ONE

Faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.-St. Paul, Hebrews 11:1

Taylor panted in terror as she dropped to the floor by the bed in the motel room. She forcefully yanked the lamp cord out of the outlet and sat there in total darkness. She bit back tears and whimpered as she moved her eyes across the room. Her beloved sister was huddled in a ball nearby, shaking with fear. Taylor's heart thudded in her ears and she prayed softly, hoping that the man outside did not see her through the curtains. A chilled silence filled the room as she reached carefully on the nightstand for her cell phone and dialed.

"9-1-1 emergency..."

Taylor swallowed hard and tried to speak as softly as she could. The woman's voice was soothing, something she could use right now.

"I need help, please. There's a man after me, he's outside the door. My sister and I are trapped here, please hurry." Taylor's heart banged through her rib cage in a mixture of fear and excitement knowing that she actually could tell someone what was going on.

"All right Miss, it's going to be ok, I just need you to tell me where you are." The woman could obviously hear the terror in Taylor's voice.

"Off Spyglass Hill Drive, the Paint Valley Motel Room 4…"

"All right miss, just hold tight, I'm sending police right now. Are you hurt?"

"No, but please hurry, please, he's outside and he's going to kill us. I don't even know who he is or what he wants but he's been trying to get in for the past twenty minutes." Taylor responded. She heard the woman's fingertips clicking on a computer keyboard and it soothed her anxiety slightly.

"All right miss I need to put you on hold for a second, just stay on the line with me; we're going to help you."

Then the voice was gone. Taylor sat on the floor for the moment in the darkness, the cell phone clutched tightly in her trembling hand. Suddenly she heard voices outside the door and a wave of terror slammed into her. She did her best to try to crawl to her sister, but she never made it. Two bullets through her chest and Taylor Hutchinson never felt a thing.

A few months passed since things had returned to somewhat normal. Frank Black was home from his self-inflicted captivity in the psychiatric ward. He moved himself and his beloved daughter Jordan to a small country farmhouse on the outskirts of Lancaster Pennsylvania. The property was filled with trees, lots of places to explore and an area where Frank talked about building a treehouse. The backyard was fenced in and shared by the house next-door, owned by a very charming large family named Downing. They had four children, which Jordan befriended almost immediately, and in a moment's notice, Frank would not even hesitate allowing the parents, Alan and Stacey, to watch her when work made him unavailable.

Due to an unfortunate case of sudden poor health, Frank's father-in-law Tom Miller collapsed and died 5 weeks ago, just after Christmas. Afterward, the court had come to a conclusion that Frank was more than capable of raising his daughter provided he go through the court-appointed social checks every six months. Also stated in the court report Jordan was to have monthly visitations to her grandmother, Justine. Frank was very sorry to experience Tom's death, especially for Jordan's sake. She had already gone through the terrible loss of her mother and now her grandfather. Even though Frank marveled at the amount of strength and spirit in his young daughter, he still pondered on just how much heartache a person should endure. He wanted the best for her and realized it was time to put the past behind and concentrate on the future for both of them.

Frank was sitting in the dimly lit living room, glancing over at the clock on the wall. Ten thirty three pm. He pushed his chair away from his desk and stood up to stretch. His neck was stiff from sitting endless hours at the computer; trying to find a somewhat better job in the field of interest he was accustomed. So far, he had no luck. The only work he had for now was a criminal profiler for the local police department. The regular hours were quite accommodating in his pursuit of spending more time with his daughter. He closed out the program on the laptop and shut it down for the night. He reached over and pulled the chain on the nearby floor lamps the phone rang.

"Frank Black." He answered.

"Frank, this is Don Graver at the station. I am sorry to bother you now but we have a double homicide at the Paint Valley motel just down the road from you. Placek is already there and he'll meet you."

"I guess I should ask for that vacation now huh?" Frank smirked to himself.

"Very funny," Graver answered with no spark of humor. He was not a very emotional man.

"I'll be there, Don." Frank pressed END on his cordless phone, waited a few seconds then hit TALK and dialed the Downing household.

"Hello?" Alan answered, apparently in the middle of chewing a late-evening snack.

"Hey, Alan, it's Frank Black. I am sorry to call now but I have to run out to a crime scene and I was wondering if you would watch Jordan for me. I'll bring her over in a few minutes."

"No need Frank." Alan quickly finished chewing and swallowed. "Monica is still awake upstairs, studying. I'll have her go over and sit with Jordan until you get back so we don't have to disturb her."

Frank smiled. Monica was Downing's eldest child. She was seventeen and focused on going to Harvard and becoming the next Sarah Palin. Jordan adored her and Monica was very trustworthy.

"Hey thanks a bunch, Alan. I don't know what I would do without all of you."

"Not a problem, Frank. I'll send Monica right over."

Frank hung up the phone and fumbled around the living room for his keys, wallet, and cell phone. He was tempted to run upstairs and check on Jordan but he knew Placek was waiting for him. He made his way towards the front door and grabbed a khaki colored jacket off the nearby wall rack. Putting it on, he glanced at himself in the oval mirror on the opposite wall at the bottom of the stairs. Frank looked tired and old; with his hairline receded back further than it was a few months ago. Well, at least he still had some hair he thought to himself. He looked deeper into his reflection and realized that every day without Catherine seemed to put another line on his face. He knew that as much as he missed her that she was never coming back. After everything that had happened he was still Frank Black—Jordan's father, ex-F B I agent, ex-Millennium group member, widower, and orphan. Frank also realized one more thing…he was incredibly lonely.

A knock appeared and he pulled himself out of the disappointment from the mirror and opened the fading white washed door. Monica Downing stood there with her bright blue eyes and soft brown hair tied back in a long ponytail. She was wearing a red tracksuit, plain white KEDS and her arms were full of two notebooks, two law books and a pink iPod Nano.

"Hey Mister Black, hope you don't mind me studying while I'm here. I've got mid-terms all next week."

Frank smiled and stepped aside to let her in the foyer. "Of course not, Monica, I really appreciate you doing this for me on short notice. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. If Jordan wakes up just tell her not worry and I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Sure thing. Bye." Monica smiled softly.

"Bye." Frank smiled back and stepped out, shutting the door behind him. He clicked the unlock button on his red Jeep and headed out for the motel.