Chapter XXIX: Another One Bites the Dust

There was an eerie silence in the waiting room of the burn unit at Cedars. The fire on the Queen Mary had been a small one, involving only a few staterooms, and there had not been much material damage to the ship. It was true that most of the designer gowns stored in the rooms had been ruined in the flames, but nobody at Forrester or E F Couture was thinking about that at the moment.

When the fire alarm sounded, most of the numerous guests and crew had been able to evacuate the ship rapidly. It was the opinion of the Los Angeles fire department that a major disaster had been narrowly avoided. As it was, only two people had been seriously injured: Hope Logan and her father, Deacon Sharpe. They had both been brought in with severe burns and signs of smoke inhalation, and their prognosis was uncertain. Virtually the whole Forrester clan had gathered in the hospital waiting area. They did not speak, but rather sat there, anxious, waiting, looking up with fear on their faces whenever a doctor or a nurse passed in the corridor. It was not just the fact that one of their own was fighting for her life. It was also the information they had just received from the police officer who had just been there to talk to them.

The fire had been no accident. It had been triggered by an explosive device, which had been planted in the dressing room and deliberately set to go off at a given time. It had been an intricate little bomb, one that would have taken a great level of expertise to construct. Someone had gone through great trouble to build it, and to put it there. To hurt them. It was a frightening thought.

"Who could have done such a thing?" Eric whispered, shaking his head and looking very old. "It makes no sense that someone would hate us so much…"

"And Hope", Rick said softly, "who never hurt a fly. The sweetest girl anyone could imagine."

Brooke said nothing. She was sitting in a chair, staring blankly in front of her, silent tears streaming down her face. Sitting down next to her, Ridge put an arm around her shoulders.

"She will pull through, Logan", he said. "She's a fighter."

Brooke merely nodded.

Again, there was that uneasy silence. Donna went to get a cup of coffee for her sister, who just accepted the cup without drinking anything. Thorne went looking for a doctor to see if there was any news, but returned soon after without having found out anything. Alone, in a distant corner of the room, Macy stood watching the rest, her mind wandering in circles. If she had not encouraged Deacon to go backstage and talk to Hope, he wouldn't have been caught in the fire. Maybe, Hope wouldn't have been delayed in the dressing room and she would have been out of there well before… then again, maybe she would have stayed in there anyway, and if so, she would have been alone back there when the bomb detonated and nobody would have found her…

The sudden appearance of Dr Meade interrupted her thoughts. Everybody looked up. He approached them gravely.

"Are you the family of Hope Logan?" he asked.

Everybody nodded.

"I just want to let you know that she is still in intensive care in critical condition. She has a concussion, severe burns and has inhaled quite a lot of smoke."

Brooke looked at him pleadingly, but could not bring herself to ask anything. Ridge, seeing what she was thinking, put her fears into words.

"What does that mean, doctor?" he asked. "She will be all right, won't she?"

"It's too early to tell", Dr Meade replied. "She needs all of your prayers right now."

"Oh, my God!" Donna whispered tearfully.

"As for Deacon Sharpe…" the doctor continued. "I would like a word with his family, as well."

He looked around. Out of all the people who were gathered in the waiting room, only Macy responded.

"I am his wife", she said. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that your husband's condition is very serious indeed, and it is deteriorating rapidly. He is in intensive care as well, with life-threatening injuries. It seems that even though both he and his daughter were found in the same room, he had been exposed to more heat and smoke, probably because he made an effort to shield her from the worst of it. We are doing everything we can, but… well, I'm afraid that it doesn't look too good."

Macy nodded silently.

"I will keep you informed", Dr Meade said. "I am sorry I don't have better news for you."

"Thank you, Doctor", Macy said tonelessly as Dr Meade left.

Again, the room was quiet. Nobody seemed to know what to say about this man who had suddenly and unexpectedly reappeared, only to end up in the hospital after seemingly trying to rescue his daughter from the flames. Ridge glanced at Brooke, trying to read her reaction to the news. She looked perplexed but not any more grieved than she had been a moment ago. It was clear that her thoughts were with Hope right now, not with Deacon. She didn't seem to have any residual romantic feelings for that man, after all. Maybe Ridge had overreacted to that stupid text message. Maybe it had really been as innocent as Brooke had claimed…

Thorne walked up to Macy and murmured under his breath:

"Are you all right?"

"Yes", Macy said, turning to face him. "I think so."

"How are you feeling?" he asked with concern in his voice.

"I'm not", Macy replied. "That's just it. I feel… blank. I know that he's my husband, but I can't really wrap my head around it. I just think about that talk we had and how much he was looking forward to seeing his daughter, and I think to myself 'that's Hope's father in there fighting for his life' and my heart breaks for the two of them, but it's like it doesn't really have anything to do with me, like he's a stranger I just met. And I hate myself for saying that, and part of me thinks you're the last person in the world I should be discussing my marriage with…"

"Hey, you can talk to me about anything", Thorne said. "We are friends, after all, aren't we?"

"Deacon didn't seem to think so. And I think I owe it to him not to… not now, while he's…"

"I see", Thorne said, nodding. "Then let's just… let's just pray that he pulls through, okay? I hope that he'll be all right. I mean that, Macy."

"I know you do."

There was an awkward pause, like so many times before when Thorne and Macy had mentioned Deacon. A surprised cry from Eric broke the uncomfortable moment.

"What in the world…!" he exclaimed, taking out a small envelope from his suit pocket.

"What is it?" Ridge asked. "Who is it from?"

"I have no idea", Eric said. "I didn't put it there, and it wasn't there when I left home. Someone must have sneaked it into my pocket tonight."

"So what does it say?" Donna asked. "Open it!"

Eric tore open the envelope and pulled out a hand-written letter. His eyes wide with surprise, he read it aloud:

Mr Forrester, you must be careful, tonight and in the future. There are people around who want to hurt you and your family. I do not know them by name, but I know that they belong to the mob and their leader goes by the nickname "The Boss". They have their head quarters in the Nevada desert where they used to operate out of an illegal nightclub. It has since been closed down following the death of its owner, but the organization is still strong and very dangerous. Please be vigilant, your lives may depend on it. Kind regards, one who wishes you well.

"Let me see that!" Rick said quickly. "It can't be genuine, it sounds like something out of a bad TV movie."

"But the police just said the fire was caused by a bomb", Donna objected, her face troubled. "It fits. I just don't get it… why would the mob have anything against the Forrester family?"

Macy said nothing, but her face had turned white. Thorne noticed it and whispered:

"Mace, do you know anything about this?"

She didn't reply.

"If you do, you have to say so", Thorne insisted. "Macy, please!"

Still no reply. That very moment, Dr Meade reappeared in the waiting room and everyone's attention shifted from the strange letter to the doctor. He spoke:

"We have managed to stabilize Hope. We have treated her burns and given her some very strong pain medication, but she is conscious now and no longer in intensive care."

"Thank God!" Brooke cried. "When can we see her?"

"We're bringing her to a room now. It will only be a few minutes."

"Do you have any news about Deacon?" Macy asked.

The doctor's face darkened.

"Yes", he said slowly. "Mrs Sharpe, maybe you would like to come with me, so we can talk in private…"

"There's no need", Macy said calmly. "Just tell me. It's bad news, right?"

"I am sorry, but yes, it is very bad news…"

"Is he dead?" Macy asked rapidly.

Dr Meade took a deep breath.

"We couldn't save him. I am very sorry, ma'am."

Macy nodded mechanically. She was numb. A moment later, Thorne had to drag her out of the way as two nurses wheeled Hope's bed through the corridor and into a nearby room. Dr Meade motioned to everybody to follow, indicating that it was all right to see the patient now. Once the nurses had brought in Hope's bed, they attached her to the IVs and monitors and then left the room. The girl's arms and legs were covered with bandages. Brooke, Rick and Donna followed the doctor into the room while the rest waited outside, looking in through a window in the wall. From the corridor where Eric, Thorne and Macy were watching the scene as it unfolded in the hospital room, it was clear that Hope was awake and talking to her mother, even though it was impossible to hear what they were saying. Hope shifted uneasily in the bed, looking from one person to the next and around the room, and seemed to be asking a question. Brooke took her daughter's hand, stroked her hair and answered gently.

The look on Hope's face as she heard the reply said it all. There could be no doubt about it - she had just been told about her father's death. First, she shook her head and mouthed the word "no". Then, as the news began to sink in, tears started streaming down her face and she began sobbing uncontrollably. Brooke leaned forward and took the girl in her arms, rocking her back and forth like a baby. It became obvious to everyone that in spite of everything that had happened, and the limited contact she had had with him over the years, Hope had loved her father.

"My God, the poor girl", Eric whispered, wiping his eyes. "Who could have done something like this?"

Thorne glanced at Macy, but she didn't take any notice of it. Her eyes were on the crying girl in the hospital bed. This was wrong, so wrong. That young woman had lost her father just when she was about to get him back, when she was about to rebuild her relationship with him. Now that chance was taken from her, gone forever, because of the Boss. It had to be his doing. It was there in the note, in black and white. Who had written it? Who, besides herself, knew about the organization and its hierarchy? And why were those people targeting the Forrester family now? Macy had done everything in her power to keep Thorne and his family out of this, but somehow, it hadn't been enough. What could she have done differently? Was there something she had missed, a danger she had overlooked? Was it, ultimately, her fault? And, she thought with a shudder, would it ever end? Could she stop it now, or was it too late?

Macy looked again at Hope. The Boss had killed that girl's father. Just like he had killed Macy's father. And he had got away with it, with no consequences, because he was powerful. Because he inspired fear in everyone around him, and that fear translated into silence. Slowly, Macy felt her own fear giving way, transforming into another feeling - stronger, more intense. It was anger. This time, the Boss wouldn't get away with it! Not if she had any say in it.

"Eric", Macy suddenly said, "I think I know what that strange letter refers to. I don't know who wrote it, but it's not a hoax. It's all true. I know these people."

Eric stared at her. Thorne nodded encouragingly.

"You have to tell us, Macy", he said. "I know you wanted to put it all behind you, but you have to see now there's no other way. We need to know exactly what we're dealing with here."

"I know", Macy said, taking a deep breath. "I will tell you everything."


In the dark hotel room, Sheila chuckled.

"You're right", she said. "Our time was definitely better spent this way than staying at that fashion show."

The Boss turned to the woman who was lying next to him in the bed and kissed her neck.

"I told you so", he said smugly. "I think I have a better idea than those people on how to make a night unforgettable."

"I'll say", Sheila agreed, then continued innocently: "What do you suppose they're doing right now, anyway? Dancing, celebrating their great success, drinking champagne, watching fireworks, fighting off reporters…"

"My money's on the fireworks", the Boss answered with a grin.

Sheila threw him a sideways glance. Was he implying…? Never mind, if anything had happened after they'd left she would hear about it sooner or later, without asking. It was better to use this night to try to build his trust in her. It wouldn't be easy - the Boss was naturally suspicious of strangers. Even beautiful ones.

"I'm glad you went with me to that gala tonight", Sheila cooed. "I so hated the idea of being stood up..."

"Whoever did that, whatever the guy's name is, he must be out of his mind", the Boss said chivalrously. "It's clearly his loss."

"And my gain", Sheila added. "I do hope it's not the last time we go out. I had a good time tonight. A very, very good time…"

She bent over the Boss's face and started kissing him passionately. He laughed.

"You are insatiable!" he said. "Luckily for you, so am I…"

The Boss responded as Sheila had hoped. He pulled her close, covering her whole body in skillful caresses. Typical Italian lover, she thought. Massimo had been the same way. Sure of himself, a little too confident in his ability to please a woman. This man knew what he was doing, no doubt about that. Probably a real Casanova type, with quite a track record and a keen eye for women. But those same qualities that had made the Boss open to seduction also made it difficult for Sheila to get further into his mind, and that's where she needed to go if her plan was to be successful. Becoming physically intimate with him was the easy part, but it had been clear from the start that the Boss had a very superficial view of those things. He had found her attractive, and that had been enough for him to want to spend the night with her. No expectations of commitment, of course. No real closeness. No break in that solid armor that surrounded all his well-kept secrets. But it was a start.

Tomorrow, Sheila would contemplate her next move. Tonight, she could safely allow herself to enjoy the moment. So far, so good.