Holly had spent the morning in surgery. She had spent the remainder of the day in staff meetings. She didn't mind leaving work late. She had the entire weekend off. There would be no interruptions form the hospital. Not only was Dr. Miller on call for her, but Dr. Patel was on call if Miller was unavailable. This was the last week end before Jim went back on regular duty. They planned to enjoy it.

The garage door opened as she pulled into the driveway. Driving the mustang was one of the major pleasures in her life. The car had been her sixteenth birthday present. It had been painted to match her hair. She really was a spoiled girl. Jim teased her about it constantly. When she had left him, after the fight over the private eye, he had found her in New Orleans. There had been no doubt in her mind that she would return to Las Vegas, but there had been one in Jim's.

Meeting the Waterhouse's had not impressed Jim . Holly had no problem with that state of affairs. It helped that Jim was an outsider and didn't know the weight their name and her mother's wealth carried in the Crescent City. Knowing that it wouldn't have mattered to him anyway was important to her. Being around her family was an experience that neither of them would repeat, unless absolutely necessary. Doing all the things tourist do in New Orleans kept them busy for a few days and they flew home.

Jim's car was not in the garage, she had missed him. Looking at her watch she realized how late her meetings had gone over. She dialed his office, no answer, then his cell.

"Brass."

"Hey, I'm home."

"Good, Good, that information will help." he was not alone

"Call when your free. Only one more night on desk duty."

"Fine, Fine." the line went dead. She hated interrupting him at work.

Walking in the door she didn't notice the shadow slip in the garage as the door closed. She went into the kitchen carrying her bags and dropped them on the counter. She stretched and yawned. The phone rang. Caller Id: Her mother.

"Bonjour, Comment allez-vous" she answered and slipped into English. "I am fine. No, he is not here."

Catching up on gossip with her mother wasted an hour. Feeling restless, she wandered her home. It was really to big for just one person. Holly felt glad now ,about not selling the house. It wouldn't be as lonely now. Fiddling with books on shelves, souvenirs from places visited, she couldn't seen to bet settled. She picked up a book of poetry her grandfather had given her when she was a child. The pages were dog eared and turned in many places. Inside the pages were slips of paper, bookmarks and misc, item to mark poems of importance to only her. The page fell open

And when his vacant place I see

My heart will bound with joy that he

Was mine so long - my fair young son

And cheer for him whose work is done

Ugh, Hughes, written for a soldier, she thought of Davis. No not right at all for her mood tonight

Bourdillon, one of her Father's favorite.

The night has a thousand eyes,

The day but one

Yet the light of the bright world dies

With the dying sun

The mind has a thousand eyes

And the heart but one

Yet the light of the whole life dies

When it's love is done

Holly imagined ,as a romantic girl, this poem reminded her father of his first wife. She read it aloud just to feel the word on her tongue and in her mouth.

"Is that how it feels to you?" the voice behind her whispered. A chill crept up her back. Had she imagined the voice. She slowly turned.

"Who are you?" surprised her voice could work. Frozen to the spot

"Answer my question? When they die on your table do you feel the light go out?" he was standing in the arch between the kitchen and the den. She reviewed her options. Run up the stairs, the French doors to the garden. She could not get her body to obey the commands of her mind. She always thought she would be able to run, why couldn't she run. He began to move toward her, she threw the book at him and headed for the French doors. She just wanted to get outside, be able to scream , someone would hear.

He was too fast. He kicked her feet out from underneath her body. Landing hard enough to knock the wind out of her he dragged her through the kitchen. She was recovering, trying to remember everything she had been taught to do. Relax, think, breath, asses the situation. If she could talk to him, make a connection, maybe he would not kill her

"Yes, Yes, the light goes out" she finally said. He stopped and dropped her on the kitchen floor

"That's better. Do you like it?"

"What?"

"The feeling when they die?"

"No like it when I can bring them back." might as well be honest. He mulled this over

"We have fundamental differences. I take like and you give it." his expression changed as if he had not entertained this idea. She waited. What time was it? Glancing at the clock she knew Jim would not be home for hours. He saw her glance

"He will find you. I can't decide if I will let him suffer or kill him quickly?" she started shaking uncontrollably, her teeth chattered, her chest shook, her limbs were numb.

This was Mason.

"I see recognition in your eyes." he seemed pleased.

"Please don't hurt him, do what ever you want to me, don't hurt him." she found her voice again

"Perhaps I should wait until he gets here, let him see you go , let him see the light fade, a thousand eyes?"

"No!" and with that word she pushed with all her strength against him. He fell backward, toward her stove. She scrambled across the floor, knocking any furniture askew in her path. She finally stood at her bedroom door. She only paused a second to consider her options and he was upon her. His arm around her throat in a choke hold. He forced her to the bed. In a frenzy he pushed and pulled her clothing off her body. Her mind tried to tell her this was not happening. She fought and scratched and bit him as he began to undo his clothing, still holding her neck. She knew she would have enough evidence under her nails and her bite marks would be on his body. Evidence she had to leave evidence. As she flailed and fought her hand hit the table beside the bed. Her fingernail file. Her dagger, Jim had called the six inch manicure tool. In and instant it was in his heart. Instinct lead her to the spot. He fell back. She pushed his body off her and rose to her knees

She plucked the file out of his chest, saw his chest heave and drove it down deep inside again and again until she was covered with his blood