Sorry for the long time in updating. I've been sick the last week and could barely churn out a couple of paragraphs at a time. Thanks to you who have reviewed for all your support. I truly appreciate it!

Chapter 8

It was after dark by the time Jeff turned into the driveway. He turned off the ignition and waited until the radio cut off before he grabbed a bundle of mail he had gotten at the post office earlier. Except for the glow of the solar lanterns that lined the walkway, the large stone house was silent and dark.

Jeff fumbled for his keys and found the right one by touch. He was used to coming home in the dark, the only difference this night being Lucy wasn't there to leave the porch light on and wait up for him. No dinner would be waiting to be heated up either. But that was far from the worst part as he could settle for a micro-waved frozen dinner without a problem. No, the worst part is that he was alone in the house and the bright life the activity of his family infused into it was missing. Without them, it was an empty, lifeless place. No boys sneaking out of bed to talk to him about their day and say goodnight. No Lucy. That's what made the house a home. People, not things.

At least he'd be able to talk to Lucy and the boys on the vid-phone. It was a comfort to him knowing he wasn't completely cut off from his family. As he put the key in the door, he saw movement in the corner of his eye. He swung around, half-expecting a sneak attack from his neighbor's large German Shepherd that had the knack of escaping his fenced-in yard late at night. Instead a man stepped out of the shadows.

Jeff squinted in the dim light, then his face hardened when he recognized the familiar features of James Haydyn.

"What do you think you're doing here, James?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Ever hear of calling someone instead of creeping around their house in the middle of the night?"

"You wouldn't answer if I called you," James countered.

"That's true," Jeff admitted. "Just like I'm not going to talk to you now."

James put a hand on Jeff's arm, desperation giving him courage. "All I want is two minutes. Can you give me that?"

Jeff eyed the hand on his arm and stifled the urge to punch the man in the face. If he had been younger, he would have done it, but he had outgrown such outbursts with passing years and advancing ranks. "What can you say that will make any difference? You did what you did and there's no amount of excuses that can change that. You can't talk you way out of the consequences of your actions this time."

James closed his eyes. "Don't you think I already know that? I fucked up and Eric's dead. You think this is easy for me? I have to live with this. He was my friend too, you know. "

Jeff studied the man and he could feel his anger weakening. The three of them, he, Eric, and James had always been close friends from the beginning. Jeff, the natural leader, had stood out from the start and had advanced through the ranks. Eric had followed him a few steps behind as he always did, his brilliance at engineering earning him recognition and promotions. But James...his mercurial personality and impulsiveness clashed with his brilliance as a pilot and his frequent disciplinary actions made him his own worst enemy.

"James..." Jeff began, without his anger to drive him he uncertain what to say. He didn't doubt the sincerity of the man's words and feelings but even so, he would never be able to forget Eric was dead because of his actions.

As if he read Jeff's mind, James spoke. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I'm not going to forgive myself for doing what I did." His voice faltered and Jeff could see the misery etched in the other man's face. He struggled to maintain his composure and again met Jeff's eyes. "I'm here because I just want you to know how sorry I am."

"I know you're sorry," Jeff said. "But you have to answer for what you did. It will probably mean a court-martial and..."

"I resigned today." James folded his arms and turned away.

Jeff couldn't believe what he was hearing. James had been in situations in the past where he was given the chance to resign instead of facing a potential court-martial and he had always steadfastly refused. He was a fighter who always swam upstream and the worse the odds were, the more he fought. It was that quality that resonated in Jeff and had made them friends in the first place.

Jeff patted him on the shoulder. "I think you did the right thing. I really do. You wouldn't want the press to get a hold of the story and pull you through the mud, would you?"

"No. I didn't want to cause anyone any more pain, especially Melanie."

"Melanie?" Jeff asked, frowning when he thought of what he had learned that day about Eric's widow.

James straightened, his natural defiance returning. "Whatever Max Carson told you about her today, it's not true."

Jeff kept his voice neutral, surprised that James knew about the meeting he had with the lawyer. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"You do. I know you met with Max today. He called Melanie to gloat about it." James voice held a note of desperation. "Don't believe what he says about anything. He's not the man you think he is."

"What do you have to do with any of it?" Jeff demanded. He became suspicious when James wouldn't look him in the eye. The younger man shifted his weight from foot to foot and chewed his lip.

"Don't ask me that because I can't tell you." James abruptly turned to walk away in the darkness.

This time Jeff grabbed his arm. "If you know anything, you better spill your guts," he growled.

James pulled away. "Max Carson has a score to settle with Melanie. He got Eric to turn against her and now he's got you in his pocket too."

"I'm not in anyone's pocket," Jeff insisted. "I just want to know the truth."

"No, you don't." James shoved his hands in the pockets of the light jacket he was wearing. "You want the world to be a better place than it really is and people to be basically good." His jaw clenched and his black eyebrows moved into a V as he looked off into the darkness. He half-turned to Jeff, desperation shining in his eyes. "That's not how things really are, Jeff. That's not how people are. You just don't get it and you would never believe the truth."

"Try me." Jeff put his hand on his former friend's shoulder. "Why don't you come inside and we'll talk about this?"

James hesitated but then accepted the invitation with a curt nod. Jeff opened the front door and both men stepped into the house, neither of them knowing there was a set of eyes watching them through infrared binoculars.

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She sat cross-legged out in the wet grass as the sun went down. The sheer material of her night gown didn't protect her from the slight chill in night air that a day of rain had brought. Her hands moved back and forth in the grass, tracing shapes. Her green eyes were unfocused and unseeing and her long, curly copper-colored hair was tangled and knotty.

From a window in the next yard, a pair of elderly eyes behind thick, bottle-like glasses watched with suspicion and concern.. "She's out there again, Ralph." The old woman washed a plate with a soapy dish cloth. There was a grunt from the old man at the table buried behind the latest copy of the Wichita Eagle.

"Did you hear me? She's out there again."

"I heard you," the voice behind the newspaper grumbled. "What do you want me to do about it? It's her yard, ain't it? She's got a right to sit in it, I'm supposin'."

"Someone should call the police." Another dish was scrubbed.

The newspaper rustled. "It's not gonna be you. Mind your own business, Maude."

The old woman dried the dish vigorously with a towel. "She's not right in the head and she's got that little girl."

Still the rumbling behind the paper. "It's not our concern."

The old woman didn't answer as she continued to watch from the window as she washed the dishes. Someone should call, she thought to herself. Maybe later when Ralph went to play bingo and she was home by herself. She looked over her shoulder at the newspaper that surrounded her husband.

Yes, later she would call because as far as she was concerned, it washer business.

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"Sit," Jeff pointed to an uncomfortable looking wooden chair that sat by his desk. It was a chair he put his boys in when they needed a talk or a time out. He had led James to his office, preferring to talk in that room as he felt more in his element there.

James sat and his gaze traveled along the walls covered with family photos, Lucy's paintings, and pictures of the moon before coming back to Jeff. "Nice," he said, approving. "Lucy still has the time to paint. I thought she pretty much gave up everything after she married you."

Jeff bristled. "Let's not start down that road. You're here to talk about Max Carson and Melanie, that's it and nothing more."

"That's right," James agreed. "I don't know what Max told you but don't believe it." He reached over and picked up a paperweight from Jeff's desk. It was a clear, hexagonal shape with a miniature space shuttle in the middle of it. "They are all crooked, you know. All of them...Max, the General, Dr. Bolden, Brian Duncan...Eric, too. He got sucked in just like everyone else. Everyone but you and me." He set the paperweight back on the desk.

"I don't think you know half of what you think you do." Jeff leaned back in his chair, keeping his face and voice neutral.

James shrugged. "Maybe, but I know that Max is a sleaze and that he got Eric in on his game. I know that General Austin lines his pockets with bribes and kickbacks." James stopped talking, he picked up the paperweight again and held it in the palm of his hand, turning it in the light so that it reflected prisms along the pictures on the wall. "I know that someone messed with the reactor."

Jeff caught his breath. "How do you know that?"

James sighed and continued to stare at the paperweight. "Because Brian Duncan approached me with a deal and I refused. I guess they found someone else to do it."

"He offered you money to tamper with the lunar module's reactor?" Jeff asked.

"Yes, but not for money. He offered to get rid of Eric."

Jeff's face darkened and his eyes glittered with barely suppressed anger. "I guess you didn't need his help for that to happen. You did that all on your own when you disobeyed my order and launched early."

James met Jeff's eyes. There was no defiance, just regret and deep remorse. "I know you'll never believe me but I really thought I was making the right decision. I never wanted Eric to die. I wasn't thinking about what would happen when I launched, I was thinking about how we were all going to die out there in that damn wasteland..." he stopped talking, struggling to steady his voice. He slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. "If I could go back and change things I would. If I could take his place I would...you've got to believe me, Jeff."

Jeff didn't answer. He tried to cling to his anger but it eluded him in the light of the heartfelt words he had just heard. Wearily, he rubbed his temples. "I believe you, James. It's just that it doesn't change anything. It still happened and a man is still dead. Your friend."

"I'm going to answer for it," James said. "I'm not trying to get away with anything."

Jeff looked at him suddenly, a question coming into his tired mind. "Why would anyone think you wanted Eric dead? You never explained that."

James set the paperweight down. "Melanie and I...we...you see..."

Jeff closed his eyes and groaned before throwing up his hands. "Why would you do something like that, Jim? She was married to your friend. Your friend. Do you have no sense of boundaries or self control at all?"

"It's not like that," James sat forward in the chair. "It's not what you think."

"You've always got a justification for everything you do," Jeff said, severely.

"I'm not trying to justify it, I'm explaining to you how it happened. They were already on the rocks. Eric already cut her loose. He was already planning on getting a divorce..."

Jeff gritted his teeth. "I don't think I can take anymore revelations today. Why don't we finish this conversation tomorrow?"

James seemed relieved as he went along with Jeff's suggestion. "That's fine by me."

Jeff led him to the front door and stifled back a yawn. He hadn't realized just how tired he was after the incredibly stressful, never-ending day. "We'll talk tomorrow, okay? Call me. This time I'll answer."

James nodded, with the smallest of smiles. As he started down the walk, Jeff began to close the door. An explosive bang sent shards of wood flying past Jeff's head. Instinctively, he dropped to the floor. Stunned, he lay there for several moments, confusion changing to a horrific realization. He looked upward at the open door and saw the place where a high-powered bullet had shattered its way through the heavy wood on a journey past his head.

A groan came from the darkness. It had to be James but Jeff couldn't see him from his position on the ground. On his hands and knees, Jeff crawled outside. His mind was racing as he moved. He had no idea which direction the bullet had come from. There had been no sound except the impact into the door. That meant whoever shot it had used a silencer, he decided.

Jeff crawled like snake off the doorstep onto the lawn. The grass was wet and cool. James' lay on the lawn a few feet away. He rolled back and forth, alternating between groaning and cursing softly.

"James," Jeff whispered. "Where'd they get you?"

"My right shoulder. "

"Is it bad?"

"What do you think? If I didn't trip over one of those lantern things on your sidewalk, I'd be pushing up daisies." There was a flurry of cursing in the darkness. "I'll get those bastards."

Jeff was about to move when grass in front of him exploded without warning, showering dirt and pieces of sod down onto him. He rolled quickly to the side and kept rolling until he reached the driveway. Crouching on his knees, he leapt for the safety of his car. Another ping as a bullet ricocheted somewhere off the car. Jeff sat on the ground with his back against the front bumper.

"Don't get yourself shot, Jeff, just hang tight," James said, trying to sound casual and failing. "I called 9-1-1 as soon as I hit the grass."

A siren sounded off in the distance. Within a few minutes, the quiet street was filled with police cars. After listening to Jeff's hurried explanation, some of the officers disappeared into the darkness to search for the unknown assailant. An ambulance soon came, filling the quiet night again with the wail of sirens and more flashing lights.

Jeff stayed with James as the medics loaded him up onto a stretcher and wheeled him hurriedly towards the waiting ambulance.

"Are you friend or family?" asked one of the medics.

"Friend," Jeff answered without hesitation.

"Do you want to ride with us?"

Jeff looked to James for guidance in answering the question. The pale astronaut eye's were shut and he grimaced with pain. Blood was seeping through the heavy gauze that the other medic had secured to the jagged shoulder wound. "Do you want me to come, James?"

"Could you call Melanie and make sure she's alright?" James asked. "She wasn't herself when I talked to her earlier and I'm worried about her. I'll be fine."

"Sure," Jeff assured. "I'll call her."

He watched as the ambulance pulled away. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade, he realized how close he had come to taking a bullet in the head. Just like that, he would be dead and gone. Unless they were trying to get James. Or maybe both of them. Jeff's mind whirled, fatigue and the reminder of his mortality, making it difficult for him to think. One thing he did know, he would drive back into Orlando and stay at a hotel for the night just in case the unknown shooter decided to come back to finish the botched job.

Tomorrow , he would figure things out. After talking to a detective who assured him that they would place James under protective surveillance and refusing an offer for himself of the same, Jeff packed up a duffel bag and headed for his car. He had only two things on his mind, keeping his promise to check on Melanie and calling Lucy. Everything else could wait for the time being.

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Lucy and Ruth sat out on the farmhouse porch as darkness settled over the farm. With dinner over and the dishes cleaned and put away, Ruth had decided to take a few minutes to sit and enjoy the company of her daughter-in-law. Late summer was such a busy time of year that she rarely indulged in such a luxury, but with Jeff gone, she could tell that Lucy was heart sore and lonely, and she did everything she could to support and distract the young woman she thought of as her own daughter.

With Scott and Virgil off helping Grant with chores that had been pushed back because of the start of harvesting, and young John already in bed, it was relatively quiet except for the usual night insects chattering and the distant lowing of the cattle as they anticipated their dinner. The two women sat in companionable silence. Even at rest, Ruth's hands were busy snapping off the ends of green beans in preparation for another marathon of canning the next day.

Ruth was the first to break the silence. "We're so glad that you and the boys are staying with us, Honey."

Lucy looked up from a charcoal drawing she was working on and smiled. "We love it here. You've been so good to us...I don't know what we would do without you and Grant."

Getting up to go to the kitchen for more beans, she stopped in front of Lucy and brushed a strand of hair out of the younger woman's face. "You're family and we love you," Ruth said simply, smiling at her.

Lucy squeezed Ruth's work worn hand with her smooth, charcoal-covered one. They sat talking on the porch as the stars winked out as dark clouds rolled overhead. A cool breeze began to pick up, making the wind chimes hanging along the porch tinkle and ring as they swayed. Lighting flashed far off in the distance.

Grant and the boys came trudging in from the barn. Ruth eyed their dirty boots and pointed to a mat near the screen door. "Off with those boots, all of you, before you go in the house." Scott and Virgil obeyed instantly and shed the offensive footwear and followed Lucy into the house to get washed and changed for bed.

Grant stood on the porch watching the lightning dance along the horizon. With a pan of beans in one hand, Ruth stood beside him. Affectionately, Grant wrapped an arm around her. "Looks like a storm is blowing in, Ruthie."

Ruth smiled up at him and returned the embrace with her free arm. "I think the worst of it's going to pass us this time."

Grant scanned the sky again before passing judgment. "Yep, this time I think we're going to be lucky."

As a few large raindrops fell from the sky, the couple turned to go into the house. Ruth pointed to the mat where two small pairs of barn boots lay scattered. "You, too, for the sake of my clean floors," she scolded fondly, playfully poking the ribs of the man she had loved for close to four decades. Grumbling good-naturedly, Grant shed his dirt-encrusted heavy work boots. "Only for you, Ruthie."

Arm in arm, husband and wife went inside as the heavens opened and the rain poured down.

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The little girl pushed open the closet door a crack. The door hinges squeaked and she held her breath, waiting to see if the noise was noticed. Mama had a headache and, Cricket, as the little girl was called, had been banished to the closet as punishment for being too noisy. She wasn't supposed to come until she was told she could. That had been a long, long time ago when the faintest amount of sunlight had peeked through the drawn blinds of the little bedroom. Now it was dark outside and inside the house and Mama had never come back to get her.

She hated the closet with the moving boxes that had never been unpacked, piles of dirty clothes, and the hard wooden floor. There was nothing to do and it was very dark and quiet. Worst of all, there were spider webs high up in the corners and where there were webs there were spiders. She was afraid they would come down and bite her. Her imagination turned the small, harmless creatures into great bloodsucking monsters worthy of a midnight horror show. She always begged Mama not to make her stay in there but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Usually, her banishment only last fifteen or twenty minutes, but this time was different. Cricket waited and waited as the day wore on.

The child peeked out of the closet. Everything was quiet and dark in her room. She wasn't afraid of the dark but she was afraid of being alone. Where was Mama? Why didn't she ever come back? Bravery taking hold, she pushed open the door far enough so she could slip out. She was hungry and had to go to the bathroom and those two things along with the fear of her mother being gone prompted her to sneak out of her room and down the hallway. Guided by the dim light from a small bedside lamp, she crawled into her mother's room until she reached the bed. A quick check of the messy blankets and sheets revealed that room was also empty.

No Mama.

She cautiously went over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. There it was. Daddy's flag, neatly folded alongside his shirts. Mama would be angry if she found out that she took Daddy's flag out again. No matter how much Cricket begged and promised she would be careful with it, Mama refused to let her see it. The flag had to stay in the drawer with Daddy's clothes. She stroked the material and picked it up, smiling. Holding it against her cheek, she closed her eyes and whispered. "I love you, Daddy."

She sat cross-legged on the floor with the flag on her lap, talking to her father as if he were there with her. She poured out all of her childish fears to him; the spiders in the closet, the strange way Mama was acting, and the neighbor's big black dog that always showed his teeth at her when she played in the back yard. Cricket hugged the flag to her, longing for her father. She knew that if he was there, things would be different. Mama wouldn't be sad, the spiders and the black dog wouldn't get her, and she wouldn't have to be afraid of being alone. "Where are you, Daddy? When are you coming back? Please, please come back. I miss you so much," she whispered into the flag, knowing that he heard her, no matter where he was.

Reluctantly, Cricket set the flag back in the drawer. She still had to find Mama and then she was going to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She went down the stairs, one step at a time, holding on to the railing to guide her in the darkness. She was afraid to turn on the hall light without permission. Mama liked the darkness at night. She said it made her feel like it was all a dream. Cricket wasn't sure what that meant or why Mama would want to dream but she accepted it. So she left the lights and made her way the best she could.

Cricket silently moved through the rooms downstairs, her bare feet making no noise on the thick carpet. Like a small ghost, the four-year old girl drifted through the house, searching for her missing parent. Stopping in the kitchen, hunger drove her to search for something to eat. There was no bread left, but plenty of peanut butter and jelly, so getting a bowl, she took several spoonfuls of each and sat at the kitchen table and began to eat. The mixture tasted better on bread, she decided, but it was better than nothing.

The vid-phone rang, breaking the silence. Startled by the noise, Cricket jumped and dropped her spoon with a clatter. She listened to it ring, wondering if she should answer it. Finally, she dragged over a chair and climbed on top of it, so she could reach the communication device. Hesitating, she pushed the blinking light to answer.

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Jeff's frustration grew as waited for Melanie to answer. He had checked into the hotel, jumped into the shower, and changed into a t-shirt and jeans. Settling down, he had called the hospital to check on James' condition first and now he was making the promised call to Melanie. He still wanted to call Lucy before it got too late. Only after he connected with her would he finally catch a few hours of much needed sleep.

Refusing to give up on the call, he let it ring a dozen times. Finally, the screen flashed as someone answered and a small face appeared in the screen. The dark blue eyes that looked shyly at him were so like Eric's that it startled him. The little girl smiled when she recognized him. "Uncle Jeff!"

"Cricket!" Jeff said. "Where's your mother?"

"I don't know. I can't find her." Cricket's voice wavered, just like his boys did when they were upset but trying to be brave.

"When did you see her last?" Jeff asked.

"This morning when I was bad and had to go in the closet."

A shadow crossed Jeff's face as he thought of the pictures he had seen in Max's office and what the lawyer had said about the little girl suffering at the hands of her mother. "I want you to stay right there. Do you understand, Cricket? Stay right there. I'll call you back in a minute."

" 'kay," Cricket said, happy that she wasn't alone now, even if the person was not really there, but only on the screen of the phone. Jeff's face faded from view as he disconnected the call and Cricket sat down on the chair, swinging her legs back and forth happily as she waited for him to call back. Her faith in her "Uncle" Jeff was as strong as her father's had been. He wouldn't let her down.

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The first thing Jeff did when he disconnected was to place a call to the local police department back in Kansas. The dispatcher he talked to seemed bored with his report. "We already got a call tonight about that address and sent officers out for a welfare check. There was no one home."

"Then they need to go back because I just talked to the four year old daughter of Melanie Crawford who is apparently missing," Jeff growled, his impatience with the dispatcher getting the better of his innate courtesy.

"Okay, okay, Bud. Just relax," the dispatcher grumbled. "I'll send someone out that way as soon as possible."

"Now," Jeff ordered, his voice taking on the tone he used with the men under his command.

"Now," the dispatcher relented, despite his skepticism.

Pleased, Jeff ended the call and called Cricket back. Expecting her to answer right away, he was surprised when the screen continued to flash 'Please Wait.' Surprise turned to frustration then worry as he tried to place the call again with the same results.

Jeff considered his options. He could call the dispatcher back, although he doubted that he would get any better results out of the man than were already in motion, though perhaps they would make more haste if they knew he had lost contact with the young girl. Yes, he would call. He began to type in the number, when a knock on the door made him stop in mid-motion. Warily, he got up and quietly went to the duffel bag he had brought with him. He carefully pulled out the semi-automatic Beretta he had owned since his early Air Force days. When he had taken it from his safe at home, he had already loaded the clip since he knew with certainty there was no chance his young sons would come into contact with the firearm.

With the weapon drawn and the safety off, he approached the door. Another knock, this time more urgently. Jeff took a deep breath, steadying himself. As much as he hated to hurt another human being, he was prepared to defend himself if it came to that. This time he was prepared unlike when he was a sitting duck at the front door of his house a few hours earlier.

Another knock and Jeff leaned forward to look through the peephole on the door. He was ready for whoever was on the other side, whether it was friend or foe.