Ezra Collig returned to the police station, unable to face going home to a house without Ginger. Besides, seeing all the yellow tape around the door of their guest room would have been too harsh a reminder. Fenton had taken Laura home, saying he would wait for word from Ezra before returning to Burnsville.

Ezra walked into his office and slammed the door. His frustration was beginning to take control. The search at the Bayview Inn had revealed nothing; he had been forced to release Jim Wood and his cohort Billy - chauffeur? Hah! - and file a stolen vehicle report. He didn't for one minute believe the car had been stolen, but without evidence he had no choice but to treat it that way.

Glumly, he picked up the phone and dialed the Hardy residence. Fenton picked it up on the first ring, and Ezra told him about the failed search and the missing car.

"I'll head back to Burnsville." Fenton said, more worried than he cared to admit. "Wood will show up there in the morning, or call, and want me to pick him up."

"Keep me informed." Ezra said gruffly.

"Will do." Fenton assured him. "Ezra," he went on, in a softer tone. "If you need to talk..."

"I know, Fenton." Collig said, his voice filled with what felt like betrayal. "But right now, you're the last person I want to talk to."

"I understand." Fenton said wearily. And he did. If he hadn't asked Ezra to harbor Laura and the boys, Ginger would still be alive. "I'll keep in touch." he promised, hanging up.

Fenton sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Will things ever get better? he wondered. He picked up the handset and dialed another number, this one to the FBI. "Agent Dalrymple, please." he requested. Once he had been put through, he brought the agent up to date.

"I ran a check on the names and businesses you gave me." Mitch Dalrymple reported. "They're all legit, except for Mortimer and Leif. Oh, don't get me wrong." he added. "They've filed all the necessary paperwork and everything, but they only have one client: Wood. You know, if all else fails, we have Wood on tax evasion."

"That's good." Fenton said. "But if you can hold off, we can get the boys back, and probably get him for murder."

Fenton hung up the phone, and kissed Laura goodbye. "Try not to worry." he told her. "Wood will take the boys to his estate - and I'll bring them home."

"But what if he doesn't?" Laura demanded, finally saying what everyone was secretly fearing, but was afraid to ask. "What if he kills Frank? He only wanted Joe."

Laura's words haunted Fenton all the way to Burnsville. If Wood's done anything to Frank, I'll kill him! He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Laura was right. There was no need for Wood to keep Frank alive. He had already killed two people - one more, a small boy, wouldn't matter in the least, to him.

Fenton found himself hyperventilating, and took a few deep breaths to calm down. Wood killed two people - but he took Frank.... he thought, his brows drawing together as he puzzled it out. If he'd intended to kill Frank, he would have just done it, and left his body. He didn't kill Laura, either - just Ginger. She probably walked in on them. And Morrow.... As much as he didn't want to believe it, Morrow probably had been bought. Why else would he have been in the park? Ezra had mentioned that Morrow had been the one to tell Ginger about the car bomb, which meant he'd been to the house, and could have seen Joe. When he had informed Wood, that ended his usefulness, and he'd been disposed of.

Fenton forced himself to relax. If he returned to Wood's estate full of the tension and hatred he felt, he would blow his cover for sure. And until he had Frank and Joe safely away, he couldn't let that happen.

He pulled up to the gate just as the sun was lifting over the horizon. The four Dobermans came running to greet the car, fangs bared, as he moved up to the gate, and thence to the garage. He parked the car inside the garage, noting that the dogs waited just outside. Fenton hit the remote control, and the garage door slid closed, effectively shutting out the Dobermans. He was glad to know the dogs would soon be kenneled until nightfall. He wondered briefly who had this job, since Randy Harmon, the cook, generally released them and put them up; today was Harmon's day off. Well, perhaps he would kennel them before leaving.

Fenton entered the quiet house, and went to the living room. Sweeney and Drecker were both still sound asleep, so Fenton took the stairs to Wood's office. Opening the panel, he checked the monitors, to see if Wood had returned, or anyone was lurking around. Seeing no one, he left the office, shutting the panel, and went to Wood's bedroom. He wanted to find the diamond before Wood returned, for once he had the boys back, Fenton intended to end this case, with or without it!

He began searching through Wood's belongings. After nearly 30 minutes, he had found nothing. He sat down on the bed. Think! he said to himself, biting his lip in frustration. It wasn't likely Wood would keep the diamond on him. Besides, if he'd had the diamond with him, Ezra would surely have found it in his search, unless it was in the car.

Wait! Fenton got to his feet and hastily smoothed the bedspread, to disguise the fact that anyone had been in the room. He hurried out of Wood's bedroom and returned to the office. Pulling open one of the desk drawers, he removed the Rubik's cube - the one item that didn't seem to fit!

Fenton looked at the cube closely. It seemed no different from the one Frank had at home. He tried twisting it. Unlike Frank's, however, this one didn't move. He inspected it again. Aha! he shouted silently, breaking into a grin of triumph. He pulled out his pocketknife and inserted the blade into one groove, which seemed deeper than the others. He applied a little pressure, and one side popped open. Fenton inverted the cube, and a polished, uncut diamond fell into his open hand.

He admired it for a brief moment, then shut the Rubik's cube up and returned it to the drawer. He dropped the diamond into an inside pocket of his blazer, then left the office. He went downstairs and joined the two unconscious men in the living room. Leaning back on the sofa, Fenton closed his eyes, intending to feign the condition the other two men were in, but soon, owing as much to mental fatigue as physical, he fell asleep.

Ezra hung up the telephone, the color draining from his face. My fault, he thought. It's my fault that Ginger's dead.

After speaking with Fenton, Ezra had decided to contact the Bayview Inn. He spoke with the night manager, Merle Bishop. Bishop had been present for the police search, and had been informed of the phone tap.

"We had a tap on room 411!" Collig barked into the phone. "The tap should have covered room 409 as well. I need a list of all incoming and outgoing calls." Ezra continued. "Or will I have to get another court order?"

"No, that won't be necessary." Bishop replied. He looked up the information on his computer. "There was only one outgoing call, to exchange 555-1818. All incoming calls were from either exchange 555-9999, or 555-9998." he informed Ezra. The numbers he mentioned were Ezra's private line and the police department's open line.

Ezra's face went white and he hung up the phone without a word. Now, he buried his face in his hands and wept.

A gentle tap, followed by the door opening a few seconds later, jerked Ezra out of his despair. "Sir?" Lieutenant Andrews poked his head into the chief's office. "I need to talk to you - about Sergeant Morrow."

The chief spat out a string of swear words Andrews had thought only seasoned Navy men knew.

"I guess you already know something of what I was going to say." Andrews remarked, leaning against the doorjamb, and crossing his arms as he gazed at the chief.

"I just talked with the night manager at the Bayview Inn." The chief said with a curt nod. "This is all my fault." he rasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

Andrews came the rest of the way into Collig's office, and shut the door. "No, it isn't." he told him. "It's Morrow's. If he hadn't been bought-"

"But I'm the one who let him know who was buying!" Ezra erupted, standing up and slamming his hands down on the desk so hard that the cup of pencils near the edge jumped, then tumbled to the floor, unnoticed by either man. "If I hadn't had Morrow listen in on that meeting with Wood, then Ginger..." Ezra broke off, his body once again racked with grief and despair.

"Chief, it wasn't your fault!" Andrews insisted, coming closer to his superior officer and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You were just following protocol when you had Morrow listen in."

It took some time, but eventually Ezra managed to pull himself together, at least temporarily. "Okay, let's hear what you've got." he demanded tersely.

Andrews cleared his throat, hoping his words wouldn't set the Chief off again. "The bullets came from a Beretta .40-" he began.

"Morrow's," Ezra grated, although proof wouldn't come until they found the gun and compared the ballistics data. He realized Morrow hadn't been the one who killed Ginger, but if Wood had Morrow's gun, the two would be inextricably connected.

"Tarnation!" the thundered exclamation jolted Fenton from his sleep. He sat up quickly, fully alert. "We slept plumb through the night in here!" Al Sweeney observed, sitting up in the recliner chair, and pushing the footrest back in.

Beside Fenton, Jonathan Drecker was opening his eyes. "Wh-what?" Drecker mumbled, sitting up slowly, and looking about in some confusion.

"It's almost noon." Fenton declared, looking at his watch.

"Why didn't the cook wake us up for breakfast?" Drecker demanded, looking at Fenton accusingly.

"It's his day off." Fenton informed him, inwardly grinning.

"What time is Jim supposed to be here?" Drecker asked a bit nervously; he had fully intended to be gone from Wood's place by now!

"Speak of the devil." Sweeney muttered, as faint voices could be heard coming down the hall.

Fenton stood up, forcing himself to remain calm. He was anxious to see Frank and Joe, but if his anxiety became apparent, it could prove lethal for them all.

Wood entered the living room, his face creased in a scowl, and stopped abruptly, surprised to see the three men standing there. "Al...I didn't know you were coming." he said, his expression changing to one of confusion.

"We have a problem." Sweeney said, succinctly.

"What?" Wood asked, totally exasperated. He had spent the morning being closely followed by the Bayport police. They had only ended their surveillance when he and Billy left the county, where their jurisdiction ended.

"The list is missing." Sweeney answered.

Wood swung his gaze to Drecker, who threw up his hands and backed away, stopping only when his legs came in contact with the coffee table. "It was Milhouse, Jim."

"Indeed." Wood said skeptically. He took in Fenton's attire. "Why are you wearing the same thing you wore yesterday, Jeff?"

"We fell asleep after dinner!" Sweeney said, before Fenton could reply.

"I believe we must have been drugged." Fenton added.

"By that feller you saw out the window!" Sweeney put in, his eyes going wide. "And we thought you were imagining things!"

"You were all drugged?" Wood demanded, his eyes hardening with suspicion.

Drecker bobbed his head up and down. "Sure thing." Sweeney affirmed. Fenton cast his employer an apologetic glance.

Wood spun on his heel and left the room, running up the stairs with Fenton and Drecker on his heels. Sweeney followed a few feet behind, while Billy brought up the rear. Wood entered his office and strode to his desk. Sitting down, he pulled open the bottom drawer and removed the Rubik's Cube from within. He quickly opened it up. His eyes went dark as he hurled the empty cube across the room. It struck a bottle of bourbon, and both items fell to the carpeted floor.

"Find Milhouse and bring him to me." Wood ordered Drecker, who nodded and left the room in a hurry, apparently well-acquainted with Wood's temper.

Wood looked at Sweeney. "Was there anything else?" he inquired, his voice barely concealing his pent-up anger.

"It - it can wait." Sweeney stammered, not wanting to push Wood too far.

"You're here-" Wood stated. "You might as well have your say."

"Well...it's Marvin Blaine." Sweeney said reluctantly, naming one of the crime lords from his neck of the woods. "He's been muscling in on our territory."

"No, he isn't." Wood said. "I spoke with him just last week. It has been decided that Blaine will take over all of Charleston, and I will get a cut from that."

"But - I'm in charge there!" Sweeney spouted in chagrin. "It's my town!"

"Not anymore." Wood denied. "You see, I've been keeping tabs on you. You've been skimming, and only turning in a third of what you owe me."

"Lies!" Sweeney hissed, terrified. "I would never cheat you, Jim...."

"You mean, you won't any more." Wood asserted.

Sweeney started toward Wood, but froze as he felt the barrel of a pistol inserted into the small of his back.

"Take care of our 'guest'." Wood instructed Billy, who nodded and steered Sweeney out of the room with one hand, keeping the gun trained on him with the other.

"Jeff, I need you to take the rental car to the agency in town." Wood continued, looking into the drawer as if hoping the thief had perhaps dropped something.

"Rental?" Fenton questioned. "What happened to your car?" he asked then, unconsciously holding his breath as he waited for the answer. Wherever that car is, Frank and Joe are there! But when it came, he could scarcely believe his ears.

"Some damn fool had the nerve to steal it!"