Enough of this, Ralph Jerico decides.

He's waited for months for the town to shun Angus MacGyver of their own accord, considering his theatrical going-ons; but it hasn't happened. Everyone's so charmed by this Leroux character that the gossip's envious, not disgusted.

And today, he's come home, planning a piece of violence or pleasure or both at once- but no wife is waiting for him. Just a note.

I'm not writing dear, because you're not. So I'll just say this- Ralph, I'm leaving. The Phoenix Foundation's programme for abused women will make sure I never have to see you again- and that's just how I want it.

And I still don't love Mac, but in his own way he has integrity. And that's something you never will.

Ellen

There's no profit in destroying the man's reputation. Not now. But it'll be a victory, and that's all he cares about now.

He fetches the incriminating documents from the safe, and drives down to the police station to find utter chaos. Shouting, and running amuk, and general disorderliness. Criminal or not (he doesn't think of himself as one), it's enough to make him quite despair for the future of Mission City.

But he isn't Ralph Jerico for nothing; the force of his name and position is enough to gain him an immediate private meeting with the police chief. He's briskly efficient, as he lays out the letters. Documentary proof of criminal behaviour. Just the right touch of reluctance, to turn in a man formerly so dear to Ellen…but the eventual decision that justice must prevail. All very satisfying.

"Breaking into a federal prison, just to begin with. That must be a felony."

"Oh, I'm sure we can work up a few charges. Although we can't exactly bring him in just now, can we?"

"Why not? Why ever not?"

"Didn't you hear?" the chief says, with dark amusement. "Mac was kidnapped early this morning. We were at a loss for a motive, since they can hardly expect a ransom…and then you walk in and hand me your confession on a silver platter. Wouldn't have thought you to be the sort that suffers from a guilty conscience, Jerico. Or were you hoping to bribe me into overlooking it?"

"My confession? That was nothing of the sort!"

"Wasn't it? Means, motive, opportunity. It'll look just fine on my record, fingering a suspect for Mission City's biggest-ever crime in not even twelve hours."

"You'll never make it stick."

"Won't I? A lot of nasty little details will come out at the trial, you know. Don't think we've been utterly blind to all your drug-running attempts." The chief is smiling now, and not nicely.

"Then- I would like to see my lawyer."

"Oh, you'll get one. Funny business, isn't it? If you'd come forward about this any other time, Mac would have been an instant pariah. But as it is now…you've probably done the only thing that could get people feeling sympathetic towards him. When we find him and bring him home, if he's still alive, they'll probably throw him a parade."

A cold northern draught sweeps through the office, as Ralph Jerico realises just how tightly he's knotted the noose for himself. Even if he gets off (he'll get off, they haven't any proof and money can buy anything)- nobody in Mission City will ever trust him again. The town he's striven so hard to save.

Damn that Angus MacGyver, anyway.

Damn him to hell.