friday afternoon's judging?"

Helen says, "The students have always been allowed to view the art exhibits in their free time."

Chadwick adds, "She's right. If we cover this, we will be liable to the same charge of censorship as if we had withdrawn it."

Helen asks, "Besides, do you really think this should be covered?"

Price studies the painting and sighs. "No, of course not. If I saw this in a museum, I wouldn't hesitate to admire it for the beautiful, sensual work of art that it is. The only thing that is truly disturbing is that we all know and have to interact with the model."

Chadwick says, "Fortunately, Miss Figliola is an ideal student, and we rarely have to 'interact' with her."

"Just as well. It's going to be difficult to keep this image out of mind when I see her. You know we will be hearing from a lot of upset parents."

Chadwick sighs. "Name a day we don't. We will just have to ride out the storm."

Helen says, "There is another matter. I've heard from some of my students that Glynis is being harassed by a lot of boys and even some of the girls."

Price bristles, "At least that's something we can act on! I'll notify the entire staff to keep a watchful eye on Miss Figliola to ensure she isn't bothered. Also, I'll include in tomorrow's homeroom agenda a reminder of the school's zero tolerance policy on sexual harrassment."

Chadwick nods. "Excellent. I also want a staff member in here to monitor traffic flow. Students are free to view this work of art, but they won't be allowed to linger and drool."

Helen says, "Then it sounds like we have done all that we can."

Helen nods to the two men and exits. Chadwick and Price linger to admire the painting a little longer.

X X X X X

Back at the Girardi home, most of the sub-defectives are in the kitchen cleaning up after their meal. Dylan and Joan have slipped into the den for a moment of privacy.

Dylan says, "If you pulled me in here to make out, I'm flattered, but a little uncomfortable with everyone being in the next room."

"Keep you shirt on, Stud. I only wanted to ask a favor."

"Anything. You know that."

"I want you to pray for protection for my family and me."

"Gladly, but wouldn't you be more comfortable praying with your family's priest?"

"Father Ken is a great guy, but I fully trust that you have miracle working faith."

"Wow. I-I don't know how to respond to that."

"Then just pray. I know it will work."

"Take my hands."

Joan and Dylan join hands and bow their heads.

"Almighty God, merciful Father, in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ we pray... Father, I call upon you to protect Joan and her family. In accordance with your word, no weapon formed against them shall prosper. You do not forsake them. You are their shield, and destruction shall not come near them. Your word...your word is: Touch not my annointed! Yes, we are delivered from evil, for thy will is done. Glory to God, amen."

As the prayer ends, Dylan staggers back a couple of feet, drained.

Joan notes, "That...was an intense experience."

"Joan, I've never experienced the power of prayer so strongly. Your faith is amazing. Did you know you have been annointed by God?"

"Dylan, that's a bible quote."

"Yes, but that word was for you. God has special plans for your life."

"His plans for my life are no different than anyone's life. To fulfill my true nature."

Before Dylan can respond, calls of "Let's go" and "We're late" come from the front door area, where the sub-defectives have gathered.

Grace call out, "Hey Hunter, you're our ride. Let's roll!"

Luke adds, "Yeah Joan, give the poor guy's lips a rest."

Joan and Dylan emerge from the den. As they do, Joan's cell phone begins playing: 'When The Saints Go Marching In.' Joan opens the phone and sees the caller I.D. says, GOD. She answers with a whisper...

"This isn't a good time. Can you hold?"

Little Girl God replies over the phone, "Actually Joan, this is the perfect time. Announce to your friends that you are running for student council president."

"What? That's onlt ten days away."

"Hurry Joan, before they leave."

Joan disconnects. "Uh guys, before you leave, I just decided to run for student council president."

For a long pause, the sub-defectives stare blankly at Joan. Grace is the first to recover...

"Okay then. I'll get started on some slogans and campaign buttons."

Luke adds, "I'll get the necessary paperwork from the office."

Adam says, "I'll make campaign posters like I did for Brian."

Friedman contributes, "I'll create a campaign website. We can incorporate a lot of Brian's old ideas."

Glynis says, "I'll help with signatures for your qualifying petition and start gathering polling data."

Dylan asks, "You just NOW decided?"

Grace grabs Dylan's arm and steers him out the front door.

Dylan repeats, "She just NOW decided?"

Grace replies, "Dude, you need to learn this about Joan. When she gets these--her mom calls them enthusiasms--it's just easier to go along."

Adan adds, "Because even if you don't, she drags you in anyway."

The sub-defectives walk away from the front porch.

X X X X X

Later that afternoon at the Arcadia Herald, Ryan's secretary, Mrs. Burke, is diligently working at her computer in the outer office. Sensing she is not alone, Mrs. Burke looks up and finds an oddly dressed little girl in front of her desk.

"Why, hello. Where did you come from?"

"I'm here to see Mr. Hunter."

Mrs. Burke smiles. "And do you have an appointment?"

"No, but we are old friends. I'm sure he will see me."

"And who should I say is calling?"

"God."

"God? Look little girl, Mr. Hunter and I are busy people. We can't have our time wasted like this."

"It's an inside joke between Mr. Hunter and myself. If you tell him I AM here, you'll see."

Mrs. Burke hesitates and then calls Ryan on the intercom. "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there's a little girl to see you, and she says she is God."

Ryan laughs. "Then by all means, send her in."

"I heard. Thank you, Mrs. Burke."

Little Girl God goes to the office door and lets herself in. Mrs. Burke quietly muses to herself...

"How did she know my name?"

Litle Girl God crosses Ryan's ofice and stands before his desk.

"What an unexpected honor. You've never come to my office before. What brings you by?"

"I want you to help Joan and her family. To help the police catch the attacker before he succeeeds in killing someone."

"Why would I want to do that?" What's it to me if the entire Girardi family gets slaughtered?"

"You claim Will and Helen are your friends. Have you no genuine feelings for them?"

"Lots of feelings. Will is a boring, self-righteous hypocrite who is easily swayed by money and power if he thinks it's being used in a 'noble' cause. As for Helen, she's a married, middle-aged woman who is having sexual fantasies about me. It's disgusting. She's no better than a whore."

"So you don't care if some third party kills Joan and denies you your victory? After all, you've gone to a lot of trouble just to see the prize snatched out of your hands."

Ryan pauses a moment to think. "As usual, you have a point, but I'm still going to say, 'NO' for no other reason than you want it. Free will, remember?"

"As long as you remember, you must live with the consequences of your action or inaction."

"Why should there be consequences to me? I've had nothing to do with this matter."

"Ryan, for months you have poured doubt, fear and hate into this community. You are responsible for the atmosphere you have created. You are like a small child holding a lit stick of dynamite..." (Little Girl God reaches into her shoulder bag and pulls out a stick of dynamite--the fuse is already burning.) "You look at the fuse you have lit and are mesmerized by the flame and sparks. You just don't see the devastation that's coming your way."

"That fuse is getting rather short."

"Nervous?"

Ryan folds his arms and smiles. "Not a bit. I know you too well to think you would kill me."

Little Girl God blows a tiny puff of air at the fuse. It instantly goes out. She removes the fuse and places the TNT on the desk. "If you really knew me, you would know I only want what is best for you and all of mankind."

"What a pity you are so incompetent at providing it. The entire world suffers because of your pride."

"How so?"

"You are so locked into this mystique of infallibility, you won't admit you made a design flaw when you created us. This 'gift' of free will has resulted in countless generations of suffering."

"Without free will, you would lose your humanity."

"What good is it? When it allows a man like my father, an adulterer, to live a long, prosperous life with his JEZEBEL. Meanwhile, my mother the the betrayed victim, dies young, sick, poor and alone. Even after I had served you for years, you still denied her a healing. I begged you on my knees for her life!"

"I explained the rules. Miracles come through faith powered by love. Your mother cherished her hate more than she did her own health. My hands were tied."

"RULES, says the Divine Lawyer. Fine, my hands are not tied. I'm going to demonstrate your fallibility by besting your chosen agent. I'll do your bidding in this matter and save the Girardi girl. Then I can have the pleasure of destroying her. What do you want me to do?"

"If I'm so incompetent, how can you have the faith to believe in my plan?"

Little Girl God turns and walks toward the door.

"What should I do?"

"You're a smart man. You'll figure it out."

Ryan holds up the stick of dynamite that was left on his desk. "What do I do with this?"

"You're a smart man. You'll figure it out."

Little Girl God exits, without a wave. Ryan looks at the dynamite for a moment and spots some small numbers on the stick. He smiles.

"Mrs. Burke, bring in a mailing tube."

X X X X X

A short time later, at police headquarters, Will is at his desk, staring at a couple of photographs. His secretary Jean opens the door slightly.

"Chief, have you got a moment to spare for Ryan Hunter?"

"Of course, he always has unlimited access to this office."

Jean exits, and a moment later Ryan enters, carrying a mailing tube. The two men shake hands.

"Good of you to see me, Will. Are those suspects in the attack on Joan?"

Will picks up the photos. "Not these two. I've been reviewing all the major cases of my career. In twenty-five years as a cop, these are the two men I've killed."

"I had no idea. It must be a difficult thing to live with."

Will nods. "This is Robert Morrison. About two years ago, he took me hostage during a routine traffic stop. He had escaped from a parole hearing after shooting two people. I managed to escape by ramming the getaway car into a pole at seventy miles per hour. Morrison didn't make it."

"And the other man?"

"Joe Petrangelo, a career criminal who preferred robbing banks. I was the first to respond to a silent alarm, just as he was coming out of the bank. He shot at me and I fired back. I was checking to see if either of these men had a disgruntled relative who might want revenge."

"Any luck?"

"Not really. These are just two possibilities out of hundreds of felony arrests. Add to that all the people swept up in the political scandals of a couple of years ago.."

"It becomes a needle in a haystack situation. Perhaps I can help. From time to time, people will send anonymous tips to the Herald, and I just found this mailing tube next to my car in the newspaper's parking lot."

"Something significant?"

"Enough that I rushed it right over here. I regret to say I didn't realize it was evidence, so my fingerprints are all over it. As you can see, it has my name on it and is marked personal. It was foolish, but I opened it immediately."

Ryan opens the cardboard tube and places the contents on Will's desk.

"Dynamite?"

"And this note in handwritten block letters: NEXT FOR GIRARDI."

Will stares at the note for a beat and then picks up the phone. "Sergeant, dispatch units to the Herald and to Arcadia High. They are to check for bombs in my son's and wife's cars. Also check my car, it's in the back parking lot. Have the bomb squad on standby."

As Will speaks, Ryan uses his cell phone. "Security office? This is Ryan Hunter. There is a blue Chevy station wagon is the parking lot... Yes, Kevin Girardi's car. Cordon it off immediately. Let not one near it until the police arrive."

Will has dialed another number, and waits. "Helen isn't answering her cell phone. She usually turns it off during classes and sometimes forgets to turn it back on. Damn! School is letting out now."

Ryan dials another number. "Dylan, this is your uncle. Do you know which car Mrs. Girardi drives... Go to it now and don't let anyone near that car. There may be a bomb. And nephew, please be careful." (Ryan disconnects.)

"I'll try the school's office." Will says.

"Don't bother. By the time you get through, and convince someone to act, Dylan will already be in position. We've done all that we can."

Will sighs. "You're right. All we can do is wait. Thank you Ryan for bringing this to me so promptly."

"At least now you have a lead you can trace. Those markings on the dynamite are a manufacturer's lot number."

"Which will tell us where and when it was purchased." (Will calls on the phone again.) "Sergeant, bring an evidence bag to my office. We may have a breakthrough."

Will hangs up and stares at the clock. He taps his fingers impatiently.

X X X X X

That night in the Girardi living room, Will and Helen are on the couch, and he has his arm around her. Dr. Hunter is in a nearby chair. Sgt. Carlisle stands, reading from a report...

"The bomb found under Mrs. Girardi's car consisted of a single stick of dynamite with a contact detonator, and a five gallon can of gasoline."

Helen asks, "Why so little dynamite and so much gasoline?"

Will uncomfortably replies, "It's called a fireball bomb. The intent isn't to kill the victim with the initial blast, but to have him burn in the fire."

"Oh God."

Will continues, "A particularly painful death--just as you predicted, Doctor."

"You have no idea how much I wish I was wrong. When you invited me to this meeting, you said you had a suspect?"

Carlisle resonds, "On the dynamite used in the bomb, the serial numbers were filed off, but the dynamite supplied by Ryan's anonymous tipster was the perfect clue. It was part of a large shipment purchased by the Adams and Clark Demolition Company. They're knocking down an old railroad bridge north of town, and two weeks ago they reported the disappearance of a case of TNT from the jobsite."

"Good Lord, don't they have security?" Dr. Hunter asks.

"The dynamite was stolen in the middle of the night while the security guard was drunk on the job. The guard was of course, fired."

Will adds, "No one suspected the guard because only a small amount of explosives were taken, and the guard had a history of heavy drinking."

Helen asks, "How does a man like that get a job in security?"

"He's an ex-cop who still has friends on the force who will vouch for him."

After a pause, Helen says, "Oh, now I know who it is."

Will nods. "Michael Dahglian."

Dr. Hunter asks, "And who is that?"

"When I first met Lieutenant Dahglian, he was the head of homicide. We worked closely together on several cases, and I thought he was a pretty good cop."

"Something changed your mind?"

"An old rape case he had worked was coming up to trial. There was a technicality in the offical report that was going to make getting a conviction difficult. Dahglian altered the report to remove the problem. When I called him on it, he wouldn't back down. I had to fire him."

"He didn't take it well?"

"The way he saw it, he was a good cop who was putting away a rapist by any means possible. When I fired him, Dahglian wasn't too upset because he had friends in high places. He was certain they would get him reinstated."

"But then came the political scandal that swept the entire city government out of office."

"And I simply forgot about the fate of Michael Dahglian."

Carlisle says, "I spoke with a couple of his old buddies on the force. They said his life fell apart after that. With that black mark on his record, Dahglian couldn't get another job as a cop. He started doing security work, but he couldn't hold on to a job because of his heavy drinking. A year ago his wife took their eight year old daughter and left him. She moved back to Ohio to be near her parents."

"Excuse me for being morbid, but can you check on his wife and child to see if they are okay?"

Carlisle sighs. "We already did. They both died in a car crash two weeks ago."

Helen says, "Oh, that poor man."

Will snorts, "That 'poor man' tried to kill you and Joan."

Dr. Hunter says, "And he's not done. He has absolved himself of any responsibility, and has placed on Will the onus of the entire chain of events that led to the death of his wife and child. This Dahglian fellow won't stop until he inflicts on Will the same pain he is experiencing."

Helen gulps. "So Joan and I are his targets?"

"Yes, but at this point, he won't hesitate to kill anyone who gets in his way."

Will says, "We have an A.P.B. out on him, and every cop in the state is looking for him."

Carlisle adds, "We also got a search warrant and searched his apartment. No sign of Dahglian, and his landlord said he hadn't seen him all day. We did find the ghost costume and some of the dynamite."

Will says, "And we confiscated his computer. He's been hacking the Arcadia High computers frequently. He bought a ticket for the Halloween dance online. He knew Helen was an assigned chaperone, and he even knew her designated parking space."

Helen asks, "So what do we do now?"

"It won't take long to round up Dahglian. Until then, you and Joan are in police protective custody. You will stay in this house while a half dozen uniformed officers guard you."

"Ooh, does that mean I'll have a big, strong policeman right outside my bedroom door?"

Will kisses Helen's hand. "Even closer than that."

X X X X X

11-3-05/Thursday, noon.

The sub-defectives have gathered in the cafeteria to plan Joan's presidential campaign.

Luke says, "We beat the deadline for filing, and easily had enough qualifying signatures. It was startling how many students were eager to sign Joan's candidate petition."

Grace shrugs. "Not that surprising when you consider the two guys she's running against are a couple of brain-dead jocks. No offense, Hunter."

"How could I take offense at that? We brain-dead jocks rarely realize we're being insulted."

Glynis says, "Grace has a point. My polling shows a definite baclash against two athletes being the only choices. Especially after our last president was also an athlete."

Adam asks, "So how is Joan doing in the polls?"

"It's still early, so 20 percent of the students are undecided. Frank Neidermeyer, the captain of the football team, has 25 percent."

Dylan notes, "He's led the football team to their first losing season in a decade."

Glynis nods. "His support is unlikely to improve. Carson Kelly, the basketball team captain has 26 percent."

Grace asks, "Is that a problem for you, Hunter?"

"Nah, every guy on the team knows girlfriends come before team loyalty."

Grace mutters under her breath, "At least he didn't say ho's before bro's."

Luke says, "Wait, this means Joan has 29 percent? She's already in the lead? How is that possible when she hasn't even campaigned yet?"

Friedman responds, "Campaigning is so last century. Today, everything is done through websites, and the one I've designed is brillant. The cheerleader factor alone accounts for her lead."

Adam says, "But I thought the cheerleaders hated Joan?"

"They do, with a passion, especially after she revealed what hypocrites they are during the Briana Matthews scandal. Fortunately, the A-V guys recorded Joan's cheerleader tryout, which I have on the website."

"So how does that help Joan?" Adam asks.

"For every girl that becomes a cheerleader, ten get rejected. And those cheerleaders are not known for the kindness of their rejections."

Grace muses, "Revenge as a political motivator. I love it."

"Glynis says, "Joan actually has a lot of support from all the groups she's tried out for--chess club, band, mock trial, drama club and debate. Scott Brooks, the friend she made in debate, is now the school's newspaper editor. He has promised an editorial endorsing Joan."

Adam adds, "All of the art students are backing Joan because they like Mrs. G. so much."

Glynis continues, "And Joan's biggest support group is freshman boys. A whopping 80 percent are backing her."

Luke asks, "Why so many?"

"The jocks often pick on the freshman, so Niedermeyer and Kelly aren't popular with them. Plus, Joan picked up a lot of support when she went with Noah Beaumont to the freshman mixer."

Dylan comments, "It's amazing how everything is falling into place, almost as if it were all planned out."

Luke shakes his head. "My sister, student council president. Freaky."

Grace says, "If we can ever get her back in school. How long are the cops keeping her under lock and key?"

"Protective custody, and no one knows. It isn't safe for her to leave our house until the guy who attacked her is arrested."

Dylan says, "Uh guys, we're not alone."

The sub-defectives look around and realize they have been surrounded by a couple of dozen assorted students. Noah Beaumont acts as spokesman...

"We came to volunteer for Joan's campaign, but is it true? Joan can't come to school?"

Luke answers, "For the time being."

"Then there's only one thing to do... Rally at Joan's house before school tomorrow!"

The crowd begins to chant, "Joan, Jaon, Joan!"

"This isn't a good idea..." Luke says, but is unable to make himself heard.

"Joan, Joan, Joan!" the crowd continues to chant as Noah leads them away.

Adam shrugs. "I guess we're rallying at Joan's tomorrow."

X X X X X

11-4-05/Friday morning.

Joan is in the living room watching the morning news. Helen descends the main stairs and enters.

"Good morning Joan. You're up early, and dressed for school I see."

Joan looks over her shoulder. "So are you. I guess hope springs eternal."

Joan uses the remote to switch off the TV.

"You don't have to turn that off."

"What's the point? The only news I'm interested in is whether or not Dahglian has been caught. Dad will tell us long before the media gets the story."

"I know it's frustrating being cooped up in this house, but we have to be cautious."

"But I'm so booored! I miss my friends, I miss fresh air, I even miss school."

"I know. Think how I feel. The art fair is this afternoon, and I can't be there for the biggest event of the year for my students."

Will enters through the front door. He is carrying the morning paper.

"Dad, any news?"

"Sorry honey, nothing to report."

"But how long can we go on like this? What if Dahglian has gone into hiding, or has left town? It might be weeks or months before he gets caught."

"We don't think that's likely. Just be patient."

"What if she's right, Will? We can't put our lives on hold indefinitely. Maybe we should start with my attending the art fair after school."

"It's too risky."

"It's my life to risk."

"But what about the risk to others? If Dylan Hunter hadn't stopped you from getting in your car, not only would you be dead, but so would anyone else who was nearby."

Helen sighs. "You're right of course. I can't risk endangering any of the students just to relieve my boredom."

From outside of the house comes the sound of horns honking, car doors slamming and raised voices.

"What's that racket? I'll check. You two stay away from the windows."

Will goes to the window and peeks out.

"What is it, Will?"

"There are dozens of high school kids out there, Luke included. They're gathering on the front lawn and some of them have signs that say: VOTE JOAN?"

Helen and Will turn to face an embarassed Joan.

"Did I forget to mention I'm running for student council president?"

Helen replies, "You did."

"Well, I am. Surprise!"

Will says, "Joan, any other time we would be proud, but we can't have this kind of distraction while my guys are guarding the house."

"Dad, I didn't know about this. I turned the campaign over to Luke and my friends. Should I go out and tell them all to leave?"

"No, I'll do it."

Will heads for the front door with Helen and Joan following. Just as Will reaches the door, a uniformed cop, with his gun drawn, appears from the back of the house.

"Hold it Chief. Don't move."

The three Girardis look back and see Dahglian in his old cop's uniform.

"Slowly step away from the door."

The Girardis reluctantly obey. Dahglian reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. He tosses them to Will.

"Put them on Chief. Handcuff yourself to the railing, and I better hear them click shut."

"Michael, you don't have to do this..."

"Do it Chief, or I kill your daughter, right now."

Will attaches one part of the handcuff to the rail that seperates the stairs from the living room. He then clicks the other half to his wrist. Dahglian takes position on the bottom step of the stairs.

"Ladies, come stand in front of me."

Helen begins to tremble, but with Joan supporting her, they step in front of Dahglian.

"Kneel."

Helen sobs and her knees buckle. Joan kneels beside her.

Helen begs, "Oh God, please don't do this."

"Mom. it's going to be okay."

Will says, "Michael, I heard about your wife and daughter. I'm sorry."

"You think you're sorry, Chief. But you're going to find out just how sorry a man can be."

"You can't get away with this!"

"I don't intend to. When this is over, I'll simply surrender to the cops outside. I'll rot in jail the rest of my life, but I'll have the satisfaction of knowing you're suffering the same pain I am."

Helen pleads, "Please, would your wife want you to do this?"

"What my wife wanted was a husband who could support his family, instead of being a ruined drunk. Ruined by holier-than-thou Will Girardi, who would rather see a rapist go free than compromise his prescious code of honor. Did you know Chief, that creep raped another woman? He's awaiting trial in Philly."

Will hangs his head.

Helen shouts, "God will punish you!"

"God? He's giving me this chance for justice. I was going to force my way into the house next door, kill anyone in my way, and use their upstairs window to throw dynamite at this house. But like a gift from God, that distraction out front drew away the cops guarding the backyard."

From outside, the crowd begins a steady chant, "We want Joan! We want Joan!"

"You see? An eye for an eye. A life for a life."

Dahglian raises his pistol and points it at Joan.

Joan quotes, "No weapon formed against me shall prosper."

Dahglian momentarily pauses, confused by the quote. Joan stares steadily at the man, and over his shoulder she sees Kevin coming down on the rail chair. The slight noise it makes is masked by the chanting of the crowd. Kevin has his bow, with a nocked arrow. He fires at Dahglian and hits him in the shoulder. Dahglian howls with pain, drops his gun and collapses. Will stretches forward and retrieves the fallen pistol. Kevin's rail chair comes to a halt...

"Is he--is he dead?"

Dahglian moans in pain.

Will replies, "Apparently not. We need back up in here."

Joan says, "I'll get the cops outside."

Joan goes to the front door and exits. Through the open door, the Girardis hear the crowd's cheers.

THE END. PLEASE REVIEW.

(Sorry this one got a little long, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Hey, we are about a third of the way through this third season of mine, and I would love to hear what you think so far.)