Chapter #4

I do not the characters from the show and my thanks to Lohlis for being my beta. Please enjoy.

It was a week later when a pretty young woman was dressed in old jeans and an old shirt which was splattered with old paint. Her black hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. She searched through the drawers of a table that her printer sat on neatly, waiting to print.

"It's in the first drawer," her brother with light brown hair, dressed in dark slacks and a white dressed shirt said, not really paying any attention to his older sister.

"No, Bryan, I'm looking for the color paper. I thought that we had that bright neon paper."

He raised his eyebrows up at her, "Why would I have that? I can't use them for tax returns to my clients or the government. They are going to think that I'm nuts."

"It does run in the family," she commented wryly. He let out a long sigh, setting his report down, knowing that he wasn't going to get any peace until she found what she was looking for.

"There should be some blue paper in that drawer, probably at the bottom. And don't mess with them, I have a system." She snorted, pulling out the drawer.

"A-ha." she said, pulling out a couple of sheets of paper. "You even have pink." She went over to her brother who was still sitting at his desk.

"Now what?" he said, turning his chair around to face her again.

"Markers." she replied, pointing to some that were in his old coffee cup on his desk. He picked some out, handing them to her.

"Anything else?"

She shook her head no.

"Great, now go. I want to get this done before tonight." he said, shooing her away with his hands. "And close the door." he called out as she walked out of his office.

Out in their living room stood a painting over the mantle. The painting was of a little girl sitting on a park bench, blowing a dandelion with a trail of white fluffy seeds floating in the air. She sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table and began to work.

It was a short time later when her brother emerged from his office, holding his coffee cup, needing a refill. "Hey Danny." he called out.

"Yeah." she answered in her art studio that was on the other side of the kitchen.

"Why does . . . " he started to say when he saw the painting covered in yellow caution tape and those sheets of paper taped beside it with big capital lettering spelling out, No, not for sale along with big black arrows pointing to it.

"Why does what?" she said, coming out of her studio.

"Well actually, first, why is that covered? And why doesn't Monica want you here when she comes to pick up your paintings?"

Danny answered: "According to her:" She paused then imitated her agent's British accent, "Darling, you are always too hard on yourself when it comes to picking out your paintings."

"Which you are," he pointed out.

"Which we always ended up arguing over. So she said that if I really wanted to be in this exhibition tonight, the one where I might actually sell some of my pieces, I have to let her pick out the paintings and not be in the house when she does."

She pointed to the covered painting. "She is not getting that painting. And right now, it is securely attached to the wall and there is no place to hide it." He nodded.

"I'm more worried if she picks out these dark paintings, the ones that I can't really explain."

"Simple, we can hide a few of them in my office." he suggested.

After a few of her paintings were well hidden, Danny went back to her art studio that was formally the sun room of the house. Her studio was completely clean with white panel walls. There were narrow paned windows that allow the sun in on two of the walls. Her easel and stool sat in the corner, getting the most of the light. The metal tray that held her palette and glass jar that held her water, stood empty and another jar sat beside it filled with different paint brushes, the whole configuration parked up against a wall.

Danny set her finished paintings on the floor, leaning them against the wall. Beside the entrance of her studio, there was an old dining table that she had bought at a flea market that sat against the main wall. Several of her sketchbooks that were neatly labeled on their spines were standing upright, between two jars which were pulling double duty as book ends and as storage pots for her painting supplies. There were also small plastic containers filled with her paint tubes neatly arranged on the table, ready for her to use. Underneath the table hide a couple of Rubbermaid totes that were also neatly labeled with her other paint supplies.

The only bad part of this room was that it lacked a closet. She was able to pick up metal shelves from a hardware store that were parked between the windows. The shelves had her empty frames, rolls of canvas, extra art supplies and props for her paintings.

She fluffed up a pillow before setting it back on the futon that sat underneath the window, giving her studio the once over. Her agent Monica was going to be arriving in a couple of hours.

Danny knew that she could sit here and drive herself crazy or start prepping up some canvas, getting them ready for her future paintings. She unrolled her canvas, laying it on the floor, smoothing out the creases. She then set up a couple of frames on top, making sure that she had enough. She pulled out her exacto knife, ready to cut.

"Hey, where did you go?" she heard one of the orderly called out. She pulled through the metal door, only to findherself in a morgue. Fortunately there was nobody there. She could hear them coming down the hall.

She searched frantically for anything that the doctors left behind, something to defend herself. She turned around, nearly knocking over a tray. She managed to catch it before it fell to the floor, except some of the tools that sat on the tray landed on the floor, making a loud crash.

"Shit." she cursed. Quickly scanning the room for another exit, but the only one she saw was the emergency exit which would set off the alarm.

Knowing that her time was up soon, she had no choice. She opened the first door of the freezer that held the bodies, praying that there was no one inside. It wasn't empty.

A body laid with a white sheet covering it. She knew that she had no choice. She climbed on top of the body, and closed the door enough that it wouldn't latch. She basically laid on all fours, looking down at the covered person. She didn't know if it was a man or a woman.

"I'm so sorry, please forgive me for this intrusion." she whispered.

She heard the door of the morgue being swung open and listened to the footsteps. Then hearing one of them stepping on something that she assumed was one of the tools. She could hear them talking, but couldn't make out of what they were saying.

The door quickly flung open. She tried to scrunch to the back of the drawer, trying to get away.

"Please, no." she begged. The arms grabbed her, pulling her out.

"Danny, Danny!" Her brother called out. She closed her eyes, trying to breath. A sharp pain pierced her skin in her right hand.

"Danny, come back to me," her brother called out. She let out a breath, stumbling back where her brother grabbed her. Dropping whatever she had in her hand, making a loud thud.

"It's ok, just breathe. Remember your exercises." Her brother led her to her futon where they sat down.

"Bryan," she finally said after taking a couple of deep breaths, trying to focus. "It happened again, didn't it?" He nodded, taking her hand, opening up her palm where it was stained with blood and her bloody exacto knife laying on the floor where it had landed, leaving a nasty red mark.