Jack Dalton may be an ex-con and a drunkard but he's no fool.

Something's going on with Becky lately. He can see the signs- the red-rimmed eyes when she comes home from school, the furtive glances around her, the disconsolate sighs.

He likes her a lot. Such a bright, imaginative, sweet-natured and kind-hearted kid, who deserves a better future than to be stuck in this lousy two-bit town.

Mac hasn't a clue what's going on with her but if this is a sign of delayed grief, he'll eat his hat.

So one Wednesday afternoon while Mac's at hockey practice he flips the Open sign to Closed, installs her in the warmest corner of the shop and makes them both hot chocolate.

(He thinks longingly of the bottle of whiskey in his jacket, but refrains from adding it to his mug in her presence. She's still a minor, after all.)

"C'mon kiddo. You know I'll never tattle on you to Mac if you don't want me to." He keeps his voice soft, carefully coaxing the truth out of her. The hesitant, wary teenager that's replaced the cheerful Becky he's come to know and love like his own kid worries him. "But if you're not happy then I'm not happy. You know by now you can trust me, right?"

She nods slowly, hands clenched around the chipped china mug.

"So tell me what the problem is. I might even be able to help."

"Promise you won't tell Uncle Mac?"

"Scout's honor." He does the salute, rather poorly.

The corner of her mouth turns up in a wry smile. "Both Mom and Unc said you were never a Boy Scout."

"Doesn't mean I won't keep your secret, though. C'mon Becky, tell me."

And she does, though only of the shovings and destructive tricks, not the disappearing notes. (Even he'd find that hard to swallow.)

He's sure there's more to these pranks than she's telling him, and it bothers him she's not disclosing everything. But he's promised to keep his mouth shut; there's little else he can do but offer an emotional shelter and some advice.

"Don't go anywhere alone if you can help it. Try making friends tomorrow, even if it's someone you sit next to in homeroom. They can't all be jerks, right? And- here's a thought- always be within sight of one of the teachers. That'll keep 'em away. And if ever you need a shoulder to cry on, I got a lot of handkerchiefs."

That elicits a wan smile. "Thanks, Jack."

"No problem." Not that such advice ever worked for him as a kid, when he got picked on in school. But it's the least he can do, for Mac's niece.

After sleeping on it Becky decides Jack's right, so the next day she starts making a few tentative overtures. A girl named Katie who sits across from her responds willingly enough, as do some others in choir.

By the next week she's acquired a small group of friends; the pranks begin to decrease in frequency almost immediately. She also follows his advice about the teachers, and in consequence the perpetrators of her misery soon find it nearly impossible even to slip those mysterious, hurtful notes in among her things without being seen.

Before the month's over the notes and pranks seem to have stopped completely. Becky's cheerfulness returns, and Jack heaves a profound mental sigh of relief.

But that's not the end of the bullies' campaign. Not by a long shot.

For there's more afoot than petty harassment.

Ralph Jerico knows who Becky Grahme is, and after the debacle with Dalton and his planes (he's sure MacGyver's involved, somehow) he's determined to cause her uncle harm through her, no matter what.

He knows she's from out west, where they don't really know how to deal with winter. Especially thin ice.

So he talks the son of Donald Tollefsen (he knows the bank president well) and his friends into arranging a certain accident.

With a smirk he imagines his rival, utterly devastated by the news of his niece's tragic demise in the river.