Part Three : Opening Arguments

Steve never got a chance to enter the KKLA building. He spotted the woman who was the source of his angst coming out of the front doors. She looked irritatingly innocent and at peace with her world. It only added to his anger.

Double parking in the filled-to-capacity visitor's lot, he slammed out of his truck and strode determinedly in her direction as she made her way down the walk. She smiled at his approach.

"What do you think you're doing?" He demanded, blocking her path. He wanted to get to the bottom of this thing with her, here and now. Wasn't it enough that she'd gotten away with murder? Did she have to continue to torment him?

"Oh you mean the interview?" She gestured back toward the station. Then, not waiting for a response, she continued, "I was invited. Mike & Jim were very persuasive. I really didn't feel that I could turn them down."

"Really?" Steve asked dryly. "Were they persuasive when you decided to start a poll about us?"

"No. I didn't need much urging on that score. I think we make a great couple. I have since our first date. The chemistry is through the roof, don't you think?" She looked deeply into his eyes for several moments, before allowing a small satisfied smile to lift one corner of her lips. "I just wanted to see if any one else could see what I do."

Steve's anger deepened. "There is no us!" he ground out. "And in case it has slipped your mind, you killed two men. My father is probably next on your list since his testimony was the most damning. That is hardly what I would call a promising relationship prospect."

"Very little slips my mind, Steve," she said softly, her voice suddenly serious. "It's one of my flaws. It's also why I can't forget you. But you're wrong. I adore Mark. I wouldn't think of harming a single hair on his head. I would never try to kill him."

Stared glared at her. "I'm supposed to just believe that? The word of a murderer?"

She sighed and shook her head, her tone suggesting boredom that he didn't understand. "He was only doing what he thought was right. He was seeking justice. I admire that. And I never lied to you, Steve. Not once. And I wouldn't lie to you about this."

"A lie of omission, is still a lie. Besides, you lied to the court."

"Are you sure?" she questioned. "Are you sure that you didn't get so bogged down in all that circumstantial evidence that you refused to see what was really right in front of you? Are you so used to your father being right that you can't accept that he might have been wrong? He's a good man, Steve. But in the long run, he's just a man."

"You're not going to turn me against my father."

"I know." She smiled. "And that's another thing I love about you. You take care of him. Give him my love. He's perfectly safe from me."

Steve held her gaze for a moment longer, then grunted and turned away. There was really no place else to go with the conversation. And it irritated him that he was inclined to believe her when she said that she wouldn't harm his father.

"Steve." He'd gotten several steps away when she called him back. He turned to face her, not sure what to expect.

Her gaze smoldered. "I've always liked those pants on you."

Steve made a sound of disgust and turned away from her frank appraisal. Did she think he was a fool? That he could be led around by physical cravings? Her laughter followed him for several feet, then she spoke again.

"Your instincts are correct, you know."

That got his attention. He stopped and partially turned back. There was something more hanging on those words. The air seemed charged with the importance of it. "What instincts?" he asked over his shoulder.

She took several steps closer, and Steve observed her slow languorous approach. She stepped into his personal space, moved up on tip-toe and placed her hands on his shoulders. Steve allowed his arms to hang limply at his sides as she whispered near his ear. "Someone is going to die. But it isn't going to be Mark."

Moving back down from her tip toes she took a step back. With a small smile she turned and headed off in the opposite direction.

Steve stood stunned for several moments, then ran after her. "Who?" he demanded, grabbing her arm. "Who is going to die?"

She looked innocently up at him. "I don't know. How could I?" Removing her arm from his hand, she turned again.

Steve would have followed, but his phone choose that moment to ring.

-- -- -- --

Mark had settled behind his desk and punched in Steve's cell phone number. His son picked up on the second ring, his tone non-too-pleased.

"Sloan here!"

"Steve?" Mark couldn't keep the concern out of his voice. He knew how Steve had felt about Amber. He suspected that, despite all that had happened, some of those feelings were still there. They were just buried under a good bit of anger.

"Dad." Some of the frustration drained out of his voice.

"You at the radio station?" Mark asked.

"Yeah," Steve's reply came back over the line. "How'd you know?"

"Jess told us he called you." Mark didn't feel it prudent to alert his son to the fact that he was aware of how often proximity to Amber raised his blood pressure.

"Yeah, he did."

"What happened?"

"I saw her."

Mark waited. Then when nothing more seemed forthcoming, he prompted, "Did you talk to her?"

"Yes, I talked to her. But I really don't want to talk about it, Dad."

"Okay. I understand," Mark said, though he didn't. He knew that Steve tended to be a private person. But he felt strongly that whatever had happened, his son needed to get it out. He allowed his words to linger in the silence. Either Steve would volunteer the information, or he would find an excuse to exit the conversation and Mark would be forced to wait until he was ready. Mark hoped that it wouldn't be the latter. His hope was realized moments later.

"She said someone else was going to die."

Mark was aghast. He had hoped that her pattern of revenge was over. Perhaps, having succeeded with her first two targets, she was on the prowl for the next. "She didn't! Did she say who?"

"No." He could hear Steve's sigh over the line. "But she promised that it wouldn't be you." Another sigh. "I think she's messing with me dad."

"I'm sure of that, son. So you think she's after me, huh?"

"Dad, listen. I don't know. I really need to follow up on some leads. If nothing else, she did tend to telegraph her moves. I just never managed to catch on to them in time. Meanwhile, please be careful."

"I will. And I'm sure you'll come up with something." Mark tried to reassure him.

"Thanks, Dad." Steve sounded a little defeated as he disconnected.

Mark hung up his phone and settled back into his chair. Something tickled at his mind. What was it that Steve said? That Amber telegraphed her moves? The words stuck as remembered the first time he'd met her. . .

Mark was walking along the passage that connected the cafeteria with the gift shop and the pharmacy. One side of the passage was glass and opened at intervals out onto the patio. The rounded tables were filled with hospital workers and visitors taking advantage of the beautiful weather. But it was one person, a brown-haired police lieutenant seated across from a lovely redhead that caught Mark's attention.

Curious, he moved through the next set of doors which led outside. He noted that the young woman wore a Community General identification badge. Mark guessed that she was the young lady that Steve had dinner with the night before.

"Hi Son," Mark touched him on the shoulder, and smiled warmly at the woman seated on the opposite side of the table.

Steve turned in his chair and smiled up at him. "Hi Dad."

Mark's sharp father's eye didn't miss the lingering light in his son's eyes, or the way he stumbled over himself as he introduced the young lady. "Dad, this is Amber McPherson. She just started here a couple of days ago. Amber, this is my father, Dr. Mark Sloan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Mark told her. "Where are you working?"

"I started in records," she replied pleasantly. "It's been an interesting experience."

"Oh, I'm sure it has," Mark chuckled. "You're working with Netta Meadows aren't you?" He called to mind the meticulous woman who was the administrator of the records area. The short rotund woman was not known for her tact or mercy, and struck fear in the hearts of many. But Community General's records processes were flawless.

"That would be a yes," Amber's eyes twinkled with humor. "It's only been 2 days and I think I know the clump of her heels at 20 paces."

Mark laughed, and would have said more, but Steve cut in. "Dad, would you like a coffee?"

"No, I couldn't interrupt." Mark said though he wanted nothing more than to find out more about this woman who was his son's latest love interest.

"No Dad, I insist." Steve saw right through him. He stood and moved off toward the cafeteria serving line.

Mark smiled after him, then gestured toward a free chair. "May I?"

"Absolutely."

He settled at the small table and studied the girl across from him. She was certainly lovely. She smiled at him.

"You know Netta Meadows, you must have worked here a long time, Dr. Sloan."

"Please. It's Mark. And I think Netta's reputation precedes her. But I have been here a long time. Longer than I'd like to say," he laughed.

"You must love your work," she commented, her head tilted slightly as she considered him. "You like helping people. Is that why you chose to become a doctor?"

Mark laughed and looked at her curiously. That was a question he hadn't thought about in years. "Well, I suppose that's partially true. But there is more to it than that. There were a lot of factors that went into the decision."

"I can understand that. There are always a lot of layers to why we humans do the things we do."

"That there are," Mark agreed. "Was there any particular reason you chose your particular career?"

She laughed. "Oh come now, Mark. I wouldn't call what I'm doing in records a career. It's mostly temporary work until I decide what I really want to do with the rest of my life."

Mark nodded.

She continued. "You know, I used to want to be a doctor."

"Well, it's not too late. Why don't you go for it?"

She shook her head. "No, I couldn't. You see, when I was about 12 years old, my entire family was in an automobile accident. We were all taken to the hospital. My father and my brother never left. They died there. Hospitals terrified me after that. It took a year of therapy to get me back on track. After that, it didn't seem so much a goal for me to become a doctor."

Mark frowned. "I'm very sorry to hear about what happened to your family. But you seem to be doing fine with being here now."

"Oh, well, call it a way to face my fears without benefit of the therapist. Besides, my mother became very ill about four years ago. She was in and out of Keller Memorial until her death. We were very close. And if I wanted to be near her, I had to come to the hospital. So, you see, still no good memories of hospitals."

Steve chose that moment to arrive, settling a cup of coffee in front of him. . .

Mark blinked away the memories. His eyes settled on the canvas bag carrying party favors. A thought occurred to him. Amber had killed the doctor's who she felt had taken her mother's chance for life. Young Darryl Tremaine was the person who had taken her mother's place in the study. Was it possible that she could be after him next?

To be continued. . .