So it turns out it's hard to write at home because your family doesn't give you the quiet needed and you can't just drown out their talking like you can at school. But enough of me making excuses, here's the next chapter. Sorry for the wait!

"So who is this we're talking to?" Pete asked as he and Myka entered the supermarket.

"Lidia Behrens," Myka said. "She's the one who saw a guy come through with the quarter sized hole in his wrist. You were supposed to call her manager and arrange for her to be available to talk to us."

Pete looked offended at Myka's implication. "I called him!"

"Lidia's a woman."

"Uh, her manager isn't," Pete said in his best sassy tone.

Myka shook her head. "Right."

"Are you okay?" Pete asked. "You usually don't forget details like that."

"I never knew that detail," Myka pointed out. "You snatched the folder and took off yelling about being the Gingerbread Man. I didn't chase you because you're encouraged enough already."

"Oh my gosh!" A thin woman, with hair so light it appeared white, came over to them. "Are you the Secret Service agents?"

"Is your hair white?"

"We are. I'm Agent Bering and this is my partner, Agent Lattimer. Are you Lidia Behrens?" Myka asked, jamming her elbow discreetly into Pete's ribs.

"Yes I am," she said. "And yes, my hair is white, my boyfriend says it looks good but his mother says I look like a freak. Oh my gosh, I'm rambling. I ramble. I'm sorry, this is so freaky, I've never met such intense police before. We can talk in my manager's office. I have some really freaky things to tell you. It's over here – it's this way." She motioned for them to follow her, heading down the line of cash registers.

"Well, we'll follow you, then…" Pete said, matching Myka's stride. "She's a bit freaky-"

"Don't."

"So, Ms. Behrens," Myka said, sitting in front of a paper cluttered desk, "tell me about your encounter with this guy."

"Well, I had gotten in for the midday shift," Lidia said, "I used to work the night shift, but walking home at night was just really freaky, so I switched like two weeks ago to midday because it lets me sleep in the morning and I don't have to walk home in the dark, and with Daylight Savings Time that can just…"

"Lidia," Myka said. "Can I call you Lidia?"

"Sure thing, Agent," Lidia said. "It is my name, after all."

"Okay Lidia," Myka said, "If you could get to the point, that would be great."

"Sorry," Lidia said. "This guy comes up, and when he went to swipe his card, I saw that he had a hole right here." She flipped her left arm so it was palm up, and traced a circle in the middle of her wrist. "It went clear through, neatly, so I could see light through it from the other side. It was really – "

"Freaky, yeah, we get it," Pete said. "Did you say anything to him?"

"How could I not?" She said. "I kinda jumped when I saw it. I asked him if he was okay, and he said he was fine, and covered the hole up with his sleeve. He pretended to be confused as to why I was asking."

"Like he thought having a hole there was normal?"

"No…" Lidia cocked her head. "Like I was seeing things. Like there wasn't a hole there at all. But there was; I'm sure there was. He just really didn't want me to acknowledge it."

"Interesting," Myka said, nodding slowly. "Did he have anything on him, like something old? Something that looked out of place?"

"He was wearing a big jacket," Lidia said. "The kind that hangs really low, down to his knees. But I don't think it was old. He didn't have any freaky medallions on him or anything like that, if that's what you mean."

Myka and Pete glanced at each other. "Okay then," Pete said. "Thank you for your time, we'll be in contact with you if we have any follow up questions."

"Is your manager around?" Myka asked. "We'll need to check surveillance tapes and cross reference the times with credit card purchases to figure out who this guy is."

"He's on his lunch break," Lidia said. "But he gave me permission to let you guys look at our records."

Logan Winter studied the photographs of his sister's brain, tracing various paths through her skull with his finger, all passing through the location of the tumor.

Impossible to remove, the doctors said.

Too connected to the brain, the doctors said.

There had been medical miracles before. The object he held concealed under his coat was responsible for one of them, over one hundred and fifty years ago. And soon, tonight if possible, tomorrow at the latest, it would be responsible for another one.

A sudden rush of lightheadedness made Winter close his eyes and place a hand over his face – his right hand; his left was aching from the wound, slightly swollen, slightly discolored now.

But that didn't mean anything. With a wound like this, Logan Winter wasn't even supposed to be alive. He could deal with a little pain, especially since the pain was proof that this iron was capable of saving Margaret.

When the light headedness passed, Logan slipped his hand inside his coat and closed his fingers around the cool iron, and ran his hand up to the rounded top. No one even knew it was missing.

He looked out the window and smiled. And by the time they did figure it out – he knew they would, it was inevitable once his deed was done – no one would care. His sister would be alive because of his ingenious actions. He would be a hero.