Denise had finished rinsing Richie off when they heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Who is it?" she called.

"Miss Kramer," Jason called in response, "You're uncle's here – at least I think he is, come to think of it I never met him."

Denise wasn't sure if she'd be stepping into a trap or not, so she told Richie to stay where he was and not to move until she came back. All the same, she left the bathroom door open a crack and ordered Jason to watch Richie and if he started to fall asleep in the tub to get him out and take him back into her bedroom, she showed him which one.

"I better warn you, Miss," Jason said, "We told your uncle some things you're going to have to go along with not to blow our cover."

"Like what?" she asked.

"We told your uncle that Connor was visiting Richie."

"That's not so bad."

"And that we're Connor's sons."

"Now that's a bad idea," Denise said, "But what's done is done, what else?"

"So why the hell have you been gone for so long?" Connor asked David, "Denise and Jeremy have been in arms over it for hours, they thought you were dead."

"I very well could've been," David replied.

They stopped when they heard Denise coming down the stairs, yes this man was her uncle, and now it was a new game with Jason and Krug drawn into it, so she had her cards and knew how to play them.

"Uncle David," she said, "What's going on? Why haven't you returned sooner? Where were you? Do you realize what's been going on here?"

"Well your friend Mr. Nash informed me of a bit of it – how's Richie?"

"The poor dear," Denise said, "All this excitement's really getting to him, he can't eat, he has a bad stomach, he's shaking like he should be freezing, he's gone into a cold sweat and he's white as a ghost. I put him down to sleep, but I don't think it'll do him much good, he's terrified that Mason's going to get over here, or have one of his flunkies do it, and kill him in his sleep."

David knew that she was never nice as her true self, but he would never anticipate her being so sinister, so cruel, yes she played her cards right to get him feeling guilt for leaving them alone for so long, and not being around when Richie needed the help.

"And now Jeremy's gone," David added, "Went out looking for me."

"And he's been gone a long time as well," Denise said.

"If that son of a bitch so much as lays a hand on him I swear I'll---"

"Now you know how I feel about Richie," Connor told him, "So are you going to do something about him or not?"

"Uncle David where in the hell have you been?" Denise asked.

"Trying to stay alive, that imposter from the other night led me on a wild goose chase through this town and the next, I almost had the bastard too, but he slipped away."

"And now he's probably right back over there," Krug suggested.

"Uncle David," Denise said, "I highly suggest you go to the station and find out why nobody's answering. Even on their busiest nights, that is not normal."

"I know, I probably should---but what about here?" David asked, "Are you going to be allright?"

"Don't worry, we'll be fine," Connor said, "If anybody breaks in over here, I'll just tell them about the problems I'm having with my feet, that'll get rid of them. Now go on and get!"

David left, and after they closed the door behind him, they had a good laugh at his expense.

"Now I know why you think so little of the police," Connor said, "If they're all like him, then the entire police force is all a bunch of simpletons."

"Yeah," Denise replied, then added soberly, "And that bunch of simpletons has to be dead or there would've been somebody answering at the damn station."

"Where's Richie?" Connor asked.

"Well he's—uh oh."

"What?" Connor asked.

"I left him in the tub—" Denise jumped to the stairs and went charging up.

Krug looked at his watch. "Mister Nash?"

"What?"

"Isn't midnight a little late for a bath?"

"With those two, I never know what to expect."

"You're fond of them, ain't you?" Krug asked.

"Richie, definitely, he's family."

"And Miss Kramer?"

Connor laughed and shook his head. "I don't know, she means well, but---"

"Well I was just asking—seems to me that you're soft on them," Krug said, "But that's just me talking, nostalgic for even the illusion of a family. You see, Mister Nash, it was because I lost my family that I went into this business, and now because of this business I couldn't start my own family. I know it's not a good idea for people like me to get involved too much with their clients, but—somehow I feel like those kids are as close to a family as I'll have for a while, and I'd go out of my way to keep them alive and away from that."

And by that, Connor knew Krug meant Mason.

"Then it sounds like we have more in common than we thought," Connor said.

Denise found Jason where she'd left him, she sent him back downstairs to watch the back door, and she headed in to see how Richie was doing. He was about asleep when she got in, she jerked him upright and it woke him up.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm pulling the plug on you, you little bath toy," Denise said, "Come on, get up."

"What's happened? Where is everybody? Denise, what's going on?" Richie asked.

"Hush…Uncle David is going to see what's happened at the police station, and your uncle and the two guys I hired are watching the downstairs."

"And Jeremy?"

"Still nothing…but don't worry…he was once gone for 11 days, nobody could find him anywhere…he was happy as a clam when we finally found him."

Denise pulled Richie up and out of the tub and got him wrapped up in towels and dried him and took him back to her room, she was going to get him dressed when he stopped her.

"That's one thing I can still do by myself," he insisted.

"Suit yourself."

"That's what I'm doing."

Once Richie finished dressing, Denise laid him down on the bed. There wasn't really much need, he was so tired he just fell back on the bed and collapsed. Denise sat beside him and smoothed back his bangs and stroked his forehead. She wanted this whole ordeal to be over, all for his sake, it didn't matter to her, but Richie didn't deserve what he was being put through. It had gotten to the point that he was about sick, he couldn't eat, he slept very little and when he did it was never well. Just looking at Richie was becoming painful, even just looking at him, you could see the agony he was going through. The whole ordeal was making him sick and because of that, he was making himself weaker and weaker. Then, Denise got an idea, she quietly slipped out of the bed and out of the room and she called down the back stairs for Jason to come up. He did and she told him to stay right outside the door and keep an eye on Richie, she advised him to wake Richie up if he seemed to be having a nightmare, and not to let Richie leave the room.

So Jason stayed and he watched, Denise was downstairs about half an hour and in that time Richie never tossed or turned or woke up. In fact he was starting to wonder if he was sick when he heard Denise come up the back stairs, and in her hands she had a large silver tray with a large round silver lid on top. She sent him back down to watch the back door while she was alone with Richie, she took the tray over to the bed, and she smoothed back the damp bangs on Richie's forehead, and that got his attention.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty, I've got something for you," she said.

Richie rubbed his eyes and sat up against the headboard. "What is it?"

She picked up the tray and laid it on top of his lap. "To make up for the dinner you didn't eat."

Richie lifted the lid and liked what he saw, a large hamburger with a side of curly fries and a large pickle. Only problem was he wasn't sure he could eat it, and if he could, the real question would be in keeping it down.

"Well—" he tried to think of something to say, "—It sure looks good."

"It ought to be," Denise replied, "I poked and pressed that thing until it spit clear."

Well that should've killed any appetite he had. However if there was one thing he knew, it was not healthy to make the cook unhappy, so he ate.

"How is it?" she asked after a while.

"Good—Denise."

"What?"

"I'm sorry about earlier."

"Forget it," Denise said, "It's done. After you eat, I want you to go right back to bed—this is going to be a long night, and I don't want you worrying because I won't let anyone hurt you. Also, I'll be sure and let you know as soon as Jeremy gets back, allright?"

Richie nodded. She was right, this was going to be a long night, and he knew that, he just wanted it to be over. He'd finished most of the meal and pushed the tray away and laid back down. Denise took the tray and brought the covers up on Richie. "Comfortable?"

"Yeah—thanks."

She kissed his temple and replied, "Anytime, Richie – anytime."

"They still haven't moved?" Connor asked.

"Not yet, I don't get what they could be doing over there for so long," Krug said, "Unless they're--" he laughed.

"I doubt it, if that were the case he wouldn't need the hooker," Connor replied.

"He would if he goes both ways," Krug told him.

Connor shook his head, "Now that's not an image I need to see."

"I still think it'd save a lot of time and trouble if we just went over there and ripped them to hell," Krug thought.

Connor didn't say anything in response, he'd already said his part and there wasn't anymore to say about it.

"I just want this to be over for Richie," Connor said, "I can't imagine what all he's gone through since the whole thing started."

Krug nodded and looked back out the window and he got an idea. "You might have to take over watching this window," he said, "I'm going to go take a look around the yard and make sure nobody's snooping around out there. We can only cover so much from these windows."

"What if they see you?" Connor asked.

"Let them, I'm a guest here, I can walk around on the property if I want."

Connor knew that there was something Krug wasn't telling him. "What do you see out there?"

"Nothing yet, and I'm for keeping it that way."

"And if you do find someone, what then?" Connor asked.

"Then we won't have to worry about them anymore," Krug said, "It's as simple as that."

"Is it?" Connor asked.

"It is for me, Mister Nash, it's my job. My conscience died when my parents did—you say the word, I'll rub out each and every one of those monkeys over there. And you can be sure, if you don't give me the word, then Miss Kramer will."

With that, Krug slipped around to the back and left through the kitchen door, and Connor replaced him at the front window. He saw nothing, heard nothing, everything was pitch dark and the rain only made it harder to see through, how Krug could ever hope to find someone to murder out there, it was beyond him. The sound of footsteps coming down the front stairs took him by surprised, but he was relieved to see it was only Denise.

"Connor, I need your help," she said.

"Is Richie bothering you?"

"No," Denise replied, she got to the bottom of the stairs and looked around, "Where's Krug?"

"Out searching the grounds, making sure nobody's trying to surprise us," Connor said, "What's going on?"

"Well get away from the window, come into the living room, there's something I have to show you."

Connor took one final glance out the window, saw nothing and followed her into the living room.

"What is it?" he asked.

She held up in the light a small metal comb in her hand with sharp teeth, "What do you make of this?"

Connor took the comb from her and looked it over. "Somebody's got lice?"

"No."

"Dandruff?"

"Connor!"

"I don't get what you want my help with here, Denise."

"I found this comb in Mason's house in the living room, that's the front room where he killed the lady."

"So?"

"So, first off where do you find metal combs, they're not well known or used, I know that—and second, why sharpen the teeth? A comb's for going through the hair, not tearing up the scalp."

"Yeah, so?" Connor asked.

"Do you think it's possible this is what he tore her throat open with?"

"Well it's entirely possible but—wait a minute, wait a minute—where do I come in to this?"

"I need to know if the teeth are sharp enough to cut through skin," she said, "Enough to do some real damage."

"So?" Connor asked.

"So," Denise replied as she grabbed Connor's wrist, "You'll heal, fast."

She had a point, and if it would help prove Richie's story—he rolled up his sleeve, exposing his forearm and said, "Go ahead."

He was expecting her to just run it over hard enough to prove it could cut, but she ripped into his arm and he forced his teeth and mouth shut so he wouldn't scream and draw Jason into the room. Blood pooled all over his arm from the cut that had been made nearly four inches long, in a matter of seconds the blood returned inside of his arm and what looked like small bolts of blue lightning distracted the focus on the wound closing up. Good as new.

"So it's sharp enough to cut through skin—definitely sharp enough to cut someone's throat," Denise said, "A neck would probably be about as soft to cut into as your arm."

"And let's face it, something that sharp this guy is not scratching dandruff with," Connor added, "So we may have the murder weapon here."

"May? What do you mean may?" Denise asked.

"Denise, how well did he clean up the mess in the house? The blood?"

"The floor was spotless, the bathtub---"

"Bathtub?"

"Yeah, a bathtub in the house, the entire bottom of it was covered in dry blood, water's not running so he couldn't wash it down."

"Allright, so clearly there was a lot of blood, don't you think there might be some on the comb too? Or did he clean that as well?"

"There's no blood on it this time. Besides, Connor, I got cut on plenty of sharp things, no blood on them because the people that did it to me did it fast, just cut and go, don't wait for the blood. That's what Mason did too, did it so fast Richie couldn't even tell what was going on. Granted, depending on where you're cutting and how deep, blood can pool up instantly, but if you know what you're doing, you can do it without getting any damning evidence on the weapon."

"Mister Nash," Jason came into the living room, "What's going on in here? Something wrong?"

"No, we were just discussing the case here," Connor said.

"It's a mess," Denise said, "If he were alive today, Hitchcock wouldn't use a case like this, he wouldn't even touch a case like this with a ten foot pole."

"That's what you say, I'll tell you what I know," Connor said, "Scotland Yard couldn't catch Jack the Ripper and they wouldn't get this guy either."

"And the Pinkertons wouldn't get him either," Jason said, "Law ain't gonna do anything with killers, especially a real uppity one like him, that's why there's careers for people like Krug and myself. We come in where the law backs off."

Denise put the comb down on the table, "I better get back before Richie wakes up. I have a feeling he's going to be doing a lot of that tonight."

After she had gone, Jason looked at the comb and thought it a rather unusual one. "What's that?" he asked.

Connor picked it up and looked it over closely again, "I do believe it's the murder weapon."

"Denise."

She saw that one coming. "Yes, Richie, what is it?"

He turned over and sat up, "I can't sleep."

"Yeah, it's hot as hell in this house," she said, "I'll crack open the window, as much rain as we're getting that should cool things down in a hurry."

"That's not all of it," Richie said.

Denise lifted the bottom windowpane six inches and let the cool air, and water, come into the room. "Then what is it?"

"I just can't sleep," he said.

"So what do you want?"

For a minute Richie looked as if he didn't have anything else to say, then he looked like he couldn't say what was on his mind. Finally he forced himself to ask, "Would you just stay with me?"

"I'm already here," she replied, "I'm not going anywhere."

Richie laid back down, his eyes open but not really looking at anything, particularly trying to avoid looking at her. "Would you just talk to me, please? The silence is what I can't take."

She exhaled. "Okay, what about?"

"Anything."

"Allright, how do you like living with your warden?"

"Why do you call him that?" Richie asked.

"Because he's just like one, he's always telling you what to do, how to do it, where to go, when to go and come back, if you don't then it's on your head. Besides, ever since you moved in with him, anytime we want you over for visit, we have to check with him first. I had better communication between friends in jail."

"He's not that bad," Richie said, "He took me in when nobody else wanted me."

"Well we want you," Denise replied, "And we would have you had we found you before he did. How is it that we live in the same town for seven months before finding each other?"

"I don't know," Richie said, "But I'm glad we finally did."

"So am I, Richie—so am I."

Richie buried his face in the pillows and Denise heard a muffled, "Oh God."

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Richie turned onto his side so he didn't have to look at her. "Mac's never going to believe this."

"What?" Denise asked.

"About Mason, he's never going to believe me, and nobody can back me up because I'm the only one who saw the murder," Richie said, he sounded like he was near crying. "What am I going to do when they get back?"

"Richie, you screwed up," Denise told him, "You let your warden know what you thought of Mason, which turns out you had good reason for. But he's going to keep that in mind, and he's going to think you made it all up just because you don't like him. However, you got us to back you up because we believe you, and that uncle of yours, he'll back you up too. Now how's he going to argue his own brother defending you?"

"But they aren't—never mind, it doesn't matter, Denise, Mac may be a hell of a lot better than the foster fathers we had, but he's just as dangerous, maybe even more so."

"He hit you?" Denise asked.

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

"He hasn't, I swear to God."

"He slapped you?"

"No."

"Burnt you?"

"No."

"Cut you."

"Denise!"

"He ever try to pin you down?" Denise asked.

He knew what she was getting at by that question. "No, Denise, he hasn't done anything to me, nothing like that anyway."

"So why're you afraid of him?" Denise asked.

"Denise you don't understand, I've seen him do things, I've seen him—"

"Seen him what, kill people?" Denise asked.

Richie couldn't trust himself to speak but even that was evidence enough.

"I see," she said.

"Denise, you don't understand," Richie cried.

"Oh I understand allright, I understand perfectly," Denise said, she laughed, "That haggis has a past of his own, he just don't like airing it for people to know about. Well, that's better than what I thought we were dealing with. So these people he kills, why's he kill them?"

"Because they try to kill him," Richie answered.

"Why do they try to kill him?" Denise asked, "What'd he do to them?"

"Nothing, they just come after him."

"For what, money? Maybe some of those artifacts in his shop? Or maybe he slept with someone and got caught, eh?"

"No, they just come after him for—for no reason."

"You expect me to believe that?" Denise asked.

"I'm not lying." And to the best of his knowledge, he wasn't. Duncan had explained to him about Immortals and the Game, but it didn't make much sense to him. It just seemed to him as just that, that they were all killing each other for no reason.

"And you're afraid because what—you've seen him kill them?"

"A couple."

"What'd he do to you then?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"Well—that's part of why he took me in, because I saw him kill a guy, and I didn't know what it was all about. But he told me why he did it, and why he still does it, and he took me in I guess, so I know there's nothing to worry about."

"You really believe that?" Denise asked.

"I guess, I mean, I know why he does it, I know it's him or them at the end of it all—and I know he'd never try it with me."

"How do you know that?" Denise asked.

"Because," Richie said, "He saved my life, several times actually."

"Okay, Richie, explain to me, this guy has never hurt you before, but he has killed people, but he wouldn't kill you—so why are you so afraid of him?"

"I don't know, Denise," he replied, "I just am."

Richie buried his face in the pillows and cried silently, Denise's hand found its way to his back and smoothed across up and down, back and forth.

"Don't worry, Richie, he ever does anything to you, you just come on down here and let me know. I'll take care of everything."

Richie turned back on his side and said as calmly as he could manage, "Thanks, Denise—thank you."

Denise leaned back against the headboard and held Richie in her arms and rocked gently with him and stroked his back as she waited for him to go back to sleep.

"I'll always look after you, Richie," she promised. Always.

The night passed, the rain stopped, the clock struck five in the morning. Denise had been up with Richie all night, who had slipped into a deep and undisturbed sleep about an hour ago and was still there. It had taken her a better part of that hour to get out from under him without waking him up, now she was on her knees right by the bed with her head laid on the end of the pillows, watching him as he slept. She heard footsteps coming up the back stairs but paid no mind to them, not until they stopped right outside the bedroom and she heard a familiar call.

"Well skin me alive and call me luggage, what have we here?"

She jerked her head around and saw her brother, alive and well, and cocky as ever.

"You've gone and done it, haven't you?" he asked, and he laughed, "You went and fell head over heels for him, oh man I don't believe it, my own sister and my own best friend. Well, it could be worse, that's for damn sure."

Denise didn't say anything, she couldn't believe her eyes, her brother, after being gone all night with no word, back and acting like nothing had happened.

"I don't mind it or nothing," he added, "If you two want to be together that's your own business. To each their own, live and let live and all that crap that they say. But I just never figured, my sister and my best friend, in love, with each other, ho!" he laughed.

Denise got to her feet and was next to him in a heartbeat. "Shut up will you shut up?" she said in as low a voice as she could manage, "You're going to wake him after I've been up with him all night because he was worried about you, nobody could find you, we didn't know if you were alive or dead, and he wouldn't shut up, he wouldn't stop crying! He finally went to sleep an hour ago and I swear if you wake him up!"

"Hey sis, calm down," Jeremy said, "Hey, I didn't know you guys were actually going to be worried, come to think of it, why were you worried?"

"I wasn't," she replied, "Richie was."

"Then that makes sense, you haven't worried about me since 1989," Jeremy said in his regular cocky tone, "But Denise, you won't believe what I've found out."

"Do I even want to know?" she asked.

"Where's Mason?"

"Still across the street, why?"

"If he tries to fight us now, he's going to be doing it single handedly, his men are dead."

"What?"

"Dead, they're dead, D-E-A-D dead, pushing up petunias, picking radishes with a stepladder, expired, they are dead, all five of them."

"Five of them?"

"That's right, seems Mason's been having a lot of help with him."

"But how do you know that's all of them?" Denise asked.

"Do you know who killed them?" Jeremy asked.

"As crazy as things are going around here, I'd even say the little man that turns out the light in the icebox."

"Krug."

"Krug killed them?"

"Yeah, apparently last night he got to snooping around on the property here and overheard them from Mason's porch. It being pitch dark and all, they never noticed him, and he heard them talking, apparently Mason's had them around for a while now, although what for, Krug didn't find out. And Mason said that he was sending, all of his guys out to make sure there weren't anymore slip ups, and he said all and five guys came out of the house."

"And where are the bodies now?" Denise asked.

"At the funeral home."

"Wonder what the mortician's going to say about them," she said.

"He's not going to, Krug killed him too."

"Why?" Denise asked.

"He found out that the mortician was in on it too, Mason's had them on some kind of payroll to help make sure everything goes smoothly."

"Funeral home, shit!" Denise said, "You know what that means?"

"Yeah, that's the best place to stash a corpse."

"No you mental pygmy," she replied, "They could've had the broad cremated, now we'll never find her."

"Sis, you're overreacting."

"Oh you think so?" Denise asked.

"Yeah, for one thing, we've been watching his house the whole time, they couldn't move anyone or anything in or out without us seeing it."

"But last night we were trying to find the deputy, we were gone and they could've taken her body out then."

"Too chancy, we kept coming back and going that night, and there was no telling when one of us would pull in. No, Sis, I think that broad's still over there."

"But where? We've already looked in the entire house!"

"I know," Jeremy said, "However, a famous man once said that "once you have excluded the impossible, then whatever remains however improbable must be the truth"."

"What famous man said that?" Denise wanted to know.

"The one that voices the fat orange cat on Saturday morning cartoons."

Denise growled and raised her arm back as if to strike him.

"Denise?"

Both turned to see Richie slowly come around. Denise grabbed Jeremy's arm and pulled him over to the bed. "It's allright, Richie—Jeremy's back, see?"

Richie's eyes opened fully and he sat up in the bed. "Where have you been?" he asked.

"That's a long story," Jeremy said.

"Well you know what," Denise replied, "I put up with him for over seven hours while you were gone, now you can tell him where he's been." She gave him a shove over toward the bed. "Go on!"

Jeremy came close to falling on the bed but caught himself in time. He looked back at Denise and turned to Richie, "A real charmer, ain't she?"

"Where have you been?" Richie repeated.

"Well first I went out to find Uncle David, I didn't find him. I did however find out that the police station was about as empty as it could be, that is to say all the officers were out on call."

"What about the phones?"

"Oh yeah, they had a lady there answering them, seemed kind of odd, she said that she never picked up a call from us."

"How would she know? Nobody answered when you called."

"I know---I'm beginning to think somebody down at the station is on the take too."

"What take?" Richie asked.

"Krug found out that Mason's got a bunch of guys working for him, he found them and killed them all last night, stuffed them away at the funeral home."

"You can't be serious," Richie said.

"Yes I am, I saw the bodies myself---would you like to see them?"

"No! I don't want to see anymore bodies!" Richie cried as he buried his head under the pillows.

"Nice going, genius," Denise said.

Jeremy took away the pillows and pulled Richie up again. "Anyway, as it turns out, Mason has had these guys on some kind of a payroll for a while it seems."

"What for?" Richie asked.

"I don't know," Jeremy said, "But I think it all has something to do with the hooker he killed."

"Like what? He killed her for a specific reason? It wasn't just because they were fighting?"

"I don't think so," Jeremy replied, "It sure don't seem to be playing out like if it was."

"She was just a hooker," Denise said, "What could she possibly have that all of them would want?"

"I don't know," Jeremy said, "But anyway, Krug's got all of them down at the funeral home, and providing that's all of them that there are, Mason's in this by himself now, ain't that great, Richie? Now we outnumber him, six to one."

"That's all good and well, but we still need to find a corpse before we can do much of anything," Denise reminded him.

"What do we do?" Jeremy asked, "Just wait until he leaves the house again to tear it up and find her?"

"I don't know—I wish I did—I wish to God that I did know what to do next—but all we can do is wait. In the meantime, I guess you two better get some sleep."

"Yeah, come on Rich, now we can go back to my room, ain't a person alive who'd think to bother us in there," Jeremy said.

Richie groaned as he tossed back the covers and stood up. "I'm beginning to wonder if this is ever going to end."

"Come on, Richie," Denise said as she gave him a push out of the room, "Everything's going to be allright, I'll see to that, you just rest."

"How can I?" Richie asked.

"Oh it'll be easy," Jeremy replied, "Come on."

"But Jeremy, what about what you said?" Richie asked.

"It's allright, Rich, I'll tell you the whole thing once we get settled in."

"Yeah, tuck you two away nice and tight so I don't have to put up with you until later," Denise said, "That's the best deal I've heard all week."