Chapter 7

Amita gave Alan a brief hug. "I'm sorry this has to be such an early night. My flight leaves early, and I still have to pack!"

"We understand," said Alan. "Thank you for coming tonight. I think it was good for all of us."

"And congratulations on MIT," added Don, when it was time for his hug.

"Thank you," she said. She turned to leave, then spun back around. "Don…thank you for coming to dinner. And thank you both, for taking care of Charlie."

Don and Alan watched as Charlie placed a protective arm around Amita. "I'll walk you to the car," he said, and threw them both a smile over his shoulder. He draped her sweater over his free arm, and guided her through the kitchen and out the door.

Alan gave a small sigh. "Well, I guess that's it. Stay and help me do the dishes, or are you off to celebrate your 'big bust' with the team?"

Don picked up a serving bowl to carry into the kitchen. "Not done, yet, Dad. Something's hinky," He opened the refrigerator, didn't see a square inch of space. He peered at his father over the edge of the door. "Seems like there're already some leftovers in here."

"Here, let me," his father grumbled, joining him to peer into the refrigerator. "I'll find some room in here somewhere."

Charlie walked Amita to her rental car, helped her on with her sweater. "Thank you," he breathed, and then he was holding her face in both hands, and the kiss was sweet, long. She pressed against him and reached up to put her hand in his hair. When she was having difficulty breathing, she pulled away. Unshed tears glimmered in the moonlight. She put her hands on his, forced him away from her face. "It's time for me to go," she said quietly.

Charlie took a step back, crossed him arms against the cool air, crossed him arms so that he would not touch her again. "I know," he whispered.

She opened the car door then, turned slightly, but still heard him. "You know I'll always love you."

She froze. She had known he would do this, she had known he would say this…

"…that's very sweet, Dr. Eppes. I said the same thing last night to Jaime, just before I sent her to the video store."

Amita and Charlie both whipped around, but an arm was already crooked around Charlie's neck, dragging him even farther from Amita. She gasped, tried to scream. She knew her mouth was open, but no sound was coming out.

Charlie was struggling. "Wh…What are you doing? Who are you?"

"Keep silent." A gun was lifted, pointed at his head. "Not a sound from either of you, or this goes off."

Whoever it was had height and strength on Charlie, and sometimes he felt like his feet weren't even touching the ground. After an eternity, he heard his captor speak again. "She was going to be my wife," he said. "This was going to be the last hit, the distraction we had set up for the real target. So much money…it was enough for us to disappear into Mexico and live in luxury forever. Enough to pay off those idiots I got out of lock-up, too."

His grip has loosened and Charlie made a move, but the arm was tightened again like a vise grip. Charlie was having difficulty breathing.

"It's your fault," the man hissed in his ear. "Your brother told me you're the one who figured it out. By the time I went on duty yesterday afternoon and heard what was planned, it was too late. I tried to call her, but there was no answer. I even went to the video store to stop her, but she was already there. I couldn't go in, my officers were there, they'd figure out it was me…I had to watch from the restaurant across the street. I watched them kill her."

Amita made a squeaking sound and Lieutenant John Corriander jammed the gun harder against Charlie's head, dragged him another two steps back. "Shut up!"

Charlie's ragged breathing was all that could be heard for a moment.

"This is the way it's going down, Dr. Eppes," hissed Corriander again. "You're going to feel my pain. You're going to watch her die."

Charlie struggled in earnest then., but the arm just gripped him tighter. He couldn't breathe at all, now, but he felt the pressure of the gun leave his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw it aimed for Amita.

The explosion ruptured his ear drum. He was shoved away from Corriander in the next moment, shoved toward Amita. He tried to grab her, but she was disappearing. He was falling, his hand was rising on its own to his ear. He couldn't hear if he was screaming. He rolled over onto his back, then, and saw Corriander put the gun in his mouth, pull the trigger again. The second explosion didn't seem as loud, but he rolled quickly back over so he didn't have to see. He reached frantically for Amita with one hand. tried to find her. There was smoke, from the gun. He couldn't seem to take his hand off his ear, he was dizzy, naseous…He crawled in the dark, hit something solid. Floodlights suddenly came on, and he looked down. Amita was staring back up at him, and he was happy, so happy, she was alive…but he didn't remember that dress. Where did she get a dress like that? One that seemed to blossom a bigger and bigger pattern, dark and wet soaking into crisp white cloth, forming some sort of hybrid fabric…maybe she had designed it herself, used some formula he wasn't familiar with…He touched the pattern, and it became sticky, and he saw now that it was on the ground around her, under her…He knew that he was screaming now, he could feel it tearing at his throat. Maybe she was answering, he couldn't hear…but her lips weren't moving. Her eyes weren't blinking. He was screaming. He was screaming, and he couldn't stop.