twenty years

by dorisann

part 3 of lost love

"Lost Love" Part 3: "Twenty Years"

by

Dorisann Anderson

Martin Beck walked out of the prison gate -- free at last.

A brown station wagon was waiting for him, but before he got inside, he paused and looked back at the place that he had just left. But he wasn't seeing the ugly gray prison building. . .instead, he could picture the faces of the two cops who had put him there in the first place.

"I told you that I could wait twenty years," he smiled coldly. "Baker and Poncherello, now it's your turn to suffer like I have the last twenty years."

For the next two weeks, Martin staked out Baker and Poncherello's houses. He noted the time of each family's comings and goings, carefully memorizing their routines. A lot had changed over the past twenty years -- including the fact that both officers were now family men. Martin was particularly surprised to see Ponch had twins.

I lost my twin because of you, Poncherello, he thought as he stood in the vacant lot opposite the CHP officer's home. Believe me, I'm going to make you pay for that.

The sight of those two pretty little girls clinched it for him. More then ever, Martin was determined to make sure that Jon and Ponch knew what it felt like to go through living hell.

Twenty year old Rosea sat in the living room, watching her younger sisters as they played. Sara and Maria were making the best of their new ability to run and to grab things off the tables, keeping their older sister hopping.

"I think it's time for you two to have some quiet time," she said, but Sara and Maria both gave her a questioning look. "OK, so I'm the one that needs the quiet time!"

Rosea picked up Sara and started to walk towards the playpen. But at that moment, the doorbell rang, and she put the toddler down so quickly that Sara didn't have time to squawk in protest. She ran to the door and opened it faster than she usually did.

"Oh, James, I'm so glad you're here!" she sighed in relief.

James Baker laughed as he walked into the house. "The twins getting to be to much for you? They don't call it the terrible twos for nothing, you know!"

He was still laughing as he walked over to Maria. Sara rolled her eyes and then nodded at the other twin.

"Very funny, James!" she shook her head. "Could you please get Maria for me while I find her favorite teddy bear? I'll put both of the girls down in the playpen for a while."

As the twins began to fall off to sleep, the door bell rang once again. Rosea opened the door and stood there for a moment in speechless disbelief. Not knowing just what to do, she yelled for James.

'James, when did our dads say they were getting off work today?"

"What's wrong, Rosea?" James ran to the door, and Rosea pointed to the front yard. "What the. . .? "

He stepped out into the front yard and inspected its bizarre addition. The wreath of black roses had a note attached to it with a two word message: "Twenty years."

Jon and Ponch soon drove up to the house. As he got out of Jon's truck, Ponch saw the wreath. "The kids!" he yelled.

Ponch and Jon ran to the door, not knowing what to expect. But Rosea and James had already heard the truck pull into the driveway, and now they ran outside.

"DAD!" Rosea threw herself into her father's arms, and she could feel her father's fear, as well as her own. "I don't know where these came from! Someone just knocked on the door and then left. I didn't know what to do. Mom went to the store to get things for the camping trip."

"Rosea, Hon, I want you and James to go inside," Ponch managed to keep his voice level. "Make sure that all the doors are locked, OK?"

Jon inspected the wreath carefully, looking for some clue "Maybe we could have LAPD look at this thing, Ponch. Their detectives might come up with something."

Ponch carefully picked up the wreath and put it in Jon's truck, then took a closer look at the roses. "You know, Jon, black roses mean death. Somebody's got a grudge against me, and now my family is in danger. It was never easy for me to handle a death threat, but it's almost impossible now."

"I remember the times we used to laugh them off," Jon shook his head. "But now I guess death threats seem so much more important because we've got a lot more to lose. Look, Ponch, it might be a good idea if you take your family and mine to the cabin. I'll cover for you and be there the next day."

Ponch ran his hand through his thick black hair. "Yeah. Jon, I'll think of something to tell the ladies."

James walked out of the house and looked at his dad. He had never seen that kind of fear on his father's face before.

"We locked all the doors and windows, Dad," James said.

"Son, we don't want to frighten Lisa, so let's not say any thing about this, OK?" Jon said.

"Sure, Dad," James nodded, then added with typical teen-age logic, "Can I drive home? I got my permit today."

James pulled in front of his house, only to find his mother standing in the yard. Tears rolled down her face as she stared out at the street.

Jon wasted no time getting out of his truck. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Sandy moved, so that he could see what was behind here. It was the kind of foam rubber tombstone that was so popular at Halloween, but there was a message printed on it: "It's been twenty years, Baker. . . and now you die."

Jon held Sandy close and whispered, "Sandy go inside and lock the doors. Get your gun, and don't hesitate to use it if you have to. I'll be back as soon as I can. I've got to take this into the detectives at LAPD to see if they can find figure out who is behind this."

Sandy had been a cop for too many years not to know how to use a gun. She held onto her husband for a moment, then said, "Please be careful, Jon, and hurry back home to me."

Jon phoned Ponch from his office at Central. "Hey, Ponch, I had a tombstone waiting for me when I got home. Sandy already knows about it, so maybe you should tell Lisa the truth."

There was no reply for a few seconds, and Jon twisted the phone cord around his fingers, while fear and anger flashed in his blue eyes.

"I've got the flowers and the tombstone in the lab now," he tried to talk some sense into his former partner again. "Maybe you should leave early tonight and take everybody to the cabin like we had planned."

"I might do that," Ponch said in the tone that meant he still wasn't convinced. "Jon. . .I just don't know what to do. I know someone needs to watch out for our families. But then again, I don't want to leave you alone when there's someone out to kill us."

"I can take care of myself, Ponch," Jon said. . .and now it was his turn to sound less than credible. "The best thing you can do for me right now is to watch out for the people I love, OK?"

Ponch mumbled something that might have been an "OK, Jon," and then hung up. Jon stared at the receiver until its shrill beep brought him back to the present. As he mentally replayed the conversation, he decided that he might have actually persuaded Ponch that everything was going to be all right.

Now, if he could just convince himself.

Ponch hung up the phone and began to pace the living room, first looking out the window at the front yard and then watching his girls sleep. He could still see the black wreath in his front yard, and he felt his stomach starting to churn all over again.

Finally, he sat down on the couch beside the playpen, just as Lisa walked into the room. She sat down beside him on the sofa, and as he took her hand in his, he struggled to find the words that he knew he had to say.

"Lisa, I. . .honey, I need to tell you something," he stammered. "But you've got to promise me that you won't get upset, OK?"

Now his stomach was turning somersaults and back flips as he waited for Lisa's reaction. She had once left him because of his dangerous job, and he could almost feel his heart skipping a beat now and then. His hand tightened on hers, and he tried to speak calmly.

"Someone is threating Jon and me," he said. "They've been leaving little messages for us. We don't know who or why yet. Jon thinks it'd be best if we all went camping a little earlier then planed. We could get everything together and leave tonight. I'm going with you, but Jon's staying here 'til tomorrow night."

For a moment, Lisa said nothing, but tears streamed down her face as he held out his arms to her. That was the only place that she really felt safe, and she knew that she could never leave him again.

"I love you, Ponch," she said. "And no matter what happens, I'll stand by you this time. You don't have to worry about me leaving again."

Ponch pulled Lisa closer to him and held her tightly. "I won't let any thing happen to you or our kids -- I promise."

Ponch and Lisa quickly got the camping gear together and loaded it in the van. Neither one of them paid any attention to the brown station wagon parked across the street.

But as Ponch loaded the van, Martin Beck was busy, trying to think of some way to find out where they would be camping. In a little while, Jon's family joined the Poncherello clan, and Beck watched as Jon walked to the van's back window.

"Now listen, kids, I want you to do what your mom and Uncle Ponch tell you to, OK?" he said firmly.

As the oldest, James always answered for his younger brother and sister. "Sure, Dad," he said.

Jon walked over to the driver's window. "Ponch, just be careful, and make sure no one follows you."

Ponch looked at Jon with a worried look on his handsome face. "You know I will. Hey, Jon. . .just watch your back, OK?"

Jon smiled, "I'll be fine. I'll see everybody early tomorrow morning."

Across the street, Beck grinned coldly when he heard Jon's words. "Oh, that's good -- all of them at one time. You guys sure are making my job easy."

As he drove to the campsite, Ponch kept an eye on the rearview mirror, watching to see if someone was following them. Sandy was also monitoring the side mirrors for any cars that had been behind them for more than a few miles.

Not wanting to frighten the kids, Ponch spoke in Spanish. "Can you tell if any one is following us, Sandy?"

Sandy replied in Spanish, as well "No, I haven't seen anyone, Ponch."

By the time that they arrived at the cabin, it was still several hours before dawn, and Ponch wasted no time in getting things unpacked. Sandy waited until he was finished and then walked over to him.

"I've got James and Jeff in the small bedroom, and I'll put Susie in the bed with me," she said calmly.

But as she turned around, she whispered, "Ponch, I have my gun."

Ponch smiled at her. "Hopefully, we won't have to use them, Sandy."

Ponch laid beside Lisa till he was sure she was sound asleep. Then he quietly got out of bed and tucked his gun inside his belt. He walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa so that he could keep an eye on the front door.

It was going to be a long night, he thought. A very long night.

Martin walked up to the front desk at CHP Central, congratulating himself for his cleverness. He was dressed in a CHP uniform, and now he cleared his throat as he looked at the officer behind the desk.

"I need to get Sergeant Poncherello to sign these papers," he said with all the authority that he could muster. "The Watch Commander sent me here. I'm supposed to see that he signs them and hands them back in by this afternoon."

"Sorry, Ponch isn't here today," the desk officer said. "He's on vacation, and Sergeant Baker is in a meeting. If you want, I can take them to Sergeant Baker when he gets out of the meeting."

Martin shook his head and laid the papers down on the desk. "Look, the Watch Commander said that Poncherello was supposed to sign these. If I don't get them to him before this afternoon, he's going to hang me out to dry. Can you at least tell me where Poncherello went? I don't mind the extra drive, just as long as I don't get chewed out."

"Well, I guess it'd be OK," the officer frowned. "The Sarge is renting a cabin in the Angeles National Forest. He's in cabin 115."

Beck picked up the papers and smiled, "Thanks."

He walked out of Central, then paused for a moment and whispered, "Now I finally get my revenge."

Inside the station, the young desk officer had an uneasy feeling about giving out Ponch's whereabouts. Unwillingly, he went to Jon's office.

"Sergeant Baker, there was an officer from the Watch Commander," he confessed nervously. "He said that Sergeant Poncherello needed to sign some papers."

Jon looked up from his stack of papers. "Did you tell him where Ponch was?"

"Yeah, Sarge, I did," the officer said, but one look at Baker's face told him that he had made a serious mistake. "He said they had to be signed by this afternoon."

Jon jumped to his feet and began to snap orders. "Call the night shift Sergeant in. I've got to leave early. And from now on, Officer, you NEVER give out any information on another officer -- I don't care if it's the President wanting to know! Do you understand me?"

The officer stammered a meek "Yes, sir," and backed out of the office, but Jon was too busy to notice. He quickly got the reports ready for the next Sergeant and laid them on his desk, along with a note saying that he had to leave due to a family emergency.

As he left the station, Jon was too focused on the danger to his family and friends to notice the brown station wagon that followed him. The road home took him through a narrow stretch of road, near the ocean. . .and that was precisely what Beck had hoped for.

Smiling to himself, he rammed the back of Baker's car with his own station wagon, and just as he'd hoped, the CHP officer had been too wrapped up in his fears to be paying attention.

Baker's car plunged over the edge of the rocky cliffs, rolling over and over again until it came to rest on the beach below. As Martin watched, the badly-damaged car burst into flame that sent smoke billowing into the air.

With a triumphant smile, Beck yelled, "One less cop to worry about!"

He drove away, sure that he had finally killed Jon Baker. But on the beach below, Jon took advantage of the smoke cover to drag himself out of sight of the road. His seatbelt had saved his life, and he'd managed to free from the wrecked car just before it caught fire.

Jon whispered, "I guess luck was with me today."

He picked up a driftwood branch laying beside him and used it as a makeshift cane. Climbing up the cliffs was slow and hard work, but an hour later, Jon was back on the same road from which he had been pushed.

Artie Grossman was returning home from lunch when he saw a tattered figure on the side of the road ahead. At first, he couldn't believe his eyes, but the 'scarecrow' there in front of him was actually his best friend, Jon Baker.

Grossie ran from his car. "Jon, what happened?"

Baker was exhausted from the climb, and he knew that he had probably suffered a concussion. His thoughts were muddled as he tried to tell Grossie what happened, but all he could get out was, "Family's. . .in. . .trouble."

"Look, Jon, let's just get you to the hospital, OK, buddy?" Grossman led him over to the car. "You can tell me what happened later."

He quickly helped Jon into the car, but Baker was determined to make him understand. As Grossie rushed him to the hospital, Jon kept repeating the same sentence again and again.

"Ponch. . .in trouble. . .family's in trouble," he groaned.

At the hospital, Grossie called Joe Getraer and told him how he had found Jon. After he hung up the phone, the detective began to pace back and forth across the waiting room, thinking to himself.

An hour later, the doctor walked into the waiting room. By that time Joe had gotten to the hospital, and now he and Grossie stepped forward.

"Doctor, I'm Commissioner Joe Getraer," he introduced himself. "And this is Detective Arthur Grossman. When will we be able to see Sergeant Baker and ask some questions?"

"Sergeant Baker has a broken arm and two broken ribs, not to mention severe cuts on his leg," the doctor said. "He's been fading in and out of consciousness. I don't think you're going to get very much information from him for a while."

At that moment, the young officer who had given out too much information to Beck came into the room. Guilt for what had just happened to Baker was written all over his face, and he reluctantly approached Getraer.

"Commissioner Getraer, I need to tell you about what's been going on," he said. "Last night, Sergeant Baker came to the lab with a wreath of black roses and one of those fake tombstones. There was some kind of weird message on them -- "It's been twenty years, Baker. . . and now you die."

He paused long enough to take a shaky breath, then went on. "And this morning, a guy came into the station. He was wearing a CHP uniform, and he claimed that he was with the Commander's office. He demanded to know where Ponch was -- said that he had some papers that had to be signed right away."

Joe looked at the young officer in disbelief. "And you told him?"

'Yes, sir," Officer Williams nodded.

"Why doesn't any one tell me any thing?" Getraer rolled his eyes. "Williams, go back to the station and wait for me in my office. Grossman, check out all the arrests that Jon and Ponch made twenty years ago. Find out who they put away and that might have just gotten out of prison."

"I'm on it," Grossman said as he headed toward the waiting room door.

As the sun's first rays shone through the cabin window, Ponch slowly came awake. He moved his head from side to side, trying to loosen his neck. He was stiff and sore from sleeping while sitting up, but he was more upset with himself for falling asleep in the first place.

He got up and went to the bathroom, then splashed cold water in his face to help him wake up. He couldn't explain it, but he had an uneasy feeling that something bad had happened.

He walked into the kitchen and started to fix pancakes and bacon for breakfast. His concentration was never the best in the morning, and soon there were dribbles of batter and splatters of bacon grease all over the stove.

The smell of the bacon would have been enough to wake anyone by itself. But when he accidentally dropped a stainless steel mixing bowl onto the floor, Sandy and Lisa came running into the kitchen.

"We thought World War Three had broken out in here," Sandy smiled at him.

Lisa walked over to her husband and gave him a big kiss. He flashed the famous Poncherello smile at her and started to give her a hug. But then he winced as his aching neck muscles protested the sudden movement.

"You stayed down here awake all night, didn't you?" Lisa asked.

Ponch spoke softly in case the children were awake, and his voice was full of worry. "Yeah, Hon. I was awake for most of the night."

Sandy looked around the kitchen at the mess. She held out her hand sternly, and Ponch reluctantly surrendered the spatula to her.

"Now I remember why I don't let Jon cook," she told Ponch. "Ponch, sit down, and we'll finish the breakfast. . .while there's still a kitchen left to finish it in!"

Ponch walked over to the table and sat down for a moment. He watched Sandy and Lisa working, but he felt too worried and anxious to sit still for long.

He stood up and announced, "I'm going to check on the kids."

"Ponch, they're fine," Sandy and Lisa said together.

Lisa added, "In fact, they've probably smelled breakfast cooking and will be here any minute now."

Sandy reached out and took Ponch's arm for a moment. "Ponch. I know how you're feeling. I feel it too -- like something bad has happened. But till we know for sure, worrying about it isn't going to help."

Soon the kitchen was filled with six hungry Poncherellos and Bakers, ready for their share of the pancakes and bacon. After breakfast, they all scattered outside to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine.

But wherever the children went that day, one of their parents was with them at all times, watching them closely. As the hours passed and nothing happened, Ponch started to relax a little. And as he sat there in the peaceful sunshine and watched the children swim, he could almost convince himself that the two families were safe.

But by evening, the uneasy feeling was back in full force, and once again, he spent the night on the couch, his gun within easy reach. When Lisa came downstairs the next morning, she found Ponch half-asleep, still facing the cabin door.

"You know, I like the ideal of waking up beside my husband," she said as she gave him a kiss on the check.

Soon the children ran into the kitchen, ready for their scrambled eggs and bacon. After breakfast, they all wanted to go outside and play.

"OK, but stay in the yard where I can see all of you," Ponch said.

He walked outside with them and sat on the porch as they played in the yard. But he looked down at his watch every few minutes, and one thought kept running through his mind.

"Jon should have been here by now."

Beck pulled up as close to the cabin as he dared, keeping just out of sight from the porch. He took a kitten from his car and then stood in the road, making sure that the children could see what he was holding

Little Sara walked up to the man with the kitten, forgetting all about her instructions from Ponch. She held out her arms, wanting to pet the small animal.

"I've got more kittens in the car and some candy, too," Beck tried to sound friendly. "Would you like some candy?"

"Me candy," Sara said as Martin picked the child up and put her in the station wagon.

James saw the man put Sara into the car, and he ran over to the car, desperately hoping that he could reach in and pull her out. But Beck saw him and grabbed his arm, then threw him into the back seat. James was strong for his age, but he was no match for a full grown man. And besides, he knew that he was Sara's only chance of staying alive.

With any luck, maybe he could find a way to get both of them away from their kidnapper, he thought as Beck sped away

Rosea looked up from the magazine that she'd been reading and saw that Maria was out in the road. She ran out after her sister and grabbed her by the arm.

"You know better then to ran into the road," she said in her best big sister voice.

Maria looked up at her older sister with tears in her eyes. "Sara got kitty. I want kitty, too."

Rosea was about to ask Maria what she was talking about when she heard a noise from behind her. She turned around just in time to see Beck drive away with James and Sara.

"DAD! Dad! Come quick, Dad!"

Ponch had been napping on the porch, but now he was wide awake. He ran into the road, but all that he saw was the dust that the car had left behind.

"Dad, he has Sara and James!" Rosea yelled.

"Get the other kids inside, and tell you mom to call 911!" Ponch called over his shoulder as he ran to the van.

He got it started and pulled out onto the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust. His only thought was to find the car with his kids in it.

Two hours later, Ponch returned to the cabin. He threw the van keys on the coffee table and muttered something under his breath in Spanish. Every muscle in his body was tense, and his eyes were full of fear and anger.

Sandy and Lisa ran into the living room where Ponch now sat. But one look at his face told them all that they needed to know.

"Oh God -- my baby," Lisa shook with fear as the tears streamed down her face.

Sandy stood quietly nearby, and she, too, was crying. She didn't know what to do next.

"I tried," Ponch walked over to Lisa and held her tightly in his arms. "I looked down every road. I tried. . .but I just couldn't find them. Did you call 911?"

Sandy shook her head. "No, Ponch the phone isn't working."

"What?" Ponch let go of Lisa, then walked to the door and looked back at her. "I'll be right back."

Ponch walked around back and quickly found the reason why the phone wasn't working. He shook his head angrily when he saw the destruction, then went around front again. There, he found little Susie crying on the porch.

"What's wrong, Hon?" he asked.

Eight year old Susie looked up, her sea blue eyes wet with tears. "I'm hungry, Uncle Ponch. But Mommy is upset about something, and she won't listen to me."

Ponch looked at his watch and then shook his head. "It's two o'clock. . .no wonder you're all hungry now. Tell ya what -- let's ask Rosea to fix you something to eat. OK, Hon?"

With Susie beside him, Ponch went inside. Rosea was sitting in the living room on the sofa next to her mother.

"Rosea, will you please take the kids in the kitchen and fix them something to eat?" he asked.

'Sure, Dad. I'm kind of hungry, too," Rosea took Susie's hand and went to fix something to eat.

Ponch waited for the kids to leave, then walked to the window and looked out.

"I know why the phone doesn't work," Ponch told Lisa and Sandy. "Someone cut the phone line to the cabin. I'll have to go to the Park Ranger's office. And while I'm there, I'll try to call Jon. You two be careful while I'm gone."

The two women were too stunned by his announcement to say anything. And for his part, Ponch did nothing except stare out of the window for a few more moments. He could think of nothing else except where his daughter and his best friend's child were.

In the kitchen, Rosea made soup and sandwiches for the kids. But she looked up in the middle of preparing lunch and saw Susie standing forlornly by the back door. Rosea knelt down beside her.

"What's wrong, Susie?" she asked. "Why are you crying, honey?"

"I want James. . .where is James?" she said as tears ran down her small face. "I want my brother."

"Listen, kids, there's a guy who's really mad at our dads right now," Rosea said. "But my dad and uncle Jon are going to find him and get Sara and James back. It's going to be OK, you'll see."

"Yeah. and when our dads find the guy, they're going to kick his butt," ten year old Jeff added with a smile.

"Yeah, Jeff they will," Rosea nodded. "Now what we need to do is stay out of the way. so our moms and dads can do whatever it takes to get James and Sara back. OK?"

Maria looked at her sister. "Sara, went bye-bye with kitty. I want kitty, too."

'Maria, Hon, I know you can't understand this because you're still just a baby, but Sara will be back soon," Rosea said patiently.

Maria stood up on her chair with hands on her hips. "Me no baby! Me big girl now."

Rosea laughed when she saw Maria's expression. She'd seen that same stubborn look on her dad's face many times.

"Maria you're most definitely your Daddy's girl," she said. "And yes, you're a big girl now."

Rosea helped Maria sit back down in her seat, then turned to the others " Look, everybody, we've remember one thing. If someone knocks on the door, we don't answer it. And if we're outside, we stay together. But most of all, we don't walk up to strangers. OK?"

The other children all chorused, "OK!" and Rose sat down to eat. She tried to keep her real feelings from showing in her face, but at the moment, all she could do was hope that she was right.

Sara and James will be found, she thought as she tried to swallow a bite of her sandwich. They'll be all right. . .they just have to be.

Ponch stood at the front door and looked back toward the kitchen, where the children were now eating. He gestured at them, then glanced somberly at Lisa and Sandy.

"It might be better to keep the kids upstairs, away from the windows," he said. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Like I said, keep the doors locked while I'm gone. And Sandy, don't think twice about use your gun if you have to."

Ponch walked out of the cabin, not sure he was doing the right thing by leaving the family. But there was no other choice -- he knew that he had to get help. He got into the van and backed out of the driveway. He pulled away in a cloud of dust, squalling the tires in his haste.

At the Ranger's office, Ponch told them about the kidnapping and the death threats that he and Jon had gotten before they left to go camping. He asked to use the phone, then called Central to make a report.

But in the middle of the conversation, he sat down heavily in his chair. And when he hung up the phone, his tanned face had gone ashen.

"How do I tell a man who has been hurt that his oldest son has been kidnapped?" Ponch shrugged helplessly

He looked at the ranger, as if hoping for an answer, but when there was no reply, he reluctantly picked up the phone again. He dialed Rampart Hospital and asked for Jon Baker's room, then waited until the call went through.

"Hello?" a weak voice answered

And even in that one word, Ponch knew how much pain Jon was in. He decided to proceed cautiously until he knew if Baker was strong enough to hear the news.

"Jon, what happened?" he asked quietly. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Ponch -- just a broken arm and ribs and some bruises," Jon said. "Partner, you sound upset. What's going on at the cabin?"

"Jon. . .I tried to find them I tried but I couldn't," Ponch stammered. "God, I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but James and Sara have been kidnapped."

For a second or two, Jon said nothing. When he spoke again, his voice sounded a little more like the calm and assured CHP officer that Ponch knew so well.

"OK, Ponch," he said. "I'll talk with the doctors and have them release me now. If they don't let me go, I'll walk out anyway. Tell Sandy that I'm OK and that I'll be there by tonight."

He waited until Ponch managed a small sound that might have been agreement, then went on. "And one more thing, Ponch. . . just try to stay calm, OK? We'll find them -- and you can take that to the bank!"

"You bet, Jon," Ponch said with a little more enthusiasm than before. "Take care of yourself, and we'll see you tonight."

He hung up the phone, the joined the park ranger and the other employees who were waiting for him. Together, they planned to go back to the cabin and question the children, then look for more clues.

When they got back to the cabin, Ponch walked inside and gestured at the two women. "Sandy and Lisa, this is Ranger Steve Brown. He and the rest of need to talk with the kids. Maybe they saw something that could help."

Ponch pointed to the stairs, then nodded at Brown. "The kids are upstairs in their bedrooms. Tell them that I said it's OK to talk to you."

Sandy waited until the other men were gone, then took Ponch by the arm and pulled him aside. "Ponch, did you talk to Jon? Is he OK?"

Ponch held Sandy, then whispered, "Sandy, Jon was hurt in a car wreck, but it wasn't accidental. He's in the hospital with a broken arm and a couple of broken ribs. He said he'd be leaving the hospital as soon as he could, and he'll here by tonight."

Sandy buried her head against Ponch's chest, feeling as if she could take no more. She cried harshly for a moment, but at the same time, she was also shaking with fear and anger.

Lisa had taken the park ranger upstairs to introduce them to the children. Now, as she walked back into the living room, she saw Sandy's tear-stained face.

"What's wrong?" Lisa asked gently.

Sandy turned to her and whispered, "Jon was hurt by that. . .that maniac!"

"But he'll be here by night time," Ponch added reassuringly.

They heard Brown's heavy footsteps on the stairs, and in a moment, he walked into the living room. "Well, we talked to the kids, and now we know that the guy had some kittens. He used them as bait to lure the younger kids. They also told us that he was driving a light brown older model station wagon."

Brown gestured outside where the searchers now waited. "I'm going to let my people know what we've found out. We'll have our search teams going through the woods with their dogs. And while we're doing that, we'll also have people checking all the cabins in this area. Once we find out something, I'll send someone back here to let you know since your phone is out."

Ponch walked to the door and announced, "I'm going with you."

Brown could guess how the younger man felt, and he put a reassuring hand on Ponch's shoulder. "Look, if the guy is after you and your partner, then you're not doing yourself or anyone else any good by making yourself into a convenient target. He wants you and is using the kids to get you out where he can finish you off. It'd be safer for all involved if you stayed here."

Ponch stood with his arms folded across his chest, then muttered his assent. He knew the ranger was right, but he wasn't liking it. At all.

Suddenly a loud scream from form the back door sent a cold chill through him. "PONCH!"

There, at the base of a big oak tree, were two dolls. The blond figure was standing, while the black haired doll was laying down. In its hands was a black rose, and attached to the flower was a note that read, "Your daddy will die soon, kids."

Ponch, Lisa, and Steve Brown ran into the back yard, then instantly came to a stop when they saw the dolls. Ponch held his wife, but she couldn't stop screaming hysterically.

"Lisa, please stop, Hon," he pleaded. "Please, just calm down, OK?"

Ponch spoke softly, trying to get Lisa calmed down. He put an arm around her waist to support her as he walked her back inside. Sandy took Lisa's hand and led her upstairs to the bedroom.

Sandy helped her to the bed, then walked over and closed the door. She sat down on the edge of the bed beside Lisa, and despite her own pain and fear, she tried to speak reassuringly.

"Lisa, I know how frightened you are," she said. "I am, too, but if we're going to find the kids, we have to stay calm. Ponch has more on him now then he can handle. That's why you need to be strong for him and for your other kids."

But her words didn't seem to have any effect on the sobbing Lisa. "Sandy, this is the first time that Maria doesn't have her sister right there beside her. She must feel so scared and lost. My poor baby. . ."

"Lisa, I'm scared, too," Sandy said, and now tears ran down her face, too. "My son is missing, and my husband was almost killed. But we have to be strong. We've just got to be. . ."

A sob choked off the rest of her words, and for a few minutes both women could do nothing except cry for their missing children and the danger that their husbands were in. But then the bedroom door opened, and little Maria walked in.

"Mommy, why you and Aunt Sandy cry?" she asked. "Sara not coming home?"

Lisa stood up, then picked up Maria and held her tightly. "No, baby. Sara is coming home. Daddy's going to get her back, I promise."

Lisa wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded at Sandy. "You're right. We do have to be strong for our kids and our husbands."

In the hospital, Jon got dressed and then called Grossman to see if he would take him to the cabin. But before he could finish dialing the number, he heard someone enter the room. He turned around as quickly as his injuries would permit, then breathed an enormous sigh of relief.

"Grossie I was just calling you," Jon said. "Could you ran me up to the cabin? Ponch really needs some help up there."

Grossie looked at Jon and clutched the folder in his hand even more tightly. He wished he didn't have to tell Jon just what he knew, but there was no way to postpone the inevitable.

"Jon we know who it is that's after you and Ponch," he said. "Do you remember Martin Beck, the guy who blamed you for killing his twin brother twenty years ago? You two were chasing the brother when he lost control of his car. He ran into a wall and was killed. Well, Beck finally got out a few months ago. We went to his apartment and found these."

Grossie handed Jon the folder. Jon opened it, then snarled in wordless rage when he saw what it contained. Pictures -- dozens of them. His wife and family, Ponch and Lisa with their children, their homes, even the cars that they drove. But even more chilling was the handwritten list of their schedules, detailing each family member's daily activities.

"Grossie, James and Sara were kidnapped," Jon snapped. "Let's go to the cabin. I want this Beck creep."

"Not without us, Jon," someone said from the doorway.

Baker looked up and saw Joe Getraer standing just inside the room, while Officer Barry "Bear" Baricza looked over his shoulder.

"We're going, too," Getraer said firmly. "After all, someone has to keep you two from killing this guy."

And with Ponch and Jon, that was a real possibility, the Commissioner knew.

"All right, Joe, but no promises on that last part," Baker said grimly as he finished buttoning his shirt.

A very real possibility.

At dusk, Steve Brown returned to the cabin. "Folks, I'm afraid that we've done all we can for now. It's going to be dark soon, and the search teams are exhausted. We've got limited manpower up here because of that missing hunter, and that's why we don't have the resources or the equipment to run a night search. We'll just have to pick up where we left off in the morning."

Sandy and Lisa put the other children in bed, then collapsed on the living room sofa. They both stared out the window, waiting for Jon to get back. Despite their protests and Getraer's pleas, he'd gone out with one of the K-9 SAR teams to search.

For his part, Ponch paced the perimeter of the cabin, unable to keep his mind off the missing children. He could see Sandy and Lisa inside the house, and finally, he shook his head in frustration.

"I can't stand this any more," he muttered. "I'm going out to look for them again, myself!"

He grabbed a flashlight from the porch where he had put it, then walked around the cabin. He stared at the base of the oak tree where the two dolls had been, then headed into the woods.

Three hours later, someone knocked on the front door. Instantly, Sandy was on her feet, and she crossed the living room in a few steps. Before she unlocked the door, she flicked off the safety on her gun and took a deep breath.

"Who is it"? she demanded.

"Honey, it's me, Jon," he said.

"Oh, Jon -- thank God!" Sandy opened the door and gave her husband a big kiss. . .before she saw the other three men standing behind him.

"Ponch told me what's been going on out here," he said. " And now we know who's responsible for doing this. I need to tell Ponch what Grossie found at Martin Beck's apartment. . .where is he?"

"He went out to the woods to look for the kids," Lisa looked at Getraer and the others. "The ranger tried to talk some sense into him. He tried to tell Ponch that he's the real target and that he should stay here. But you know my husband. . .it's driving him crazy not to be able to do anything."

Getraer groaned in frustration, then gestured toward the woods. "Lisa, do you have any more flashlights? Artie, Barry, and I will look for him."

After a half hour's hike in the woods, Joe found Ponch leaning against a tree. Tears were running down his face -- tears that he made no effort to hide from Getraer. That alone was enough to tell Joe what he needed to know about the "tough guy" Ponch's real frame of mind.

He walked up to Ponch, making sure to crunch a twig underfoot so that he didn't startle the distraught man. He put his hand on Ponch's shoulder, then nodded toward the cabin.

"Frank I know how you're feeling," he said quietly. "Artie and Barry came along, too, to give us a hand. And we will find them -- the CHP isn't about to give up that easily. Let's go back to the cabin now. Morning will be here soon, and we'll pick up the search again."

Reluctantly, Ponch nodded. His legs ached from hours of walking, and the flashlight batteries were starting to go dead. He followed Getraer back to the cabin, determined to resume the search as soon as there was enough light to see.

Please, he breathed a hasty prayer as he stumbled into the cabin. Please, just let my little girl be all right until Daddy can find her.

As the sky began to darken, little Sara started to cry. Her sweet face was wet with tears, and her lower lip quivered.

"My daddy. Me. . .want. . .my daddy," she said, and her voice broke on the word, 'daddy.'

James picked the crying baby up and rocked her. He hoped that her sobs wouldn't bring that angry man back in the room, whoever he was.

"Sara, I'm here," he said soothingly. "We have to go to sleep, OK? We don't want to have that mean guy come back here and yell again. Please, Sara, stop crying. I promise we'll see our dads tomorrow."

"'K, James," Sara climbed down from James' lap and picked up the little black and white kitten, then handed it to him. "I get me kitty and Maria's kitty. No bad guy come, 'K James?"

James smiled as he watched her pick up the gray and white kitten. The animals had been a much needed distraction that day, and he'd used them to keep her from crying.

"That Maria's kitty," she pointed at the kitten in James' hand, then cuddled her own kitten for a moment. "My kitty."

James picked Sara up and put her in the twin bed, and he was relieved when she fell asleep almost immediately. He sat in the rocking chair, desperately trying to think of a way to escape.

I know I could get out of that window and take off, James thought to himself.

But when he looked over at the sleeping Sara, he knew in his heart that he couldn't leave her alone -- not with the angry man who'd done this to them. He sat there for a little while, staring out the window.

It was a clear night, and the moon shone brightly, lighting up the woods almost as clearly as the sun. That gave James an idea, and he walked over to the window, then cautiously tried to ease it open. To his surprise, it slid up easily, and he climbed outside.

He knew that Beck had hidden his car in the woods nearby, and he searched for a few minutes until he found it. He gathered some white rocks that gleamed in the moonlight, then picked an open patch between the trees where a search helicopter might spot anything out of place.

He marked a large white arrow in the direction of the car, then walked down the narrow gravel road until it came to a larger intersection. He took off the watch that had been his last Christmas present from Ponch and Lisa, then hung it on a tree branch in hopes that Ponch or another searcher would spot it.

He ran back to the old gray building and climbed through the window, praying that Beck hadn't noticed that he was missing. He took the red crayon that Sara had been clutching when they were abducted, then wrote "JLB" and "SLP" on the window in big letters.

It wasn't much, but it was all that he could do at the moment. Satisfied that he had at least made an effort to help the searchers locate them, he made a pallet of some old sheets and blankets beside Sara's bed. He stretched out, and in a few minutes, he was sound asleep.

It was a tired, anxious group who sat around the table that night and listened as Ponch described the day's search. He showed them the grids on the map that had already been covered by the dog teams, and they made plans to begin the search again in the morning.

Ponch stared down at the folder Jon had given him earlier. "I don't understand it, Jon. Why the kids? He's after us -- so why did he take the kids?"

Getraer stood up and took the armful of blankets that Lisa now handed to him. "Frank, what's the worst thing that anyone could do to a parent besides take his child from him? Beck knows that this is the one thing that will lure you out and make you forget to protect yourself."

"No, Joe, there's nothing worse than this," Jon and Ponch both answered at the same time.

Ponch stood up. "Well, if it's us that he wants, then why don't we put out a message on the news? Our lives for the lives of our children. We'll meet him wherever he wants us to, alone -- just as long as the kids are unharmed. He's not going to refuse that kind of bait!"

"Frank, you know as well as I do that it won't work," Getraer said patiently. "And besides, you don't want Sara to see her dad get shot, do you? Beck thinks that Jon's already dead, and now he's after you. He's not the kind of man who cares how a child feels -- he's already made that clear by kidnapping them. If you want to live long enough to see Sara grow up, then we'll play it by the numbers. And I have the play book -- do I make myself clear?"

Getraer saw the stricken look on Ponch and Jon's faces as they mumbled a "Good night," and then disappeared upstairs. Sometimes, this job was almost more heartbreaking than he could stand, he thought as he walked into the living room and his makeshift bed on the sofa.

God knows, it wasn't that he didn't want them to find their children. . .but not at the expense of their own lives. He breathed a quick prayer for the children's safety, then laid down and tried to fall asleep -- sleep that was a long time in arriving that night.

As the others slept, Jon and Ponch sat outside on the porch. Neither one said anything, but they were both wondering what their kids had been going through all day.

"I was outside, reading the paper," Ponch shook his head sadly as he tried to explain what had happened. "I thought the kids were all together, playing in the front yard. I never even heard or saw the car. For that matter, I never saw Sara walk off towards the road or James go after her. I heard Rosea yell for me, and I went to her. But by that time, the car was gone in a cloud of dust."

"Knowing James and how protective he is of the little ones, I imagine that he went to the car to rescue Sara and got pulled in." Jon said. "I know he's watching out for her if he can. I just hope he can keep her out of harm's way, that's all."

"Yeah, James would do that," Ponch said as he looked up at the night sky. "He's a good kid, Jon -- always sticking up for the one who can't fight back. I'm sure he's trying to keep both of them safe. I don't think Martin is wanting to hurt the kids. He's just using this to get us. And it almost worked, too, didn't it?"

"It's not your fault, Ponch, so stop blaming yourself," Jon heard the bitterness in Ponch's voice, as well as guilt and anger. "Think about something. How many calls do we get every day where a child has been hurt, kidnapped, or killed, and the parents were standing right there -- practically within arm's reach?"

There was no answer, and when Jon looked over at Ponch, he saw that Frank was staring out at the woods. "Ponch, how long has it been since you had some sleep?"

"Would he be in the woods -- maybe a camp site?" Ponch replied as if he hadn't heard a word that Jon had just said. "Or maybe he rented a cabin. How else is he feeding and taking care of the kids so that they don't make a lot of noise or manage to get away from him?"

Jon's question finally seemed to register with his exhausted mind, and he gave Baker a sheepish smile. "I don't know, Jon. I guess it's been a couple of days since I got any real sleep. But how am I supposed to sleep, knowing that Beck's got our kids?"

"I think you have something there about the cabin, Ponch," Jon said, and for the first time that day, he felt as if there was some hope. "You're right -- he can't just camp out, or else it would be too easy for kids could run off into the woods. He would've had to rent a cabin. So now all we need to do is find out if there have been any new renters in the last few days."

"Yeah we'll do that first thing in the morning," Ponch said as he looked at Jon, then remembered something the park ranger had said earlier that day.

"There's something else we can check on, too, Jon," he said. " Steve, the ranger, said there was an old hunter's cabin on the orther side of the lake about four miles away. He said he didn't think a car could get to the cabin because the road is in bad shape."

"We'll check it out in the morning," Jon said, then added cautiously, "Ponch, when we find Beck, are you going to be a cop. . .or a dad?"

"I don't know, Jon," Ponch shook his head. "I really don't know."

Martin stood behind a tree nearby, watching the two cops he hated so much as they talked. In the bright moonlight, it was very apparent that his last attempt to kill Jon had failed.

"Damn it! What does it take to kill you two?" Martin threw down the cigarette that he had been about to light up.

He walked back to the cabin, furious at everything that had happened. . .or hadn't happened, in this case. Tomorrow was going to be his day to triumph -- he intended to make sure of that!

Several hours later, two weary CHP officers sat on the front porch, watching the sun rise. They'd spent most of the night talking, and the few hours of sleep that they'd gotten hadn't done them much good.

"I guess we should go in," Ponch gestured over his shoulder at the door. "Sandy and Lisa will be getting up soon to fix breakfast."

"Hey, Ponch, why don't we surprise them and have it already fixed?" Jon grinned.

"I tried that, partner, " Ponch shook his head ruefully. "They ran me out and threatened me with serious bodily harm if I ever messed up their kitchen again!"

Jon and Ponch were sitting at the table and eating breakfast when the children ran in. They'd smelled the frying sausage, and as usual, Jeff was the first to arrive.

"Dad!" Jeff ran over to his dad and gave him a big hug. "Man, am I ever glad you're here!"

Susie ran up to her dad, then stopped when she saw the cuts and bruises on his face. With a sad little sigh, she crawled up on his lap and give him a kiss, then tentatively ran her hand over the cast.

"Does it hurt much, Dad?"

Jon smiled at his young daughter. "No, sweetheart, it doesn't hurt that bad. Daddy's fine, but I sure could use another kiss."

Susie was only too happy to comply. She gave him another kiss, then sat down at the table and waited for breakfast.

Almost as soon as the last bite of sausage and pancakes had been eaten, there was a knock on the door. Park rangers, local police, and area search teams had all converged on the cabin, and now Getraer, Grossman, and Baricza joined them.

The incident commander assigned searchers to each area, but when he reached Jon and Ponch, Getraer cleared his throat. He shook his head, and both CHP officers knew what he was about to say.

"I think it's best if you two stay here," he said. "With this Beck character still running around, there's no point in taking chances with your lives. We have plenty of people to cover the search area today, so I want you two to stay here and take care of your families."

"But. . ." Ponch started to protest.

"No buts, Frank," Getraer said firmly. "Grossman and Baricza can handle your share of the work."

Jon and Ponch heaved identical sighs of disgust, then walked back over to the porch and sat down. In a few more minutes, the searchers had all been dispatched to their assigned areas, and the yard was empty again.

"Finally!" Ponch said with a mischievous look in his eyes. "You ready?"

"Yep," Jon walked out to the van, followed closely by Ponch. "Hey, Ponch, I've got this feeling that we ought to go to that old hunting cabin first."

"Sounds like a plan to me, partner," Ponch nodded. "According to what the Incident Commander said, that area won't be covered until later this morning. That leaves us plenty of time to do a little checking of our own."

Ponch slowly drove down the bumpy dirt road, trying to remember what the park ranger had told him. There were so many trails and smaller roads that he couldn't remember the route to the cabin.

"Man, I can't remember where he said the turn off to the cabin is," Ponch stopped the van as he tried to decide what to do next.. "And would you just look at all of these side roads? This is worse than construction detours on the freeway!"

"Don't worry about it, Ponch," Jon said. "If we have to check out every side road that we see, we'll do it. But we are going to find our kids this morning! Whoa. . .what the heck was that?"

At that moment, a glint of sunlight was reflected into his eyes, and he turned his head to see what was causing it. It was too high to be a piece of mica or a scrap of aluminum foil, and he got out of the van to investigate.

He walked over to the tree limb and saw what was hanging there. He took James' watch down from the branch, then got back into the van and displayed the timepiece to Ponch.

"Look what I found," he held the watch up for Ponch to see, then pointed to the road on the right. "It's the watch you gave James for Christmas. Take it slow down this road. James may have tried to mark a trail for us to follow."

In less than a minute, Ponch stopped the van again. "I think I saw something back there."

He got out of the van and backtracked for several yards until he found what he was looking for. He gestured for Jon to join him, and they both inspected the arrow that James had formed out of rocks. Both men recognized the brown station wagon that it pointed to, and Jon lowered his voice to a whisper.

"I guess James intended for us to go down that little side trail," he said.

The road was as bad as the ranger had said, but Ponch drove as long as he could. There was a small clearing up ahead, and he pulled the van in behind a cluster of oak trees to camouflage it.

"I don't think we can go on much further in the van," he said. "The road is just too bad. Jon, do you want to stay here? You really should take it easy -- I mean, you did just get out of the hospital."

Jon opened the door and stepped outside. All that he said was, "Let's go get our kids."

As he walked up the trail toward the cabin, Jon carefully inspected everything around him. For part of the hike, he had noticed broken branches, but only on the right side of the path. He hadn't spotted any of the broken branches for awhile now, and he was beginning to understand what he'd been seeing earlier.

He stopped and then turned to Ponch. "Ponch, I think we've missed something. I've been seeing broken branches on the right side of the path for awhile, and I think James was trying to give us a trail to follow. But I haven't seen any of them for awhile, and we ought to go back."

They retraced their steps until they came to the broken branches again. This time, Ponch caught a glimpse of something pink tucked into a forked branch on the left side of the path. He hadn't noticed it before, but when he picked it up, he saw that it was Sara's favorite hair bow.

"I guess this means we take the path to the left," he said.

He grinned as Jon inspected the hair ribbon. "And here you said the boys in our scout troop would never remember what we taught them about marking a trail!"

"That's my boy!" Jon said proudly.

In a few more minutes, they reached the dilapidated cabin, and they crouched down in the ring of trees that surrounded it. There was no sign of Beck, but they'd both learned the hard way that he was a master at hiding in plain sight.

"Now, if we just knew what room the kids are in, we could get in and get them out before Beck even knows we're here," Ponch said.

There was no answer for a second or two, and he glanced over at Jon. Baker wore what Ponch always thought of as "that" look -- the one that meant he was onto something.

"What've you got, Jon?" he asked quietly.

"Look at the window -- the one on the right," he pointed at the pane of glass.

There, in bold red letters, were the children's initials. Once again, a surge of pride went through Jon's heart, and his blue eyes were full of admiration for his son's level-headedness during the whole ordeal.

"James thought of everything, didn't he?" Ponch smiled at Jon's 'proud papa' expression.

Ponch motioned for Jon to stay where he was, then crept toward the cabin, always trying to stay in the shadow of the trees. He peered in the window and saw James and Sara coloring in a coloring book. He gestured at Jon to follow him, and he crouched under the windowsill until Baker reached him.

Quietly, Ponch tapped on the window, trying to make as little noise as possible, At last James looked up and saw Ponch standing outside. He ran over to the window and opened it.

"Dad -- Ponch!" he yelped softly. "I knew you'd find us! Didn't I tell you that they'd find us, Sara?"

He picked Sara up and handed her to her dad. Ponch put his finger to his lips and whispered, "Shhh, baby -- you have to be really quiet for Daddy, OK?"

Sara said nothing but clung tightly to her dad's neck. For the first time in three days, Ponch held his daughter close to him, not wanting to let go.

James had disappeared into the bedroom for a moment, but he soon emerged, carrying the two kittens. "Can't forget the kittens, or Sara will holler loud enough to wake everybody up for a three mile radius!"

"Will not. . .silly James!" Sara whispered loudly as she took one kitten and then looked at Ponch. "My kitty, Daddy. And that Maria's kitty!"

Ponch smiled at his daughter, but he fought back a grimace when he thought of what those kittens had almost cost him. He held on tightly to Sara, then followed Jon and James through the woods until they reached the van.

"Uh oh, partner," Jon called back over his shoulder. "We're busted."

An irate Getraer stood beside the van, along with two park rangers, Grossman, and Baricza. Ponch saw Joe's look, but for once, he was too angry at Beck to pay any attention to the reprimand that he knew he was about to receive.

"Beck's back in the cabin," he said as he held onto Sara. "We don't think he's had time to figure out that we've got the kids."

Getraer looked at his two officers -- one about to faint from pain and exhaustion, and the other tightly clutching his precious daughter. He knew that whatever he had to say would fall on deaf ears at the moment, and he wisely postponed the "why-did-you-deliberately- disobey-my-direct-orders-when-I-told-you-two-to-stay-put" lecture for another time.

"Oh, he's going to know that and a whole lot more in just a few minutes," Getraer pulled out his gun and then gestured at Grossman and Baricza to follow him. "I can guarantee you that our dear, sweet Mr. Beck is due for a lot of surprises -- none of them very pleasant! I want you two to take the kids and get out of here now. I doubt that Beck's going to give up without a fight."

Ponch nodded and followed Jon over to the van. He put Sara in her car seat, then smiled when he saw the way that she clutched the tiny kitten as tightly as he had just held her a moment ago.

"Sara, I think we need to let Susie and Jeff and James have one of the kittens," he said as he climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. "It wouldn't be very nice to keep both of them, especially after James took such good care of you."

"OK, Daddy" Sara looked at James and handed him the little black and white kitten that had been 'Maria's.' "You kitty, James."

James smiled, "Thanks, Sara."

Jon looked over at Ponch and gave him a disgusted sigh. Ponch grinned, thinking about all the times he'd listened to Baker's irate commentary about anything feline. Jon's dislike of cats was notorious, and now he shook his head piteously as he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw his oldest son cuddling the tiny kitten.

"You just had to, didn't you, Ponch?" Baker groaned. "You just had to do it."

Ponch laughed, "Yep, partner. I sure did."

As soon as he reached the cabin and gave his wife a kiss, an exhausted Ponch collapsed on the big overstuffed recliner. Sara climbed up onto his lap while Maria snuggled against him on the other side. Both kittens joined them, and soon all five of them were sound asleep.

The other children were outside, playing in the yard, and even though Jon knew that he didn't have anything to worry about now, he still sat in the porch swing and watched them carefully. James sat beside him, and even though he was seventeen, he was reluctant to give up that special safe feeling that he always had whenever he was with his Dad.

And besides, there was a question that he wanted to ask, too. He stammered and stuttered for a moment, then plunged ahead. "Dad, does the guy always have to be older then the girl?"

"No, James," Jon said before he had time to think about what he was saying. "It just depends on the couple, I guess."

Then it occurred to him what James was really trying to ask, and he hid a nervous grin. "Uh. . .we wouldn't be talking about a specific guy and girl, would we?"

James just smiled and turned to watch Rosea playing baseball with his brother and sister. For her part, Rosea glanced at the two on the porch from time to time, thinking how much James looked like his handsome father.

Jon saw the looks that passed between James and Rosea, but before he could say anything, James stood up. He gave Jon his own version of the famous Baker grin -- the one that his dad had used so effectively when he'd been a bachelor.

"I'm going to go play ball now, OK, Dad?" he said.

He paused before he vaulted off the porch and looked at his father again. But he somehow seemed to have grown several inches taller in just the past minute or so, and when he spoke, it was with that strange solemnity of a young man on the edge of adulthood.

"When I graduate, I think I want to be a CHP officer, too," James said with quiet dignity and self-assurance.

He bounded off the porch, leaving his father with a lump in his throat and a haze in his eyes. For a moment, Jon could say nothing, but then he whispered, "You'll be a good one, too, son."

He sat there for a little while longer, lost in thoughts and memories of twenty years ago. He could see another young Baker eagerly filling out the applications to the Academy, and he smiled when he thought about the first time that he'd pinned the gold badge on his uniform shirt.

At that moment, Sandy came out onto the porch and sat down beside Jon. She sat down in the seat that James had just vacated, then held her husband's hand in silence for a few minutes. Then she leaned forward and gave Jon a kiss on the cheek as if she could somehow guess what he had been thinking about.

"I'm so glad to have my men back," she said. "Even if they both take risks that they probably shouldn't!"

Jon's only 'reply' was a smile and a quiet nod. And speaking of smiles, he thought to himself. Is it my mistake, or are James and Rosea smiling at each other a lot tonight?

Sandy saw his questioning expression, then casually asked, "Jon, has James said anything to you about liking a particular girl?"

"No, he didn't mention it to me," Jon looked at Sandy. "Why. . .did he tell you something?

"Well, you could say that," Sandy smiled. "Not in so many words, but I think he's thinking of someone."

Inside, Lisa laid down on the couch, and for a few minutes, she watched the twins and Ponch as they slept peacefully in the recliner. She whispered to herself, "Wonder if I should tell Ponch his oldest girl is in love again?"

She looked down at Ponch again, his arm thrown protectively over his daughters. She recognized the determined look that he wore, even in his sleep, and now she grinned to herself.

"Nah," she shook her head. "I think we'll let it be a surprise."