When Elliot returned to the car, Amy was half asleep – she opened her eyes as he unlocked the door and slid in. "What was that about?"

"A – friend. He needed to see me about something."

"In the alley – at – ten thirty," she squinted at the blue electronic numbers that lit up as Elliot turned the key in the ignition.

"Yes," Elliot told her simply.

Amy was too tired to question him – she'd exhausted herself crying. She was even too tired to hate Michael for making her believe that Elliot had done something so out of character – and too tired to feel as guilty as she thought she should for believing him… "Elliot?"

"Hmm?" he glanced at her briefly, smiling; navigating the streets between his office and apartment was more difficult driving than it was walking.

"I'm sorry."

"For what, Sweetheart?"

"For ever thinking that – you – and a fourteen year old – I'm sorry. I feel like an idiot."

"Don't – and don't be sorry. It was a natural assumption."

"I just feel like I should know better – know you better," she was crying again. "And you're not even mad at me."

"Of course I'm not mad at you," Elliot reached over and took her hand.

"I stormed into your office – again."

"The first time was my fault – I should have told you what you'd find. This time – this was your ex husband. And I'm not even mad at him – he was just trying to protect you."

"From what?"

"From me."

"But – I don't need to be protected from you. I'm very tired."

"I know – it's late. And it's all right. We have all day tomorrow to talk about it if you want to."

-

By the time they got to his place, Amy was asleep again – as Elliot set her down on the sofa, she woke up a little. "I need to call home."

"I know," he kissed her forehead. Elliot flipped the switch to start he fireplace and draped Mary's quilt over her while he went into the kitchen to make some tea. Chamomile seemed a good choice – it's what Mary always fed him when he came to visit after a particularly bad day.

Amy looked over the back of the sofa to watch him – he'd taken off his coat and tie and rolled up his sleeves – he looked so oddly domestic, puttering around his own kitchen. Amy smiled – how could she have ever thought that this man – this amazing, wonderful man – could do anything like what Michael had suggested? And how was it that Elliot wasn't even mad at her for thinking it? Realizing she was crying again, Amy turned away – she didn't want him to see her crying, she just didn't know how to stop.

While he waited for the kettle, Elliot dialed Bruce Van Axel's number.

"Hello?"

"Bruce – it's Elliot – sorry to call so late."

"What's the matter?"

Elliot smiled – Bruce was not the sort to beat around any bushes. He appreciated that. "Everything's fine – I've got Amy in New York. She won't be in tomorrow."

"What happened?"

"Her ex husband." Elliot said – then he listened to the moment of angry silence on the other end. He'd heard the story of the private investigator who followed Amy around for a year getting all kinds of dirt – not all of it even 'real' dirt, but stuff that was damaging all the same. "It's nothing we can't get through – but she's been through the ringer tonight. She's in no shape to drive."

"I'm glad you're keeping her there," Bruce told him. "I'll take care of tomorrow."

"Thanks – hang on," he said; over his shoulder, Elliot called to Amy, "I have Bruce on the phone – do you want to say hello while I finish the tea?"

"Bruce – yeah – thanks," she smiled; Elliot handed her the cordless, kissing her forehead gently. She cradled the receiver against her ear, "Hi, Bruce."

"Hey, Judge Gray – how're you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by one of those big rolly trucks they use to smooth out concrete."

Bruce chuckled, "That bad, huh?"

"I hate my ex husband."

"Hate is a very strong word, Judge Gray."

"Ok, how about I really dislike him. A lot."

Bruce chuckled some more, "That's more like it. Are you going to be all right?"

"I think so."

"Good – hand the phone back to Elliot."

As if on cue, Elliot came back into the living room with two steamy earthenware mugs of tea. She handed the phone to him, as he handed her a mug.

"Hello?"

"I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of her," Bruce told him.

"I'm glad – about a lot of things," Elliot smiled down at Amy. "I'll have her back to work the day after tomorrow."

"No problem – good night."

"Good night, Bruce," Elliot said, then hung up.

"What was that all about?" Amy queried.

Elliot just smiled and slid next to her on the sofa; he put one arm around her and just held her for a moment before dialing her house. Maxine picked up on the second ring.

"Amy?"

"It's Elliot, Mrs. Gray – but Amy is right here next to me."

"Thank goodness – she wouldn't tell me what was going on, just that she'd be home late. What's wrong?"

"It's sorted out – I hope," he glanced at Amy, who smiled and nodded and snuggled further into him. "Drink your tea," he whispered to her.

"Elliot – what is going on?" Maxine demanded. "Amy was in tears when she called, I could hear it in her voice."

"Her ex husband hired a private investigator to tail me. Most of what he took was – pretty routine. There are a few photos that could be interpreted in more than one way."

Maxine was quite for a long while. "I haven't said anything, because I like you, Elliot – but when that picture hit the paper – of you and Amy at that charity thing, I got a phone call from Charles Duff – which was quite a surprise," Maxine added. Talk about hearing the voice of someone she never expected to hear from again. Although it sounded as if after Jared's death, Charles had begun to get his act together – she only wished he'd done it in his father's life time.

"I don't think I ever met Jared Duff's son," said Elliot.

Amy looked up.

"He told me a few things – I'm sure you're familiar with what rumour has to say of you, Elliot."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Maxine almost chuckled at the 'ma'am'. "I know that things get blown out of proportion – and I know that you make my daughter very happy. I only hope that – what was that line – that you aren't 'dealing double' with her – because forty or not, she's still my little girl. I would hate to see her hurt."

"I love your daughter very much, Mrs. Gray. I hope you'll believe that."

"What is it?" Amy asked.

"Love isn't always enough, Elliot – I'm sure you're old enough to realize that."

"I've always hoped that it would be."

"It isn't. Lauren wants to talk to her mother."

Eliot handed the phone to Amy, "It's Lauren," he said quietly.

"Hey sweetie," Amy said into the phone.

"Mom – are you ok? Grandma said you were coming home late – but you're not here – what's going on?"

"It's nothing."

"You're lying."

"Lauren – ok, so maybe I am lying. It's nothing for you to worry about."

"So why were you crying when you talked to Grandma earlier – and where are you now?"

"I'm at Elliot's – I'm sorry about not coming home."

"Can I talk to him, please?"

Perplexed, Amy handed the phone back up to Elliot.

"Lauren?" He asked.

"What's going on?"

Elliot chuckled softly – Lauren knew him too well, it seemed. He slid out from under Amy, telling her to drink some more tea, and wandered towards the kitchen. "Your mother was upset tonight – she thought I'd done something that I didn't do."

"What did she thought you'd done?"

Elliot took a breath, pulling his thoughts together. Amy had rights as a parent to shelter her child – but Lauren had a right to a measure of the truth. "She – thought – I'd cheated – with someone much younger than me."

"Why would she think that?"

"Lauren – your parents have been divorced for a long time – and there was a lot of rancor at one time – I'm sure you picked up on that. I honestly believe that your father is only trying to protect you – and your mother."

"From what?"

"Once upon a time, I did some things that I shouldn't have. When you do bad things you get a bad reputation – sometimes that reputation lingers on for a long, long time."

"What kind of bad things?"

"Mostly I wanted stuff – land – buildings – things. I did whatever I had to do to get the stuff I wanted."

"Like stealing?"

"There's different kinds of stealing, Lauren – you can steal things without actually stealing them."

"I don't get it."

He smiled, "Neither do I, any more. See – in business you can take what isn't yours, but you can do it in such a way that it isn't illegal."

"That sucks."

"Yes it does," Elliot agreed. "But that's who I was – and because I was that way, I got accused of doingsome things that I hadn't done, but that people still believe I did - all because of my bad reputation. There are still a lot of people who don't trust me because of stuff that happened before you were even born."

"And my dad is one of those people?"

"I have to believe that he's only looking out for you. He's your father and he loves you very, very much."

"So – he's showing it by trying to break up you and Mom?"

"I guess when you put it that way, it doesn't make much sense – I think something happens to most people when they get out of college – it's like our brains stop working properly."

She laughed, although it was clear she was still upset. "So – what made Mom think you were cheating on her?"

"Have you ever seen something from across a room and thought it was one thing, but it was really something else?"

Lauren thought for a moment, before answering, "I think I know what you mean – my friend Bethany said she saw Taylor with Victor at the mall – I got mad – then found out that she was helping him pick out a birthday gift for me because he didn't know my size and wanted to get me a sweater."

"That's exactly the situation. I was with a friend - a young friend - and in photographs,it looked like something that it wasn't."

"Why didn't Mom just know better?"

He chuckled softly, "It's human nature to be suspicious, Lauren – and to be afraid. Your mom's been hurt a lot – she's afraid to be hurt again."

"Thanks for being honest with me, Elliot. You're not like the other guys Mom's dated. I liked some of them ok – but you're better than just ok."

"Thank you – it means a great deal to me to hear you say that. However, not to ruin it – you should be getting to bed – it's late."

She laughed, "I know. I just wanted to make sure Mom was ok. When do I get to see you again?"

"I'll see what your mom has to say about pizza and a movie next week."

"Cool."

-

Amy woke up when Elliot came back to the sofa and began to lift her up. "I can walk."

"Shh," he said softly, lifting her into his arms – he felt her surprise when he walked into the bathroom instead of the bedroom; the room was lit by a dozen scented candles and there were two glasses of red wine on the vanity. The massive tub was drawn and overflowing with bubbles.

"Oh – Elliot –" Amy didn't quite know what to say. "What's all this?"

"A bubble bath," he helped her undress, but only took off his shirt. Elliot lifted her into the tub and handed her a glass of wine.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He smiled, "I'd hoped that was obvious – I love you."

"But – the way I was acting –"

Elliot leaned in and kissed her, to silence further protest. He squeezed soap onto a loofa and started with her back…

-

Long black hair surrounded a pale-skinned face; black lace up jeans, a black turtleneck – around her neck a silver pendant of an angelic warrior – Amy was sure she must be dreaming. She had the drifty, dreamy feeling – besides, if she wasn't dreaming, why was there a big black bird sitting on Elliot's dresser?

"He loves you," the girl said. "That was what he used to help me get through the darkness."

Amy sat up – Elliot wasn't in the bed – the clock read nine o eight. A.M. Her head felt fuzzy – it wasn't the wine, Amy had only had one glass. It was the hours she'd spent crying – bits of memory drifted back – the bath – the feeling of warm water and bubbles; the warmth had soothed away the pain… the wine going down, warming her insides – his hands on her back, gently scrubbing – washing her hair – all the unhappiness and fear melting away in his kisses and caresses… "You're – her – the girl."

"He doesn't know I'm here – I slipped in because – I've wanted to meet you for a while now."

"Where's Elliot?"

"He went out for bagels."

"Who are you?"

"The shadow of a child who had the innocence of her childhood ripped away by brutal force – when you wake up, you'll think I was just a dream," Kate told her. She reached out and took Amy's hand, "But I'm hoping you won't forget this."

Warmth – overwhelming – her heart flowed over with – love. Joy. Wonder. Gratitude – the feeling of gratitude was almost as overwhelming as the happiness she felt. Only –theyweren't her feelings. They wereElliot's.

"He used that to bring me back from the abyss of pain," Kate said softly. "Don't be mad at him for sharing that with me – the love of others is all I have – and my greatest gift is being able to share it with you – to show you how much he truly loves you. Please don't forget that – don't hurt him just because you're afraid not to be hurt yourself. Love is such a fragile thing, Amy. You should cherish it when you find it."

"He – he said his heart would break into so many pieces no one would be able to put him back together," Amy felt herself on the verge of tears again. She could feel the fear he felt – the pain of almost loosing her last night. "Who are you?"

"I think you know, even if you don't understand. Go back to sleep – let my being her be little more than a hazy memory – the ghost of a dream. Just remember how much he loves you Amy – because I felt in you, just then, how much you love him. Believe in that love – and have faith in what you believe."

Amy looked at the girl for a long moment – a dream. Just a ghost in a dream… She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep, filled with the warmth of love…

-

"Morning, sleepy-head," Elliot leaned over and kissed Amy's cheek. He'd bought bagels, lox, fresh cream cheese (what he had in his fridge had gone amazingly fuzzy since he'd purchased it several months ago…), fresh juice and had made a pot of coffee. All of this he brought in to her on a silver serving tray.

Amy smiled in her dream – a dream of love – its warmth held her safe and secure in a world of fear and pain – she opened her eyes to find Elliot next to her with a tray full of food and shesmiled more deeply. "Morning. I was really an idiot last night, wasn't I?"

"No. Not at all," he brushed the hair from her face, amazed all over again at how beautiful she truly was.

After breakfast and a quick shower, Amy pulled on the cloths she'd left the last time she stayed over – it seemed as if every time she spent the night, she left something. This time it was jeans and one of her comfy sweaters – hardly the height of glamour, but Elliot didn't seem to mind. She couldn't get over that – here was a man who had his pick of women from the upper most tier of the social set – and yet he wanted her. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and briefly lamented not leaving behind any make up… oh well.

Elliot had already dressed and was watching the news when she came into the living. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue turtleneck – it reminded her a little of a dream that seemed to slip further away, the more she tried to remember it… He smiled – and suddenly nothing else really seemed important anyway. Elliot clicked off the television as she came in.

"What?" Amy asked.

"I'd rather look at you than the stock report," he replied.

She flushed, although she wasn't quite sure why. "I though you said were the consummate work-o-holic."

"And I think you said something about just needing the right woman to change that," he pulled her into his lap.

"Am I that woman?"

"It would appear that way," Elliot touched his lips to hers.

Amy responded – his kiss was always so tender, so full of love – and gratitude. She wondered where she got that from – but really, why think so hard when you can just enjoy being kissed…and kissing back…

-

"Amy?"

At the sound of her name, Amy looked up from a book of poetry Elliot had handed her before vanishing into the back room with the store's proprietor. She even managed to hide her groan when she recognized the two women who were looking in her direction as if utterly astonished that she was even still alive…

Once upon a time, Amy had lived in New York with her husband and her life had been one party after another. And she realized now that the only reason she'd never run into Elliot Burch before that night when her car had died, just about three and a half months ago, was because despite what he thought of himself, Michael did not travel in the upper echelon of New York society. Neither did Amanda Pierce and Cassandra Miller, who were trotting their petite, cosmetic surgery enhanced selves across aisle, like a pair of unwanted phantoms from a past best forgotten… Amy wondered idly what this particular pair of harpies was doing in a used bookstore, anyway, as she continued to smile, wishing fervently that Elliot would re-appear.

"How are you?" Amanda crooned, almost but not quite kissing Amy's cheek. "It's been far too long!"

Amy smiled and exchanged the same pseudo-kiss with Cassandra, who agreed, that they really must keep in better touch. "You cannot begin to imagine everyone's surprise when we saw your picture in the paper back in December," Cassandra said.

"Does this mean that you've returned to the land of the living?" Amanda queried.

"And how in the world did you land an evening with Elliot Burch?" asked Cassandra. "Do you have any idea how many women would give anything just to be seen with him for one night?"

Amy wondered if she'd ever been this vapid… "I've been doing really well," – it wasn't quite a lie. The last three months had been amazing. "Lauren is doing really well too," she added. Lauren used to play with Cassandra's daughter, Dotty.

"Dot really misses her," Cassandra said; Amy was sure it was a lie. "She's thinking of Princeton – has Lauren made any plans?"

"She'll probably stay close to home."

"Which is – still in Hartford?" Queried Amanda – somehow when she said it, it sounded as if she'd just tasted sour milk. Of course, Hartford was a long way from the Hamptons…

Amy just nodded – and felt a surge ofrelief when she heard footsteps behind her – and watched the way their jaws were sagging. Amy heard Elliot's voice thanking the store owner for his assistance – and then she felt his hands on her shoulders, protectively holding her. She smiled up at him – and his smile was all she needed to make everything absolutely all right.

"Sorry I took so long," Elliot kissed her forehead. "It turns out he had a first edition Kipling I'd been looking for as well as the Rilke for Caroline – and I picked up something for Lauren. I seem to recall enjoying T. S. Elliot at her age."

"I'm sure she'll enjoy it – she saw Cats when she was – seven or eight, I think with her father. And – I ran into a couple of old friends," she continued to smile sweetly. "Elliot – Amanda Pierce and Cassandra Miller – Elliot Burch." She made the introductions, savouring the looks on their faces. For the first time since they'd met, Amy truly enjoyed, if only for a brief sadistic moment, the fact that she'd landed the most eligible bachelor in New York City.

Elliot shook their hands, without quite letting go of Amy – he had sensed her unease when he came up – she wasn't as pleased to see the pair as she was letting on. He could guess why – she'd lived her with her ex – and these appeared to be the sort of women for whom social strata was everything – the sort of women who were constantly throwing themselves at him, hoping to marry up the ladder… it was hard to imagine anyone as down to earth as Amy circling with this pair…but then again, Cathy had been like that once, minus the need to marry up the ladder. She had been born to the top of it… "Well, if you'll excuse us," he nodded to the women and turned to Amy, "If you're all set, I thought we could catch an early movie before lunch."

"I guess that depends what kind of movie you're in the mood for."

He smiled, "Whatever you want to see is fine by me. Oh – and speaking of movies, I promised Lauren I'd ask you about pizza and a movie again – and this time I promise no unexpected guests."

"I really didn't mind," Amy told him – aware that Amanda and Cassandra hadn't quite left yet, she turned back to them and smiled, wanting to say something, but not quite sure what.

"The last time I tried to take my two favourite ladies out," Elliot was fast on the draw, "We had out of town guests – Sam Hill and Robbie – Roberta – Carlisle Wells."

"Roberta Wells," the two women looked at one another – yes of course they knew who she was.

Elliot shrugged, nonchalantly, "Robbie is my best friend's sister in law. Sometimes I forget what a celebrity she really is. Oh – Brigit O'Donnell?" he commented on one of the books one of the women (he couldn't really remember which was which) was holding.

"I've had the owner scouring the country for this for me – he finally got it in – and not at all too soon – but you must know that Ms. O'Donnell is going to be in New York in May."

Elliot smiled, "I would hope so – she's staying at my apartment. And I should apologize now," he said to Amy, "Brigit was fit to be tied when I told her we were in England last month and didn't make the extra few hours to get to see her."

"Amy – you didn't mention going to England," Cassandra droned.

"We were just there for a couple of hours on a layover from Spain," Amy supplied, trying to make it sound like it had been nothing at all…

"Brigit still isn't forgiving me," Elliot put his arms around Amy's waist and pulled her gently closer. Her two 'old friends' were turning positively green with envy…

-

"All right, who's Brigit O'Donnell?" Amy asked, when they'd finally escaped the bookshop. "And is she really staying at your place in May?"

"She is – she hates hotels. Brigit grew up like I did – no, I think I had it better."

"Better?" Amy asked.

"I was poorand didn't live in a great neighbourhood– but Brigit was poor and living in Northern Ireland with gunfire and car bombs."

"Oh God – I can't imagine what that must have been like. So who is she?"

"A writer – I'm hoping to introduce your brother to her, actually. She can't stand the society set, hates fancy hotels – and generally can't be bothered with adoring fans like your friends back there."

"I – Bruce is right, hate is a strong word – but I can't remember why I was ever friends with those women."

Elliot chuckled, "Cathy has a few of those."

"What about you?"

"I meant it when I said I didn't have friends."

"None?"

"I had acquaintances – lots of them. They were usually people I wanted something from – and I was willing to socialize just enough to make them trust me, so I could get it."

"You make yourself sound like a real creep."

"I was."

"I don't care," she slid her arm in his as they walked down the street. "I love the man you are today – nothing else matters."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being so forgiving."

-

"Are you really that naive?" Michael wanted to know, when he called her, just to 'see how things were going'.

"Your first private investigator got a picture of me kissing someone and you turned one kiss into an affair that never happened," she replied. "Even my lawyer didn't believe me when I said nothing had happened."

"Your CSO isn't a child, Amy."

"And neither am I."

"But Lauren is."

"Don't even try it."

"I'll only try it if you force me."

"Michael – go to hell," Amy hung up, unable to think of anything more intelligent to say – and angry at herself for that.

"Everything ok?" Maxine asked.

"No – but I'll manage. Thanks," she smiled at her mother, thinking of Elliot again – and the way he'd never known his father. "I love you, Ma. I don't think I say that often enough."

Maxine put an around her daughter's shoulders, "I love you too – and I know I don't say it often enough."

-

Michael hung up the phone – he didn't want to do this – not this way – he didn't want to get nasty – but he had Lauren to think of…he called Dobson – only to discover that the negatives had been damaged beyond all hope of rescue… and no, he wasn't interested in taking more, in fact he was just on his way over to return the check Michael had given him last week…

Dobson had been just about to get out of his car last night when it happened – he'd been edgy all the way home from a late-night surveillance on yet another cheating spouse… all the while he was snapping pictures of the prick, he'd gotten the feeling he was being watched… but there was no one around… then he got home, a dingy little apartment building – pulled into his usual spot…and boom! She landed as if she'd jumped from the fire escape, right onto the hood of his car, denting it and causing him to jump out of his skin. She was clad in black leather, a long trench coat and long black hair swirling around her… But it was that face that made him freeze up inside – a white mask painted black around the eyes and mouth…a mouth painted into a horrifying grin… she put her hand right through the wind shield – he saw the shards of glass sticking out of her skin and she never even winced… She pulled him by the collar, so that they were up close and personal, nose to nose…and he recognized her…the kiddy hooker Burch had seen last week…only her eyes weren't the eyes of a child. They were the black pits of Hell itself... and her voice was liquid ice.

"Make the negatives go away." She dropped him back into the seat of his car and dusted the shards of broken glass from her hands; the bloodied wounds sealed themselves up as he watched. "And warn others of your ilk to stay out of my life – or they'll end up like Edward Cole."

"Ed-Edward Cole?" he stammered.

"You're a private investigator. Investigate."

And then she was gone – a leap – a jump – and the night swallowed her up…

Shaking, Dobson had stumbled up the steps to his fourth story walk up… it didn't take long to discover that Edward Cole had died – mysteriously – about five years ago, along with one of his associates. A third man had killed himself – and a fourth had simply vanished from the face of the earth…that, and the memory of the girl's eyes, was more than enough to convince him to do as she'd 'advised'… A fifth of cheap bourbon later and he went to bed only to dream of being swallowed in blackness – swallowed by Fury – by the pits of Hell itself while a white faced girl laughed and laughed… No amount of money was worth what he saw in that girl's eyes… and while he didn't have many friends, the few he had, he called and suggested that that they stay far, far away from Elliot Burch…

-

Alicia, pregnant with her second child, opened the door, startled to find a well dressed man standing there – after only a second, she recognized him from his picture in the paper… "Michael!"

Michael stopped short. Elliot Burch stood on his doorstep; at least he'd had the decency not to bring a squad of goons with him. "Well. Come in."

"Thank you," Elliot smiled, a little. Kate hadn't told him what she'd done, just that she was quite sure that he would have no further trouble from private investigators – and that no, no one was dead (something she'd said with a wry grin – because of course someone was dead, but she was that someone… in her darker moments, Kate's humour became extremely macabre and rather dry.)

"Alicia – would you excuse us?" Michael turned to his wife.

She just nodded and left the room.

Elliot watched her – she was pretty, he supposed – but not compared to Amy… of course he realized that his judgment was probably clouded. "I won't stay long," he told the ex husband.

"You managed to run off every private investigator in town. I'm impressed."

"I'm sure you could still find some of the larger agencies willing to take the case."

"Why bother – you'd just run them off too. I'm not stupid, I know when I'm beat."

"I know – we'll never be friends – but I'd prefer not to be enemies. I don't understand why you're trying to hurt her."

"Me? – I'm not the one with the trail of bodies in my wake."

Elliot kept his a straight face – the accusation hurt, mostly because he knew there was some truth to it. Even if he hadn't been the one to do anything – Cole and his bunch had to be stopped – and they were unwilling to listen to reason or even be bought off. "From a legal standpoint, neither am I."

"So you really don't even try todeny it, do you?"

"It doesn't matter – you've made up your mind about me. I'm only here to tell you that I love Amy very much – I will not go away. I'm asking you to leave her alone."

"Is this some kind of threat?"

"It's not a threat – I only came here to ask."

"Lauren is my daughter – I can't just – forget about those pictures, even if I was stupid enough to give Amy my only copies."

"It isn't what it seemed. And that's all I'll say, except to remind you that Lauren loves you very much – but if you push her too far – she's at a volatile age. A vulnerable age – you don't want to alienate your own daughter in your effort to vilify me in the eyes of your ex wife."

"Why would you care about my relationship with my daughter?"

"I don't have children – but I have friends who do and I don't mind admitting to a little bit of envy. I've seen the bond that exists between parent and child – how strong it is – and how breakable at the same time. I know you love your daughter – and I know you're only doing what you're doing because you care – because you believe I'm going to hurt them in some way. I have earned my reputation – I accept that, even when what was said wasn't true. And yes, your private investigator crossed a dangerous line and he was – warned off."

"The hooker."

"No – she isn't a hooker," Elliot managed not to become enraged again. "But her privacy is – important."

"You must be good to have talked your way out of that one, with Amy I mean. She was never the trusting sort. I'm still trying to figure out how you've gotten in with Maxine."

"The jury is still out with her – she's just not telling Amy that."

"Figures. So – now what?"

"It's up to you. I truly hope that you will let it drop, Michael. You don't have to like me – you don't have to trust me. You just have to leave Amy alone – and hopefully not alienate Lauren any more than you have already – she knows you're the reason Amy was upset the other night."

"What did you tell her?"

"A gentle version of the truth."

"A slanted version of it."

"I've made every effort to be honest with both of them."

"Well, as they say, history is written by the winners – and I know when I've been beat." Michael didn't offer his hand and he wouldn't accept Elliot's.

Elliot shrugged, and withdrew, harbouring some hope that Amy's ex husband would at least back off.