CHAPTER 12

Josiah un-cocked his gun and slipped it into the waistband of his pants before unlocking the door and holding it open to admit the tracker around eight o'clock the next morning.  "Good morning, Vin.  Are you here to take my post, or are you just delivering breakfast?" he asked pleasantly as he shut the door behind the other man. 

Alex looked up from where she was curled up in one of the recliners reading a book and watched the sharpshooter step into the foyer with two bags and a drink carton holding four cups of coffee in hand.  He nodded a good morning to her before answering Josiah's question.  "Both.  Chris wants you to go with Nathan to cover Randolph.  Kelly and his boys are on the construction company and team three is at the warehouse."

He and Josiah headed down the hall toward the kitchen, trailing an absolutely wonderful aroma behind them.  She sniffed the air and quickly set her book aside to follow the enticing smell.  She stepped into the room just as Vin set the bags and coffee container down on the counter. 

Josiah dug into a bag and pulled a warm, sticky cinnamon bun out from the depths before reaching for one of the coffees.  He sipped at the hot brew and sighed with pleasure at the rich taste.  "Ahh.  Pure heaven," he declared contentedly, taking a huge bite out of the bun.

Vin grinned.  "You know how Ezra is if he don't get his Starbucks of a morning."

Josiah nodded in agreement as he swallowed.  "Yes, well I can understand his insistence on the stop every morning if this is the ambrosia he's after.  Brother Ezra definitely knows his coffee."

Vin pulled his own cup free.  "He still in bed?"

"Of course.  You know Ezra's never out of bed before ten unless he has to."  Josiah finished off his cinnamon bun.

Vin grinned and grabbed a bun from the bag.  "He does enjoy his beauty sleep," he commented before taking a bite.

Alex stood quietly at the sink, watching the interplay and frowned slightly at the comment but decided to keep her thoughts to herself.  It wasn't her business, after all.

Josiah took another sip from his cup then glanced at his watch.  "Well, I'd better be getting out of here then.  Is Nathan at the office or en route?"

"He said he'd meet you at the bookshop across from the financial building.  I came in one of the pool cars," Vin answered, tossing Josiah the keys before finishing off his own pastry.

Josiah nodded and slipped into his jacket, adjusting the collar before zipping it up.  He grabbed another confection from the bag.  "See you later," he lifted his free hand in a backward wave as he left the room.  A few seconds later, they heard the front door softly click shut.

Vin pulled the cinnamon bun container from the bag and folded the brown paper up before sticking it in the trash can.  He leaned back against the counter and reached for another bun while sipping from his coffee container with the other hand.  He motioned at the pastries.  "These are for you, too, you know," he smiled softly at the girl. 

Alex blushed a little, tentatively picked up the smallest bun, and nibbled at it.  Vin pointed at the coffee.  "This too."

She shook her head and licked at the icing on her lips before answering him.  "Oh, no thank you.  I'm not a coffee drinker."

Vin nodded and turned to empty the other sack.  "Then I'm glad I stopped by and got this," he said as he handed her a quart of milk and a large bottle of Sunny Delight®.  He laid a bag of freshly made bagels on the counter and put the requested cream cheese and fruit in the refrigerator.  "There's plenty of them buns, so take as many as you want," he commented, not turning from his task but instinctively knowing what was going through the girl's mind.

She looked up from the glass she was filling with milk and he gave her a half smile.  The sympathy and understanding she saw in his eyes unnerved her a little, and she averted her gaze, turning instead to put the milk carton and the juice into the refrigerator.  "Oh, um, okay.  Thanks," she stammered a little, her cheeks coloring slightly again.

Vin again leaned back against the counter and sipped at his coffee, making sure to give the somewhat nervous girl plenty of personal space, watching as she took a drink from her milk.  "So, how did you say you wound up in that hangar?" he asked offhandedly, keeping an eye on her as he reached for another confection.

She met his gaze with a slightly raised eyebrow.  "I don't recall saying," she responded.

"Actually, you didn't say much of anything last night beyond hello," he pointed out, smiling disarmingly, trying to show that he wasn't interrogating her.

Her lips quirked into a half-smirk.  "Ezra was doing such an excellent job last night, I didn't feel that it was necessary for me to add anything."

He chuckled slightly.  "When it comes to words, Ol' Ez always does an excellent job."  He finished off his coffee and surreptitiously pushed the cinnamon bun container toward her while licking at the icing on his fingers.  Silence temporarily filled the room before he broke it.  "You know, I've been where you are," he casually stated, pulling a paper towel from the dispenser and wiping his hands.

"And where do you think that is?" she asked, focusing on him with a poignant look.

He returned her gaze with his own knowing look as he slid his hands into the pockets of his beat-up leather jacket.  "It's kinda obvious you haven't had it real easy for a while now," he shrugged slightly, looking down at his boots.  "Though maybe it's just easier for an ex-street kid to spot another."  He smiled at her and she slowly returned it, shaking her head.

"Maybe it is at that," she chuckled.  "Well, you seemed to've done well, despite your humble roots," she commented as she took note of his appearance, nodding in admiration.

"I've done alright," he agreed.  "You don't look like you've done too bad by yourself, either."  He had noticed the clear eyes and the pride that shown in them, something that was quite rare for a child of the streets.  It was clear to him that she hadn't given up on herself yet.

Alex tilted her head a little in a dismissive gesture.  "I try.  Don't plan on staying there forever."

He nodded in approval.  "It's a good thing to have plans," he said quietly.  "Helps in the hard times, when ya got good memories and goals to fall back on."

She smiled softly as she reached for another bun.  "Yes, it is, isn't it?"

They fell into a companionable silence, she finishing off her milk then rinsing the glass in the sink; he drinking another cup of coffee and eating another cinnamon bun.  He watched her features soften as she leaned back against the sink with crossed arms when she finished and stared out the curtained window at the mountain scenery beyond.  The wariness and tension that was barely detectible in her eyes seemed to melt as she gazed at the peaceful view.  "Iffin you ever need it, there's a shelter bein' run in the old Murphy Theater in Purgatorio," he finally spoke up.  "The people runnin' it are good folk, and they'll take ya in, no questions asked.  They keep the place clean and don't let no troublemakers in there.  You'd be safe there.  And it's warmer than an airplane hangar," he smirked.

She turned her gaze from the scenery to look at him and laughed.  "Yes, but that airplane hangar got plenty warm after a while—warmer than I was comfortable with, actually."

Vin shook his head with his own chuckle as he tossed his empty coffee cup and used paper towel in the trashcan.  "Well, at least at this place, you don't have to be out-running bullets or escaping murders."

"Or saving ATF agents or jumping out windows to keep from being blown to kingdom come, either, I hope," she added dryly.

"That either," Vin grinned.  He turned to leave the room, but stopped and looked back at her, his face turning serious.  "Not speaking for the others, but whatever trouble you're in, I'll help ya, if ya want me to," he stated firmly.

She turned back to him, a little surprise lighting her blue eyes.  "Trouble? What makes you think I'm in trouble?" she smirked with crossed her arms.

He snorted.  "Most people don't live on the streets 'cause they want to.  They're either at the end of their rope and caught in a bad situation, or beyond caring.  And since you seem to have a bit of fire still in ya, I'd say you're there 'cause you didn't have any other choice."

She shrugged self-depreciatingly.  "It seemed to be the only choice at the time, anyway," she answered softly, a slight melancholy seeming to enshroud her for a moment as she turned her gaze back out the window.   "Though sometimes I wonder."

He followed her line of sight to the snow-capped peaks rising in the distance, feeling the pull they seemed to have over him strengthen for a moment.  Maybe when this case was over, he could take a long weekend and spend some time up in the woods above Larabee's ranch. Maybe do a little hunting or fishing, or maybe track down that fourteen-point elk he had seen up there back in November. Peso could use the exercise, at any rate.  He nodded to himself, liking the idea. 

Yep, he could use the time away.

He pulled his gaze from the captivating scene and from his musings with some difficulty and again focused on the girl.  "I mean it," he said softly.  "You need the help, ya just ask for Vin Tanner."

She looked down at her hands then back up at him, searching his eyes for any kind of deceit but finding nothing but kindness and understanding in the blue depths.  "Why?" she finally asked.  "You have no idea who I am or what kind of person I am.  You have no idea what I could have possibly gotten myself into."

"Because, my dear, like myself, Mr. Tanner has an uncommon perception of others and can see that you are more than what your circumstances dictate.  And besides, there comes a time when one must rely on someone outside of himself to overcome their situation—at least, that is what a certain source has so informed me."

Vin and Alex both turned at the comment to find Ezra leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and a smile gracing his face.  He was freshly shaven and impeccably groomed, dressed in a pair of gray kakis, a black shirt, and a pair of loafers. His eyes were clear and twinkling in amusement, though evidence of several sleepless nights in a row was beginning to show in his features. 

Alex grinned and shook her head at hearing her own words tossed back at her, wondering just how long he had been standing there and why she hadn't noticed him.  She must have been more tired than she thought! 

Ezra stood up and entered the room, patting her on the shoulder as he made a bee-line for the coffee on the counter.  "Is that Mocha Valencia I smell?" he asked, reaching for the last cup.  He practically purred with pleasure as he took a sip of the steaming brew.

Vin grinned at his teammate.  "Yep.  And those sticky buns are from the bakery over on Beckham.  Thought Josiah would need something for breakfast. Didn't figure on you being up so early, though."

Ezra grimaced as he pulled a paper towel off the dispenser and reached for a cinnamon bun.  "Yes, well, with all that racket down here, how can one possible find any rest?  Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to see what Josiah did with my morning paper."  He quickly left the room, coffee and pastry in hand.

Vin exchanged disbelieving looks with Alex before grabbing the last pastry and following the smaller man out the door. Alex laughed quietly.  Though she couldn't hear Ezra's replies, she could hear Vin's comments quite clearly from down the hall. "Racket?  What racket? A tomb couldn't have been any quieter!......Hey, where's the funnies page?…….Come on, Ez, quit hogging the whole paper.  You can't read it all at one time!.......I'll be done with it long before you get there…….Ain't your momma ever taught you to share? Wait—don't answer that…….Just let me have the d**n paper…….Ezra!"

* * * * * * *

The evening found Ezra sitting in one of his dining room chairs, absent-mindedly flipping through the materials they had gathered for the case while half-listening to the noise of the boxing match on the television in the next room, Buck's shouts at the contenders and the referees, JD's music (which he could still hear, even though the boy was clear across the room sitting at his computer with headphones on), and Nathan and Josiah's argument from his kitchen over dinner. Chris sat across from him, silently going through the same papers, but a particularly obscene exclamation from Buck drew a snort and a mild head shake from the leader, proving that he was paying some attention to the atmosphere around him. Vin had disappeared outside some time ago, claiming to be keeping watch, but more than likely trying to escape the close confines of the townhouse.  He hadn't seen Alex since the rest of the guys had arrived a few hours ago.

Another annoyed shout of "Josiah, get away from that pot!" had Ezra looking up in disbelief to see Josiah once again trying to spice up the spaghetti and meatballs Nathan was attempting to make from one of Rain's recipes.  Nathan rapped the older man on the knuckles with a spoon and jerked the hot sauce bottle away from the preacher while muttering under his breath, and Ezra shook his head in amazement.

With eating habits like that, how could the man possibly have a stomach left?

He lay the pencil he had in his hand down on the tablet in front of him and sat back and rubbed his eyes tiredly.  JD and Buck had arrived at one that afternoon to relieve Vin with a couple bags of groceries in hand as they pushed their way into the townhouse.  JD had immediately taken over the computer and hadn't moved from the spot since.  Ezra had periodically interrupted him with offers of drink and food, if nothing more than to get the young man to rest his eyes.

It amazed him that the boy wasn't half blind by now!

Buck had hovered in the background, moving from room to room every once in a while before settling back in the living room.  He had turned the TV on low at first, while he was on watch, but when Chris and the others had arrived that evening and Vin took over, the television had gotten a little louder, and before Ezra knew it, Buck was on the phone to the cable company, ordering several pay-per-view items with promises to reimburse him next payday.

Ezra didn't even want to think about what the ladies man intended on watching after the boxing match.

Nathan had come with the supplies to make dinner, claiming that two weeks straight of takeout was just too much, and he had moved right in to the kitchen.  Every once in a while he would ask Ezra where something was (which Ezra usually didn't have) and then would shake his head, not understanding how the man survived this long on his own and grumbling under his breath about his teammates' blood pressures, cholesterol levels, and over all physical health, wondering just why none of them had dropped dead of a heart attack yet, considering that the main part of their diet consisted of pizza, hamburgers, and Chinese food—or in Ezra's case—Thai food and fine French cuisine. 

Despite Josiah's not-so-helpful suggestions, Nathan had almost succeeded in completing his meal, and an absolutely delicious smell was now wafting through the dining room, making Ezra's stomach growl.  He reached for his glass as he scanned yet another page then frowned when he realized the glass was empty.  He stood up from his chair and discretely stretched his back before making his way into the kitchen.  Chris didn't even look up, barely registering his exit.

Ezra entered the kitchen just in time to see Josiah once again taste the sauce sitting off to the side of the stove.  "It needs just a little more garlic powder, brother," he commented, reaching for the spice bottle sitting on the counter.

"It's fine, Josiah.  Leave it alone!"  Nathan growled in exasperation, knocking the older man's hand away from the pot.  "Look, the bread will be done in a few minutes.  Why don't you go pull JD off the computer and Buck from the television set and get them moving in here while I finish up. Okay?"  He practically pushed his friend out the doorway.

Ezra reached into the refrigerator and re-filled his glass with the last of the pitcher's contents.  It had been quite a while since he had tasted honest-to-goodness homemade southern iced tea, so when Alex tentatively asked if she could make some, he had readily agreed and found that the girl had a knack for making the brew.  He himself had drunk a good third of the first pitcher himself, and he had noticed that Vin had consumed quite a few number of glasses, as well as JD and Buck, forcing the girl to make two more pitchers before the others had even arrived.  He shook his head at the now empty cut-glass container.

If Alex planned to have the drink with her dinner, she was again going to have to brew up another pot.

"Hey, Ezra, can you go out and let Vin know that dinner's ready?  He's somewhere out back," Nathan asked as he grabbed a towel and opened the oven door, checking his bread. 

Ezra lifted a hand in acknowledgement and slipped out the sliding glass door into the cool night air.  As the door slid shut, he was amazed to find that very little of the noise from inside could be heard from outside, and with all the curtains and drapes pulled, only a faint glow could be seen.  He stopped for a moment, trying to decide which direction the sharpshooter would have gone, when a voice spoke to him from out of the darkness.  "Over here, Ez."

He turned to see an indistinct dark shape materialize out of the shadow of the next building a few yards further down the hill and recognized the voice of his quarry.  He crossed the grassy expanse between the two buildings and stepped up beside the lanky Texan, surprised to see Alex leaning against the building on the other side of the man.  "Did you find yourself in need of some fresh air as well?" he asked the girl in amusement.

"Not really—I just wanted to be able to hear myself think," she answered mildly.  "Though it was getting rather stuffy in there."

Ezra smiled in agreement before turning to his teammate and taking a sip from the glass in his hand.  "Any sign of our pursuers?"  He asked casually.

"No.  It's been real quiet out here tonight," Vin reassured him.  "Either they haven't been able to find out where you live, or they figure that even you ain't dumb enough to come back home," he smirked.

"Ha, ha, Mr. Tanner, you are quite the comedian.  Personally, I consider it a stroke of pure genius on my part.  The fact that it is so obvious is the very reason I chose to return to my domicile—who indeed would believe that I would risk hiding in plain sight?"

"Only someone who's thinkin' was as skewed as yours, Ezra," Vin chuckled, ignoring the smaller man's glare much the same way he ignored Chris's.  He noticed his friend shiver in the cool evening air and raised an eyebrow.  "So, they run you out, or did you just decide to take a moonlight stroll?  'Cause if ya decided to take a walk, I'd suggest you go back and get your coat.  It's winter out, if ya hadn't noticed."

Alex giggled quietly at the statement and Ezra again tried to intimidate the man with a steely glare, but it had the same affect as the first one—nothing.  "Actually, Mr. Tanner, I was sent out to inform you that dinner is ready; however, if you persist in harassing me, I may be inclined to ban you from the residence."  He began retracing his steps back to his patio.

Vin and Alex quickly fell in step beside him.  "Aw, now Ez, you wouldn't do that, would you?  I'm a growing boy—I need my nourishment.  Nettie says so herself."

Ezra couldn't help but snort at that comment.  "Sir, you are in as much danger of starving to death as I am of dying of heat stroke tonight—especially if Mrs. Wells has any say.  I dare say that between you, JD, and Josiah, the remainder of us will be fortunate to obtain half a plate of food before you three devour the rest of the meal."

"Well then come on, before they eat it all!"  Vin picked up his pace, pulling ahead of the other two.  "Hey, is there any more of that tea left?" he asked, reaching the door and pushing it open for them.

"I'm afraid this is the last of that pitcher," Ezra lifted his glass apologetically as he stepped into the warmth of the hallway.

Vin looked disappointed as he took his coat off and hung it on the knob of the door hiding the stairway to the basement garage.  Alex took her own jacket off and smiled at him.  "Don't worry—I'll make some more just as soon as I hang this up," she reassured him.  "Though someone is going to have to invest in a couple of gallon jugs or something if you guys keep going through it that fast.  This is the fourth pot tonight!"

"Thanks, Ally."  Vin perked up immediately and returned her smile before heading into the kitchen. "Hey, Wilmington!  Hands off! Those is my meatballs!" his voice floated back out into the hall. 

Ezra rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sighed long-sufferingly as Alex giggled behind her hand.  "I do believe I will not survive this rabble's onslaught," he muttered to himself resignedly.

Alex patted him consolingly on the shoulder.  "Now, it's not that bad.  Just think—there could be twelve of them instead of six."  She couldn't help but laugh at the stricken look that passed across the southerner's face.

"Young lady, don't even contemplate that thought!" he ordered sharply.

She just chuckled as she headed down the hall to hang up her jacket.

* * * * * * *

An hour later, a large empty pot that had once been filled to the brim sat in the middle of the dining room table, surrounded by seven satiated but happy men.  Alex quietly began gathering up the dirty utensils and used paper plates that Nathan had thoughtfully provided, but was stopped by Josiah.  "We'll get that, young lady," he smiled at her as he took the pot from her hands.  "Buck will be happy to do the dishes, won't ya, Brother?"

Buck looked up in alarm from his attempt at snatching JD's last piece of garlic bread.  "Now you just wait one daggone minute there, Preacher," he protested.  "You and Nathan were the ones who dirtied up all those pans."

Nathan stood up and stretched with a groan before reaching for his glass.  "Well, Buck, as my grandmother used to say—I dirtied 'em—you can wash 'em."  He downed the rest of the contents and set the glass down on the table right in front of the man with a wide grin.

"And please get started on them now.  Tomato sauce does tend to stain if left too long on a surface, and I would much prefer my pots to remain in pristine condition, if you don't mind," Ezra spoke up with a smirk.  "You'll find the rubber gloves in the top drawer to the right of the sink, with the dishcloths."

"Hey now, guys.  I—" Buck started to complain, but was interrupted by Vin.

"I'd think you'd be right happy to volunteer to do dishes, Buck," Vin commented slyly as he stood and added his own dishes to the growing pile in front of the protesting man, his eyes glinting in mischief.  "I hear it does a good job of softening up the hands, and you know how much the ladies like soft hands."

Buck shot a glare at the tracker.  "You just stay out of this, Junior," he barked.

"Buck, shut up and do the dishes," Chris ordered mildly from his place at the head of the table, a faint smirk hovering on his lips as he sat back in his seat.

"But, Chris—"

JD's cell phone chose that moment to ring, and the boy cupped a hand over his ear to drown out the argument behind him.  "Hey, Ash!  Ya found something?" he spoke into the receiver.

The others quieted down and watched the boy grin widely as he sat back down in front of the computer and, balancing the small phone on his shoulder, began typing furiously.  A few moments later, the printer hummed to life. "Thanks, man, I owe ya one….Yeah, you have a good night, too…well, a good morning then….okay.  Thanks again!"  JD said in goodbye before thumbing the phone off and tossing it back on the desk.  He typed a few more commands on the keyboard then rolled the chair over to the printer and pulled the first stack off the machine.  "That was a friend of mine, Ashley Woods, from Scotland Yard," he explained as he handed the papers to Chris.

"Since when do you have girlfriends in London?" Buck asked in disbelief.

JD rolled his eyes.  "Ashley's a he, Buck, not a she."

The ladies' man smirked as he sat back with crossed arms.  "I didn't know you swung that way, boy."

"Get your head out of your pants, Buck," JD complained as he turned back to the computer.  "I met him a while back at an international communications conference on satellite imaging," he typed a few more commands then turned his attention back to the topic at hand and looked up at his teammates.  "Since this Hammings guy is from Europe, I called Ash up for some help.  It took some digging, but he finally got us a lead.  That's what he found so far," he nodded to the pile of papers Chris was reading.

Chris scanned the top few pages then passed them down the table to the next man in line while he read the next set.  Nathan let out a low whistle as he skimmed the pages he held.  "Says here that this guy is involved in everything from gun smuggling to drugs to black market goods to stolen art and priceless artifacts." He passed a sheet to Josiah before accepting the next one in line.

"Hmm.  Seems he's been linked to several high profile cases all over Europe, Asia, and Africa over the last twenty years.  I bet our fellow law enforcers across the Atlantic would just love to get their hands on this guy," Josiah commented.

"He is quite the businessman, isn't he?" Ezra said when he received the papers, a hint of admiration in his voice.  "He has managed to build quite the criminal empire during his career, and no one has been able to touch him."

"So he's tryin' to expand his business here in the states," Vin stated as he scanned the papers over Ezra's shoulder.  "And he's using Randolph to do it."

"Sure looks that way," Nathan agreed.

"So who is he really?"  Buck asked thoughtfully, the dishes forgotten as he focused on the case. 

JD turned back to the computer, his hands flying across the keys as he sorted through the huge amount of information his friend had forwarded to him.  "Well, let's see.  Hammings is a front for another organization, which is a front for another, and another.  Sheesh, he's really got himself spread out, don't he?"

"It's how he's managed to stay in the business so long, kid," Chris answered absently as he read another page more thoroughly. 

After a few minutes of searching, JD finally sat back with an Ah-ha!  "Seems our Mr. Hammings was first noticed about twenty years ago at a heist at one of those South Africa Diamond mines.  A few months later, he appeared again at another high scale robbery in Germany.  And he's just been getting bigger ever since."  He handed Chris the grainy photo that he printed out as he continued his explanation.  "He's got several aliases, from Hammings to Bartholomew, to Menandez, to Castille, to all kinds of others," he explained as the picture made the circuit.

"Yes, but who is he?"  Buck asked again impatiently as he studied the photo before handing it to Vin.  Though it appeared to be several years old and taken from a distance, he could clearly make out the features of a rather handsome man, apparently in his mid to late forties, with dark hair and piercing dark eyes. Taking a guess, he would say the man was from the Mediterranean area.

JD sorted through several web pages before finding the one he wanted.  "From what the European authorities could piece together, he's originally from Corsica or Southern France, though they aren't for sure just which.  Let's see—" he ran a finger down the screen.  "Here it is.  The earliest name they could come up for him is—"

"Sean Bartinol," a grim voice interrupted him.  They all turned to see Alex, who had heretofore been staying quietly out of the way, fiercely grip the back of an empty chair as she stared in horror at the photograph that Ezra had laid to the side.  Her face drained of all color and her blue eyes widened in shock as she tentatively picked the picture up with trembling fingers to confirm what she already knew for sure.  "His name is Sean Bartinol."  She clutched the photograph tightly and looked up at them, her eyes haunted with shock, grief, and disbelief.

JD looked up at her from the computer screen in surprise.  "Yeah, Bartinol.  That's right.  But how did you know?"

"Ally?"  Ezra asked softly as he stood and took the photograph out of her hands, laying it down on the table before reaching out to lightly rest his hand on her shoulder.  "Ally, are you alright?"

Alex shrugged his touch off abruptly and walked to the window, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as though she were warding off a chill.  She closed her eyes tightly for a moment then pushed the curtain back slightly to gaze out into the night, trying to get a grip on the emotional onslaught that the photograph had stirred up—emotions that she thought she had long ago gained control over.  She licked her suddenly dry lips.

"Alex?"  Chris asked a bit forcibly to get her attention as he too stood to his feet.  "How did you know that this man is Sean Bartinol?"

She turned back to him suddenly, her blue eyes cool and piercing as she finally pushed her shock back down and focused on the men in the room.  Chris was taken back by the fierce intensity and the heart-wrenching grief that shown in those azure depths—grief that was almost comparable to that which haunted his own dreams.  She stood up straighter and lifted her chin in a challenge.  "I know the man, Mr. Larabee, because his face haunts my worst nightmares."  Her eyes narrowed as an old anger sparked to life in them.  "I'll never forget the face of the man who murdered my parents in front of me."