VIII

I hear your heartbeat

But you're never there

Like a mirage

You haunt me everywhere

All day long I burn for you

Lonely in the night

I try to live alone

But I just can't get it right, you know that

This town's like a painted desert

Dead heat, moving in the city

I'm lost in a painted desert

In a painted desert...without you-always

"Painted Desert", Pat Benetar

One Year Later

All in all, Jo Polniaczek thought, she'd rather be in Philadelphia at the moment.

Instead, at the moment, going on three years after leaving Peekskill, she was in Denver, Colorado. Why the hell she had migrated here during the winter months, she still couldn't figure out. Homeless shelters this time of year, even with spring approaching, were packed. The occasional heavy snows or blizzards, sometimes accompanied by below-zero temperatures had made for some cold, desperate nights for Jo.

Her hair was raven color now, and very long. Now she went by the name of Brittany Robinson, from Tennessee, on her "expired" driver's license. But despite the change in her appearance and name, she was no better than she had been this time the year before, when she was in Sacramento.

In fact, she was much worse.

Weighing barely one hundred pounds now, looking more and more like skin and bones, she had lost so much of her humanity. She was skittish, combative, and very territorial, which she needed to be to stay alive. She had lay more than a few nights while in Denver, over a the past winter, where she slept on a sidewalk grate blowing warm air, only a tattered sleeping bag covering her body. She had also had to endure a blizzard outside, as all the shelters were filled to overflowing. It had hardened her. She knew she would head to warmer climates shortly.

She still had some money, but it was dwindling, through loss, through buying cheap booze and small meals, and now due to her latest vice-heroin.

She had first tried it while in Las Vegas late the year before, with nothing better to do, hoping that it would provide some kind of escape. It had, at least when the euphoria of the drug was coursing through her veins, but the crash left her worse off than she had been before taking a dose, but like many others, she kept coming back to it, trying to find a semblance of something that made her feel good, even though she knew it was killing her.

Today, a late winter storm had swept in from the Rockies, near-blizzard conditions affecting the area. Passing by a local bank, looking for a shelter that had room, it's time and temperature stated it was currently 12 degrees. With a howling wind, Jo knew the wind chill was well below zero. All she had was tennis shoes for her feet, and a coat meant for temperatures in the forties, not heading toward zero. She was desperately cold, her nose constantly running, her threadbare gloves hardly giving any protection to her hands.

Jo was able to find a brief refuge from the wind in an alley, happy not to be fighting the wind on the street. She sat down against the alabaster wall of the building she was next to, pulled out the large rubber band she used to raise the vein in the crease of her elbow, then plunged the cold needle with the opioid into the vein, then covering her arm back up, as much to simply cover the multiple needle marks in her arm as to protect herself from the biting cold.

Jo walked around for several more hours, not being able to find a shelter that had any more room. She had to spend the night in an alley huddled in a door frame, frozen and as miserable as she had ever felt.

As the tears fell from her eyes, almost freezing to her cheeks immediately, and despite the drug coursing through her, trying to take her away from reality, she whispered the woman's name who she still missed with aching intensity.

"Blair..."

Manhattan, New York City

It had been a good day at work for Blair Warner, who was working as an assistant to the Vice-President of International Marketing at Warner International Corporation. She had been an employee in her Daddy's company, of which he was CEO, for the last seven months. Blair had graduated the year before from Langley College just north of New York City, and she was on the fast track to a Corporate leadership role within the huge company.

Blair hadn't felt this good in several years, and there were a few reasons for that. She was really excelling at her position, making heads turn. She didn't want to make it because her Daddy was CEO. She busted her ass, absorbed everything she could from her bosses and co-workers, and wanted to earn everything she would receive.

The other reason was that, for the first time in three years, she was mentally and physically healthier than she had been. She had begun exercising in earnest, to tighten up her very shapely figure, but more importantly, she had, and still was, going through counseling to deal with the disappearance of her best friend, Jo Polniaczek, three years earlier. She didn't want to forget about Jo, and still held out hope that her friend would turn up some day, but she had realized that if she continued to falter as he had been, she'd be a victim just like Jo had been.

It was a Friday afternoon, the blessed weekend in front of her now. She was in her apartment, seven blocks from the corporate headquarters in Manhattan. It was befitting that the apartment was elegant, loaded with every upscale appliance, but with only the one bedroom. Blair had become less enthralled with "things" since Jo vanished. She still liked fine clothes, fine food, and a measure of elegance, but it didn't drive her.

Her job was her life now, but she also made sure to take time out for her physical and mental health.

She had just finished taking a shower, after returning from he workout, a cold glass of water in her hand, a few reports spread on her kitchen table to go over that weekend, when the intercom beeped, telling her someone was wanting to see her.

"This is Blair, how can I help you?"

"Blair, it's your mother. May I come up?"

Blair looked momentarily dumbfounded. Her mother hadn't contacted her since just before Jo had vanished, Monica Warner having had a baby in that time frame, and suddenly she was here. Despite Blair's anger, she kept her cool and composure. Blair depressed the button that would allow someone to come through the security door to the complex.

A few minutes later, she opened the door to see her mother in front of her, with a small child holding her hand.

"Well, aren't you going to invite I and your sister in, Blair?"

Blair didn't say a word, but allowed Monica and Bailey to pass into the dwelling.

Monica eyed the apartment, nodding in approval. "Small, but tastefully decorated and appointed."

Moving immediately to the couch in the living room, Monica took a seat with the child, Blair following behind them.

"Aren't you going to introduce me, mother?" Blair's voice was frosty, to say the least.

"Oh, good gracious me, yes, I'm so sorry, darling." She looked at Blair. "Blair, this is your little sister, Bailey." She then looked at the beautiful little girl. "Bailey, this is your big sister, Blair."

For a moment, Bailey looked almost frightened, but when Blair extended her warmest, brightest smile to the little girl, she relaxed, Blair kneeling down in front of her.

"Bailey", Blair said with thick emotion, "I'm so happy to finally meet my little sister. Can I have a hug?"

The little girl nodded, giving Blair a brief, tentative squeeze, but smiling at the blonde when she released her. "Hi Bair.."

Blair laughed delightedly, wiping a tear from her eye. "You're a very beautiful little girl, Bailey."

"Just like Bair..."

Blair laughed again. "Yes, just like Blair."

Blair retrieved drinks for both of her visitors and herself, then sat in the chair across from them. "So, mother, I don't hear anything for three years from you-Daddy had to tell me about Bailey, and...well, here you are?"

"Yes, well", Monica said, clearing her throat, "here I am. Is there something wrong with me coming to visit my daughter?"

"Mother, I'm not going to get into an argument with you in front of my sister, whom I just met, even though she's three now, but as bad as the last three years have been, I find it amazing you only now have found time for me."

"Blair, dear, I'm concerned about you, and have been for some time. You're obviously doing well at the company. I am a major stockholder, as you know, and I'm proud of the fact that you've been turning heads, not just inside Warner, but in the business world as a whole. But..."

Blair interrupted her. "I knew there was an ulterior motive", she said with some disgust. "There always with you, Mother."

"Dear, it's not an ulterior motive. But there is more to life beyond business. You do remember that you have a fortune waiting for you when you turn thirty, that becomes yours if..."

Again, Blair shut her down. "If I'm married and have a child by then, yes, I know Mother." Blair stood up, taking a sip of her drink while doing so. "Mother, I'm already worth a fortune since turning twenty-one. You can't touch that money now."

"No, that's true, Blair", Monica said calmly, "but I would like a grandchild or two. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"As far as it goes? No, there is nothing wrong with that. But you're more worried how you will look to your high-society friends, aren't you? This is about Jo, isn't it?"

"Why would it be about her?" Monica stood from her seat as well. "I'm sorry that things turned out for Jo the way they have, Blair, but it seems like you're pining for your little ruffian to come home to you."

Had Bailey not been in the room, Blair would have slapped her mother for that comment. In fact, she thought, she still might. "You're no different than Jo's parents, you know that?"

That observation shocked Monica. "You're comparing me to someone barely getting by in The Bronx? How dare you, Blair!"

"Get off your high horse, Mother", Blair said with a bitter laugh. "Her parents were more worried about what others would think of them because Jo came out to them as a lesbian, than how their actions would affect Jo. You? You aren't concerned about me. You're concerned how snobs will look at you."

Monica took a step closer to her oldest daughter. "Blair, I'm simply trying to impress on you the fact that you need to move forward, and get on with your life! You need to find an honorable man to marry, and have children with. It isn't for me, but for the future of our family. Why is that a problem?"

The light finally went on inside of Blair's mind. "You believe I'm a lesbian...don't you?" The amused smile on Blair's face belied the tone of her question.

"Blair, from what I've heard, you've barely looked at a man, let alone dated once since Jo vanished. Why shouldn't I be concerned?"

Blair took a menacing step toward her Mother, glancing over at her little sister, who looked a little nervous about all the fuss. "Mother, I don't consider myself a lesbian, but I can tell you unequivocally that I still love Jo with all my heart. I'd give everything to find her and bring her home. But that doesn't necessarily mean I'm in love with her, as she is...was, with me." Blair relaxed a little. "I'm just not sure what I want for my future right now, Mother. I know, as far as my career, that it's with the company, but on a personal level? I don't know. Perhaps I will find someone who sweeps me off my feet, and someday, I'll marry and have children with. But I'm only in my mid twenties, and I'm in no hurry."

"I just don't want you to waste your life waiting on that delinquent girl to show back up and..."

Despite the presence of her little sister, that was too much for Blair. She slapped her mother hard across the face, Monica looking stunned as her face reddened from the blow.

"I can't believe how heartless you are, Mother. If Jo's even alive, I can't imagine what she's going through. Her parents, her Church, and her entire neighborhood humiliated her, and she felt she couldn't tell me how she felt, but don't ever call her something like that ever."

Blair stepped back from her mother. "Despite what Jo might be going through, she has more humanity inside of her than you do, Mother, and you don't know how much it hurts me to say that. You'd be just as happy if Jo were dead, wouldn't you?"

Monica didn't reply, although Blair could see she thought about some kind of retort. "I'm sorry that's how you feel, Blair. It was pointless for me to come here and try to talk some sense into you. You know how the world we live in works. If you don't get married and have a child by the time you're thirty, you forfeit $400 million."

"I've discovered something in the years since I started at Eastland, Mother, and most especially discovered it since Jo entered my life. Money isn't everything. It isn't close to everything. It's nice to have, but you're a living example of the fact that it can't make one happy or satisfied." The rebuke was, and was meant to be, another slap in the face. "Jo, Mrs. Garrett, Tootie, and Natalie taught me that how someone treats other people defines them far more than money. Jo taught me the value of hard work insofar as my studies went. She taught me that the loyalty and love of a friend is precious and that no monetary value can be placed on it. She taught me that I have value far beyond being a debutante, and she helped make me a better person."

Blair moved toward the window, looking out of it for a moment, here eyes scanning the horizon beyond, hoping maybe her words would find her best friend. "She taught me you can only receive love and respect if you yourself give it back in return." She turned to Monica. "I don't know exactly how I feel about Jo. As far as I know, she's dead, but I keep hoping and praying she's alive. But no matter what her fate, I will always love her with all my heart, with everything I am. I owe that to her, for making me a better person."

The silence was deep and deafening for a few long minutes, Monica not wanting to challenge her daughter's missive.

Finally Monica went back to where Bailey was sitting. "Bailey, dear, it's time for you and mommy to go, dear." She looked back at Blair. "I see it was a mistake coming here to try and reason with you, Blair."

"It wasn't a mistake, Mother", Blair said softly. "I've been expecting this from you. I love you, Mother", she said, her eyes turning glassy, "and I desperately want to know my little sister, but I won't be pressured by you, or anyone else, to live your desires through me. I'm my own woman. Perhaps, someday, you'll realize that, Mother. You and Bailey will always be welcome in my life, but please, remember that it is my life, not yours."

Blair worked her way over to the toddler, that reminded Blair so much of her younger self. She took a knee in front of Bailey. "I'm so glad we met, Bailey. I hope you and I can spend some time together in the future. I want to get to know my little sister."

"Bye, Bair", Bailey said, thoroughly confused by the visit. "I see you again."

Blair kissed the little girl on the cheek. She stood up facing her mother, putting hands on Monica's shoulders. "I do love you, Mother. Please remember that." She leaned in and kissed Monica on the cheek she had slapped. "Please think about what I've said today?"

Without a word, Monica took Bailey's hand, and went to the door, Bailey turning around to look at Blair as the door closed behind her.

When she was sure that her mother and sister were gone, Blair sat down on the couch and wept.

Three Days Later

David Warner was finishing his Monday afternoon, ready to head to a business dinner that night for many of the company's world-wide executives at Peter Luger's in Brooklyn. David Warner felt that it was important to reward those who worked the hardest-and the smartest-for his company, and a thrice-yearly dinner at the famed Brooklyn steakhouse was one of the ways for him to show it.

So far, it had been an outstanding year for Warner International in almost every facet. The corporation, with a wide variety of business ventures across the globe, was now a juggernaut, but a Corporation that was seen as having a heart, and as solid an ethical reputation as any such conglomerate on Earth. He was proud of what he had turned his father's empire into.

The affair didn't start til 8pm, and it was only 4pm, but always liked to arrive early, to talk to the restaurant manager and staff, and to greet the attendees personally. It was the kind of touch that fostered such a good work climate at Warner International.

As he was preparing to depart, a call came in on his direct line. The number was a familiar one: Dennis Levine, Vice-President of Corporate Security. He had known Dennis since his own early days at Warner, and the two were good friends. Dennis wasn't from the circles that the Warner's had associated with, but he was a solid, no-nonsense guy, who was trusted implicitly by the CEO. They talked at least three or four times a week, and Dennis was to be at the dinner that night.

"Hey, Dennis", David said pleasantly. Dennis was no-nonsense, but he was also easy-going when away from work. His voice this day, however, was quite serious.

"David, I know you're just heading out for the dinner, but I needed to tell you I received a report via the NYPD. Seems in Metro Dallas, the body of a female fitting Jo Polniaczek's description was found today in a lake. It's decomposed, but definitely female. I've contacted the DPD and told them of our interest in this one."

"Jesus", David Warner breathed. "How long until they know something?"

"Probably tomorrow, at the earliest. The NYPD has sent over fingerprints they have on file for Jo when she was younger. Haven't heard if there is enough for a match."

"I hope to Christ this isn't..." He paused for a moment. "Any idea if the media here in New York have learned about it?"

"There's some damn good reporters that have their sources in the precincts and downtown. It's a good bet, with a New York angle, it'll be on the news somewhere tonight or in the morning."

"You still coming to the dinner tonight, Dennis?"

"No, I apologize, David", the man said sincerely. "I know how high priority Ms. Polniaczek's case is for you and your daughter. I'm gonna head downtown and talk to the Chief, and see if he can shake anything more from Dallas."

"All of a sudden, I don't have an appetite, Dennis", the CEO said darkly. "If this is...if it's Jo, Blair is going to be a mess. But I gotta go, Dennis."

"I know you do, Boss", the VP said to David. "You want me to notify Blair of what's going on?"

David thought on that one for a few moments. "I'd hate for her to hear it from WABC or one of the other stations, to be honest. Can you hold on for a moment, Dennis?"

David put his VP on hold, to find out if Blair was still in the building. She was. He knew Dennis wasn't, as Dennis's Security department was housed in another high-rise ten minutes away.

"Dennis, if you can make it down here, we can tell her together."

"Consider it done, Boss", the man said with conviction. "I think I'll stop by at St. Patrick's tonight and say a few prayers."

"Dennis, you're Jewish for cryin out loud."

Despite the situation, Levine chuckled. "I know, but it never hurts to light a votive candle, does it? But I'm praying it isn't her."

A half hour later, the Vice-President of Corporate Security was in David's office. When he arrived, David called for his daughter to join him.