Charming Pawse NS to Out Chpt 6 Goin' Home

by wanderingchat

The months go by as life goes on in Charming and Stockton. Then the bottom drops out of Cat's world as her father's illness worsens and she goes back to Indiana to be with him, leaving Dawn alone in the house to create mischeif. In Indiana, a ghost from Cat's past raises its' ugly head, threatning to shatter the brittle balance Cat has achieved in life.

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination. Any similarities to real persons are pure coincidence.

Love and thanks go to the DH, who is very much alive and well; along with my best friend and my 'unofficial' god – daughter for being part of my family. Also, much thanks to the members of the Indy Tarts and Tartans Gerard Butler fan group, SOA Forums, Watchers of Anarchy, Kim Sisk (author of Sapphires and Whiskey), and my Facebook and Twitter friends for their support. A big thank you for those readers who have written reviews and listed me as a favorite author here at FanFiction. Net.

Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.

Charming Pawse

From NS to Out

Chapter VI

Goin' Home

Not only did Cory Brown have to walk from his former friend's home to the outskirts of Evansville, he found it difficult to catch a ride along the Federal four lane highway leading North to Vincennes and eventually Terre Haute. None of the drivers that passed him, including the semi - drivers who were usually willing to pick up a passenger, were willing to stop for the darkly clothed, long haired hitchhiker wearing very dark glasses and a long military style coat. The large olive drab backpack he carried didn't help matters. He walked along the side of the road, keeping his thumb stuck out as the vehicles rushed passed him. Many merged into the left lane as they passed, then would return to the right lane to continued their Northward journey. The continued snubs rankled with him, and he convinced him he needed to make some radical changes to his appearance.

The sun was just setting when he finally reached the first exit to the small town of Princeton. 'I might as well make the change here, instead of waitin' for when I get to Vincennes. I don't wanna chance gettin' spotted by someone who'll turn me in for violatin' that damn restrainin' order!' He'd already rationalized that there was no reason to travel all the way to Indianapolis again. There was little chance that Cat Marshall would be found there. 'She has more reason to come back to Vincennes. There's nothin' for her in Indy.'

Thinking of his one time benefactress renewed his hatred and rage against her. Despite what his friend had said to him, 'Brownie' held her accountable for all the bad luck in his life since he'd been forced to flee Terre Haute and the motorcycle club he'd wanted to patch into. 'All she had to do was let things between them continue and everything would've been fine! 'I'd have patched in with the club and given her the money back, then we'd have parted ways. Instead she had to piss me off and make me rape and beat her to teach her a lesson! The club turned me away, and my life's been shit while she's had an easy life!'

He found a discount store near the first exit ramp into Princeton. Though the sun had set and the grassy berm beyond the parking lot was dark, he opted to hide his backpack and long coat behind a newspaper recycle bin before walking casually towards the store entrance. It wasn't overly crowded, but there was enough business to keep the lone counter person from paying too much attention to him. A thorough inspection of the store's interior informed him there was limited surveillance. He felt confident he could shoplift what few items he needed and make a clean getaway.

He pretended to shop, roaming up and down the aisles with a cart, examining the products and placing some in the cart while returning others to their space on the shelves. As he walked around the store, he slipped the items he needed into the long sleeves of his shirt. He pushed his cart to the checkout counter and joined the line. As the customer directly ahead of him placed her purchases on the conveyer belt, he reached behind him as if he were getting out his wallet to pay, only to make an embarassing discovery. "Oh, darn!" He exclaimed loudly. "I can't believe this! I don't have my wallet!" He withdrew from the line, pretending to be embarrassed by the cashier's angry glare. "I'm so sorry! Don't worry, I'll put these back!"

He roamed through the entire store again, replacing all the items in his cart to their proper place on the shelves. He returned to the front, the stolen items resting securely in his shirt sleeves. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets so nothing would fall out onto the floor to give him away while looking very depressed and upset. He stopped by the check out to apologize profusely to the cashier.

"It's OK, sir," the cashier beamed at him. "Those things can happen. Thank you for putting all those things away."

"It's the least I could do for the inconvenience," he smiled. He walked to the door, which didn't have a scanner that would alert the cashier that he had unscanned items on his person. He continued walking casually through the parking lot in case anyone from the store was watching. He passed the recycle bin where his long coat and backpack were stored and continued walking a few yards to the grassy berm. Then he circled back to the recycle bin to pick up his belongings. He didn't wait to put his coat and backpack on, just carried them under his arm to the street. He didn't stop his retreat until he came to a chain hotel a few blocks later. He walked into the lobby, past the unmanned front desk, and on into the restroom. He placed his backpack against the wall, removed his coat and shirt and placed them on top of his pack. He lined up all the items he'd boosted on the counter.

"I hate to part with the beard and mustache, and really hate the idea of cutting my hair short. The time has come for a cleaner look!" He murmured. He used the scissors to trim as much hair as possible from his face and to cut his hair to just below his ears. He flushed all the hair down the toilet so it wouldn't clog the sink. Then he worked up as much lather as he could from the liquid soap dispenser, and ran it over his upper lip. It wasn't easy to shave using soap instead of shaving cream. On occasion the single disposable razor he'd lifted snagged on his facial hair, so that he had to use bits of paper towel on the small nicks and cuts. Several long, painful minutes later, his face was completely clean shaven.

"Not bad, given the circumstances," he muttered, viewing his face from several angles in the mirror. He wrapped the razor in a paper towel and tossed it in the trash can. "Now for step two!" He removed the bottle of blonde hair dye from the carton and read through the directions, frowning when he read the recommendation to start with freshly washed hair. The longer he remained in the public restroom, the more risk he took of being discovered and sent away. 'Beggars can't be choosers,' he shrugged, and stuck his head under the running water. He pumped a generous amount of liquid soap into his palms and used it to wash his hair as thoroughly as possible. He ran clean water over his head and neck for several minutes in order to rinse the soap. Then he opened the bottle of dye, applied the entire contents to his wet hair, then covered it with the plastic cap included in the box.

While he was still bent over the sink, 'Brownie' grabbed a large handful of paper towels and crammed them around his neck, right under the plastic cap to catch any dye runoff. The last thing he wanted was to get the coloring on his skin. The sight of his clean shaven face continued to startle him. 'That's gonna take a while to get used to!' He reminded himself. The shave made his face look many years younger.

While he waited the required amount of time for the dye to set, he gingerly peeled the paper toweling from his face where the razor had nicked his skin. The cuts weren't deep and would quickly heal. For the moment, they helped further disguise his regular features. He considered deliberately cutting his face so that it would leave a scar. 'Naw, that's not such a good idea. I don't want to draw any more attention to myself than I have to! A visible scar would just make me more memorable!'

The time for the dye to set finally elasped. He removed the plastic cap and ran a sheet of paper towel over his drying hair. To his relief, very little dye came off on the towel. He could put his shirt and coat back on and not worry about getting the dye on his clothes. He thoroughly cleaned the countertop, making sure he left no hair or trash behind to show he'd been there. He also took the precaution of burying all his used supplies in the bottom of the trash can, just to be safe. Then he picked up his backpack and exited the bathroom.

The front desk was still unoccupied. No customers were loitering in the lobby or waiting to be helped at the desk. No one would know, except for any surveillance cameras, that he had ever been present. 'And I doubt these fuckwits are willin' to pay to keep a backlog of security footage on file! By the time anyone might be looking for me, the images of my presence will be long gone!'

He smiled triumphantly as he walked back to the federal highway. When he had walked a few yards past the entrance ramp, he stuck out his thumb, kept the smile on his face, and waited for a ride.

---

Cat couldn't help being amused by the DJ's music selections. Every selection seemed to be tied to the election in one way or another. She winced when he played 'When Tomorrow Comes' from the movie version of 'Les Miserables' to announce the final results of the Charming primary after Croucher's concession call.

'I hope he's not gettin' everybody's hopes up too high!' She thought to herself. Then she resolutely pushed the thought from her head. Her father had told her years ago that one person could make a difference, all they had to do was try. 'History is full of examples of that kind of thing!'. She allowed herself to enjoy the moment for what it was and basking in the joy and camaraderie of her friends and well - wishers.

The celebration of her primary victory was in high gear when the local 11PM newscasts. began Every television station in the area was present to get a live interview, and they all wanted to lead with the story.

"Look, y'all, there's just no way I can go from reporter to reporter and make a live interview durin' your lead story time," she informed them. "Let me give all y'all a sound bite that you can play durin' your feeds. That way all y'all don't have to stall for me to be available durin' your feeds."

Some of the reporters grumbled about her offer, but they agreed to it. Many of them believed she would give preference to Channel 2 because of their coverage of her Peace Rally many months ago. There was also every possibility that one of the reporters present could deliberately monopolize her time during their feed, and not allow her to talk to the other stations. A taped statement to them was better than having no sound bite at all during their live feeds.

She wanted to call her father with the good news, but it was well into the early morning hours in Indiana. 'Calls at that hour of the mornin' aren't usually good news and he doesn't need to be scared like that. I'll call him after I wake up if he doesn't call me first."

The only thing marring her joy in the moment was Alex's absence. She knew he was likely listening to the radio reports and celebrating her win. 'It doesn't feel the same without him here to enjoy it with me!' she sighed inwardly.

"'E's prood o'ye, darlin'," Chibs murmured to her, sensing her mood.

"I know. I just wish-"

"We all do, lass. Boot it doesnae no gud ta wisht fer sumthin' we cannae 'ave. 'Tis best noot ta wayste tyme on it." He kissed her on the cheek and threw an avuncular arm around her shoulders. "Noo, thair's people tha' wanna see yer smilin' face, darlin'. Gie 'em whut they wanna see! Ye kin cry in yer beer later!"

"Y'all know I don't drink!" She retorted, trying unsuccessfully not to smile at him.

"Aye, boot Ah mayde ye smile, darlin'!" He grinned back, leading her into the middle of the room where she was instantly encircled by the happy celebrants.

---

Tig was grinning like the cat that had eaten the prize canary at breakfast. Bobby also looked quite satisfied.

"Shit! Tig looks absolutely giddy!" Clay observed knowingly.

"Giddy?" Happy growled. "He looks ready to burst!"

"Say what ya want, nothin's gonna bring me down right now!" Tig retorted. "She's in, boys!"

"We know," Jax replied. "We were listenin' last night."

"Kinda hard not to thanks to all that noise comin' from your cell!" Juice added.

"Congrats, Tig," Clay added, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Obviously Croucher waited 'til the last minute to give up."

"Thanks, brother," Tig beamed. "I don't think he was as 'gracious' as Cat credited him for bein'!"

"She was bein' graceful in victory," Juice replied.

"You're prolly right," Tig nodded.

"So I get Tig's good mood, but why the Hell are you lookin' so smug, Bobby?" Clay asked.

"We celebrated the win last night with Snicker Bar Muffins!"

The other guys looked at the club secretary in disbelief. "Tig shared his stash?"

"Sure did," Bobby patted his stomach. "Now I know what women mean when they refer to 'death by chocolate."

Good natured grumbling met that response. They'd all managed to purchase a few of the coveted Snicker Bar Muffins despite Tig's attempts to corner the market on them. The club considered it a red letter day any time Tig was willing to share his personal stash.

---

The celebration continued at 'Charming Pawse' and 'The Perk' the following morning. Customers received a sample cheesecake square flavor of their choice with any purchase before 10AM. The reward came as a surprise to the customers of both venues, and led to purchases of additional cheesecake squares at the regular price.

"We'd best double the amount we generally put out on those squares in the morning," Cat advised her afternoon crew at the main coffeehouse on election day after announcing the giveaway. That shift was responsible for baking the following days' pastry inventory. "With this 'thank you' offer, they'll probably go fast."

It turned out that she was right. Both venues ran out of cheesecake squares at 10AM on the dot. Pete and CJ defrosted additional squares for the remainder of the day during the lull. Cat decided to deliver replacement squares to the kiosk. "It'll give me a chance to check on things there," she explained to Pete, who offered to go. "I've not had the time to 'just happen to come by' since we took over."

"OK, Miss Cat. Enjoy yourself!" Pete grinned. 'No matter how much she turns over to us, she'll always want to keep a hand in.'

Though Beth had been giving her regular reports, Cat wanted to see for herself how well the kiosk was fairing. She was especially worried about Jaci's attitude towards her and Dawn. Cat and Beth had met after the first joint meeting to discuss her concerns about the two employees.

"Jaci had a real attitude where the club is concerned, and she likes to bait Dawn about her father," Cat explained. "It doesn't help that Tig's in jail on federal weapons charges, but he's doin' his time, which is more than some people do!" She was thinking of Zobelle's escape at the time, which made her tone of voice a little sharper than usual.

"Jake and Tammy told me about the meeting and Jaci's behavior. That was completely unexpected, Cat. She's never behaved that way around me."

"You're not married to a member of the motorcycle club," Cat replied grimly. "I found out that Jaci's father is a friend of Jacob Hale and Ethan Zobelle."

"Oh, dear!" Beth exclaimed. "That doesn't sound good!" Beth was aware of Cat's issues with Zobelle from the Peace Rally and the subsequent attempt on her life.

"It's not, but knowin' the reason for Jaci's behavior makes it easier to plan how to approach it."

Beth didn't ask how Cat knew about Jaci's father's connections. She felt the less she knew about that, the better. "I understand you had to come up with an anti bullying policy," Beth added. "I've been going over the schedule and just don't see how we can keep Dawn's and Jaci's shifts constantly separate."

"You can't, and I don't expect you to," Cat informed her. "I put all the employees on notice that infighting between employees in front of customers won't be tolerated by either of us. I don't expect you to treat Dawn any differently from the rest of your staff. If she gives you any static feel free to deal with it appropriately."

"I wish Jaci would believe that. She's been very vocal about her belief that Dawn will slack off once she's out of your direct supervision."

"She won't have much of a chance! She'll be under your guidance the first few weeks!" Cat grinned.

She used that first visit to the kiosk to look into the security system. There was a small safe in the store room to keep deposits from the cash register, but the only camera for the kiosk was provided by the hospital. It didn't give a clear picture of the counter area and the employees' activity. 'A person could slip money from the till and no one would know until the end of the day!'

On the Saturday before the name change, Cat met with her management staff at the hospital to redecorate and restock the kiosk with the new logo supplies. Cat also installed a small 'spy cam' that would enable both Beth and herself to see what was going on behind the counter, especially with the cash register.

"It's not that I don't trust the employees," Cat explained to Beth. "It's just that I know what a monster temptation can be. It'll also enable us to make sure no one is bein' picked on when we're not on scene."

"I think it's a good idea," Beth replied. "I never realized how small and unobtrusive these things could be!"

This particular 'spy cam' came with an application that enabled Cat to access the feed from her iPhone and from the computer at 'Charming Pawse'. Beth also had access to the feed on her laptop and smart phone. The surveillance footage could also be fed into the digital recording set up at 'Charming Pawse'.

Cat parked in the service parking and used her access key at the entrance. She carried a long foil covered tray filled with different flavors of the cheesecake squares. She was pleased to see that the kiosk was busy, and Jake and Jaci were keeping the customers moving.

"Where's Beth?" Cat inquired. She placed the pan of replacement squares on the counter behind the kiosk.

"Checking the supply closet," Jake replied. "Congrats, by the way!"

"Thanks, darlin'. It's still sinkin' in."

"I take it that pan is full of cheesecake squares?" He asked, pointing to the foil covered tray.

"Yup," she replied. "Figured all y'all were runnin' low because of the giveaway."

Jake pointed at the empty slot where the cheesecake squares were displayed. "Just sold the last ones a few minutes ago," he announced. "The customers were really pleased by the gesture and we sold a lot of the dollar packs as a result."

"We had the same thing happen at 'Charmin' Pawse'," Cat assured him. "Good job keepin' the line flowin' smoothly. We don't want the customers to have to wait too long for service."

Jaci had yet to greet her employer. Nor did she mention the primary win.

"Good mornin', Jaci," Cat pointedly greeted the silent worker. "How are you?"

"Mornin', ma'am," Jaci stated coldly. She turned her back on her employer and moved to the front of the kiosk. She began cleaning the front area where the customers added flavored creamers and sweeteners to their drinks.

Jake stared after her in disbelief. "Sorry about that, Miss Cat. I don't know why she's giving you the cold shoulder."

"Don't worry darlin'.As long as she'd polite to the customers." She patted Jake on the arm and walked off to the nearby supply closet where Beth was conducting inventory.

"Congratulations, Cat! Or is it councilmember Trager?" Beth grinned.

"I don't join the council until the new year," she replied. "I brought some more cheesecake squares. That giveaway was a hit at both places."

"Oh good! I was afraid we'd be sold out until tomorrow!"

"Nope. Not this early in the day; if you run out with two hours before close, that's the breaks," Cat stated. "I just wanted to stop by to see how things are goin'. I do this with the gym, too."

"It's a good way to keep everyone on their toes!" Beth grinned. She sobered as she pointed to her laptop, which was showing the feed from the security camera. "I saw how Jaci treated you. Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No reason to," Cat shrugged.

"I disagree," Beth protested. "She can't get away with treating you differently from any other employee or customer!"

"I agree with you in spirit. If it happens again, we'll deal with it. This is only the second time she's had any kind of interaction with me. It's not really enough to prove a trend." She added to herself, 'I don't want her runnin' to her dad about it. Not this early in the game!'

"If that's how you want to play it," Beth replied, though she didn't agree with Cat's decision, she wasn't going to argue with her.

"Thanks, darlin'. Not to change the subject, but how's Dawn fitting in?"

"Quite well. She hasn't had to share a shift with Jaci yet. The fact that she's getting so many hours on the weekend limits the friction potential between them. The male customers really seem to like Dawn."

"She's not flirtin' with 'em I hope!" Cat grinned.

"No. All she has to do is smile and the males seem to melt. She acts like she's genuinely glad to help them," Beth assured her. "Jake gets the same reaction from the women."

"Sounds good. I'll leave y'all to it, then," she replied. "See y'all at the next staff meetin'."

Everything seemed to be falling into place, but Cat felt uneasy despite all the positives. She'd won the primary battle and would take office in January. She had begun attending the weekly city council meetings so that she could learn more about the issues she would face. She always sat at the back where her presence wouldn't cause a disruption in the process, and left as soon as the meeting was adjourned.

'The guy's are movin' closer to gettin' out, and there've been no more attempts on their lives; the three businesses are thriving; the gun runnin' operation is goin' smoothly. Even my relationship with Dawn seems to be improvin'. So why do I feel like I'm waitin' for the proverbial 'other shoe' to drop?' Cat asked herself.

---

'Brownie's' disguise paid off within minutes of his return to the federal highway. Though he still wore the long military style coat and carried his back pack, the shorter hair and clean shaven look softened his appearance enough that a truck driver stopped and give him a lift to Vincennes. The trucker didn't force a conversation from his passenger, preferring to talk to his buddies on the CB radio. 'Brownie' folded his arms across his chest and relaxed as his hometown drew nearer. The trucker let him off at the second Vincennes exit which housed all the major big box stores. He easily caught a ride to the university from the shopping center, then walked to the city library nearby.

He sat down at the public computers and logged into his email. There were over 400 messages, mostly spam offers to increase the size of his plumbing, clear up his acne, and meet single women of all nationalities. He deleted them all and reached out to the mercenary network: "Need new creds. Reply this address ASAP. I am, CB."

He wouldn't be able to apply for a job or rent a sleeping room until he had a new ID. He wasn't too worried about temporary accomodations. He preferred to stay away from the homeless shelters. He still knew of plenty of placed near campus where he could hole up in a warm basement simply by picking the lock. As far as his presence on campus was concerned, no one would pay attention to another strange face in a town that attracted them all year long.

He didn't have long to wait for the reply. He winced at the amount required for a new identity. 'It is what it is. Just another debt that cunt owes me.' He tapped out a reply: "Will take two weeks to raise. Please forward intel this address where to wire payment. I am, CB."

He shut down the computer, after deleting the emails from the sent and received email folders. He also deleted his browsing history from the internet, just to be sure no one could trace his activity. He had to raise a large amount of money in a short amount of time and there was only one way he was going to be able to so. "The one good thing about a college community is the off campus housing,' he reminded himself. 'The landlords buy the cheapest possible locks for those houses they convert. No patrols to worry about. It'll be easy to rip off a bunch of small electronics and jewelry, then resell 'em for cash.'

He preferred to rob older houses that had been converted into multiple unit apartments to apartment complexes. The locks were usually easy to pick because they weren't deadbolts. There were also no security patrols to contend with. Apartment complexes were generally patrolled and monitored by rent a cops, and the locks were more sturdy.

He read both the campus paper and local papers at the library, making notes of various locations that met his requirements. He had a fool proof plan to follow. He would have to be patient; take time to study his prey, learn their schedules and identify the occupants of each unit. He kept meticulous notes in a spiral notebook he lifted from another discount chain store with poor security surveillance.

The time came for him to strike each individual unit. He had it perfectly planned, giving him plenty of time to pick the locks, walk through each unit to find the valuables, stuff them in his knapsack, and get out without anyone being the wiser. By the end of his mission, his backpack was full of MP3 players, hand held DVD players, tablets, ereaders, jewlery, cash, digital cameras, and laptops. The crowning insult to the tenants was that he locked the door after him, leaving no sign of forced entry.

He waited a week after the break - ins before he began taking his ill gotten booty to the various pawn shops and jewlery buyers in town. Some of the laptops and tablets had ID information scratched onto them. It was a simple matter for him to fill in the etchings with a permanent marker so the pawn shops wouldn't be suspicious. He never visited the same store twice, and only presented one or two items to sell. That further protected him. Within a few days, he had more than enough money to meet his needs for the new ID.

Getting a US Postal Service mailbox had been out of the question, but he had been able to rent a private mailbox at a check cashing location that was more than happy to take his money with no questions or ID required. He made out a moneygram there for the required amount and had it wired to the address that had been provided him.

He walked to the campus library and logged into his email account, reaching out to his mercenary contacts to advised hte money had been sent. He included his current height, weight, and hair color for the new credentials. "No street address at this time. Forward material to enclosed private mailbox address. I am, CB."

Minutes later, a terse reply came back advising the money was received and to expect his package in five to seven business days. He deleted the email and any sign of his useage from the library computer again and departed the campus library. Alternating libraries was another protection device for him. Now all he had to do was wait.

---

Life went on smoothly in Charming for several months. When the 'Sword of Damacles' didn't descend on her head, Cat relaxed and enjoyed life without Alex as best she could. There was the regular run for supplies for the businesses and delivering the large guns for the club with Ima and one of the prospects to occupy her time. The businesses also kept her busy.

Cat also got into the habit of attending the city council meetings so she could learn more about the issues that she would eventually deal with. She made it a habit to sit in the very back and slipping out before the meeting adjourned in order to not call undue attention on herself. Clark Croucher would always glare baefully at her from his seat on the dias, but she managed to ignore him.

She rode the Yamaha whenever she could though she didn't find as much joy in the riding as usual; not with Alex unable to go with her. One of the prospects was always accompanying her, and she eventually asked for Filthy Phil's presence on her joy rides.

"Miles is fine for the gun running, but I kinda like Phil better," she informed Chibs.

"I donnae see tha' diffrance," Chibs protested.

"Phil's quieter when it comes to fishin'. He's willin' to sit and be silent. Miles is just a little too energetic; he scares the fish away," she explained.

"It isnae lyke ye evah bring enny hoom wi' ye!"

"That's not the point, brother! The whole point of fishin' is bein' one with nature, and that means bein' quiet."

"Ifn Phil doesnae mynd, it's a'right wi' me," Chibs shrugged.

Phil was happy to be included in the weekly outings to the countryside. He was perfectly happy to sit with a tree trunk to his back next to a pond or river, sip beer kept cold in the water, and let the fish come to his hook. Cat appreciated his quiet company, and on the occasions that the fish weren't willing to co - operate, they would sit and talk about life, the universe, and everything else not related to the club.

The peaceful period wasn't meant to last. Shortly after the local schools started their new year and the annual fund raiser in the park was held, the proverbial 'other shoe' Cat had expected to fall finally dropped. It fell on the last night of the school fundraiser when Cat attempted to reach her father. He hadn't called her the night before, and every time she had tried to reach him, she got no answer. Her father know how to work voice mail and he never replaced his answering machine after it died out. The continued silence on his end made her uneasy, so she checked in with her aunt that afternoon.

"No, Honey," her aunt worriedly informed her. "I've had the same result, and his friend is in Evansville!"

"Then I guess it's time for the cops to pay a courtesy visit," Cat sighed. She made a three way call to the Vincennes Police Department to make the request. The dispatcher informed them that an ambulance had been sent out to Blaine's home that morning.

"Do you know whether he was taken to Good Sam?" Cat inquired.

"I believe so," the dispatcher replied. "There's nothing that says the ambulance was sent anywhere else."

"OK, thanks." She waited for the dispatcher to drop off the line before continuing with her aunt, "Well, now we know," she sighed.

"Do you mind doing a three way with the hospital? It'll save me havin' to call them later."

"I was goin' to suggest that!" Cat replied. She dialed the number to the hospital switchboard and asked for the room for her father.

"I'll have to connect you to the nurse's station," the operator informed her. "Calls aren't being allowed to the room at this time."

"That doesn't sound promisin'," her aunt murmured while they were on hold.

Before the nurse would provide anything to her, Cat had to answer a series of questions to verify that she was eligible to obtain information on her father. It didn't take her long to get through the red tape, though it felt like it took forever.

"Your father was brought in to the ER complaining of weakness and difficulty breathing. His white blood cell count was elevated, and his temperature was 101 degrees. He was also quite dehydrated. We have him on IV fluids to rehydrate him and a bi – pap machine to bring his oxygen level up. We're waiting on a consult from his physician in Evansville."

"What's a bi – pap machine?" Blaine's sister asked.

"It's like the c-pap I used to use," Cat explained. "It forces air into the nasal cavity via a mask over the face. It's not a ventilator."

Her father had a 'Do Not Resuscitate' order and a living will in his medical records. Any 'extreme' medical procedures such as giving blood or gastro nasal feeding tubes had to be verbally approved by Cat. The bi – pap was considered normal therapy that wouldn't extend her father's life artificially, so the hospital didn't have to get her permission for that treatment.

"He's having a hard time eating. Nothing will stay down when taken by mouth. Do we have your permission to use a nasal gastro tube to give him nourishment?" The nurse added.

"If it's the only way he can get nutrition, then go ahead. He'll probably fight you over it, though, if he gets it in his head that it's an extreme measure," Cat replied.

The nurse put another nurse on the phone to verify her verbal permission. Both nurses assured her he'd already been very vocal about his treatment despite his weakened state. "We'll call you when we have a diagnosis," the nurse added.

"Well, now we know what's goin' on," Cat sighed when the nurse was off the line. "I'll call y'all as soon as I know somethin'."

A few hours later, the nurse on her father's ward called back with the diagnosis. Her father had pneumonia. Cat gave permission for a transfusion to bring his blood level up and for IV antibiotics to treat the infection.

"He's breathing better," The nurse reported, "but we've had to restrain his hands because he keeps trying to pull the nasal tube out, just as you cautioned he'd do."

"Is he aware of his surroundings?"

"Definitely! He's sleeping a lot, which is to be expected with the fever, but he's lucid. We just can't get him to understand that the feeding tube is not an extreme measure."

"He can be stubborn about things like that," Cat reported. "Do you need me to talk to him?"

"No, his sister called earlier, and we forwarded the call to his room. She talked to him and he calmed down a bit."

"Do you need me there?"

"Not just yet, Mrs. Trager," the nurse replied. "Let's see how he responds to treatment."

Something about the nurse's tone of voice didn't reassure her. 'It might just be one of those nastier bouts of weakness and dehydration he gets and he'll be fine after treatment and therapy again.'

She shared the news about her father with Alex when he called later. "I'm tryin' to be positive, but this has been the shortest period yet between admissions!'

"That sucks, baby! What are ya goin' to do?"

"Wait."

"What? Why in the Sam Hell don't ya go to him?" He cried in astonishment.

"The medical staff wants to see how he responds to treatment. If I suddenly show up by his bedside, it could send the wrong message," she explained.

"Shit!" Alex's free hand massaged the bridge of his nose. "I guess it makes sense, but that really sucks for you."

"I'm hopin' he'll recover like he always has before."

"But there's a chance he won't, isn't there?"

"There's always that chance," Cat sighed.

---

The new birth certificate and Social Security card 'Brownie' ordered were well worth the money he paid. 'It always helps to maintain those 'merc' contacts!' he grinned while he waited in line at the local license branch to get his new ID. The contact had been decent enough to fake an auto insurance coverage card and utility bills to help him prove residency. The forged documents passed the scrutiny of the BMV workers, and he was awarded a new Indiana driver's license with a brand spanking new name, clear of any criminal stains.

He applied for a job at Good Samaritan Hospital and was quickly hired for a position in the custodial services department. It was menial labor that paid only minimum wage. 'Still, it's safe money. It'll get me a sleepin' room until I need to cut out.'

His needs were few; a room that was heated with a bed to sleep in and a lock on the door. The bathroom was shared with the other tenants of the building, with no kitchen priviledges. All his meals were provided by the hospital via the 'five finger discount'. His only expense was rent. He stashed the rest of his paycheck in a hidden pocket of his knapsack. Getting a bank account was out of the question for him. He had taken enough chance of possibly being traced through the job. But he needed money, and he couldn't count on continuing with breaking and entering to raise funds. He was a firm believer in Kenny Roger's chorus from 'The Gambler'. He always knew when to steal, and when to toe the legal line.

Any time he wasn't at the hospital or sleeping, Brownie went to the university and town libraries. He researched the published police and hospital records from his last visit to Vincennes and learned that Blaine Marshall wasn't doing well. Every ambulance call involving the minister had started at his home and ended at the hospital, followed three days later by another ambulance run to take him to the same nursing home where his wife resided. 'Brownie' was overjoyed by the discovery. 'What better way to monitor him and find out where his daughter lives?' He laughed grimly. 'I'll be right under his nose and he won't know it!' The irony appealed to his warped outlook.

He happened to be working in the Emergency Room when Rev. Marshall was brought in by another elderly man. 'Brownie' walked right past the retired minister, who was sitting in the waiting area clutching a bucket to his chest. 'Brownie' gave no indication that he knew the minister. For his part, Rev. Marshall only nodded weakly at him, acknowledging his presence but not recognizing him as his daughter's one - time attacker and former boyfriend.

'He didn't recognize me!' The thug gloated to himself. He was surprised at how frail and weak the minister had become. A mere shell of the hale, hearty man he'd once known. 'Cancer really does suck the life out of a body,' he observed wryly.

This was the second time his disguise had been tested by a person who knew him well. The disguise had passed with flying colors. The first test had been at the city library, when his son, 'Mouse', had walked in and their eyes met across the lobby.

His son had been dressed in civilian clothes, but 'Brownie' knew there was no such thing as an off - duty cop. He met his son's gaze without flinching or giving him a reason to take a second look at him. His son's eyes moved away from him and on to another part of the library as he walked past the table where his father was sitting.

'Brownie' didn't relax until his son disappeared between two tall shelves of books. Then he released the breath he had held during the mere seconds that their gazes had locked on each other. The blond hair dye and clean shave had passed the toughest muster possible! If his own flesh and blood couldn't see past the disguise to the real person, no one could!

'Brownie' found plenty of work requiring janitorial attention to keep him in the Emergency Room and not be accused of loitering. He hovered near the exam area that Rev. Marshall was taken to, listening in to the conversation between the patient and the medical staff. He grinned wryly at the weak voice that had replaced the once powerful tones of the minister.

His vigil was rewarded when he heard the doctor announce that Rev. Marshall would be admitted. 'Brownie' wasn't able to find out what room he'd be taken to, as he was called away to clean up a mess in another exam area. He easily cleared that hurdle during his lunch break by calling the hospital switchboard and asking to be connected to patient information.

"How may I help you?" The disembodied voice crisply inquired.

"I'm calling about my brother, Blaine Marshall. My sister called and told me he was brought in today," he replied, making his voice gruff and querilous so that it sounded much older.

"May I have your name and relationship to the patient, sir?" The disembodied voice asked.

'Shit! What the fuck was her uncle's name?' Brownie frantically searched his memory. Cat had told him more than he'd ever wanted to know about her family. "I told you he's my brother!" He snapped to cover for the silence. "I'm calling from Florida, so this is long distance!" He continued searching his memory, hoping the querilous tone of voice and depression - era concern over the cost of the call would halt the inquisition.

"I understand, Mr. Marshall. We have strict procedures pertaining to releasing patient information. His daughter has requested that we verify the identites of any family member that calls," the voice explained patiently. "So if you'd please tell me your name, I can give you the information."

'Damn!' It seemed that Lady Luck was being a bitch this time. Just as much of a bitch as Cat Marshall was to him. 'I'm not surprised she'd put such a restriction on intel! Dirty fuckin' cunt! She's gonna pay for that!' The angrier he grew over the situation, the clearer his memory became until the name popped into his head. "My name is Alan Marshall, Blaine is my older brother. My sister is the youngest of the three of us! Is that good enough for you? I am payin' for a daytime long distance call, remember!"

"I'm sorry for the delay, Mr. Marshall," the voice replied contritely before providing him with the Holy Grail. "Would you like to be connected to the nurse's station? He's not able to receive calls to the room at this time."

"No, you've wasted enough of my time!" He snarled, slamming the receiver onto the cradle.

As had been the pattern, Rev. Marshall's stay at the hospital was only three days' duration. Not enough time for his daughter to come to see him, even though he went from the hospital to the nursing home's physical therapy wing. Subsequent admissions that he witnessed ended the same way. He noted with some satisfaction that the periods between nursing home discharges and hospital admissions grew shorter with each return.

The other setback that 'Brownie' suffered during this time was in obtaining Cat's contact information. He even went so far as to break into the patient files late at night, only to come up empty handed. The only information he found in the files was Rev. Marshall's diagnoses and treatments. Confidential patient contact information wasn't kept in those files, and he had no way to find out where it was kept.

'So I just keep an eye on the old man. Eventually, somethin's goin' to bring her to him. All I have to do is wait.'

---

A very important date in Tig's life was approaching, and it had him tied up in knots. He wracked his brain to figure out what he could give his wife to commemorate their first anniversary. He had limited options as far as purchasing power was concerned. The only place where he could spend money was the commissary, and he doubted there was anything she'd want or need from there!

"You act like you've never celebrated an anniversary before!" Bobby laughed, watching his cell mate throw another wadded up piece of paper onto the floor. "What's the big deal, man?"

"It's my first anniversary with Cat, that's the big deal!" Tig snorted. "If I could go on line and order somethin', this wouldn't be so hard!"

"Well, we can't, and complainin' about it ain't gonna help ya much!" Bobby grinned.

Because of previous infractions by Stockton inmates, the prison officials had severely limited the inmates online access. They weren't allowed email or social network accounts. They couldn't go to porn sites or online stores. The only things they could access were news and information sites, online college courses, and music videos.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do for her, brother!" Tig complained to Chibs while Cat and Dawn were stocking inventory at the commissary. "I can't even get her a fuckin' card!"

"I didn't know they made cards that do that!" Kozik chortled.

Chibs poked the acting SAA in the side, giving him a warning look. "Hev ye thought aboot maykin' sumthin' fer 'er?"

"Shit! You know I can't draw worth a damn!" Tig snorted.

"Did ye talk ta Clay? 'E's married!"

"He's as clueless as I am!" Tig moaned. "Why the fuck do ya think I'm askin' you?"

"Lemme tell ye sumthin aboot me 'eart sistah," Chibs replied. "She's gonnae lurve ennythin' ye gie 'er, so loong as it isnae cookin' pots!"

"I wasn't plannin' on gettin' her any of that shit!" Tig growled.

"Why not get somethin' for the bike?" Kozik suggested.

"Not good enough!" Tig snorted.

'Wimmin aire suckers fer cairds," Chibs suggested. "Sumone culd buy a caird fer ye, send it 'ere ta ya ta sign, then ye culd mail it to 'er."

"The only cards I've ever bought were birthday cards for Fawn and Dawn!"

"Ye nevah bought un fer Colleen?"

"Hell, no! Not after she ripped up the first one I gave her! She complained it wasn't good enough. After that, I spent our anniversary at the clubhouse!"

"You're not makin' this easy, sport," Kozik observed wryly.

"Aye," Chibs agreed. "Ah donnae kin 'ow ta 'elp ye, Teeg. Ah've noot picked oot cairds fer Fi an' Kerriann fer years."

"I know," Tig replied. "Sorry to bring up bad memories, brother."

"It's pasht 'istory noo," Chibs shrugged. "Boot Ah doo need ta git back inta tha' 'abit agin."

"Same here. Cat deserves somethin' memorable."

"Shit, man! Just havin' an anniversary oughtta be memorable enough!" Kozik smirked.

"Fuck you!" Tig punctuated the offer by flipping the bird at his friend.

"I'd rather fuck Ima, thank you!" Kozik grinned. "And I do - quite often!"

"Go ahead, kick a man in the nuts when he's down!" Tig groaned.

"How about havin' Ima go card shoppin' for ya. She can pick out a few, I can bring 'em to ya, and ya pick out the one ya like best," Kozik suggested.

"Seems like a Hell of a lot of effort for a little piece of glittered cardboard," Tig muttered. "But it beats doin' nothin' at all. Tell her to have at it, then."

Solving the card problem was one load removed from his shoulders, but there was still the matter of an appropriate gift. 'Chibs is right, she'll be happy with anything I make for her that's not related to sex or the house. Kozik might be onto somethin' about makin' something for the bike. But what?'

He found the answer to his problem in the woodworking shop a few days later when he came across a block of ebony colored wood. He decided to make figures from the wood that would eventually go on the bike as decor. 'I'll have to sneak the work into my assigned tasks, but the tools are there, and I can get a lot done in a short amount of time! It's gotta work!'

---

"He's not responding to treatment for the pneumonia, Mrs. Trager," the nurse solemnly informed her. "We'd like to transfer him to a specialty hospital – either in Indianapolis or Evansville – where they can better care for him."

"Is he in danger of dyin'?" Cat asked nervously. She feared the answer, but she needed to know in order to make plans for the immediate future.

"We can't keep his oxygen levels where they belong," the nurse admitted. "He's still very weak. There is that possibility at this stage, but this is the reason we want to transfer him to the specialty hospital. They have the ability to do for him what we cannot and possibly save his life."

"Could the trip kill him?"

"We'll sedate him, so he'll sleep through most – if not all – of the trip," the nurse assured her. "We've consulted with his physician, and he feels the Indianapolis location will be better for him," the nurse stated.

"If his personal physician says that's the case, then I'm in favor of it," Cat replied. "When will you make the transfer?"

"Next Monday," the nurse replied. "They can't take him any sooner than that, and it's very difficult to get this kind of thing done during the weekend."

"Not to mention the expense involved. Insurance companies aren't real pleased about those additional costs," Cat observed dryly.

The nurse provided her with the name and address of the specialty hospital in Indianapolis. It wasn't too far from the neighborhood where she and Bill had lived.

"Let the hospital know that I'll be there to meet him on that Monday."

"I think that's a good idea, Mrs. Trager," the nurse replied. "He's always had friends here to visit, but he'll be all alone at the specialty hospital. This time, your presence might be more positive for him than negative."

Cat laid her head on her arms and rested them on the desk after the call ended. She fought the urge to cry. She was frightened for her father's health for the first time since he'd been diagnosed with cancer decades ago. 'I've got too much to do to act like a girl right now!' She scolded herself, resolutely lifting her head and unlocking the office computer so she could find a decent price on flights to Indianapolis.

As soon as she arranged her plane travel, Cat strolled casually into the preparation area to talk to Miss Anna. "I need to see you in the office for just a wee bit," she announced.

"Be right there," Miss Anna replied. She nodded to CJ, who was working with her, indicating she'd be right back.

Cat had the speakerphone engaged when Miss Anna joined her. "I have Pete on and Beth on the speaker, so they can hear this as well," she explained. "Daddy's very sick. I have to go back to Indiana this weekend and don't know when I'll be back."

"It's that bad?" Pete inquired.

"Yes, darlin'. He's goin' to a special hospital in Indianapolis for treatment. I'm flyin' there from Stockton after visitation. I'll have the cell and the laptop with me, so y'all can always get in contact with me. But I'll need all y'all to pretty much take over everything until I return."

"You know we will!" The three managers chorused.

"What about Dawn, Miss Cat?" Pete added.

"Dawn will be stayin' at the house," Cat replied.

Her statement was met with shocked silence.

"I know what all y'all are thinkin', and Mr. Tig will probably say a few things as well," she sighed. "I'm not goin' to have y'all takin' time every day to take her back and forth to her mother's, Pete!"

"I don't mind, Miss Cat."

"I know y'all don't, darlin'. Dawn's shown me she can be trusted, and she'll take the burden of feedin' the cats off your shoulders durin' my absence," she replied. "It was one thing for you to take care of 'em when I was in the hospital. This is an entirely different matter!"

Pete didn't bother arguing with his boss. 'I'll just make sure the cats are fed and their boxes cleaned! Dawn may have Miss Cat's trust, but where the kitties are concerned, she doesn't have mine!'

"What do you need me to do, Cat?" Beth inquired.

"The duties I generally do," she replied. "Payroll, taxes, the scheduling for the coffeehouse and 'The Perk', orderin' inventory, payin' Tina and Adrian for their sales, and makin' sure SAMCRO gets their 30% each week."

"What about the deposit?" Beth asked.

"Same as always. Pete and Miss Anna can handle the coffeehouse deposit, and y'all can handle the kiosk. Same for any withdrawals y'all might need to make."

"And the staff meeting?" Miss Anna inquired.

"Keep up with it every week. It's important that our routines remain as unchanged as possible," Cat explained. "Again, I'll be available by phone and email; though I won't be able to have those kind of things turned on in Daddy's room. I'll check the electronics every hour, and once I have it, will forward the telephone number to the floor to all y'all."

"We'll only use that if it's real urgent," Pete assured her. "I'll be happy to take care of the Stockton Concession, so that Dawn can see Mr. Tig every Sunday."

"Thanks, Pete. Beth, be sure to revamp Pete's schedule so he gets a day off durin' the week, or if he and Miss Anna want to trade weekends on the Stockton run. They're both on the PT's insurance, so that won't be a problem."

"Will do," Beth acknowledged.

"I'd just as soon keep my Sunday off," Miss Anna murmured. "But I'll fill in anytime Pete needs me too."

"We'll keep things humming along for you, Miss Cat," Pete added.

"I have every confidence in all y'all," Cat replied warmly. "Pete, can y'all hang on the line for a bit?"

"Sure thing, Miss Cat!"

Beth said her goodbyes to her co - managers while Miss Anna returned to the front. Pete waited until everyone left the office before inquiring, "What's going on, Miss Cat?"

"I know I rely on y'all for an awful lot, but do y'all mind goin' to Stockton early Sunday, then droppin' me off at Stockton Metro Airport afterward? I've got the last flight out to Las Vegas Sunday."

"You don't even have to ask, Miss Cat! I'll be honored to drive you there!"

---

Tig worked on his project at every opportunity. He cut the ebony wood block into two pieces, one a little larger than the other. He also found a piece of wood that was a tawny color that would work for the third part of his project. He performed the initial shaping of the three blocks of wood on a band saw. That enabled him to make the precise cuts and angles he wanted. He used picks of various sizes to carve out the details that would become the face and body of their three cats. He also carved out the outlines of paws and tails, adding to the three dimensional appearance. There was plenty of paint to color in the eyes and the body markings.

"What the fuck am I gonna use for whiskers?" He muttered. He didn't want to use heavy guage wire, which was all he could find in the wood shop. It was large and cumbersome because it was used to hold the lumber in place until it was needed. He definitely didn't want to use pipe cleaners, provided he could lay his hands on some.

"How about uncooked spaghetti?" Jax suggested. "I can get ya plenty!"

Tig frowned and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Broom straws?" Bobby offered helpfully. "Strands from a mop?"

Tig snorted in derision and shook his head.

One of their Hispanic friends that were providing protection to the club on Alvarez' orders overheard Tig's problem as he passed the club's table. "I work in the metal shop, esse. What kind of wire do ya want?"

Tig described what he wanted, using his hands and fingers to display the desired width and length.

"Si, I can get that for you, easy. But it'll cost ya!"

"How much?" Tig growled.

"Two of those Snicker Bar Muffins your old lady bakes," their guardian grinned.

'Shit! I'd part with a week's worth of 'em to make this work!' Tig thought. "You've got a deal, brother!" He exclaimed.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow same time and place." The prisoner walked away, grinning in anticipation of the treat.

"Whew!" Juice sighed. "That's a pretty steep price for some wire!"

"My woman's worth it," Tig smirked.

---

Cat broke the news of her trip to Dawn during dinner that evening. "Don't worry, darlin'," she added. "You're not goin' to have to relocate while I'm gone."

Dawn's worried look fled at her step – mother's reassurance. "I was afraid that you'd make me go back to Mom's." The last few months of living in her father's home had been liberating, though she had complained to Tig about paying for her lodging.

"If ya wanna stay at my house, you pay your way. Hell, you're gettin' a deal! Where else are ya gonna get meals and a bed for five bucks a day?"

"Nowhere," Dawn sighed resignedly.

"If it had been up to me, you'd be payin' one Hell of a lot more than that!" Tig added.

That surprised Dawn; she'd assumed her step – mother had come up with the idea. To learn that her father had suggested it knocked her for a bit of a loop. "Are you tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

"Just that I hope you'll appreciate what you're gettin'," Tig replied. "You're gonna have to fend for yourself sometime, baby girl. This is one way to learn."

She had to admit her father had a point. Cat offered to withhold it from her paycheck, but she declined.

"No, if I'm gonna do this, I need to learn to budget for it." She paid every pay day like clockwork and kept her room and the guest bath she used neat and clean.

"Nah. You've proven to my satisfaction that y'all can be depended on. All the same house rules apply, and the kitties would appreciate regular feedin' and keepin' their litter boxes cleaned up."

Ming, who was sitting on Dawn's lap, looked up at her and blinked his sapphire eyes once as if looking for reassurance.

"Of course I will!" Dawn replied, stroking the Siamese's fur reassuringly.

"Good. Y'all have your bicycle, but if Colleen wants y'all to visit, she'll have to retrieve you. I don't have the vehicles insured for you to drive and it's not fair to put that job on Pete's shoulders," Cat explained.

"OK, I'll let her know."

"Tina Lou will come in every other day to do the house cleanin', and her son does the yard work every week, so y'all don't have to worry about that. I'll be available by phone and email, and Pete will takin' care of the Stockton Concession with y'all, so you can see your father every week."

"I can?" Dawn squeaked in surprise.

"Of course. One person can't do that job alone. I do need to ask if y'all mind not makin' the trip to Stockton this Sunday."

"There won't be enough room for your bags, the inventory, Pete, you, and me in the PT," Dawn observed.

"Unfortunately true, darlin'."

"What about usin' the Challenger?"

Cat shook her head. "The PT is the unofficial company car, honey. I track the business mileage on it for tax purposes. The Challenger is simply a pleasure car, so that's not an option for this weekend. None of the employees are on its' insurance."

"Oh," she sighed. "Did you already talk to Daddy about this?"

"I mentioned it. He understood the situation," she admitted.

"Then don't worry about me, Cat," Dawn assured her. "You've got enough on your plate worryin' about Grandpa Blaine. He seems so nice whenever I've talked to him, like he really cares about me."

Cat's eyes misted at Dawn's reference to her father. "There's no 'seems' about it, darlin'. He does care about y'all.'

Whenever Dawn was home when her father called, Cat always let him talk to her. He would ask her about her day and any friends she was making. Their portion of the call would always end with him telling her he loved her.

"But you've never met me!" She protested once. "How can you love me?"

"Because Cat loves you. You're as precious to me as she is. And because God loves you, too. I think those are some pretty good reasons to love you, honey," he replied warmly.

"Where do y'all think I got it from?" Cat inquired softly.

Dawn didn't reply to her comment. She didn't even hear it. Though it warmed her to have someone like Cat's father say he loved her, she didn't really believe in it. Nor did she believe that her step - mother really cared for her. If she allowed herself to believe it, she wouldn't be able to go through with her campaign to get into Cat's personal accounts for her own betterment.

---

"Shit! It's really that serious," Alex observed later that night when he called.

She could hear the distress in his voice over the situation. 'He doesn't want me to leave, but there's nothin' I can do about it. He's not gettin' out until his sentence is up; I've gotta go to Daddy. He's just gonna have to accept it,' she observed to herself. "Pneumonia for anyone can be serious, love. With Daddy's compromised immune system, it's dead serious," she replied.

'I don't like the sound of that!' He winced. "I get what you're sayin', baby. What are ya goin' to do about Dawn?"

"I'm just goin' to let her stay here," Cat replied quietly.

"Without supervision?"

"I can't exactly send her back to her mother!" Cat protested. "Not with her workin' five out of seven days a week."

"True dat," he sighed.

"Besides, havin' Pete take her back and forth in the PT is way too much wear and tear on him and the car, especially with him takin' over the Stockton Concession for me."

"Shit! I hate it when ya get all logical on me!" He growled. "I'm just not sure Dawn should be left alone in our house."

"If things were still tense between us, love, I'd agree," Cat argued. "She's been abidin' by the house rules since she moved in. With the exception of some snoopin' that kids normally do anyway, I think she deserves our trust."

"What kind of snoopin' has she been doin'?" Alex growled.

"Goin' through the desk in the home office," Cat replied airily.

"What?!" Alex snarled. "And ya still wanna let her stay without some supervision? Are ya nerts?"

"Take it easy, stud muffin," she laughed. "I did the same thing when I was a kid, and would look through Daddy's desk. It was always full of interestin' things. Anything he didn't want me pokin' my nose into was always locked up, just like the home and coffeehouse desks."

Alex's hand caressed the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes and sighed, "It's your call baby. If ya feel that comfortable with the idea, then go ahead. I just have a bad feelin' about this!"

"I hope she proves y'all wrong," she replied. "I'll see ya Sunday, love." She didn't want to break his heart by telling him of the precautions she'd taken in the house and garage. 'Maybe he'll never have to know! It's enough that Ima knows of 'em.'

"You're still gonna visit?" He exclaimed.

"I was intendin' to. Unless y'all don't want me."

"What kind of bullshit is that, baby?" He growled. "Of course I want ya to visit! I'm just surprised you're not leavin' earlier!"

"Sunday's the best I could do, love," she explained. "I've booked the last flight to Las Vegas from Stockton Metro, then on to Chicago and Indianpolis from there. I'll get there in time to get a rental and go to the hospital before Daddy arrives."

"How ya gonna get there from here?"

"Remember when I asked if y'all would mind if Dawn didn't come to visit this Sunday?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Pete's agreed to take me to the airport after visitation," she explained.

"Guess it's the best ya can do under the circumstances." Alex replied gruffly.

Cat merely smiled at his reponse and assured him she'd see him that coming Sunday. For once, his alpha male superiority didn't get under her skin. She understood and shared his feelings on the matter.

---

Sheriff Roosevelt finally backed off on the club and their friends after several weeks of fruitless surveillance. "If they're doing anything outside the law, I can't find evidence of it!" He confided to Jacob Hale.

"I still want you to maintain a watch on them," Hale commanded. Though it would be a few more months before he would officially assume office, Hale was already taking on much of the mayor's duties. "They're bound to slip up before long!"

"You've been saying that for months!" Roosevelt argued. "I can't continue to allocate all this time and manpower to monitoring SAMCRO!"

"Do what you need to do, as long as SAMCRO remains under surveillance!" Hale snapped.

Roosevelt shrugged and decided to allocate his manpower and resources as he saw fit and moved them over to other duties. 'As long as Hale thinks SAMCRO is being monitored constantly, I can get headquarters off my back!'

The relaxed surveillance didn't mean that the old ladies and the club relaxed their own vigilance. They continued with the covers for the various gun runs. Cat definitely appreciated not having to endure a search of the Challenger's trunk after every out of town 'shopping' trip.

The businesses in Charming that were friends of the club also appreciated the lack of scrutiny from the SJSD. Though they'd gone about business as usual, the increased police presence had been annoying for them. Shortly after his showdown with Cat over 'freebies' for his officers, Roosevelt met with the business owners association to discuss the matter.

"I have it on good authority from one of your own that law enforcement doesn't get any special priviledges," he announced.

A chorus of affirming murmurs met that observation from the other owners.

"We don't know or care what other businesses in the county do, but here in Charming, we don't just hand out our services in exchange for protection!" Floyd remarked testily.

"Yeah," another business owner added, "That's against the law anyway, isn't it?"

Roosevelt found it difficult not to start sweating under the business owners' scrutiny. 'This must be how they feel about us watchin' them!' He swallowed a couple of times and continued, "It is, and I wanted to go on record with all of you that none of my officers will be expecting free goods and services. Now, if one of you fine upstanding citizens wants to offer them a meal or drink or whatever on the house, they won't turn it down," the lieutenant grinned, "but they won't demand it."

"Then why did you come down so hard on 'Charming Pawse'?" Floyd challenged.

'Why am I not surprised they'd know about that?' Roosevelt mused to himself. "I was simply testing the waters," he explained.

"Yeah, and Jacob Hale has swampland for sale in Arizona!" Floyd snorted.

"He'd make a killin' if he does!" Cat added. The joke managed to break the tension that was developing between Roosevelt and the business owners. "I don't think anyone's against showin' their appreciation for the work all y'all do from time to time," she continued. "We just don't want to be expected to grease your palm whenever we shake hands."

"I accept that," Roosevelt sighed. "As long as we're clear and there's no hard feelings. We're here to protect and serve, not be served."

---

Tig replaced the pay phone receiver on the cradle, leaned his head against the cool metal, and closed his eyes, trying to ease the pain he felt for his wife.

"Yo, asshat! Quit Bogarting the phone!" The prisoner at the front of the line called out.

"Yeah!" Another prisoner called out. "Move your ass away from there and let someone else use it!"

Tig didn't have the desire to challenge the hecklers with a sarcastic retort. He raised his head from phone and turned away, silently passing the muttering line of prisoners. 'Man, this is gonna be Hell on Earth for my girl! Talk about fucked up timin'! Why did this have to happen while I'm stuck here?'

His heart hurt for his wife and his father in law. He'd come to accept Blaine as the father he should've had. 'He accepted me as one of his own with no questions asked and means as much to me as he does to Cat! And I can't go with her to say goodbye!' His gut felt like a one ton wrecking ball had hit him as he realized it was very possible that he might never see or talk to the gentle man again.

His conscience was nagging at him as he climbed onto his bunk and reached under the pillow to retrieve the wooden cat figures he'd been making for their anniversary. 'Every time my woman needs me, I'm never there for her!' He acknowledged. 'It's always the club before anything else.' He was relieved that Bobby wasn't in their cell at the moment. He really needed some private time to organize his thoughts.

He had to admit that it had always been that way for him, even when he'd been with Colleen. She'd been willing to accept it to an extent; she'd been a Croweater when they hooked up. She knew what she was getting into, though it didn't keep her from betraying him. When he left Colleen, the club had been there to help him heal. The club had been the best family he'd ever had, until he met Cat.

'She's always accepted that the club would always come first,' he reminded himself, staring unseeingly at the wooden figures in his hands. 'Guess I have that MC in Terre Haute to thank for that. Plus her experiences as a preacher's kid. She had to make concessions most of her life!'

He knew that didn't make the current situation right. That nagging voice in his soul wasn't willing to let him off that easy. 'I dunno why she puts up with it. A better man wouldn't have hooked up with and put her through all this shit.' Tig snorted in derision. 'But I'm not a better man. I can't - oh, fuck that! I won't give her up!'

Bobby sauntered into their cell, carrying the latest book he'd checked out of the library. He took one look at Tig's sad face and tossed the book onto his bunk. He leaned against the opposite wall and crossed his arms across his chest. "Bad news?"

"Cat's father," Tig murmured huskily.

"Back in the hospital this soon?" Bobby winced. The entire club was aware of Rev. Marshall's many trips to and from the hospital and nursing home, and how short the periods when he was able to be home were getting. "That doesn't sound good bro."

"It's not. He's got pnuemonia and bein' transferred to some fancy shancy hospital in Indianapolis this Monday."

Bobby winced in sympathy. "How's Cat takin' it?"

"Like a fuckin' trooper as usual," Tig replied dryly. "Except she's leavin' for Indiana Sunday."

'Ouch! No wonder he looks like the last whorehouse on Earth just closed!' Bobby thought. "So she won't be comin' to see ya this weekend. Sorry, man."

"She's comin'," Tig explained. "She's got the last flight outta Stockton to Vegas. Pete's bringin' her up to learn the concession shit, then droppin' her at the airport."

"So Pete'll be runnin' it while she's gone," Bobby remarked. "He's a good man. What about Dawn? She goin' back to Colleen's?"

Tig shook his head. "Against my better judgement, Cat's lettin' her stay at the house."

"Holy fuck!" Bobby whistled.

"What can I say?" Tig shrugged. "My girl roots for the underdog."

"Explains what she sees in you, then!" Bobby chortled.

"Fuck you!" Tig grunted.

"Surpised ya haven't tried already!" Bobby smirked.

"Your hair's the right color, but you're not as soft as Cat."

Bobby shrugged and pointed at the wooden figurines. "You still gonna finish 'em?"

"Yeah. She might not be home by our anniversary, so I'll go ahead and give 'em to her Sunday. They're done 'cept for the laquer coat." Tig shrugged.

"It'll prolly give her a bit of comfort while she's with her Dad," Bobby nodded approvingly. "It might not turn out bad, y'know."

"Yeah. True dat," Tig sighed, placing the figurines back under his pillow and swinging his legs onto the mattress.

Bobby sighed inwardly and settled onto his bunk. Tig's tone of voice didn't sound very convinced. Bobby felt bad for his cell mate and for Cat, but there was very little he could do but hope for the best, as they always did.

---

"Ach! 'Tis sorry Ah am ta 'ear this, sistah!" Chibs moaned, flinging an avuncular arm around Cat's shoulders. She'd just shared the news about her father with the club and her immiment return to Indiana.

"Thanks, bro," she sighed. "All y'all will still have access to the Challenger for the large stuff. I talked to Ima and she's OK with makin' the run without me. She's comfortable with the Challenger and knows the routine for the run as well as I do."

"She's also the only other person you trust with that car!" Kozik grinned slyly.

"True dat,"she snorted. "Besides, when it comes to the other old ladies, I doubt Tara would have the time to do it, what with dealin' with her job and the dubious joys of pregnancy. Gemma probably wouldn't go anywhere with Ima unless she had no other choice."

"You're prolly right," Piney laughed. "Gemma seems to be sidin' with Tara where she's concerned."

"Don't see why!" Cat retorted. "Ima's happy with Kozik and has been for some time. Seems to me there's no contest goin' on!"

"Would ya object to Lyla goin' with her?" Opie inquired, hastening to change the subject. "I don't like the idea of sendin' just one woman and a prospect on that run."

"I don't object to it," Cat replied. "As long as it's all right with Lyla. Women prefer to be asked instead of bein' volunteered!"

Opie frowned for a moment before catching on that she was teasing him. "Naturally," he rumbled with a wry smile.

"Do ye kin whair ye'll be stayin'?" Chibs asked.

"I've booked an extended stay hotel, but I'm waitin' on a callback from my friend and one time landlord, Mrs. York. She has small furnished apartments to rent not far from the hospital. The rents are usually cheaper than those hotels," she explained. "If she's willin' to let me go right to a month to month rental, that'll be a big help."

"Wal, ye were a gud tenant alla them yairs frum wha' ye tole me, da's got ta coont fer sumthin'!"

"I hope so. And all y'all can reach me via the cell if anything comes up," she replied.

"Ah donnae lyke tha' idea o'Dawn stayin' at yer 'oose on 'er own," Chibs observed.

"She's not goin' to be completely on her own," Cat reminded him. "Tina will be comin' over to do the housework, and I suspect Pete and the rest of my kids will be checkin' on the cats. I doubt she'll try to pawn the silver."

"Don't joke about that, honey," Piney admonished. "It could happen."

"It might, but I'm not about to make Dawn move back to Colleen's or try to rent a place here in town on her own while I'm gone!" Cat protested. "It's just not fair to her when she's been makin' an effort to behave."

"I hope this doesn't backfire on ya, Cat," Opie sighed.

---

'Brownie', also known to Cat as Cory Brown, stood in Blaine Marshall's darkened room, listening to the sounds of the bi - pap machine force air into the minister's straining lungs. The man's eyes were closed in sleep, as they always were whenever 'Brownie' walked inside to clean up the bathroom and bag up the trash in the wastecans. He also put a fresh bag in the bin used to hold the plastic covers all visitors and staff were required to wear in the room.

'Brownie' rested his arms on the handle of the mop he was using to clean the tile. The floor was quiet at that time of night; dim lights illuminated the halls so the patients wouldn't be disturbed. The night nurse had already made her rounds, dispensing medicines and checking IV's. 'Brownie' knew she wouldn't return for another half - hour. He knew the night shift routine as well as he knew the back of his hand.

Every night since Rev. Marshall had been admitted, 'Brownie' had entered the room, performed his routine chores, then watched the ailing man he hated before sabatoging the bi - pap machine in some way. He'd learned enough about them in his research to know what he could do without outright killing the minister. He didn't want him dead - at least not yet. 'Not until she comes to him!'

His actions had kept the patient from recovering from the pnuemonia that made every breath a chore for him. Making sure the oxygen saturation didn't quite reach the level they were required to meet insured that his quarry would remain right where 'Brownie' needed him to be. 'Guess I did a little too good!' He mused to himself, glaring at the sleeping paitent. He'd learned while working in the nurses' station that Rev. Marshall was scheduled to be transferred to Indianapolis on Monday. That didn't fit into 'Brownie's' plans at all. 'I have to do somethin' to prevent that from happenin'! Cat has to come here. Indianapolis won't do me a damn bit of good!'

He leaned the mop against the wall and sneaked to the side of the minister's bed. Rev. Marshall lay on his back, the bi - pap machine strapped over his nose, which included the gastro - nasal feeding tube. An IV was stuck in one wrinkled arm, sending antibiotic fluid into the minister's system. 'Maybe I should do somethin' with the IV this time. That might be enough to keep him here!'

'Brownie' was standing next to the bed so that his back was to the door, blocking the light. A shaft of moonlight from the window near the bed fell across the middle of the bed. As he reached for the IV, Rev. Marshall's eyes opened and fixed on the form standing beside him. The patient wasn't wearing his glasses, so 'Brownie' remained calm. He remembered that the minister's eyesight was almost non existent without either his glasses or contacts. 'He has no idea who I am without his cheaters!' He snorted triumphantly.

It hadn't been his intent to speak to the minister, but some perverse need to show off overcame 'Brownie'. He smiled nastily and leaned over the patient to gloat, "It's been a long time, Rev. Marshall. Can't say it's nice to see ya again, though I'm happy to see you're not in great shape!"

Rev. Marshall's eyes widened in sheer terror. Despite the mask over his nose, he managed to croak, "I know that voice!" His hands, which were restrained to the bed so that he couldn't pull out the tube and mask, fluttered helplessly for the bedside call button.

'Brownie' grabbed the device and moved it out of the minister's reach. "Oh no you don't! I'm not ready to leave, yet! The fun's just beginnin'!"

It made 'Brownie' happy to have Cat's father at his mercy. No court order would save him now. "I could kill you if I wanted to, and there's nothing you or anyone can do about it! No one knows who I am, Marshall. If I kill you, that will definitely bring Cat here. You know how much I want to see her again. We have unfinished business!"

Rev. Marshall's hands balled into fists in response to 'Brownie's' taunts. He didn't care what happened to him; he was secure in his walk with his Lord. He feared for his daughter's safety, especially now that her greatest threat was standing over him. "Help me, someone!" He croaked hoarsely. His voice barely carried to 'Brownie's' ears.

"No one's around to hear you, old man!" 'Brownie' laughed softly. The laugh held no warmth to it. It was the most evil sound Blaine had heard in his life. "The nurse won't be back for awhile!" He bent down, slipped his knife from his boot, and jabbed it into the plastic IV line between the bag and the minister's arm so that some of the antibiotic and saline solution began dripping onto the floor.

Rev. Marshall began struggling to get out of the restraints when he saw the glint of moonlight reflect off the knife 'Brownie' held. He didn't need 20/20 eyesight to know he was in danger. The monitors reflected a sudden increase in heart rate and blood pressure. As an extra measure, 'Brownie' loosened the hose connecting the mask to the bi - pap machine at its' base just enough to diminish the air flow.

"Go ahead and struggle, old man! I'm not gonna kill you now. Just remember I can do anything I want and no one's gonna stop me. Not you, not my son, and definitely not that cunt daughter of yours!"

'Brownie' slipped out of the room and hurried down the hall a few seconds before the monitor alarms began blaring. That brought the night nurse hurrying down the hall to the minister's room. She flipped on the light switch to find the patient thrashing around in the bed and pounding his feet against the footrest. "Save me!" Rev. Marshall croaked.

"It's all right, Rev. Marshall. I'll take care of things!" The nurse assured him, glancing at the monitors. She was alarmed that his heart rate was dangerously high, while the oxygen saturation level had deteriorated rapidly.

"No! No! The j - janitor! He - he - "

"Shh!" The nurse admonished, placing a hand on his chest to keep him from trying to sit up. "Relax. It was just a bad dream!" She placed the bi - pap mask back over his nose, frowning at the lack of air flowing from it. She stepped to the other side of the bed to inspect the machine, her frown deepened when she found that the hose was loose at the base of the machine.

'He must've pulled it loose while he was thrashing around,' the nurse thought to herself. She reattached the hose and moved back to the other side of the bed. That was when she noticed the pool of fluid on the floor. "Oh, dear!"

"What's wrong, nurse?" inquired a male voice from the hall.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the janitor standing in the middle of the hallway. "Oh, good! Would you get a mop and clean up this liquid on the floor? I'll get another IV bag when you get back."

"Sure," he walked down the hall to the utility room, retrieved a mop and bucket, and returned to the room, pulling on a plastic coat before entering Rev. Marshall's room. "Is he all right?"

"He must've had a bad dream," the nurse replied. She had removed the damaged plastic line from the bag and from the connector that was already inserted in the patient's arm. "I'll just get a new line, if you don't mind staying with him for a moment."

Rev. Marshall's eyes widened in fear at the nurse's words. He shook his head and moaned, but she misinterperted the gesture. "I'll be right back, Rev. Marshall. You'll be just fine."

'Brownie' started cleaning the spilled IV fluid from the floor as the nurse left the room. The squeak of her rubber soled shoes on the linoleum floor alerted him when she was out of earshot. He leaned on the mop for a moment, staring malevolently down at the patient. "Gave ya a scare, eh?"

The minister's eyes pleaded with him to leave him alone. "Please," he croaked pitifully.

"Beggin' ain't gonna do you a bit of good, old man," he hissed. "Even if ya tell 'em who I am, they'll put it down to the 'bad dream'."

The squeak of the nurse's shoes warned him of her return. He finished cleaning the floor and met her at the doorway. "All clean. He still seems a little excited."

"I've got a page in to the doctor on call for a sedative. Thanks for the help." She replied.

"Anytime."

Rev. Marshall continued thrashing and moving his head around in denial. A sedative was the last thing he wanted. 'Why can't I get them to listen to me?' He cried inwardly.

"Please relax, Rev. Marshall," the nurse pleaded. "I need to replace this IV line, and don't want to hurt you."

To her relief, the patient relaxed so she could replace the plastic IV line. Soon the antibiotic fluid was flowing into his vein once again. There had been no interruption of the flow while she changed the line.

Rev. Marshall's eyes remained on the nurse's face as she worked. Whenever their eyes met, he tried to communicate with his expression how important it was that she listen to him. "N - nurse, th- that janitor, he's -"

"What's the problem, here?" Another voice barked from the doorway. The on call doctor had arrived and was placing the plastic coat over his scrubs. He looked half - asleep, as the page had woken him from a brief nap.

The nurse explained briefly explained the situation to the doctor, indicating the monitoring readings. "I don't know how he managed to damage the IV line," she added.

"It might've rubbed against a sharp part of the bed when he was moving around," the doctor mused. "That's happened before."

"I see. He's still very distressed, keeps wanting to talk about the janitor," the nurse added. "Rev. Marshall seems very fearful of the man."

"Probably woke up, saw him in the shadows, and mistook him for a boogey man," the doctor groused. He ordered a mild sedative to be given so the patient would sleep. "Inject it in the IV," he added.

"Yes, doctor."

The professionals turned to leave, which made Blaine panic. "NO!" He screamed with all his might, trying to raise his upper body from the bed. "Please!" His body suddenly became rigid from his exertions. Every muscle in his legs and arms flexed, his eyes bulged, and the veins in his neck became large and purple against his pale skin.

"He's convulsing!" The doctor yelled, rushing to the bedside. "Get that sedative now!"

The nurse rushed to comply, returning with the filled syringe and injecting it into the IV flow. The doctor continued to restrain the patient to prevent him from injuring himself. Finally, Rev. Marshall's muscles relaxed as the sedative took effect. He groggily allowed the medical professionals to gently push him back against the pillows. The doctor checked him for signs of injury, then stood up and sighed wearily.

He stripped off the hot plastic cover and tossed it into the recepticle next to the door. The nurse followed suit and accompanied him to the nurse's station where he wrote out a report and medication orders for the remainder of the night. "I'm not sure what brought that on, but it's obvious that the janitor has upset him. I'll issue orders for him to be reassigned to a different floor for the remainder of the patient's admission."

"Do you really think that's necessary, Doctor? He might've just been confusing the janitor with whatever bad dream he had."

"I'm not willing to take that chance. Have physical therapy and his regular doctor check him in the morning. I doubt it was a stroke, but there's nothing about him ever suffering from seizures in his medical history."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse replied.

"And call the night supervisor, have someone sit with him the remainder of the night, just in case," the doctor ordered.

"Should I call his daughter?"

The doctor shook his head. "Not unless his vitals get worse. I see it's noted he's transferring to a specialty hospital on Monday."

"Yes, his daughter's planning to meet him there."

"If he doesn't suffer any further seizures, he should be able to make the trip. Have the regular doctor page me after he's examined the patient."

---

Cat was still asleep when the hospital called to advise her of her father's overnight seizure. She was instantly awake the minute the nurse announced the reason for the call. "Is he all right?"

"He's stable, and resting comfortably," the nurse assured her. "We didn't call last night when he had the seizure because his vital signs remained stable."

"You refer to a seizure. He's never had those before," Cat replied, sitting up against the head of the bed. The motion disturbed the sleeping pair of black cats, who glared at her then returned to their interrupted sleep. She reached down and stroked Misty, both to comfort the feline and receive some back from the purring furry form cuddled next to her. "Are y'all sure it wasn't a stroke?"

"We're sure, Mrs. Trager," the nurse replied. "The doctor examined him this morning, as did the physical and speech therapists. His speech is a little garbled, but he can move his extremetries and answers every question asked of him. The doctor ordered an MRI and no brain damage was detected. Due to the event last night, we're keeping him sedated and have requested the janitor that upset him be reassigned."

"That's probably a good idea," Cat agreed. "He doesn't upset easily, and I don't believe that he'd be so upset over movin' to another facility that he'd have bad dreams. Any idea what there was about the janitor that upset him in the first place?"

"With all due respect, Mrs. Trager, we believe that he did wake up from a bad dream, saw the outline of the janitor in the dim light, and mistook him for someone dangerous. You do recall that he has virtually no sight without his glasses, don't you?"

"I should! I've known about that all my freakin' life!" She snorted. "But that's just not like Daddy!"

"People behave differently when they're extremely ill, Mrs. Trager. He got so upset that his heart rate and blood pressure rose, and he was thrashing quite violently when the night nurse found him."

"Sounds like he was definitely agitated."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, Mrs. Trager. His movements have been pulling the hose away from the base of the bi - pap machine, which is why his oxygen saturation levels aren't where they should be. The hose has come loose several nights in a row. This is why the doctor has ordered him to remain sedated until the transfer is completed Monday."

"Then I'll meet him there. I've already made the arrangements. Give him my love and tell him that I'll see him soon." She replaced the receiver and lay against the pillows, absently stroking Misty while she thought over the nurse's report. 'It's not like Daddy to get confused like that, weakened condition or not. He definitely wouldn't let bein' moved to a different facility bother him! Somethin' is not right with this picture at all! What is it about that janitor that upset him?'

A knock at the partially opened door interrupted her observations. "C'mon in, Dawn!" She called out. "I'm awake!"

Dawn slipped past the door into the bedroom. Misty immediately leapt from the bed and scurried underneath it.

"Jesus! You'd think she'd be used to me by now!" Dawn sniffed.

"It takes her awhile to warm up to new people," Cat reminded her. "It took several months for her to get used to your Dad. Rest assured she'll be your best bud by the time I return."

"Especially if I feed her, right?" Dawn grinned.

"That'll help," Cat smiled back. "You about ready to go to the coffeehouse?"

"Yeah," Dawn replied. "I heard the phone ring, and thought it might've been about Grandpa Blaine."

"It was, darlin'. He had a seizure last night," Cat replied, relating the news the nurse had given her.

"So you're still leavin' tomorrow," Dawn observed.

"Yeah. I think it's best that I be with him," Cat sighed. "I'm still hopin' he's goin' to turn around like all the other admissions."

"But you're not sure, now?"

"No, darlin', I'm not. He's never had seizures or delusions before. It kinda scares me."

To Cat's surprise and delight, Dawn sat down on the edge of the bed, took her hand, and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'll keep him in my thoughts, Cat."

The two women sat together for a moment, then Dawn released Cat's hand and stood up. "I'll let the rest of the crew know you'll be in after you pack." Before Cat could respond, she added, "I won't tell 'em this latest news. Figure that's up to you."

---

'Brownie' was not pleased to learn he was being reassigned to the day shift and to another floor, well away from Blaine Marshall's room. He didn't let his displeasure show when his supervisor broke the news.

"It's not your fault, Evan," the supervisor assured him. "Patients can be funny at times, and with that transfer comin' up, the medicos don't want to take any chances with him. Take the day off so you can rest, and come in tomorrow morning at nine for the day shift."

"Guess I don't have any choice," 'Brownie' muttered before he left the supervisor's office and headed for his locker. He silently changed out of his uniform, closed the locker, and left the hospital. He wasn't tired enough to go to his sleeping room. He was annoyed and angry and needed to work off steam, so he set out for a walk along the riverside to clear his head.

It appeared that all of his efforts to keep Blaine Marshall in Vincennes were going to fail. 'If he goes to Indianapolis and recovers, there's no guarantee that she'll come back here with him when he's released!' He groused to himself, squatting beside the riverbank.

He paid little attention to the university students sitting along the riverbank. The levee was a popular hangout on sunny days. Students would picnic and study there, soaking up the sun, feeding the geese and ducks, or fishing. He tossed a few pebbles into the water, watching the resulting rings interconnect.

"OK, the worse case scenario is that he recovers and she goes home from Naptown," he mused aloud. "There is a chance that she might come back with him and leave from Evansville. Don't see the sense in her comin' all the way out here from wherever she is just to go back when he's better. She loves him too much to do that."

He tossed another pebble into the river. To him the interconnecting rings represented the different possibilities that could happen, all of which were beyond his ability to control. All he could was to stay put, continue adding to his monetary stash, and staking out Rev. Marshall's home. 'It's not like 'Mouse' or any of the rest of VPD will be watchin' his place. They have no reason to! One way or another, I'm willin' to bet Cat will come back with her Dad. I've waited this long, what's a little longer?'

Satisfied with his decision, 'Brownie' stood up and walked back to his sleeping room. He'd need his rest to work the daytime shift coming up. He fell asleep on his bed with a smile of anticipation.

---

Cat glanced at her travel bag, then back at her closet. She debated whether to pack the appropriate clothing for a funeral. 'Better to have it and not need it,' she decided, taking out the black silk tuxedo shirt, her black velvet cords, and a black pullover and packing them in the bag. She added a gold cat pendant that Bill had given her years ago to the bag. She'd packed casual clothing for the hospital. Her wallet contained her debit card and some cash along with her ID, insurance cards for the bike and the cars, and a credit card. Her laptop case contained her cell, laptop, ereader and their chargers, along with her medications.

"Guess I'm about as ready as I'll ever be for tomorrow," she observed, shooing Ebony out of her suitcase so she could close it. "You can't go, big fella," she admonished him, placing him resolutely on the floor.

The 20 pound cat snorted and waddled out of the bedroom. His tail was raised straight in the air. Misty touched noses with him, then raced into the bedroom, hopped onto the bed, and climbed into the suitcase before Cat could close it.

"Same message applies to you, little one," Cat laughed, lifting the one eyed feline into her arms and hugging the purring form. She set Misty onto the floor and quickly closed the suitcase before Ming got any ideas of his own. "I'm not leavin' until tomorrow, so there's plenty of time for all y'all to get some love from me," she assured them. "For now, I'm goin' to the coffeehouse to help with the baked goods."

The two black cats scurried to the cat door and on into the fenced in run, racing her to the coffeehouse. She laughed at their antics as she entered the back door, pausing a moment to listen to the sounds coming from the kitchen. She stepped into the office for a moment, simply to mentally review all the details about the businesses. Beth would handle the kiosk, Pete and Miss Anna would keep the coffeehouse running for her, and Ima had promised to keep an eye on the gym and to take care of the occasional gun run with the Challenger.

"You don't even have to ask, Cat!" Ima exclaimed. "Of course I'll take care of those matters for you!"

"I do have to ask, Ima! You've been a good friend, and friends ask, not assume."

Ima felt a rush of warmth in her heart. She'd not had a true friend in her life since she'd gotten into the porn industry. She had acquaintences and co - workers, but no one she truly felt comfortable with. Cat had treated her like a person instead of a slut from the very first, and Ima was grateful for that. "I'm sorry that your father's ailing. It's good that you're going out to be with him. Don't worry a bit about the businesses, I'll keep an eye on things for you."

"I appreciate that Ima. Here's a set of keys to the Challenger. Dawn is aware that you'll be usin' it from time to time, and I put you on the insurance for it as an authorized driver."

"Dawn's staying at your house while you're gone?" Ima inquired. "Is that wise?"

"If I had a dollar for every time someone's asked that!" Cat laughed. "I hope it is. She's been behavin' pretty well, and since she's workin' five days a week, it's not fair to Pete to have to ferry her back and forth from Colleen's all the time. He does enough for me as it is."

"Is he taking over the concession for you?"

Cat nodded assent. "I'm takin' him up Sunday so he can meet the commissary assistant manager and see the set up. Dawn's agreed to sit out this weekend."

"Want me to keep an eye on her?"

"Nah. Tina Lou's still comin' out to clean every day, she'll let me know if anything doesn't look right. Besides, I don't want Dawn to feel like she's not trusted."

"You're a better woman than me, Cat. I hope it doesn't backfire on you. Kozik's told me things about Tig's daughters that would curl your hair!"

"Well, they must not be too bad!" Cat grinned. "Your hair's still pretty straight!"

"I'm serious, Cat!"

"So am I, darlin'. Listen, I'm goin' to let y'all in on a secret, but it's just between us girls. Don't tell anyone, includin' Kozik, because I don't want it gettin' back to Tig."

"You have my word, Cat," Ima promised. "You've been too much of a friend for me to betray your trust."

"Have y'all ever heard of 'nanny cams'?"

"Those little cameras you can hide anywhere?" Ima nodded. "I've seen 'em on television. You've wired the house?"

"And the garage," Cat affirmed. "I doubt Dawn will try anything with the PT, but I've also taken the precaution of puttin' a small strip of invisible tape on the front doors of the Challenger, right across the end of the door and rear quarter panels."

"Why?"

"When y'all need to make a run, I want you to check that tape. If it's been disturbed, you'll know that Dawn's been monkeyin' around with it."

"Do you want me to confront her about it?" Ima inquired.

"No," Cat replied.

"Why not?" Ima asked incredulously.

"I want her to think she's gettin' away with it until I get back and can deal with it directly," Cat explained. "If anyone else were to handle it, Tig will just get unduly pissed at 'em, and I don't want that to happen."

"Won't he get pissed at you?"

"Most likely," Cat shrugged. "But he can't dispute the physical evidence, hence the recordin' devices."

She glanced at the calendar and realized that an important date in her life with Alex was coming up. It was conceivable it might even pass while she was in Indiana. "Damn! Do I try to send him somethin' from there, or get somethin' here and have one of the guys give it to him?'

She didn't like the second idea. A present for their first anniversary was much too personal a thing to have someone else, even a friend like Chibs or Kozik deliver for her. 'Not that he can have a lot there in prison! The 'biggie' will have to wait until he's home. But there oughta be somethin' I can give him that he can have!'

She decided it would be something that she could best research either on the plane or sometime while she was away from the hospital. 'Whatever I find for him can be sent to the prison, along with a card.' She wrote herself a note and stuck it in her wallet so she wouldn't forget just as the phone on her desk rang.

"Charmin' Pawse, this is Cat speakin'," she stated.

"I'm glad I reached you, Cat!" Mrs. York exclaimed. "I tried your cell and home phones, but didn't want to leave this to voice mail."

"Nice to hear from you, Mrs. York. I won't be leavin' until tomorrow, anyway. But the time difference can be a bear on your end."

"Amen! Anyway, you don't have to keep that reservation at the extended stay hotel. I have an apartment for you, right downtown."

"The building on Vermont Street that you own?"

"The very same. This is on the ground floor instead of the top floor. Utilities are paid and it has furnishings. I'm willing to let you have on a month to month basis."

"What's the rent?" Cat inquired. She listened and nodded as Mrs. York informed her of the weekly charge. It would be much cheaper than the hotel, and she didn't mind that there wouldn't be any maid service. It was a little further away from the hospital than the extended stay hotel, but not by much. "That sounds doable."

"I'll also wave the damage deposit. You were a good tenant when you rented from me before. Do you want me to fax over the lease?"

"Better yet, I'm logged into the computer, if you email it to me, I can print it here and fax the signed copy back to you," Cat offered.

"Wonderful! I'll get that to you shortly!" Mrs. York replied.

"I really appreciate this, Mrs. York."

"I'm happy to help. We're keeping your father in our prayers. He's such a wonderful man; so pleasant that time we met at the IU Classic."

"I'll be sure to drop by to see you while I'm in town," Cat stated.

"I'm looking forward to it."

Cat opened the email a few minutes later, printed the lease and looked it over to make sure it matched their conversation. She signed and dated it, along with initialing the pages, then faxed it back to her friend. She kept the original for her own records, folding it up and placing it in her back pocket. She would transfer it to her carry on bag later.

She left the office and checked in with Miss Anna, who was manning the counter area while CJ was collecting cups and plates from the customer area.

"All set for tomorrow, Miss Cat?"

"About as ready as I can be, Miss Anna. I won't be stayin' at the hotel. Mrs. York has a furnished apartment for me not far from the hospital."

"I was hoping something would work out," Miss Anna replied.

"When you and CJ get a chance, come on back to the kitchen, I need to share somethin' with all y'all," Cat added.

"We'll be there shortly, I'll just stand near the doorway so I can watch the front."

Cat nodded and turned back to the kitchen. Pete, Adrian, and Dawn were busy with the baking and wrapping process. The individually packaged items for the prison were already wrapped and packed in boxes for the next day's delivery.

"Hey, Miss Cat!" Pete called out. "We're about half way through!"

"Are all y'all at a stoppin' point? I need to share somethin' with you."

"Sure!" Pete replied.

CJ entered with a plastic bin of dirty china ware. He slipped past Cat and placed the dishes and cups in the sink, but he didn't turn on the water. "Miss Anna said you wanted to talk to us?"

"Yes, I do," Cat leaned against the doorway, making sure that Miss Anna could hear the news as well. She told her staff about the telephone call she'd received from the hospital and her father's current condition. "This puts my return more in flux than anticipated. It might be longer, it might be shorter. I'll be stayin' in a furnished apartment provided by my long time friend, but still available by email and cellphone, so that hasn't changed."

"We'll take care of things, Miss Cat," Pete assured her.

"You just concentrate on taking care of your dad," Miss Anna stated. "That's your main concern right now."

---

Blaine Marshall had no concept of time. He felt like he was floating on air, but knew instinctively that he was still lying on a hospital bed in Vincennes. He could hear the voices of the doctors and nurses attending to him and felt the movements to his extremetries when the physical therapists exercised them. He tried to open his eyes but they felt like lead. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

'It's the sedative they're giving me. It's too strong!' He took some comfort in the fact that his mind was still sharp, even though the medicine prevented him from communicating. He also felt safer hearing that the janitor had been reassigned from his floor. 'I've got to tell Cat about him when I see her! She'll know what to do!'

He continued to drift in and out of awareness as the hours passed, though he couldn't rally enough strength to open his eyes or speak to the nurses. The entire day following his seizure passed uneventfully. Sometime during his sedation, he fell into a deeper sleep, but roused slightly when he sensed a malevolent presence in the room with him.

"So you thought you were safe, didn't you, old man?" The familiar voice hissed in his ear. "Surprise! I'm back!"

For once, Blaine was thankful that he couldn't respond to 'Brownie's' taunts. He lay quietly in the bed, not moving a muscle. He mentally prayed to God for protection. It was all he could do.

"Just because your seizure got me reassigned doesn't mean I can't come back to visit an old friend!" The hate crazed man continued. "There's a lot I can do tonight and tomorrow night to you! Maybe I'll even go ahead and put you out of your misery! How would you like that?"

The heart rate monitor showed an increase in the patient's heart rate and blood pressure. The readings made 'Brownie' smile evilly.

"That got your attention, old man! I owe you somethin' for turnin' my boy against me with that fuckin' court order! Makin' you sweat just might be better than outright killin' ya!"

He moved soundlessly to the bi - pap machine and loosened the hose from the base, just as he had the night before. "Don't worry. I won't fuck with the IV again. Two nights in a row would rouse suspicions. This is just enough to keep 'em wonderin'."

Despite himself, Blaine moaned softly. 'Brownie' heard it and chortled manically. "You're wonderin' where the nurses are, aren't ya?" They're handlin' a convinient emergency I set up down the hall. They can't be two places at once!"

He slipped to the doorway and turned back to look at his helpless victim. "Ta ta for now, old man!" He glanced contempuously at the covered recepticle for the used plastic coats. He'd deliberately not worn one, despite the posted warnings to wear one to avoid transmitting germs. He peeked out into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, then walked rapidly from his victim's room to the elevator. By the time the nurses came by to check on the patient, 'Brownie' was long gone.

---

"As y'all can see, Pete, there's really not much to this," Cat explained, pointing to the bins designed for the 'Charming Pawse' confections. "We keep the running inventory on the spreadsheet, so we know what sells well and will need replenishin'."

"Is that why we doubled the Snicker Bar Muffin inventory?" Pete grinned.

"Yeah, though it wouldn't surprise me to find out that Mr. Tig's been runnin' a black market operation on 'em," Cat replied. "Bring a new copy of the spreadsheet with y'all every week, mark the sold amounts on both copies, take the old one back with you to enter into the master spreadsheet on the office computer."

"What happens with the payment?" Pete inquired.

"That gets sent to us every other week by mail, and I deposit it in the Charmin' Pawse account. Another thing y'all need to do is put money on the accounts for Tig, Juice, Bobby, Happy, Otto and Lenny the Pimp," she handed over a piece of paper with their names and the amount of money she was putting on the books each week. "There's money to cover the next four months in the safe, it's marked 'Stockton Commissary money', so you can't miss it or confuse it with the regular deposit."

Pete's eyes widened in surprise at that news, but he kept his opinion to himself. "Those last two are members of the club, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Cat acknowledged. "Lenny the Pimp is one of the 'First Nine'. 'Big' Otto was LuAnn's husband."

"And we're taking care of them just as the club takes care of us," Pete observed. "Does the name of the giver appear on the receipt?"

"Don't worry, Mark takes care of us. Their copy of the receipt doesn't show who gave the money," Cat assured him. "C'mon, I want y'all to meet with Mark before we head out. He'll be your contact person every Sunday."

They walked together to the office, where Mark was already waiting with the commissary receipt book. "Who's the new helper?"

"Mark, this is Pete, he's one of my managers and will be handlin' the concession with Dawn until I get back," Cat explained, introducing the two men. "I have to go to Indiana and might be gone awhile. Pete's authorized to handle all the concession business on my behalf until my return."

"I heard about that through the prison gossip mill, Cat. I hope your father gets better soon," Mark replied sympathetically.

"Thanks, Mark. Why am I not surprised that this made the gossip rounds?" She grimaced.

"Prisons are like that. The smallest bit of news gets carried around," Mark informed her. "Word is that Tig's been unusually quiet the last few days."

"I guess that would get a few tongues waggin'," she grinned ruefully, handing over several $50 bills.

"The usual amount for the same guys?"

Cat nodded. "Pete will also be handling this for me. I'd rather do it this way than try to transfer funds long distance."

"Want the payment handled the same way?" Mark asked while he wrote out the receipts.

"Please. My managers will make sure the payments are recorded and deposited," she assured him.

Mark handed her the receipts, which she turned over to Pete. "Take a look at 'em, darlin'. Y'all will be takin' them back to the coffeehouse tomorrow. Y'all know what to do with 'em from there."

Pete glanced at the top receipt, relieved to find that the giver's name was left blank on their copy. "Yes, ma'am. Scan 'em and add 'em to the file folder."

"Good man," she smiled approvingly.

"Sounds like you're leaving this operation in very capable hands," Mark observed.

"Extremely good ones. See y'all when I get back."

---

Dawn stood in the middle of the living room of her father's home, basking in the delight of finally being free from her step - mother. "I swear to God, if I'd had to pretend to like her another moment, I'd have flipped out!"

Ebony and Ming looked up from their nap in a sunbeam on the floor at the sound of her voice. Their ears flicked at the mention of their person's name, then they flipped their tails and put their heads back on their paws, closed their eyes, and went back to sleep.

Cat had spent time grooming and playing with them the night before, then had sat down with each feline before she left. She assured them that she loved them and would miss them but Dawn would make sure they were fed and their box was kept clean. She added an admonishment to Ebony not to try one of his infamous escapes during her absence, and that she would call so they could hear her voice every so often.

Dawn inwardly sighed in disgust and merely nodded when Cat asked her if she would put the phone on speaker when she called so the cats could hear her talk to them. 'They're fuckin' animals! They don't give a shit whether they hear your voice or not! As long as they get fed, that's all they care about!'

Now she was all alone in her father's house, with the time and ability to look for the information she needed to find at last. "Guess I'll start with the office and work my way through the house!' She smirked, heading down the hall with a light, eager step.

---

Tig was sitting with Kozik, Chibs, and the rest of the club, waiting tensely for his wife to arrive. He'd given the figurines he'd made to Chibs for safe keeping until the appropriate moment.

"How's she been holdin' up?" He asked his brothers, referring to Cat.

"Busy and quiet," Kozik replied. "She gave the Challenger keys to Ima so she can continue the shoppin' run. Ima told me she didn't say much about the trip."

"Ahnd she's insistent aboot allooin' Dawn ta stay at yer 'oose," Chibs added. "We all tried ta talk 'er oot o'it, boot she wouldnae boodge."

"That figures," Tig sighed. "I just don't trust Dawn not to get into mischeif in our house, but Cat won't hear of it."

"Maybe Dawnie's changed," Kozik offered helpfully.

"Yeah, and if ya believe that, I've got desert land in the Everglades to sell ya, cheap!" Tig growled.

"Tha' poynt seems moot now," Chibs interjected. "She's mayde up 'er mynd, ahnd thair isnae a thing ye can do aboot it! Best to concentrate on comfortin' 'er while she's 'ere."

"Why?" Tig asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "Do ya know somethin' I don't?"

"Ah kin as mooch as ye do," Chibs replied. "Likely yer aboot ta find oot," he added, nodding over his shoulder at the door.

Tig looked in the direction Chibs indicated. He took one look at Cat's pale face and rose from the table. He didn't wait for the guard's approval, moving towards her at the same moment that she rushed to him.

The guard started to protest, but one meaningful glare from Happy caused him to take a step back and reconsider.

Alex enfolded his wife in his arms, holding her trembling body tightly to him. "I'm here for ya, baby," he assured her.

"Oh God, Tig! Y'all don't know the half of it!" She whispered, burying her head in his chest. The rough denim of his prison shirt felt scratchy against her skin, but she didn't care. She felt safe and protected for the first time since she'd learned of her father's seizure.

Alex held her close, stroking her hair in a comforting manner and inhaling her clean, fresh scent. "What's wrong, baby? Has Blaine gotten worse?" He asked worriedly. He led her to a table as far away from prying eyes and ears as the room allowed. He steeled himself to hear the worst.

"Yes. Daddy had a seizure the other night," she announced quietly. "The hospital claims he must've had a bad dream and worked himself up."

"I don't recall ya mentionin' that he ever had 'em before!" Alex protested.

"He hasn't. That's what worries me."

"Are they sure it wasn't a stroke?"

Cat shook her head. "They ran tests. No brain damage and no impairment of his arms and legs. His speech is a little garbled, but that's been attributed to the pnuemonia." s

"How the fuck did it happen?"

"Apparently he woke up in the night. It was dark in his room, and because his eyesight is poor without his cheaters, he thought the janitor was going to attack him," she replied. "He got very worked up and thrashed about so much that he pulled the hose for the bi - pap machine out of the base then had the seizure. They're keepin' Daddy sedated so he won't have any more seizures until he's transferred Monday."

"Jesus, baby!" Alex sighed, fighting back momentary disappointment that the trip was still on. "I dunno what's keepin' ya from breakin' down!" He had a flashback to Gemma's stoicism about her father's condition in front of him and the caregiver, and later Tara. When she thought no one could see her, she'd give in to her emotional turmoil. Tig had witnessed her distress and wanted to offer the comfort of a friend, but Gemma's pride had prevented it. 'She never wants people to see her in a vulnerable moment. I'm glad as Hell Cat doesn't share that belief!'

"It's not been easy, love," she admitted wearily. "Gettin' ready for this trip helped keep my mind off the worry most of the time. The nights haven't been as kind."

"That's what I thought," he reached out to her face, removing the tinted glasses and insert from her face. He frowned at the sight of the dark circles under her eyes, reminscent of the injuries from the wreck. Her eyes gleamed like emeralds from unshed tears. He moved around the table to sit next to her, drawing her unresisting body against him. "Go on, baby," he sighed. "Let it out. You need to."

"Actin' like a girl isn't goin' to change anything, love," she protested.

"It'll make ya feel a little better," he insisted. "This is somethin' I need to do for ya." He didn't add that it was the only thing he could do. Nor did he mention it was about time he helped her ease her pain for once.

Cat didn't bother to protest any further. She needed what he was offering like a drowning man needed a life preserver. She buried her face in his shoulder and allowed the tears she'd fought to keep at bay their freedom.

The guard at the doorway started to move forward to protest the couple's public display, but Kozik and Chibs got in his way. "Leave 'em alone, man," Kozik growled.

"Aye, tha' laidy's 'ad bahd noose frum 'ome. Let tha mon gie 'is wyfe a wee bit o'cumfurt," Chibs added.

The guard glared at the two outlaws, then glanced at the couple. "As long as they keep it short!" He muttered before stepping back to the doorway again.

Chibs and Kozik maintained their vigil so that their brother and his wife could deal with their shared fear and pain. 'I'll slug tha baturd ifn 'e tries ta boother 'em agin!'

Alex held his upset wife, murmuring words of comfort as she cried out her fear and feelings of helplessness about her father. Unlike most women, she didn't make a loud, uncomfortable display of her emotions. "I'm sorry I can't do more for ya, baby. This really sucks."

"Yes, it does," she agreed. "But it is what it is and all we can do is keep ridin' until we reach the end of the line."

Alex shook his head. 'Shit! She's got every right to be mad at me, but she's not!' He kissed the top of her head and held her tighter to him. "I should be doin' more."

"You're doin' the best thing y'all can right now, love. This means a lot," she assured him.

"Doesn't seem like it's enough," Alex muttered. "A better man -"

"Please don't go there love!" She pleaded. "Not now! I can't take it!"

"A'right, baby," he reluctantly agreed. "If it helps, I really respect your Dad. He's a fighter. He'll pull through this like he has everything else that's been thrown at him."

"He's considered you as a son all along love, so I hope you're right," she replied wistfully, sitting up straight and drying her eyes on her sleeve. "Thanks."

"It's nothin', baby,' he remarked dryly.

"It's enough," she insisted.

He motioned for Chibs to join them. "There's somethin' else I can do for ya. Close your eyes."

For once, Cat didn't bristle at his alpha male command. She closed her eyes and waited.

Chibs reached into his jacket pocket and removed the three wooden figures Tig had entrusted to his keeping, laying them quietly on the table in front of her.

"OK, open 'em," Alex commanded.

Cat opened her eyes, giving him 'The Look' for his male smugness. "Now what have y'all done?"

He pointed at the table and the three figurines in front of her. "I wasn't sure you'd be back in time for that day we've got comin' up. Somethin' tells me ya might need some pussy comfort while you're gone."

Chibs shook his head in disbelief. 'Ah cannae belayve 'e said tha'! Noot now!'

Cat rolled her eyes at her husband's ribald comment before looking down at the table. What she saw made her gasp in surprise and delight. "They're wonderful!" She picked up the figure of Misty to examine the minute details Alex had carved. She repeated the gesture with the other two figures, gazing in awe and wonder at the craftsmanship. "You made these," she stated.

"Guilty," Alex murmured. He flushed with pleasure from her praise.

"Damn, lover! I knew y'all were talented, but I never would've guessed you could make somethin' like this!" She cradled the figures to her chest. "Thank you."

Chibs grinned and shook his head. 'As loong as Ah lyve, Ah'll naiver unnerstand those two!' He stepped back to stand beside Kozik. "Ah think she lykes 'em," he murmured.

"Looks that way," Kozik grinned. "She's certainly makin' Tig a bit uncomfortable!"

Alex squirmed in his chair. He wasn't used to such praise as Cat was giving him for the gift. An occasional 'attaboy' from the club was one thing. The delight that had replaced the weariness and fear on his wife's face was an entirely different matter. 'I might get used to it though!' He coughed and growled. "Just thought we could put 'em on your bike when I get out." He gave her a thorough once over, undressing her with her eyes and added slyly, "Then we can get down to celebratin' that anniversary thing!"

"Consider it a date, hot stuff," she promised.

---

"Brownie' walked quietly down the hall of the hospital ward from the stairwell. The doorway was located on the opposite end of the hall from the nurses' station, with his destination lying right between. The RN was busy writing up reports and the CNA's were on break. No one would notice his presence or interfer with his activity.

He slipped past the curtain that prevented most of the hallway lighting from entering Rev. Marshall's room, pausing a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust to the semi - gloom. He listened to the bi - pap machine and the patient's steady breathing.

'Brownie' smirked at the form lying still in the hospital bed. Though the minister was sedated, he knew the patient was aware of what was going on around him. It was one of the reasons 'Brownie' delighted in tormenting him. "I told ya I'd be back, you old fart," he growled as he walked to stand beside the bed. "Did ya miss me?"

The only response was a sharp intake of breath from under the face mask and a fluttering of the patient's eyelids.

"You hear me just fine, don't ya?" his tormentor smirked. "That's why you're tryin' to wake up! Not havin' much success, are ya?"

Blaine moved weakly in the bed and moaned lightly in protest. His movements were sluggish from the sedative and his struggle brought a grim smile of triumph to 'Brownie's' lips.

"Suppose I make myself comfortable and we have a little talk? Would ya like that?" He grinned maliciously as the minister moaned again in protest. "You would, eh? Lemme pull up a chair, then." He picked up a nearby chair and set it soundlessly beside the bed so that he could watch the curtain. "Just in case I might have to hide," he explained to his victim.

He settled into the chair and gazed at the inert form in the bed. "So, what shall we talk about? Would you like to know what I plan to do to that cunt when I see her?"

The retired pastor moaned in protest. His hands clenched into fists at his side, though they were restrained against the sides of the bed.

"Or maybe I'll tell ya what I already did some time ago," 'Brownie' continued. "Would you like that?"

His victim didn't respond this time. Inwardly, he was again praying to be delivered from the evil that was his daughter's former friend.

"Yeah, that's what I'll do. You see, it wasn't a random robbery that took her husband from her. I did it."

He didn't need to hear a response from the patient, the monitors told him the message had gotten through. Rev. Marshall's heart rate had increased, but not enough to sound any alarms that would bring the medical staff running.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I didn't pull the trigger, but I instigated it," the manical theif snickered. "Shall I tell ya how I did it?"

---

Dawn began her long delayed search in the house office. She'd witnessed Cat placing a gun in the safe in the closet, and had tried to watch the combination, but Cat's body had made an effective block. Dawn couldn't get any closer to observe the combination without arousing her step - mother's suspicion.

She sat cross legged on the floor in front of the safe and tried every numerical code she could associate with her step - mother, including all the Marshall family birthdates she knew, her father's birthdate, even Fawn's and her own birthdays. She also tried the opening day for the coffeehouse, the lot numbers for the house and the businesses, the date SAMCRO was founded, and tthe date hat her father had patched in. None of them worked.

"Shit!" She swore to herself. "There's just too many combinations! Maybe the desk will be easier! At least it's just a regular lock!"

Dawn was good at picking locks, but the lock on that desk drawer wouldn't co - operate with her. She tried every pick she had in her case only to meet with failure. She tried an unbent paper clip, but the lock still refused to give in. All the paper clip managed to do was break as she worked with it! After several unproductive hours, Dawn pounded her fists in frustration on the desk. "I give up!" She snorted.

Her sudden outburst sent Misty, who had been sitting in the doorway watching her, scurrying away. "Scaredy cat!" She muttered in disgust. "At least ya can't use the phone and tell on me!

She propped her elbow on the desk, resting her chin in her palm as she thought long and hard over her lack of success. "If I could just get into that drawer or the safe, I'd have all the money I need to go to LA! The bitch has made it impossible for me to get into 'em, but I'm not about to give up on my dream! There has to be another way!'

She briefly considered going into the coffeehouse and trying the desk drawers in there. Just as quickly as she thought of it, Dawn discarded the idea. 'Nah, not a good idea. She has an alarm system, and I don't know the code. Cat would have my ass in a sling for gettin' busted by the cops before she left the state!'

Dawn sighed in resignation, rose from the office chair, and crossed the hall to her bed. She flopped onto it and rolled over onto her back staring at the ceiling as if it held all the answers she needed.

Ming padded into the room and hopped onto the bed, snuggling next to her. He closed his sapphire eyes and began purring contentedly.

Dawn reached out to stroke the sleek, silky fur, feeling the cat's body rumble underneath her fingers. The cat's purring evenly soothed her frustration and lulled her to sleep.

---

"You sure you're going to be all right, Miss Cat?" Pete asked. He had insisted on parking the Cruiser and walking with her to the check in desk. He also carried her bags for her. "I don't mind waiting until your flight boards."

"I'll be fine, darlin'," she assured him, turning from the check in desk to collect her carry on bag. "Y'all forget that a body has to go through security, and only ticket holders can go that far."

"Oh, yeah," he sighed. "I guess I did forget."

"Listen, y'all need to get home and get some rest. You've put in a long day. Not to mention y'all will have to put up with Dawn while I'm gone."

"I thought you weren't mentioning that," he grinned wanly.

"Sorry," she shrugged. "Now give me a hug, and get on with y'all. Don't worry about returnin' the Cruiser to the house tonight. Go home and return it tomorrow when y'all go to work. If Dawn gives you any static about it, tell her to call me."

Pete reluctantly complied with her order. He didn't mind giving her a goodbye hug, he just didn't want to leave her alone.

"I'll be fine, darlin'," she assured him, giving him a slight push towards the exit. "Go on, now! Scat!"

"Yes, ma'am!" He grinned and proceeded to the doorway, but turned to wave once more at her.

Cat waved back and headed towards the security checkpoint. She still had a couple of hours before her flight to Vegas, but she didn't want to give Pete an excuse to hang around. There wasn't a long line to get through the security check point. She cleared it with no difficulty and continued on to the gate where her flight would leave, pausing at a well known chain coffee kiosk to get a drink before continuing on to her destination.

The employees at the chain coffee kiosk were courteous, but she found the piped in music too bland for her liking, and the seats were hard wooden ones, much like one would find in a fast food restaurant. The only merchandise on sale was assorted coffees, cups, teas, and a few brewing devices. There were no shirts, no stuffed animals, or anything else intriguing. There were a few books on a shelf, but no invitation to exchange one for another and there was nothing about the area to invite a harried traveler to stop and relax for a few moments.

Cat paid for her drink and continued on to the assigned waiting area. 'That's just typical corporate set up. Get 'em in and get 'em out to make more money. Guess it works for them, but it doesn't work for me.'

She found the gate waiting area and settled into a seat not far from the ticket counter. There weren't many people in the waiting area, which suited her. She wasn't in the mood to listen to a lot of conversations. That was the other reason she chose the last flight out from Stockton. There would be more people coming in than going out.

She dug her cell phone from her carry on bag, turned it on, then dialed her home number once it powered up. 'I might as well check in with Dawn, see how she's doin'.'

Dawn looked up from her notepad, frowning at the desk phone. She was working on copying Cat's signature and finding it more of a challenge to her than she'd anticipated. She glanced at the caller ID and grimaced. 'What the fuck does she want?' She sighed and picked up the phone, forcing her voice to sound pleasant. "Hi, Cat!"

"Hi, darlin'. I'm at the airport. Just thought I'd check in with y'all and let you know I was here OK."

"Pete on his way back?"

"Yes, but he won't be bringin' the PT home tonight. I told him to go on home and trade out tomorrow."

"OK," Dawn shrugged. It didn't matter to her; she had what she needed from the Challenger. "How was Daddy?"

"He's fine. He's lookin' forward to seein' y'all next week. Said to give y'all his love," Cat replied.

"OK," Dawn replied non committally. 'I wish she'd shut up and let me get back to business!'

Cat frowned over her step - daughter's monosyllabic responses. "Well, I won't keep y'all, just thought I'd check in with you so you wouldn't worry."

'As if!' Dawn scoffed inwardly. "Thanks for the update, Cat. Have a safe trip," she stated sweetly.

"Pet the furry ones for me. I'll talk to y'all sometime tomorrow."

"Good night, Cat," Dawn resolutely placed the receiver onto the cradle, ending the call before her step - mother could think of anything else to say to drag out the uncomfortable phone conversation. She glared balefully at the pink slip signature that was giving her trouble, then picked up her pen and returned to her copying exercise.

"Well! Nice to know she cares!" Cat sniffed, staring at the darkened display on her iPhone. She stuffed it in her pocket and briefly considered powering up her laptop to see what was going on at home. 'Nah, I don't need the aggravation right now. She's probably mad that I didn't leave the keys to the cars where she can get to 'em.' She brought out her ereader and settled down to enjoy her beverage and lose herself in a book. Before she could manage to turn on the ereader, she cell phone emitted the ring tone she'd chosen for Alex's calls from Stockton.

"Missin' me already, love?" She inquired. She didn't even try to hide the smile in her voice.

"You know it," Alex grinned. "Wanted to pass along some intel. Clay put in a call to our Illinois charters. A few of the guys from Chicago and Rockford will be travelin' to Indianapolis to keep an eye on ya."

"They will," she repeated. "Do y'all really think it's necessary?"

"I do," he replied. "I'll feel better knowin' that somebody's watchin' out for your safety."

"What about the Outlaws MC? They've got a chapter in Indianapolis, and last I checked, they're still there."

"Shit! I thought they were driven out by RICO!" Alex groaned. He was referring to a recent event that had made the national news.

"The officers were, and everything from the clubhouse was confiscated," she explained. "But you know yourself that you can't keep an MC like that down. They're back in operation, just keepin' a low profile. I doubt SAMCRO has any kind of truce with 'em."

"No, we don't," Alex sighed. "Hang on a minute," he covered the mouthpiece with his hand and poked Clay in the shoulder with his elbow.

"What?" Clay growled.

Tig relayed the intel Cat had just given him. "They're gonna have to go without the cuts, unless we want a war with the Outlaws."

"Shit!" Clay rolled his eyes. "OK, I'm on it. Tell her thanks for the heads up."

"I heard, love," she stated before Alex could convey the message. "You didn't keep your voice low enough."

"You just like the sound of my voice!" He retorted.

"You're complainin'?"

"Fuck no!"

"Tell 'em to meet me at the apartment I'm rentin'. I'd rather meet 'em there than at the hospital," she added.

"The one downtown you gave me earlier, right?"

"Y'all catch on fast, love!" She grinned.

"I'll tell Clay."

"Don't bother. I heard," Clay rumbled. "Give me the address." Tig provided it and Clay repeated it to the SAMCHI president. "You got it?" He listened and nodded at Tig.

"OK, they'll meet ya at the apartment building when they get in. It'll prolly be late afternoon when they get there," Alex informed her.

"I'll be at the hospital until visitin' hours end, love. That's usually 8PM."

"Then one of 'em will meet ya at the hospital," he stated authoritatively. When she drew breath to protest, he continued, "Don't argue, baby. He'll be in plain clothes. Someone from the club is gonna be with you at the hospital and anyplace else ya go in Indy."

"It means that much to y'all?" She replied softly.

"Yeah," he admitted.

"All right, you win. This time."

"Everytime, baby!" He laughed in that alpha male manner he knew annoyed her.

"In your dreams, buster! Which is where I'll see y'all eventually," she snorted.

"Why do ya say it that way?"

"It's goin' to be awhile before I see sleep, love. At least decent sleep. Indy is three hours ahead of us, remember."

"Oh, yeah. Well, you'll sleep on the plane from Vegas to Chicago. I'll see ya in your dreams then."

---

"Guess I should give ya some background before confessin' to ya. Course, you aren't a priest, but I don't believe in penance so we're even," 'Brownie' remarked snidely. "Do ya remember when you called to talk to 'Guido' at that hotel in Carlisle a few years ago?"

The minister moaned weakly.

"Yeah, you remember. It took a lot of effort to get that guy at the Carlisle church to pass the message on to ya, but he eventually fell for the story. That's one thing about you church folks, you're suckers for a good sob story!" The man laughed nastily. "I passed myself as one of her radio friends, but you weren't as willin' to play the game my way like the other guy. But ya made one mistake, old man. Wanna know what it was?"

Blaine didn't move or make a sound. The tenseness in his clenched hands gave his emotions away, even in the semi - dark room.

"You let it slip that she was married and livin' in Indy," 'Brownie' explained silkily. "That was all I needed to start my search. It took even longer to walk and hitch hike there to look for her. But once I found the listin' in the paper about her marriage license, I knew what last name to look for and the address they were livin' at."

Blaine shook his head in denial. The adrenaline was beginning to work on the sedative so that he was becoming more lucid. It was bad enough that he could hear every word his tormentor uttered, but if he could overcome the medicine's effects to reach for the call button, he could summon help. He unclenched his hand and reached for the device.

"Oh no ya don't!" 'Brownie' snarled, moving the device out of the minister's reach. "I want ya to hear all of this!" He settled back in his chair and continued, "Yeah, the address wasn't valid for 'em by the time I found the marriage license. That cunt was a smart one, gettin' an unlisted number. She forgot about those city directories that the public libraries put on their shelves. Every address is listed in 'em, along with the names of the occupants! A person just has to be patient and thorough."

'Brownie' sighed tiredly and shook his head. "It's really one Hell of a lot easier to search for a person these days. All ya have to do is type a few letters into a search engine on the internet and thousands of possible leads materialize in front of your eyes in a few seconds! But it wasn't that way when I was searchin' for your daughter."

Blaine's fists were clenched so hard that his knuckles had turned white. He pressed his feet against the footboard in hopes that he might be able to make enough noise to alert the approaching nurse to enter his room. Try as he might, he couldn't summon the strength.

'Brownie' became silent when he heard the squeak of the nurse's shoes on the linoleum. He prepared to hide in the clothing unit if the drapes showed the slightest hint of movement. He relaxed as the squeaking sound continued on down the hall.

"Now, where was I?" 'Brownie' murmured softly so the nurse wouldn't hear him. He spoke just loud enough for the patient to hear his voice. "Oh, I remember now! Armed with the cunt's last name, I started visitin' the United Methodist Churches in Indy. I knew she'd join one due to your influence. All I had to do was check the memership listings. It was a simple matter to go into their library and look through the church directories!"

---

Bobby glared at the bunk above him in the semi darkness of their cell. Loud sighs and frequent tossing and turning had startled him from a sound sleep. 'Somethin's botherin' him from all that sighin' goin' on. Might as well see if he wants to talk about it.' He shoved the bottom of the bunk above him with the palm of his hand, making sure he wasn't hitting the area where Tig's butt would be. "Wanna talk about whatever's botherin' ya?"

"It's nothin'," Tig grumbled. "Go to sleep."

"Can't with you soundin' like a steam engine goin' up a mountain!" Bobby retorted. "You worried about Cat?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

"You're worried about Cat," Bobby confirmed wryly. "Most planes manage to land safely, big guy. We only hear about the ones that crash."

"That's not what's botherin' me," Tig retorted. "It's what might happen while she's there."

"Are ya afraid some enemy of the Illinois charters will go after her?"

"Nah. They don't know who Cat is, and I didn't wear my cut when we were there a few months ago."

"Didn't ya check in with the Illinois charters?"

"No reason to. I was stayin' off the radar. The last thing Cat needed that week was a bunch of bikers hangin' around her father's place!" Tig explained.

"Yeah, I see your point. Then what's got ya worried?"

"Her dad's in bad shape. Cat didn't say so, but we're both thinkin' he might not recover this time."

"So that's what made her so upset!" Bobby exclaimed. Tig had been quite tactiturn during dinner. He refused to talk to his brothers about what had upset his wife. They weren't used to seeing her cry on her husband's shoulder and it worried them. Try as they might to draw him out, Tig remained silent until Clay laid down the law to get them to leave him alone.

"Yeah," Tig sighed. He rolled over and poked his head over the edge of the bunk. "Blaine had a seizure and they're sedatin' him until the transfer."

"That'd be enough to upset her a'right," Bobby observed sympathetically. "I wish my kids felt that close to me!"

"I hear ya, brother. What really bothers me is that Blaine's never had a seizure in his life!"

"Could it have been a stroke?"

"Nah. I asked her that. The hospital did tests and ruled that out," Tig explained.

"Shit!" Bobby winced. "It definitely doesn't sound promisin'."

"No shit, Sherlock!" Tig's retort held none of its' usual bravado. That told Bobby volumes about what was really bothering his cell mate.

"And you're feelin' guilty about not bein' with her," Bobby noted.

"Yeah."

"Can't be helped, bro. You're here and that's all there is to it."

"Seriously?" Tig snarled. "That the best ya can do?"

"No, but it's the truth, and the sooner you accept that, the happier you're gonna be."

"There's nothin' to be happy about," Tig grumbled. The blood was rushing to his head so he lay back on the mattress and added, "this isn't the first time she's needed me and I've not been there."

"You're not givin' Cat much credit, brother."

"What the Hell do you mean?" Tig growled.

"Do ya think Cat would've married ya if she hadn't considered all the pros and cons of our lifestyle? Hell, man! She walked in with her eyes wide open! Look at the way Donna fought the club after Opie went to Chino."

"Did ya have to mention her?" Tig complained.

"Sorry, but ya know I'm right. Cat's accepted us and done a lot for us since you two hooked up. She accepts the lifestyle and knows that it means sometimes havin' to go it alone."

"She deserves better," Tig insisted.

"She made the choice, Tigger," Bobby reminded him. "If she's not complainin', why the Hell are you?"

"What did I just say?"

"So you gonna cut her loose?" Bobby challenged. "If you do, make it a clean break, don't do like Jax's done to Tara with that break up to make up bullshit."

"I can't do that, man." Tig admitted painfully. "I can't cut her out of my life."

"Then quit yer bitchin'," Bobby retorted. "Look, it's obvious her goin' without the gun bothers ya, though it would've been impossiblefor her to get it on the plane. Why don't ya have Clay put in a call to the Illinois charters? Maybe they could send a few guys over to keep an eye on her."

"Already done, brother. Clay put in the call after dinner and I let Cat know to expect to see 'em. She said they'd best go in without cuts because of the Outlaws MC chapter there. We don't need a war with them."

"True dat. At least you'll rest easier knowin' she's protected," Bobby replied. After a few moments of silence between them, Bobby asked, "Help me understand somethin', Tig. How in the Hell did you manage to hook up with her in the first place? I've heard of opposites attractin', but you two are as opposite as they come!"

"Shit!" Tig grunted. "Thought it was common knowledge around the club."

"Guess I missed it. I could use a bedtime story to get back to sleep, anyway," Bobby retorted.

"You make it sound like it'll bore ya!"

"The story won't, but your voice is enough to put the dead to sleep!" Bobby joked.

"Fuck you, man!"

"You wouldn't like me, I'd just lay there."

"Ya wanna hear the intel or not?" Tig growled.

"Go for it," Bobby grinned.

"It's just that there was somethin' about her that intrigued me when I saw her at that fuckin' council meetin'."

"That was when Cat was goin' to present her store plan for approval."

"Yeah. Clay wanted to be sure she wasn't bein' fronted by a chain. She wasn't nervous and stood her ground against Hale when he tried to shoot her down," Tig added.

"That's a major point in her favor right there!"

"So I kinda watched the remodelin' and watched over her to make sure no one messed with her."

"She's easy on the eyes, even though she's closer to our age than the Croweaters," Bobby remarked.

"That's why I watched out for her. And she's a rider."

"Yeah, it surprised me when she was runnin' around on that crotch rocket and gave us the 'thumbs' up," Bobby remarked. "Acted like she didn't have a care in the world. We all knew somethin' was up when ya barked at Hap for showin' an interest in her!" "

"Cat's got fire, considerin' some of the shit she's gone through. She stood up to me a couple of times, even told me off for cussin' in her place."

"That's not fire, that's balls!" Bobby laughed.

"I guess that's what interested me. She might not be as built as the Croweaters, but -"

"She's got a nice rack," Bobby snickered. His comment didn't get the desired rise out of his cell mate. "That's all well and good, bro, but I still don't get what it was about her that made ya want to get married again, especially after Colleen put ya through."

"She's not a product of this life. Even though she knows what we are and what we do - what I do - she's not a hardass like Gem. She's - well - she's decent. I wanted some of that in my life."

Bobby considered Tig's comment for a few moments, remembering all the things she'd done for the club, and for the community, often without being asked. It had been her idea to make the club a minor partner in her business, and it was working out well for SAMCRO. "I get what you mean, Tig. Like her settin' up that medical fund for us."

"I think that was more out of necessity after that hospital refused to treat me," Tig chuckled. "You should've seen how mad she was when I got to St. Thomas."

"Does she get full disclosure?" Bobby inquired. "Does she know about Donna?"

"Unless it's somethin' we agree doesn't get shared with the old ladies," Tig confirmed. "She stayed with me when she found out about Donna."

"Damn! If she can stay around ya after learnin' about that, she's better than gold!"

"Don't think I don't know it, brother," Tig retorted. "Now do ya understand why I can't let her go?"

"Yeah," Bobby admitted quietly. "I kinda envy ya, brother." He turned over and yawned mightily. "Thanks for fillin' me in."

Tig stared at the ceiling as Bobby's snores filled the small cell. He considered what his brother had said and accepted it as good advice. 'It sure as Hell is better than continuin' to beat myself up!' Being reminded of his accidental murder of Donna Winston resurrected the long buried guilt he still carried. He'd thought coming clean to Opie would put an end to it. Tig still felt a need to atone. 'Maybe I'll get a tribute tattoo on my chest while I'm stuck here.' He turned over, closed his eyes, and allowed his body and mind to relax so he could sleep.

---

Cory Brown smiled in satisfaction as he copied the McLaughlin's address from the church's current directory. It had taken a long time, but he'd finally tracked her down. He flipped through the pictures until he found the couple's photo. 'Maybe I shouldn't have satisfied my curiosity after all. She's not gotten any better with age!' He grimaced.

He was surprised to learn that she'd married an Asian - American. 'I always figured she'd go back to carryin' on with blacks after bein' with me! But it's not surprisin' she'd pick some kind of color to hang with!' He compared Cat's husband to his own thin build and determined he'd have little problem dealing with Bill McLaughlin. 'Unless he knows as much of that chop sockey shit as I do! It might be interestin' to match with a worthy opponent!'

He shook his head over Cat's appearance in the photo. She was no longer wearing contact lenses, but had lost considerable weight since he'd tried to kill her. 'She still looks pretty fugly! Wonder what the fuck that asshat sees in her? It can't be money; I took care of that long ago and nobody in his right mind would want to fuck her.'

He closed the directory and returned it to the shelf where he'd found it when a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. 'Of course! It's a green card marriage. That's the only reason some foriegner would marry her!' He grinned triumphantly as he slipped out of the church and walked down the street.

Knowing where to find his prey was one thing, but when he finally found the McLaughlin's subdivision and saw their home, his anger nearly overcame his good sense. Their home was nicer and larger than anything he'd ever lived in. He found two relatively new cars in the driveway, which further enraged him.

'How dare she have so much when I've been left with nothin'!' He fumed. 'She has a home, a companion, and is pretty well off! Well, enjoy it while you can, cunt! You won't have it much longer!'

He hiked the long walk back to the seedy hotel room he'd taken downtown. When he was safely behind his locked door, he pulled out notepad and began to write out his plan to torment his nemesis.

The approaching squeak of the night nurse's rubber soled shoes broke into 'Brownie's' reverie. He glanced at the clock and noted it was time for the nurse to check Blaine's IV and take his vitals. He rose from the chair and replaced it where he'd taken it, then slipped into the clothes closet just as the nurse entered the room.

---

Dawn awoke from a dream to find all three cats curled up on the bed with her. The timid Misty was sound asleep at the foot of the bed, while Ming and Ebony were snuggled next to her. She clung to the wisps of the dream, which had seemed so real to her, as if it had actually happened. She felt disappointed to find herself right back at where she started before she fell asleep.

'Things aren't as bleak as they were earlier,' she reminded herself. 'Not if I can make this work. It'll take awhile for me to copy Cat's signature, but if I faked Mom's for my report cards, I can forge anyone's signature. All I need is practice, and I've got a full week to perfect it!'

She'd dreamed of an excellent way to get the money she wanted, and still leave her step - mother in a bind. All she had to do was convince the assistant manager at the Stockton Commissary to pay her direct, instead of sending the payments to the coffeehouse.

'I'll have to write a convincing letter and put it on her letterhead. It shouldn't be hard to email a couple of copies of that from the coffeehouse to myself; she never had my access to the computer revoked! Then I can print it out here at the house! It'll just be a matter of gettin' into the office without Pete or Miss Anna seein' me.'

She'd managed to get a look at the income from the prison concession; no matter how long her step - mother was gone, the theft would net plenty of money to Dawn. 'If she's gone longer, that's just extra money to fall back on! I'll get out of this area and someplace that will really appreciate my talents!'

She stretched and yawned, which disturbed the sleeping felines next to her. Misty immediately jumped to the floor and fled to the master bedroom. The other two cats raised their heads and blinked sleepily at her. "Meowr?" Ming's voice held a definite question to it.

"Yeah, I feel a little hungry myself!" Dawn replied, petting the cat's head right between the ears. "Let's get some grub!"

She stood up and headed for the kitchen. Ebony and Ming stood up on the bed, stretched, and leapt delicately to the floor, following her with their tails held high. Once the unmistakable sounds of food preparation reached her ears, Misty padded timidly into the kitchen. The one eyed feline hunkered under the kitchen table until the food bowls were placed on their mat and Dawn had stepped away. Then Misty joined her siblings, purring contentedly as they assauged their hunger.

Dawn made herself something for dinner and sat down at the table, listening to the impromptu feline concert. She was grateful for their company, as she'd not realized just how quiet the house would be after Cat left. She missed the sound of another human voice, though she hated to admit that she missed Cat at all.

She resolutely turned her thoughts to her campaign to filter Cat's money to her own pockets. The first thing she should do would be to find a sample of her step mother's signature so she could practice it. She suspected that the marriage license her father and Cat had signed was locked in the desk since it wasn't displayed anywhere in the house.

'What else would have her signature besides her checkbook? The coffeehouse one is probably locked up in the desk there. I can't spend a lot of time in that office without gettin' unwanted attention, so forget that! I need to use that office for filchin' some of the letterhead!'

She drummed her fingers on the table as she thought of items that might hold Cat's signature. Her gaze drifted to the garage door and inspiration struck. "Of course! The pinks for the vehicles! She'd have to sign 'em to be valid!"

Her yelp of triumph sent Misty scampering under the sofa in the living room. The other two cats looked at her, blinked a couple of times, and strolled off for an after dinner nap.

---

The night nurse paused for a moment in the doorway of Blaine Marshall's room, just past the curtain in order to allow her eyes to adjust from the hallway light to the dim room. Even if she'd been looking for it, she wouldn't have been able to see that the closet door was slightly ajar.

'Brownie' stood inside the empty closet, watching the night nurse through the slightly cracked open door that he held with one finger. His other hand was clenched into a fist. He hadn't planned on getting caught by any of the night staff and inwardly cursed his short sightedness. 'It's gonna be OK, as long as she doesn't decide to inspect the room,' he assured himself.

What 'Brownie' also hadn't planned on was the reaction Blaine Marshall would have to his verbal taunts. A surged of adrenaline poured into the patient's bloodstream, clearing his mind and overcoming some of the sedative's effect. As the nurse approached the bed, Blaine clenched his fists and pressed his feet against the footboard, hoping that she'd notice the tension in his body and investigate it.

'It's too dim! She won't even see the chair sitting on the other side of the bed unless she comes around to that side!' He thought.

The nurse's eyes adjusted enough that she could see her way to the patient's bedside. She held a capped syringe in one hand that contained more of the sedative prescribed for him.

Blaine knew he had to do something to alert the nurse to the intruder hiding in his room. He summoned all his available strength to reach as far as the hand restraints would allow to touch the nurse's arm. "Nurse!" He croaked.

The nurse had uncapped the syringe and was about to administer the medicine into the IV when he spoke. She stepped back in surprise and looked down at him. 'He's not supposed to be awake, much less try to talk!' She placed a comforting hand on his to soothe him. "It's all right, Rev. Marshall. I'm just giving you something to make you sleep better."

"No!" He gasped. "You have to listen to me! My daughter - "

"Shhh!" She replied soothingly. "It's all right. I know you're excited about seeing your daughter soon, but you have to keep calm so you don't have another seizure!" She spoke as if she were speaking to a recalitrant child and placed his restrained hand back on the bed, giving it a reassuring pat. "Now, relax and let the medicine do it's job."

"No - o - o!" He groaned as the syringe entered the IV and the nurse depressed the plunger. "She's innn daaangerrrrrr -" The rest of his sentence turned into a mumble as the drug rushed through his system.

"The only danger is that you get yourself all worked up over nothing," the nurse murmured, moving around the bed to check the monitors. She nearly fell over the chair 'Brownie' had left at the bedside in his rush to hide. "Now how did that get here?" She wondered, then shrugged as she pushed the obstacle away from her. "Most likely one of the assistants left it there." She examined the bi - pap connection and took readings from the monitors before moving back to the doorway. She paused again to make sure her patient was responding well to the sedative. Assured there were no other issues, she pulled the curtain closed behind her and walked away from the room.

Inside the closet, 'Brownie' allowed his body to relax. He'd prepared himself for a possible confrontation when the minister attempted to warn the nurse about his presence. He'd remained tense and ready to act when she'd nearly fallen over the chair. His frown turned into a smirk after the nurse left the room and the squeak of her rubber soles indicated she'd gone back to the nurse's station. He slipped out of the closet and returned to the patient's bedside, soundlessly drawing the chair back where he'd originally left it.

"Nice try, old man, but no cigar," he murmured triumphantly. "I can't believe you really expected her to listen to you. It's a good thing that she didn't; I wasn't in the mood to kill tonight."

The sudden tension of the patient's jaw assured 'Brownie' that his prey could still hear him. He relaxed against the chair back. "Now, where was I before we were so rudely interrupted? Ah yes, I was tellin' ya how I went arranged to kill Bill." He laughed. "But before I did that, I had a little fun at Cat's expense."

"I think we need to change our phone number, Pookie," Cat informed her husband when she hung up the phone. "That's fifth obnoxious call today!"

"It's not your Mother pulling another prank?"

Cat shook her head. "No, I blocked her telephone number a long time ago. The caller ID only shows a private number, and when I try that star - six - nine feature, a recordin' tells me it's not acceptin' incomin' calls."

"That could be payphone," Bill suggested logically.

"I thought of that, but she can't afford to waste a buck and a quarter on callin' and bein' rude. It's also not a female voice on the line."

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Bill asked in alarm.

"I was gettin' around to it," she assured him. "It's not just been today, this has been goin' on for the last month."

"And I'm just now hearing about this because?" Bill frowned.

"Because it might've been your stalker pullin' pranks," she explained calmly, passing a notebook to him. "I've been keepin' a record."

Bill's frown intensified as he read through the dates, times, and the comments. The more he read, the deeper he frown became. "This isn't obnoxious, Cat! This is downright threatening! Have you called the police?"

"I filed a report, but there's not a lot they can do about harassin' phone calls. I asked about a trace, but annoyance calls are kinda far down the list of of priorities in this neck of the woods."

Bill shook his head in dismay. Indianapolis was yeilding a bumper crop of business hold ups and murders. Some of the video stores that were part of the chain he worked for had been targeted, and one night manager had been seriously wounded just a month earlier.

"These seem to have started about the time the robberies began," he observed, passing the notebook back to his wife.

"I know, and I pointed that out to the police. They put it down to a co - incidence. Why don't we just change the number and be done with it?"

"I guess we don't have much of a choice," Bill sighed. "I'll make the call and have it done."

"This is goin' to be a major pain in the ass, though. The family will need to be informed of the change," Cat observed.

"That's your department, dear," Bill grinned as he waited for the 'next available customer service representative' to take his very important call.

"They changed the phone number, but that didn't stop me from tormentin' her," 'Brownie' recalled. "I just went to phase two, which was stakin' out their house."

He had been back to the subdivision a number of times after the phone number was changed. Always during the daytime so his presence didn't raise any neighborhood concerns. 'For such a big, new place, they don't seem to be worried too much about crime!' He snorted, noting the lack of signs warning of a neighborhood crime watch. The only time he saw police cars was at the subdivision's pool from time to time; or the occasion take home cop car parked in a driveway. Those police officers homes were several streets from Cat's, so he gave them little thought.

As usual, 'Brownie' kept up his surveillance for several days until he knew both McLaughlins' schedules; when they went to work, or out to visit friends, and when Cat might be left alone. Once he had established their routine, he began doing small bits of vandalism to the house and the cars to make her nervous. One night he would let the air out of two of the tires on her car. A few nights later, he ran out in front of a passing truck, forcing it to serve and hit the rear bumper of Bill's car.

"I could've been seriously hurt or caught, but there was a vacant house not too far away from theirs that I was hidin' in. I kept runnin' after the truck swerved and kept on runnin' to my hideout!" 'Brownie' chuckled.

A week after that incident, he escalated the mayhem and the McLaughlin's awoke to find all the screens in their windows slashed. The following night, he rang the doorbell and fled to the back of the house while Cat checked the front door. As soon as she called out an inquiry, he pounded on the back door, then raced to the front of the house again. He kept that up for several minutes until he saw a police car roll down the street. That caused him to give up that prank and hide behind the bushes of the house next door while the police officer searched Cat's property.

The following night, he used a pre paid cell phone to call their unlisted number, which he got simply by using the home's network interface device to call his cell phone. He blocked his incoming number when he called, and using a falsetto, attempted to talk Cat into opening the door for him.

"You don't know me, but my mother gave me your telephone number," he explained in the fake high voice when Cat answered the phone.

"And why would your mother have done that, darlin'?" She inquired calmly. It was past midnight and Bill hadn't returned from the video store yet, but she wasn't about to let the caller know that she was alone.

'She's tryin' to act like she's not scared, but I know her better!' He smirked at the calm tone of voice responding to him. "Mommy said that if I were to ever get locked out, to come to you and you'd let me in until she got home."

"Oh, really?" Cat replied quietly. She hadn't made any arrangements with any of her neighbors, nor would any of her neighbors small children be left out in the cold that late at night. "What's your Mommy's name, darlin'?"

"Can't you come open the door?" He asked in a wheedling, pathetic sounding falsetto. He added a chattering of his teeth for good measure. "It's so cold out here, and I'm scared!"

"I'm afraid not, darlin'," She informed the caller. "Not unless you tell me your Mother's name or your address."

"We live right next door to you!" He squealed. 'C'mon you stupid bitch! You used to fall for this kind of shit!'

"I'm afraid y'all are mistaken, my dear. The next door neighbor has a pug, but no kids."

Before Cat could hang up, he pleaded "Wait! It's so cold and dark that I got confused! We live across the street!" He closed his eyes and struggled to recall the name of those neighbors; they'd had a panda bear sign with their first names on it stuck in the front yard. "My Mommy is Soon Li!"

"And what's your name, dear heart?"

"Oh, please! Please let me come in and get warm! Mommy had to leave, Daddy's not home, and I got locked out! I'm scared and I'm cold!" He pleaded in his best falsetto. "Why are you being so cruel?"

"I don't know who the Hell all y'all are, but you can drop the act. That door isn't openin'."

"B - but I told you what you wanted to know!" He stammered. "Please let me in! Mommie said you would."

"Oh yeah? Too bad Soon Li didn't tell me. That door ain't openin', so y'all can freeze your ass off for all I care. Get a life!" She immediately cut the connection and his phone went dark.

"Bitch!" He snarled. "Fuckin' cunt! When did she get so damn smart?" He pounded on the front door and rang the doorbell at the same time, intending to give her a good scare.

Flashing lights from a patrol car alerted him to the approach of Indianapolis' finest. He was dressed in dark clothes and used that and the darkness to his advantage to flee the front porch just as the outside light came on.

"She's gonna pay for that!" He fumed when he safely reached his hide out. "I'm gonna have to lay low for awhile, but she's gonna pay, and pay big time!"

"So I left the subdivision after that incident, and returned to that fleabag hotel downtown for a few weeks. Figured she'd let her guard down eventually. I needed to work to get some more money together for my revenge, and did dishwashin' at an all night diner near the hotel. The robberies at the video store chain ended as quickly as they began, because I ran out of money to pay the robbers to do the jobs. I needed a big sum for the final job, and wanted to give that video chain time to relax their vigilance. Eventually, I had enough money to put the final phase in action."

---

Dawn didn't have the keys to the bike or the cars. Pete had the PT keys and she had no idea where the Challenger keys were. 'She trusts me to stay here on my own, but not enough to leave the keys layin' around!' She snorted derisively.

She couldn't help feeling a wave of admiration over the sight of the vintage Dodge. Though he'd had to farm out the body work and paint job, she knew her father would've rebuilt the motor and other essential car parts. "What a beauty you are!" She sighed, running a hand along the Challenger's polished hood. It felt as smooth as glass under her fingers. "Just because Cat didn't leave the keys doesn't mean I won't be able to take you for a joyride. Just you wait and see!"

She decided to start her search for the pink slips with the bike. It was set up on the center stand and attached to the trickle charger. 'Likely she asked Kozik or Chibs to come out and start it on occasion while she's gone,' Dawn snorted again. "As if I don't know a damn thing about startin' a parked bike!" She opened the unlocked trunk and saddle bags, but the registration wasn't in those compartments.

Dawn knew from previous experience with her father's bikes that there might be a small amount of storage under the seat. She easily picked the lock that secured the seat to the frame. "Whew! I was afraid I'd lost my touch when the fuckin' office desk wouldn't give!" She lifted it up and checked the small storage area. The only thing she found was an empty space. "Shit! She must be carryin' the damn thing in her wallet! Fuckin' cunt! Who carries their bike registration with them 24/7?"

She slammed the seat back in place and stared at the Challenger. It was her only other option, unless she wanted to wait until Pete returned with the PT. "Nah, I don't wanna wait that long. I'll just get the one outta the Challenger and get to work," she shrugged. She got an unpleasant suprise when she tried both doors. They were locked. "Oh for the love of God!" She cried out in frustration. "What a bitch! Who locks their car when it's in a garage for fuck's sake?" She shook her head and returned to her room to retrieve her lock picking tools then headed back to the garage.

Picking the lock to the vintage Dodge's door wasn't much of a challenge. Dawn soon picked the lock and triumphantly opened the passenger door. "I'm gonna knock that fuckin' bike of hers over if that fuckin' glove compartment is locked!" She muttered, pressing the silver button. Fortunately for Cat's Yamaha, the glove box fell open when Dawn pressed the button. She gleefully pulled out the contents and began sifting through them until she found the registration. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" She cried, pumping one fist in the air. She tossed the remaining items back in the glove box and slammed it shut.

She slid from the passenger seat of the Challenger and slammed that door closed, leaving it unlocked so she could put the pink slip back in the glove compartment when she was done with it. "No one ever looks in their glove box anyway, and it's not like Cat's ever get pulled over by the cops!" She snorted before exiting the garage.

She didn't notice the small strip of invisible tape that had been placed right over the seam between the two front doors and the rear quarter panels. The tape on the passenger side quarter panel wasn't completely attached now and would be noticeable to anyone who knew to look for it.

---

The only way he was going to be able to be sure that he wouldn't get caught by an undercover cop was to reach out to his contacts in the mercenary network. The world wide web made that much easier and quicker than old days of answering ads to PO Boxes in magazines. He made use of the downtown public library in Indianapolis and their public access terminals to reach out and arrange a meeting.

That meeting took place during his break from dishwashing a few nights later. They met in an dark alley, and exchanged pre arranged passwords. After they patted each other down to inspect for recording devices and assured themselves neither was an undercover cop, they discussed 'Brownie's' needs.

"I can make it happen whenever you want," the mercenary stated coldly. "Got a radio?"

"Yeah."

"Then keep it tuned to 88.7 FM for the local newscasts. You'll know when it's gone down."

'Brownie' removed a thick envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to the mercenary. "Half now, half on completion. Once I hear that it's done, we meet here the night after it's done."

The mercenary glared intently at him. "You sure you wanna do that?"

"I'm sure. If I keep things normal, no one will suspect I ever had anything to do with it."

"It's your dime. But if you get caught and rat me out, you're dead meat."

"Same applies to you, fuckwit," 'Brownie' growled, dropping his cigarette onto the pavement and grinding it under his boot. He turned away from the mercenary and walked to the cafeteria's back door without taking a look back at the hired man.

The mercenary hefted the envelope in his hand and grinned wryly. 'Dude's got a mouth on him, but he's got a bronze pair!'

"And a few nights later, the job was done. Bill was dead, and I arranged for Cat's mother to take shit outta her house and take it to her apartment. I'm also responsible for her showin' up at the funeral dinner and confrontin' ya! Yeah, I know, Cat thought her mother saved up for months to do the deed, but I fiananced that venture," Brownie's face contorted with an evil, triumphant grin. "I didn't just rely on that two bit dishwashin' job to earn the money I needed for that little endeavor, either. It's the same way I got my change of identity, old man!"

The sedative he'd been given earlier made Blaine's limbs feel like lead weights. He could barely move, and he had no energy to utter so much as a small moan. He could still hear what his daughter's nemesis said, and it frightened more than anything he'd ever encountered in his life. His eyelids fluttered several times.

"Trust me, I planned to attack your daughter after the funeral was done and over with, but she was never alone. If it wasn't you and Bill's family, then her friends were hangin' around. I kept waitin' and then she packs up cats and car and leaves town."

Blaine opened his mouth slightly.

"I couldn't follow her because I ran outta money, old man! I had to lay low for awhile after makin' the money for the hit, and the cafe fired me for not showin' up," 'Brownie' added angrily. "I couldn't find out where she went. No one was talkin'. I couldn't even convince the minister at her church to tell me, and believe me, he was more gullible than you were!" The injustice of that earlier frustration washed over 'Brownie'. He leaned forward and snarled softly, "Now I have a chance to finish what I started!"

Blaine moaned softly and turned his head away. His mind worked furiously despite the sedative to assure himself that his torment would end once he left Good Samaritan.

'Brownie' smiled nastily and leaned even closer to his victim's face. "You think you're gonna be safe when they transfer ya, don't ya? Got news for ya. I know what hospital you're goin' to, and I know she's gonna be there. That's not gonna stop me from comin' up for a visit. College kids are always lookin' for someone to go to Indy with 'em. That's one of the things I love about this town!"

'Brownie' returned the chair to its' original place, then returned to stand beside the minister's bedside. He leaned down again and murmured silkily, "Go ahead and tell her about me, old man. Tell her what you think I look like now. It'll do neither of ya any good. I'm a chameleon. You'll never know what I look like or when I'll show up. That's the beauty of this. I'm in control now!'

He stood up straight and removed the hose from the bi - pap machine just as he had the night before. "Ta ta for now, old man!" He muttered before stepping silently to the doorway. He listened for a moment, then moved the curtain slightly aside to check the hallway. He blinked a few moments to adjust his eyes to the brighter light, then made sure no one was in the hallway to witness his departure.

Without looking back at his helpless victim, he slipped past the curtain and walked silently down the hall to the stairwell door.