A Family Affair
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just playing. Enjoy!
Chapter 22.
Sara Pezzini sat in the passenger seat of Ian Nottingham's SUV, thinking hard about what she had just said to the man behind the wheel. Her eyes stared blindly out the window at the scenery rushing by.
'Did you really just admit to your stalker that you have feelings for him?' she asked herself. Unconsciously, she nodded. 'Yeah, you did, Pezzini. You even admitted that his death wish disturbs you. What the hell was that about?'
Then her thoughts drifted to the speech the man next to her had just given. There was absolutely no denying the fact that he was what he claimed to be -- a highly trained assassin for whom killing was apparently more than merely an occupation; it was an art form.
"A hundred different ways, hunh?" she said, breaking the silence.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Nottingham nodded. "At least."
"Hmph." Sara frowned as she saw that they were almost to the river crossing. "About this plan of yours, Nottingham. Where, exactly, do I fit into it? You don't expect me to just sit in the car and wait while you track this guy down, do you?"
"Actually, yes, with your cooperation, of course, that was what I had intended. As the other night proved, you tend to draw attention to yourself in this sort of urban setting," he told her.
"Oh, yeah, and you look like you're straight from the hood!" she scoffed.
A suggestion of a smile turned up the corners of his lips. "No, I cannot claim that I do. However, I can move about undetected, whereas you cannot. Our quarry must be taken unawares, and I can promise you he will never see me coming."
"Or going," Sara muttered. "Okay, granted, your, uh, ninja stealth tactics are called for in this situation, but once you find him and get the lowdown on Angel's whereabouts, then what?"
"Then we pay Angel a visit."
"Now you're talking!" Sara grinned, feeling the Witchblade spark in anticipation on her right wrist. But then a troubling thought struck her. "Nottingham, in the vision, Joey said the drug bust on the docks fell through. What if what we're about to do is what causes it to fail? What if we're the ones that stop Angel from making the pickup? Even if I do end up collaring him, how am I going to explain that? I'll have ruined months of planning that went into catching this guy. If the DEA and the narcotics squad had wanted to simply put him away on murder charges, they'd have busted him already. They really, really want to catch him and his brother with this drug shipment."
"There could be any number of reasons the drug bust operation is doomed to fail, Sara," Ian pointed out. "For all we know, Angel might have decided to send someone else to pick up the shipment, and that is why he is not caught."
Sara shook her head. "No, my guy in narcotics says Angel's so paranoid, he only trusts himself or his brother, Joaquin, to know the location of and to make the actual pickup. Plus, there's something I didn't tell you about this whole mess. Narcotics has an undercover detective next to Angel. I suspect he was there when Angel killed Paco, and that he gave Joey's and Amanda's descriptions to his commanding officer 'cause he knew they'd be in danger. He was also the one who put the word out that Angel was due to pick up a major shipment of product in the next 24 hours. We move on Angel, and he'll be forced to blow his cover. Shit, shit, shit! I just don't see how we can get around this!" she said, frustrated.
"That does complicate matters somewhat," Ian agreed. "I am inclined to agree with you that we should not move on Angel until he makes that pickup."
Sara fidgeted in her seat. "Besides, the DEA and narcotics are bound to have surveillance on Angel's new location, don't you think? They'd know the minute we tried to move on Angel. But we can't just do nothing. Joey's life is hanging in the balance."
"Let us review what we do know courtesy of the Witchblade's vision. We know that tonight's operation on the docks fails to catch Angel, suggesting that either he becomes spooked or that the docks were never the real pickup location in the first place. We also know that at Angel's behest, somebody goes gunning for young Joseph tomorrow afternoon. Can you remember any details about the shooter's appearance? I am not sure, but I think he may have had a Colombian accent."
The last thing Sara wanted was to remember those awful moments, but it seemed the Witchblade had other ideas.
Once again, it was as though Sara were watching a slideshow. The first slide showed Joey leaving the rehab center. In the background, Sara realized that she could see the car driven by his killer double-parked at the curb. Unfortunately, she saw that the driver had already donned his ski mask. The next slide showed the car pulling up alongside Joey. The next slide showed the driver's gloved hand pointing a gun out the open driver-side window. It was then Sara noticed that the man's coat sleeve had been pulled back, revealing part of a tantalizingly familiar tattoo on his left forearm. The slide faded to black, thankfully before Sara was forced to witness her nephew's murder again.
"I saw something! Part of a tattoo on the shooter's arm! Something I could swear I've seen before!" Sara said excitedly. She looked at Nottingham curiously. "It's kinda weird that the Witchblade showed you the vision, too. Has that happened before?" she asked him.
"Focus, Sara. Where do you think you saw the tattoo before?"
"You're the one with the photographic memory, not me! I can't remember where I saw it before!" she snapped.
Nottingham ignored her peevishness, just as he had her question. "Take a deep, calming breath and close your eyes. Visualize the tattoo fragment. Let your mind relax and it will come to you where you saw it before. My Lady, you can do this. I know you can," he said, his deep, quiet voice soothing her frayed nerves.
Sara did as he suggested, forcing her body to relax in her seat. She pictured the partial tattoo on the shooter's arm in the vision and let her mind sift through images from the past few stress-filled days. Suddenly, superimposed on it was another, whole tattoo, and she recalled exactly where she had seen it before.
"It's a tattoo of a cobra. Oh my God, I think the shooter is Angel!" she breathed. But then she frowned. "No, wait, his tattoo was on his right arm. In fact, now that I think about it, Angel is right-handed, and the shooter in the vision is left-handed."
"You said Angel Medina has a brother named Joaquin. Maybe he is left- handed and has a matching tattoo," Nottingham suggested.
"Maybe you're right. Or maybe it's an old gang tat and another of Angel's boys is the shooter. There's only one way to find out. I've got to go to the precinct and check the database. Joaquin's sure to have a record nearly as long as his brother's. My contact in narcotics says he's a real psycho. Must run in the family. While we're there, you can look at some mug shots and see if you can identify Broken Arm, another upstanding citizen of our fair city. That way, we can get an address on him, which means you won't have to go roof hopping in search of him. Sorry about that, Nottingham. I know how much you love putting your ninja skills to use."
"How will you explain my presence to the duty sergeant at the 11th Precinct, Sara?" Ian asked her, ignoring her snide comment.
"I'll say you were the victim of a mugging and need to look at some mug shots," she said.
Nottingham threw her a raised eyebrow look.
"Okay, okay, so maybe that won't fly, Mr. Walking Lethal Weapon. I'll think of something!" Sara shrugged, unable to keep from smiling.
"If the shooter turns out to be Joaquin Medina, that is a fairly good indication that he and his brother successfully make the pickup of the drug shipment sometime between now and when he goes after Joey. Otherwise, why would he run the risk of possibly being caught committing a murder?"
"Yeah, like psychopaths always use good judgment when whacking someone. Obviously, somebody tips him off about where Joey will be after school tomorrow. But who would know that Joey was heading to the rehab facility to visit Amanda?" Sara murmured.
"By now, I am certain that her whereabouts and the circumstances surrounding them are common knowledge at their school," Ian said.
"Yeah, and you saw the vision. Joey was over the moon that he was finally being allowed to see Amanda. Maybe one of his classmates is a runner and overheard him tell one of his friends that he was gonna go visit her in rehab after school."
"A runner?"
"Yeah. Rather than risk being caught holding real weight, dealers usually carry as little product as possible. That's why Amanda didn't get all that much smack off Paco. The dealers commonly use neighborhood kids to carry the drugs and money for them. When they start to run low, they give the kid some of their take and send them back to their supplier to bring them more product. Maybe one of the kids at Joey's school is a runner for Angel Medina, and he's the one who gives him up. Word is out on the street that Joey and Amanda are wanted by Angel, and it's a small world."
"I can see why you are such a good detective, my Lady," Ian told her, impressed.
"Thanks, but I still can't come up with a way of stopping Angel and Joaquin without ruining the DEA's and the narcotics task force's sting. Much as I hate to admit it, we might be forced to wait and see how things play out on the docks. In the vision, Joey said I was supposed to escort him to the rehab center, but that I was delayed. Basically, I just have to make sure that I'm not delayed, right? If I'm there to protect him, Joaquin won't have the chance to kill him," Sara said, noticing that they had almost reached the 11th Precinct.
"Joseph is not going to come to any harm. I promise you, Sara," Nottingham said firmly. "Have you come up with a plausible explanation for my accompanying you into the precinct?"
"Yeah. Just follow my lead. I promise you that your badass rep isn't going to be tarnished," she smirked.
"I was not worried about that, my Lady," Ian said, parking the SUV. "I merely wished to avoid raising suspicion about your presence here at this hour."
"Don't sweat it, Nottingham," she said, getting out of the car.
They walked into the 11th Precinct together.
"Hey, Mac! I thought you were on the afternoon shift?" Sara greeted the portly, middle-aged man behind the front desk. She could sense the curious stares she and Nottingham were drawing from the few uniformed officers that were present.
"Hey, Pez. Yeah, I covered for Hoolihan for a few nights this week so me and the wife and kids can go visit her relatives in Florida for the holiday. Thanksgiving with the in-laws! I oughta have my head examined, right?" he said.
"Yeah, right. Mac, this is a friend of mine. Ian Nottingham, Tommy McGwire." The two men shook hands. "Nottingham owns an apartment building in Washington Heights, and he's been getting complaints from his tenants that there's been a lot of gang activity in the building lately. You know, the usual shit: graffiti, harassment, fights. I'm gonna show him some gang tags to see if he can identify which gang is responsible. We won't be long," Sara said.
"Sure thing, Pez. Any plans for the holiday?" Mac asked.
"Joe and Marie Siri have invited us, uh, me over for dinner next Thursday," Sara said, flushing at her slipup.
"Ah, I see," the desk sergeant said knowingly, eyeing her red face. "Tell Joe and Marie that Kathy and me say hello, would you? Nice to meetcha, Nottingham."
"Same here, Sergeant McGwire," Ian said, wondering what had caused the Wielder's obvious embarrassment.
"Shit!" Sara fumed as she took the stairs two at a time. "By tomorrow, everybody in this place is gonna be talking about my new boyfriend!"
"What new boyfriend?" Ian demanded, frowning.
Sara shot him a furious glare. "You! Or didn't you hear me stupidly admit that my godparents have invited us both over for Thanksgiving dinner?"
"Yes, I heard you, but I do not see how Sergeant McGwire could infer from that minor slip of the tongue that we are seeing each other. Or how he could possibly disseminate such misinformation so swiftly," Ian said truthfully.
"Well, obviously you don't know Mac. He's worse than a bunch of old ladies about spreading gossip. You have no idea how fast word spreads in a stationhouse. I'll bet he's on the phone with his wife right now. Then she'll call somebody else's wife, and so forth and so on! Before you know it, word will get back to Marie! Dammit!"
"If you wish, my Lady, I will go back and clear up the misunderstanding," Nottingham offered, pausing as they reached the top of the stairs and half turning as if to go back down.
"NO!" Sara said vehemently, grabbing his coat sleeve. "That would only make things worse. The damage has been done." She sighed. "C'mon. My office is down here. You can wait in there while I go round up those mug shot books."
"And what should I say if Sergeant McGwire stops by to inquire when the wedding date is?" Ian asked, totally straight-faced.
Sara stopped in her tracks, blinking at him in surprise, then a grin appeared on her tired face. "You have a wicked streak, Nottingham, you know that?"
He flashed even, white teeth at her in an all-too-brief smile that caused her pulse rate to speed up markedly. "It seems you bring out that side of me, my Lady."
"Yeah, right. I'll be back in a sec. Do you want a cup of tea or coffee? The coffee sucks, but it's hot. And there's no peppermint tea, only Lipton."
"Tea would be nice," he said, taking a seat in her guest chair and rubbing a gloved hand over his flushed face wearily.
"Are you feeling okay, Nottingham?" Sara asked worriedly.
"I am just fatigued and a little warm," he admitted. "Otherwise, I am fine." He took off his hat and scarf, and shrugged out of his coat.
"No, you're not fine. As soon as we're done here, I'm gonna buy a digital thermometer and start checking your temp regularly. If your fever gets higher than 103, you're going straight home and doing whatever you have to do to get that antidote from Irons. Are we clear?" she said. When he didn't respond, just lowered his eyes to the floor, Sara put her fingers under his chin and forced him to meet her fierce gaze. "Nottingham, are we clear?" she asked him again.
"Yes, my Lady," he muttered.
"Good. Tea and mug shots coming up."
More to come. Feedback? Thanks to all of you for your encouraging words! Much appreciated, as always.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just playing. Enjoy!
Chapter 22.
Sara Pezzini sat in the passenger seat of Ian Nottingham's SUV, thinking hard about what she had just said to the man behind the wheel. Her eyes stared blindly out the window at the scenery rushing by.
'Did you really just admit to your stalker that you have feelings for him?' she asked herself. Unconsciously, she nodded. 'Yeah, you did, Pezzini. You even admitted that his death wish disturbs you. What the hell was that about?'
Then her thoughts drifted to the speech the man next to her had just given. There was absolutely no denying the fact that he was what he claimed to be -- a highly trained assassin for whom killing was apparently more than merely an occupation; it was an art form.
"A hundred different ways, hunh?" she said, breaking the silence.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Nottingham nodded. "At least."
"Hmph." Sara frowned as she saw that they were almost to the river crossing. "About this plan of yours, Nottingham. Where, exactly, do I fit into it? You don't expect me to just sit in the car and wait while you track this guy down, do you?"
"Actually, yes, with your cooperation, of course, that was what I had intended. As the other night proved, you tend to draw attention to yourself in this sort of urban setting," he told her.
"Oh, yeah, and you look like you're straight from the hood!" she scoffed.
A suggestion of a smile turned up the corners of his lips. "No, I cannot claim that I do. However, I can move about undetected, whereas you cannot. Our quarry must be taken unawares, and I can promise you he will never see me coming."
"Or going," Sara muttered. "Okay, granted, your, uh, ninja stealth tactics are called for in this situation, but once you find him and get the lowdown on Angel's whereabouts, then what?"
"Then we pay Angel a visit."
"Now you're talking!" Sara grinned, feeling the Witchblade spark in anticipation on her right wrist. But then a troubling thought struck her. "Nottingham, in the vision, Joey said the drug bust on the docks fell through. What if what we're about to do is what causes it to fail? What if we're the ones that stop Angel from making the pickup? Even if I do end up collaring him, how am I going to explain that? I'll have ruined months of planning that went into catching this guy. If the DEA and the narcotics squad had wanted to simply put him away on murder charges, they'd have busted him already. They really, really want to catch him and his brother with this drug shipment."
"There could be any number of reasons the drug bust operation is doomed to fail, Sara," Ian pointed out. "For all we know, Angel might have decided to send someone else to pick up the shipment, and that is why he is not caught."
Sara shook her head. "No, my guy in narcotics says Angel's so paranoid, he only trusts himself or his brother, Joaquin, to know the location of and to make the actual pickup. Plus, there's something I didn't tell you about this whole mess. Narcotics has an undercover detective next to Angel. I suspect he was there when Angel killed Paco, and that he gave Joey's and Amanda's descriptions to his commanding officer 'cause he knew they'd be in danger. He was also the one who put the word out that Angel was due to pick up a major shipment of product in the next 24 hours. We move on Angel, and he'll be forced to blow his cover. Shit, shit, shit! I just don't see how we can get around this!" she said, frustrated.
"That does complicate matters somewhat," Ian agreed. "I am inclined to agree with you that we should not move on Angel until he makes that pickup."
Sara fidgeted in her seat. "Besides, the DEA and narcotics are bound to have surveillance on Angel's new location, don't you think? They'd know the minute we tried to move on Angel. But we can't just do nothing. Joey's life is hanging in the balance."
"Let us review what we do know courtesy of the Witchblade's vision. We know that tonight's operation on the docks fails to catch Angel, suggesting that either he becomes spooked or that the docks were never the real pickup location in the first place. We also know that at Angel's behest, somebody goes gunning for young Joseph tomorrow afternoon. Can you remember any details about the shooter's appearance? I am not sure, but I think he may have had a Colombian accent."
The last thing Sara wanted was to remember those awful moments, but it seemed the Witchblade had other ideas.
Once again, it was as though Sara were watching a slideshow. The first slide showed Joey leaving the rehab center. In the background, Sara realized that she could see the car driven by his killer double-parked at the curb. Unfortunately, she saw that the driver had already donned his ski mask. The next slide showed the car pulling up alongside Joey. The next slide showed the driver's gloved hand pointing a gun out the open driver-side window. It was then Sara noticed that the man's coat sleeve had been pulled back, revealing part of a tantalizingly familiar tattoo on his left forearm. The slide faded to black, thankfully before Sara was forced to witness her nephew's murder again.
"I saw something! Part of a tattoo on the shooter's arm! Something I could swear I've seen before!" Sara said excitedly. She looked at Nottingham curiously. "It's kinda weird that the Witchblade showed you the vision, too. Has that happened before?" she asked him.
"Focus, Sara. Where do you think you saw the tattoo before?"
"You're the one with the photographic memory, not me! I can't remember where I saw it before!" she snapped.
Nottingham ignored her peevishness, just as he had her question. "Take a deep, calming breath and close your eyes. Visualize the tattoo fragment. Let your mind relax and it will come to you where you saw it before. My Lady, you can do this. I know you can," he said, his deep, quiet voice soothing her frayed nerves.
Sara did as he suggested, forcing her body to relax in her seat. She pictured the partial tattoo on the shooter's arm in the vision and let her mind sift through images from the past few stress-filled days. Suddenly, superimposed on it was another, whole tattoo, and she recalled exactly where she had seen it before.
"It's a tattoo of a cobra. Oh my God, I think the shooter is Angel!" she breathed. But then she frowned. "No, wait, his tattoo was on his right arm. In fact, now that I think about it, Angel is right-handed, and the shooter in the vision is left-handed."
"You said Angel Medina has a brother named Joaquin. Maybe he is left- handed and has a matching tattoo," Nottingham suggested.
"Maybe you're right. Or maybe it's an old gang tat and another of Angel's boys is the shooter. There's only one way to find out. I've got to go to the precinct and check the database. Joaquin's sure to have a record nearly as long as his brother's. My contact in narcotics says he's a real psycho. Must run in the family. While we're there, you can look at some mug shots and see if you can identify Broken Arm, another upstanding citizen of our fair city. That way, we can get an address on him, which means you won't have to go roof hopping in search of him. Sorry about that, Nottingham. I know how much you love putting your ninja skills to use."
"How will you explain my presence to the duty sergeant at the 11th Precinct, Sara?" Ian asked her, ignoring her snide comment.
"I'll say you were the victim of a mugging and need to look at some mug shots," she said.
Nottingham threw her a raised eyebrow look.
"Okay, okay, so maybe that won't fly, Mr. Walking Lethal Weapon. I'll think of something!" Sara shrugged, unable to keep from smiling.
"If the shooter turns out to be Joaquin Medina, that is a fairly good indication that he and his brother successfully make the pickup of the drug shipment sometime between now and when he goes after Joey. Otherwise, why would he run the risk of possibly being caught committing a murder?"
"Yeah, like psychopaths always use good judgment when whacking someone. Obviously, somebody tips him off about where Joey will be after school tomorrow. But who would know that Joey was heading to the rehab facility to visit Amanda?" Sara murmured.
"By now, I am certain that her whereabouts and the circumstances surrounding them are common knowledge at their school," Ian said.
"Yeah, and you saw the vision. Joey was over the moon that he was finally being allowed to see Amanda. Maybe one of his classmates is a runner and overheard him tell one of his friends that he was gonna go visit her in rehab after school."
"A runner?"
"Yeah. Rather than risk being caught holding real weight, dealers usually carry as little product as possible. That's why Amanda didn't get all that much smack off Paco. The dealers commonly use neighborhood kids to carry the drugs and money for them. When they start to run low, they give the kid some of their take and send them back to their supplier to bring them more product. Maybe one of the kids at Joey's school is a runner for Angel Medina, and he's the one who gives him up. Word is out on the street that Joey and Amanda are wanted by Angel, and it's a small world."
"I can see why you are such a good detective, my Lady," Ian told her, impressed.
"Thanks, but I still can't come up with a way of stopping Angel and Joaquin without ruining the DEA's and the narcotics task force's sting. Much as I hate to admit it, we might be forced to wait and see how things play out on the docks. In the vision, Joey said I was supposed to escort him to the rehab center, but that I was delayed. Basically, I just have to make sure that I'm not delayed, right? If I'm there to protect him, Joaquin won't have the chance to kill him," Sara said, noticing that they had almost reached the 11th Precinct.
"Joseph is not going to come to any harm. I promise you, Sara," Nottingham said firmly. "Have you come up with a plausible explanation for my accompanying you into the precinct?"
"Yeah. Just follow my lead. I promise you that your badass rep isn't going to be tarnished," she smirked.
"I was not worried about that, my Lady," Ian said, parking the SUV. "I merely wished to avoid raising suspicion about your presence here at this hour."
"Don't sweat it, Nottingham," she said, getting out of the car.
They walked into the 11th Precinct together.
"Hey, Mac! I thought you were on the afternoon shift?" Sara greeted the portly, middle-aged man behind the front desk. She could sense the curious stares she and Nottingham were drawing from the few uniformed officers that were present.
"Hey, Pez. Yeah, I covered for Hoolihan for a few nights this week so me and the wife and kids can go visit her relatives in Florida for the holiday. Thanksgiving with the in-laws! I oughta have my head examined, right?" he said.
"Yeah, right. Mac, this is a friend of mine. Ian Nottingham, Tommy McGwire." The two men shook hands. "Nottingham owns an apartment building in Washington Heights, and he's been getting complaints from his tenants that there's been a lot of gang activity in the building lately. You know, the usual shit: graffiti, harassment, fights. I'm gonna show him some gang tags to see if he can identify which gang is responsible. We won't be long," Sara said.
"Sure thing, Pez. Any plans for the holiday?" Mac asked.
"Joe and Marie Siri have invited us, uh, me over for dinner next Thursday," Sara said, flushing at her slipup.
"Ah, I see," the desk sergeant said knowingly, eyeing her red face. "Tell Joe and Marie that Kathy and me say hello, would you? Nice to meetcha, Nottingham."
"Same here, Sergeant McGwire," Ian said, wondering what had caused the Wielder's obvious embarrassment.
"Shit!" Sara fumed as she took the stairs two at a time. "By tomorrow, everybody in this place is gonna be talking about my new boyfriend!"
"What new boyfriend?" Ian demanded, frowning.
Sara shot him a furious glare. "You! Or didn't you hear me stupidly admit that my godparents have invited us both over for Thanksgiving dinner?"
"Yes, I heard you, but I do not see how Sergeant McGwire could infer from that minor slip of the tongue that we are seeing each other. Or how he could possibly disseminate such misinformation so swiftly," Ian said truthfully.
"Well, obviously you don't know Mac. He's worse than a bunch of old ladies about spreading gossip. You have no idea how fast word spreads in a stationhouse. I'll bet he's on the phone with his wife right now. Then she'll call somebody else's wife, and so forth and so on! Before you know it, word will get back to Marie! Dammit!"
"If you wish, my Lady, I will go back and clear up the misunderstanding," Nottingham offered, pausing as they reached the top of the stairs and half turning as if to go back down.
"NO!" Sara said vehemently, grabbing his coat sleeve. "That would only make things worse. The damage has been done." She sighed. "C'mon. My office is down here. You can wait in there while I go round up those mug shot books."
"And what should I say if Sergeant McGwire stops by to inquire when the wedding date is?" Ian asked, totally straight-faced.
Sara stopped in her tracks, blinking at him in surprise, then a grin appeared on her tired face. "You have a wicked streak, Nottingham, you know that?"
He flashed even, white teeth at her in an all-too-brief smile that caused her pulse rate to speed up markedly. "It seems you bring out that side of me, my Lady."
"Yeah, right. I'll be back in a sec. Do you want a cup of tea or coffee? The coffee sucks, but it's hot. And there's no peppermint tea, only Lipton."
"Tea would be nice," he said, taking a seat in her guest chair and rubbing a gloved hand over his flushed face wearily.
"Are you feeling okay, Nottingham?" Sara asked worriedly.
"I am just fatigued and a little warm," he admitted. "Otherwise, I am fine." He took off his hat and scarf, and shrugged out of his coat.
"No, you're not fine. As soon as we're done here, I'm gonna buy a digital thermometer and start checking your temp regularly. If your fever gets higher than 103, you're going straight home and doing whatever you have to do to get that antidote from Irons. Are we clear?" she said. When he didn't respond, just lowered his eyes to the floor, Sara put her fingers under his chin and forced him to meet her fierce gaze. "Nottingham, are we clear?" she asked him again.
"Yes, my Lady," he muttered.
"Good. Tea and mug shots coming up."
More to come. Feedback? Thanks to all of you for your encouraging words! Much appreciated, as always.