The Gift, a following fanfic

The Gift

"He has a gift, to incite obsession, and attract followers. Like you, Ryan" Dr. Arthur Strauss

Joe Carrol moistened a finger and turned a page of the book, the guard had brought him last night. Ryan Hardy's book, The Poetry of a Killer. He ran his fingers down the spine of the book and allowed himself to smile. A book dedicated to him. He sighed, as he adjusted his reading glasses and read again about when they first met. Propping his feet up on the modest bed and leaning against the steel gray wall, he let himself become completely absorbed.

So much so that he didn't hear the guard coming and hadn't thought to even hide the contraband. Not that it mattered, it was Bob and he had given Joe the book in the first place.

Bob was a large man, physically looked like an old line backer. Gray beard and hair that had once been in a ponytail probably chopped off for some lame job. Joe looked up from the book and smiled.

"He's here Joe," Bob said, looking down the narrow hall nervously.

Removing his glasses and setting them on his nightstand, Joe slowly closed his book and moved a little closer to his new friend. "Just arrived?"

Bob nodded, keeping his serious professional expression. "Inquiring about you."

"Thank you Bob. Thank you, indeed. Keep me posted." He watched as Bob continued to make his rounds down the row of indicted killers. All waiting for their deaths. It was poetic if you thought about it. Perhaps he would write something on that very topic. But right now, his thoughts went to one topic and one topic only. His dear friend, no, he smiled, not even that, the one person in this world that could understand. The darkness, the poetry of a world filled with despair and death. His best friend had come to see him. And that person was Ryan Hardy.

Ryan Hardy took off his sunglasses and slipped them in his coat pocket as his eye adjusted to the dark interior of the Pennsylvania Maximum Security Detention Center. He flashed his visitor's pass to the guard and got a tired nod.

His back still ached every time he walked. A memory of the nightmare two weeks ago, the car crash, the twins. Maybe he should go back home. He had almost done that twice on the way over. But he had to know. Had to know that Joe was not going to escape ever again.

Director Lewis was waiting for him in the hall, as Ryan made his slow progress. He was a tall formidable man with salt and pepper army cropped hair. "Welcome Agent Hardy."

Ryan shook his hand. "Just a moment of your time Director."

Lewis' office was just down the hall, a large desk was framed by the prison grounds below. Several prisoners were working on a building down below. "Please have a seat." He motioned Ryan to a chair and as he sat behind his desk.

"You got my request?" Ryan asked.

Suppressing a smile, Director Lewis tapped a stack of files on the side of his desk with his fingers. "They're all here, Agent. All the psychological profiles of the guards and assistants that work here."

"Do you mind if I take a look?"

"I assure you, Agent, Joe Carroll will die here. My staff is above reproach." He watched as Ryan eyed the files. "Still…I can appreciate your concern." Lewis sighed. "Come on in tomorrow Agent Hardy. My senior supervisor will go over what precautions we are taking with Carroll. I know it will ease your mind."

Ryan smiled, perhaps the first genuine smile he had had in the last few week. "Thanks Director," Ryan shook his hand once more. "I appreciate it." Ryan had to be sure, absolutely sure. And then Carroll would be out of his life forever.

Out on the busy streets of New York, Ryan stuck his hand out to hail a cab when the phone rang. The excited voice of Mike Weston was on the other line.

"They have Mark, Ryan. I just got the call. He's in the morgue, deader than a doornail."

Motioning a cab on that had stopped for him, Ryan paused a moment. "They are absolutely sure?"

"No doubts on their end," Mike said. "DNA's a match for Luke's body." The line went silent a moment. "This is it Ryan. It's finally going to be over. This whole thing…"

But doubts nagged and beckoned loudly in the back of Ryan's mind. "Meet me at the morgue, Mike. I need to see this for myself."

Bleskin's Morgue 308 Pine. Ryan knew the address, phone number and route as if he lived there. He sometimes wished he could erase some of those memories. Those early days when he did not know it was Carroll murdering those innocent girls. Some of those tortured faces never seemed to leave his dreams.

Mike Weston was waiting for him, fidgeting outside the main door as if he needed a cigarette. "Ryan," he called out and walked down the street to meet Ryan. "It's been awhile. You haven't been answering your phone."

Ryan had trouble looking him in the eyes. Always had. "Just had to work through a few things."

"You still going to AA?"

Ryan tried to take the question the right way. "Thanks, mom..."

Mike smiled. "It's just that me and Max have been so worried about you, isolating yourself in that dark apartment."

"I'm fine. Things are coming to a close." He put his hands deep in his pockets. "Tomorrow I make sure Joe Carroll is cozy in his new home and then," he looked Mike straight in the eye. " I'm going to put this all behind me."

"Ryan," Mike stopped a moment and touched Ryan's shoulder. "Let me do the Carroll follow up. You said you were done with him. Don't torture yourself like this."

Ryan shook his head. "I have to do this Mike. Just like I have to see Mark's body. For my own sake and yours and Max's, I have to know."

Mike nodded as they continued walking entering the morgue and being met by the usual moldy air. The heavy set woman at the front desk motioned them through. Ryan always forgot her name, even though he had met her a million times.

Dr. Trent Veska met them, towel drying his hands, a ready smile on his face. He had a thick Eastern European accent. "You ready for him? Been in the water a while."

Ryan shook his hand and smiled. "Ready as ever."

He and Mike followed him down the rows of drawers to #1518. Dr. V rolled out the body, and the bloated face of Mark Gray stared blankly up at them.

Mike didn't really like the morgue but was up immediately. The man who had killed his father in cold blood. No longer on this world. His end did not look pleasant. That was good. Mike ran his fingers through his hair. It was over. But why did Ryan look so worried?

"We have his brother too?" Ryan asked hesitating.

"That we do," Dr. Veska said happily. He paused a moment and went two drawers down. The body was more decomposed but the dentition was right. Slight buck teeth protruded from the decaying upper jaw bone.

Mike touched Ryan on the back. "Do you need anything more?"

Ryan had a far away look in his eyes. "I don't know Mike. Something isn't right. I just don't know."

Mike hid his frustration. "We need to let this go now Ryan, just like we talked about. We have the bodies. Carroll is going to be fried soon, and the entire world will be a better place for it.

Ryan nodded and turned away from Mike. "You're right of course." But that was a boldface lie and he knew he could not hide his doubt from

Ryan was alone in his apartment that night, the news barely audible in the background as he ate the canned chicken noodle soup he had warmed up on the stove. He still couldn't believe it. It was Mark in that drawer, dead. Dead. Gone. He wondered if the nightmares would finally stop. He put his spoon down and looked at his cell phone for the hundredth time. He had Claire's number up, but couldn't quite bring himself to press 'call'. She was still in town getting her things packed up and he ached to see her again. God, he missed her.

His cell phone buzzed at that moment, and he jumped. Claire? He looked down at the caller ID. No, it was Carrie Cooke. Damn it. He picked up.

"Hey, Carrie."

She sounded far away when she spoke. "Hi Ryan, how are you? I've been worried, you didn't answer my calls all week."

Ryan grimaced. "Yeah, well…Listen, I'm sorry Carrie. So much has happened."

"I have a lot to tell you. I'm just down the street. Can I just stop by for a moment?"

Ryan suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He loved Claire, there wasn't room for anyone else. Not right now. Carrie deserved far better than him. But Ryan was also feeling lonely and a sip of vodka was sounding very good. "Sure. Just for a bit. I need to go out tonight," he lied, hoping it wasn't obvious.

Carrie Cooke rang the doorbell and made her grand entrance, take out Chinese food in hand. She smiled as Ryan took the bag from her, a sly smile that always reminded Ryan what he was up against She was simply very good at what she did. And sometimes as he watched her, he wondered where the reporter ended and the person began. But it was good to see her and she couldn't have come at a better time. They sat and talked. Thankfully absolutely nothing to do with Joe Carroll.

But when push came to shove, he couldn't ask her to leave and the first kiss became a second, which became. Damn it, he though as they went to the bedroom, kissing and groping. He needed her. And maybe, just maybe they were meant for each other.

Ryan woke up with just a sheet over him, his arm draped around a pillow. Carrie had left already, and he peeked around for a note. He looked at the time 8:20, and he needed to be back at the prison by 9:30. He dressed quickly and left. No note. No message on his phone. He wondered where she had gone and if he would hear from her. But his thoughts turned quickly to Joe Carroll. His final visit and then he could move on with his life.

He arrived just in time to meet Robert Hayden, senior guard at the prison. He was middle aged, gray hair, beard and piercing brown eyes. Ryan shook his hand. "I've heard about you Ryan Hardy. We've got him at last."

"That we do," Ryan said, suppressing a smile. "Finally."

"Well, we knew what we were up against when we brought him in. Two prior escapes." He motioned up at a small TV monitor. "We've got someone watching him day and night. There is nothing he does that we don't know about."

Ryan involuntarily glanced up at the screen. There he was. Joe Carroll. He had a tablet, reading glasses on, and was writing something. What was it? What was he doing? No, he wouldn't give in to his curiosity. He looked back at Robert to distract himself. "So you've done a psychological profile on the guards here?"

Robert smiled. "All of them. All that come in contact with our subject" have been particularly screened. There are some that we won't let near him, especially the less experienced guards. I assure you there is no one that will be susceptible to his unique, um," he paused a moment, "manipulations."

"It's always surprised me." Ryan said, having difficulty taking his eyes off Joe.

Robert nodded. "He has a knack for it. Reading people, that is. Psychopaths are very good at that," he looked down at his desk. "But he has something else that goes deeper than that. And I've met a lot of psychopaths on their way to the frying pan. He's an intriguing figure."

"Yeah," Ryan said distractedly, glancing back up at the monitor.

When he looked back, Robert was smiling at him. "Did you want to see him?"

"No," Ryan said quickly, frowning. "I just need to know that he won't escape. Not this time."

"Makes sense," Robert said leaning back in his chair. His phone buzzed, and he glanced down at frowning. "If you'll excuse me one moment Agent?" He took his cell phone off his belt and put it up to his ear, mumbling about section 4C. Ryan looked down at Robert's desk. Then he did a double take. Just a glimpse in the slightly open bottom drawer. It was Joe Carroll's book. He knew it, the spine, the one word that he could see. No, it was because he was here. Robert had left the room and he over and opened the drawer. It was Joe Carroll's book. His heart started pacing faster. "What are you doing Joe?" he asked quietly. He sat back down right as Robert re-entered.

"Anything else Agent Hardy?"

Ryan looked down at his hands. "One more thing. Could I see the visitor log?"

There was a brief hesitation. "Of course, if you'll follow me."

He walked down the hall following Robert. Maybe Mike was right, it was time to trust the system and stop his paranoia. But he just wanted a few more things. It didn't help that he had the feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck told him something wasn't right. Ryan nodded to the guard on the right who opened the door for him.

"It's all right here." He smiled at Ryan. "Knock yourself out."

"Thanks, I will." Ryan looked behind him and thought he saw someone duck out of the way. Paranoid, he told himself. He flipped through the pages. "Have you been keeping tabs on his visitors?" Ryan asked as he flipped the page. Why did Joe have so many damn visitors? Of course, he knew the answer. All too well.

The last page and he saw a name. A very familiar name. What the hell? He looked again. Carrie Cooke. He felt his pulse quicken and the familiar pain in his chest. She had never mentioned that she had visited Carroll. What the hell was she doing here? He didn't know what he felt for a moment. All he felt was a numbness that never seemed to go away.

He motioned for the guard.

"Seen everything you need to see?" Robert flipped the log closed before Ryan could respond.

"Yes," Ryan said absently, staring blankly at the cover of the log. turning back for the door.

"Are you okay Agent? Do you need to sit down?" Robert had his hand on his back, and Ryan considered taking him up on it. He had an adrenaline rush as again he had the sensation of being watched. He looked down the hall and thought he recognized someone. The man's face looked familiar. But from where?

Brushing past the Robert, he hurried down the hall. But the man was gone. Ryan was out of breath and dizzy when Robert was by his side. "Are you sure you're okay?" Robert motioned to a bench in the hallway. "Why don't you sit down for just a moment? I'll get you something to drink…"

Ryan stared at the point where the familiar figure had disappeared. "No. No, I'm okay." He realized he had his hand to his chest and brought it down. "I'm fine." Whoever it was had disappeared without a trace. "There was a man here just a moment ago. Did you see him?"

Robert looked around and shook his head. "I didn't see anyone here recently…" Ryan resisted the urge to search the hallway further.

"Okay, I'm done. " He turned around and Robert led him out. Carrie, Ryan thought. What was Carrie doing here? And what had she been discussing with Joe?

Ryan thought about stopping by Carrie's house. He even went to her neighborhood and circled the block twice, trying to rake up the courage to see her. But he felt too raw to confront her right now. Much too raw. And he wanted a drink. He pulled over and called his sponser at AA. He would be floored to hear from him. It had been months since he called. The phone rang and went to an answering machine. Ryan hung up. Go home, he thought. Go home and sleep on it.

It was a difficult drive back home. The liquor store was on the way. But he somehow drove past it without stopping.

An insistent knock woke Ryan up. He looked groggily at his alarm clock. It was 5:30 AM. He knocked over his water bottle when he turned on his bedside table light. He swore as the knocking continued. He managed to pull on his jeans and looked through the eye hole. There were 4 cops outside his door. Cops? He fumbled with the chains and deadbolt and managed to open the door.

The one with Stanton on his name tag, flashed his badge. "Ryan Hardy? You mind if we come in and talk?"

"You want some coffee?" Ryan said groggily, as he motioned for them to come in.

"No, sir. Just a few questions."

"Mind if I get some?"

Ryan sat down, coffee in his hand and Stanton sat across from them. The rest stood on guard behind him. He raised his coffee cup to them, but they did not change expression. Fine. "What can I do for you officer?" Ryan asked.

"There was a murder last night. It was in Joe Carroll's fashion. Eyes removed, body staged…"

"Are we thinking copy cat? Followers?" Ryan asked, trying to wrap his mind around this. Damn, he didn't need this.

"Where were you last night, sir?"

Ryan blinked. What? He set his coffee cup down. "I was here at my apartment."

"Were you with anyone?"

"No…" Ryan didn't like where this was going.

Stanton looked down. "You see, I have a problem. Your car was caught on video in the same neighborhood…"

"What?" Ryan thought about where he had been. He had made a slight detour to Carrie's house. Carrie? "Carrie Cooke," Ryan said, his heart speeding up. "Is she alright?" He stood up wanting to call her, and from the look on the officers faces behind him, he decided to sit back down.

"We're going to have to ask you to come downtown."

"Is Carrie alright?" Ryan knew he sounded desperate and didn't care.

"She's alright. It's her neighbor that didn't fare too well. We have Carrie under protective custody. Someone had written 'Bitch' in blood in several places around Ms. Cooke's home." The officer sized Ryan up.

"Ok, she's safe." Ryan allowed himself to breathe. This had been so close to home. So close to home…

"I'm sorry sir, we are going to have to read you your rights. You don't have to say anything more without an attorney."

"No, anything you need…" Ryan stood, grabbing his coat and the officers escorted him out of the house and into back of the patrol car.

Ryan sat at the interrogation table, elbows on the table and his hands folded as he smiled at the two-way mirror. Why not? He probably knew almost everyone behind it.

It was Mike Weston that finally walked in. He had not shaved in a couple of days and there were bags under his eyes. He smiled back at Ryan and sat down heavily in the opposite chair. "This looks bad Ryan. I'm not sure what's happening."

"Please. Fill me in." Ryan leaned forward.

"There is a witness at the Corrections Facility that said you became very distressed when you learned Carrie Cooke was visiting Carroll."

"Yeah," Ryan said leaning back. "That was a shocker. But looking back, it shouldn't have been."

"So you're good with it?" Mike regarded him skeptically.

"Not really." Ryan closed his eyes, leaned back in the chair and sighed.

"Why do you think someone targeted Carrie Cooke last night?"

Ryan looked down. "If she is visiting Carroll, you do the math. Some crazy has obviously come out of the woodwork."

Mike lowered his voice. "They want to know where you were last night Ryan. This is serious."

Ryan spoke directly to the two-way mirror. "I was in my apartment. Decided to call it an early night."

"And no one can vouch for you?" Mike crossed his arms, and tapped his foot. His one tell that he was nervous.

"Apparently not," Ryan said again to the mirror.

Mike regrouped, folded his hands back on the table. "They are going to let you go. They want you to surrender your badge and gun for the short term." He looked guiltily back at Ryan. "Listen, you need someone with you right now. I know you didn't do this but I need a little help here."

"A babysitter?" Ryan shook his head. He slipped his badge out of his billfold and put the gun up on the table for Weston.

Mike took them and just held the gun and badge in his hand. "It's just until they catch this creep. Whoever it is has some connection to you Ryan, and it's not a good one. You know I'm right." He tapped the desk. "Let me or Max stay for a couple of nights with you." He grinned. "Come on, just like old times."

Max, Ryan thought. His niece that he had some how dragged into this mess. He had been avoiding Max's phone calls. She deserved a good life away from all this.

"You and Max need to get out of this," Ryan finally said. "You both deserve much better than this crap." He looked Mike right in the eye. "I can handle this. I will account for my whereabouts, I promise you." He smiled up at the mirror. "And I'm sure our buddies will keep a close eye on me."

"Don't worry we'll keep Max out of it. Ryan, I haven't seen Max for sometime. We split up."

Ryan wanted to say 'good' but he couldn't. He liked Mike and wanted him to be happy. "Sorry Mike. Sorry to hear it."

Mike's nodded. "Well if that's your decision Ryan. I want to stay with you for a couple of days, prove to," he turned to face the mirror, "them that you have nothing to do with this crap."

"Thanks Mike," and Ryan meant it. "I'll be careful, I promise."

This time he could not pass the liquor store and stopped in. Loaded with one bottle of vodka, he asked himself what he was doing? He put his car in park and called his sponsor. This time his sponsor, Michael Tress picked up, but Ryan couldn't say anything. He listened to him for a few moments say 'Hello?' into the phone and then hung up. He looked out into the darkness, illuminated by a few street lights and felt in that moment very lonely.

He thought about Carrie, but thinking of her turned his stomach into knots. He thought about Max, but again, he did not want to drag her into anything. His brother would have fits for what he had dragged her into already. And though Mike meant well, he was downright annoying when he was worried.

It was getting late and he had to get home. He put his car into drive and pulled out. A few minutes later, he felt something hit the back of his head, and his last thought before he blacked out was of Claire.

It was a simple building with an elegant suite at the top. Tim Nelson gazed up at the long flight of stairs in front of him. He was lucky that he always took the precaution of wearing his bullet proof vest. Still the onslaught in Havenport had not treated him nicely. It had taken years to recover, and a few stinky gang banger jobs, and drug pedaling. He had the scars, and new gang tattoos on his neck which he hated. It all sucked. But now he was on the way to recovery. Mark Gray was going to be his meal ticket to the top.

But there were rules. Crazy rules. Mark did not like him to come through the main entrance, so he began his trek from the bottom of the parking garage up five flights. It wasn't that he wasn't in good shape, it was just the thought of being treated so menially. He deserved better than what Mark Gray had to offer. But the money was not bad, and he could climb the stairs a few more times.

He entered the keycode to open the penthouse. He was met with a gun straight to his temple. Tim sighed and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Do we have to do this every time?"

Mark smiled. "I thought you liked good greetings." He brought the gun down but kept his finger in the trigger. "How did it go tonight?"

"All according to plan." The exhaustion was starting to hit him. But he had done good work. Joe Carroll to a 'T'. "Can I have a drink now?"

Mark led him in to the elegant surroundings that made Tim's mouth water. Since he had almost died at Havenport, he had been living hand to mouth. He had gotten a few jobs from Lilly Gray, and a few medical expenses paid, but assassin work was not something he saw himself doing for very long. He sat down on the couch while Mark poured him some whisky.

"One down then Tim. One more to go." Mark handed him the glass, but Tim noted he never seemed to drink. Odd fellow Mark Gray. Never could read him, and hoped he wouldn't have to spend too many more moments with him.

"You promised payment." He took a sip. Whisky was top-notch.

"When you accomplish your task. Completely." Mark sat down on the opposite side of the couch, gun swinging absently in his hand. "Let's see what the news has to say tomorrow. "

"And Joe Carroll?" Tim had a score to settle with the man. Killing him would be sweet. He had fantasized about it many times since their falling out in Havenport.

"Soon," Mark said. "I want to see how this plays out with Ryan. And you've got your in at the prison. You get your cash tomorrow when the news comes out."

Tim took his cup and toasted Mark. "To revenge."

Mark smiled broadly. "Oh no Tim. It's much more than that."

Knowing that he didn't want to know, Tim took a swig of the whisky and hoped this would all be over soon. The last few years made him convinced that the Gray family was even crazier than Joe.

There was blood in his car. Ryan woke up his head against the steering wheel and his neck with a horrendous cramp. He moaned and closed his eyes again. His damn car was covered in blood. His blood?

He felt the back of his head and there was no bleeding, no even a bump. But he had a splitting headache. There were several vodka bottles all empty. He ran his fingers through his hair, it was greasy and damp. He had been sweating. The blood was everywhere in the passenger seat. It was leather, it was cleanable. But if it wasn't his blood, then who in the hell left it? He took several calming breaths. He had to think but the damn headache seemed to overrule everything.

Clean up. Clean the car. That's what he needed to do. Then think. He pulled a baseball cap out of his glove box and drove around to a dark alley. There was a convenience store around the block and he bought some bleach. He had to call Mike, but every time he thought about it, a pang of guilt struck him. He scrubbed the car, threw everything in the dumpster, and went home.

He let the hot water of his shower wash away the night. God, he felt awful. He toweled off his hair and noticed there was a message on his answering machine. He hit play and Carrie Cooke's voice spoke out. "Ryan where are you? We need to talk. Damn it." There was a click and a dial tone afterward. One more message, the voice was altered and deep. "I know what you did." Then a click. What the hell? He hit erase, and tried to ignore the warnings coming from his gut.

He finished buttoning his shirt, Ryan shuddered at what he was about to do. But his gut told him he had to. He was going to visit Joe and get some answers.

The prison seemed different this time. Maybe because it was middle of the afternoon and the clouds seemed to obscure every part of the sky. Ryan had his windshield wipers on high. Damn if his car didn't smell like bleach. The radio droned on in the background and he turned it up when another murder was mentioned. In a neighborhood not far from Ryan's home. He had heard enough. He looked up at the prison. It was time. He pulled his baseball cap on and braved the rain to the visitor's entrance.

The hefty guard in a wrinkled blue uniform looked bored as he waved his metal finder around Ryan's body. "Who are you here to see?"

"Joe Carroll." Ryan kept his arms raised, and pulled his hat down further over his eyes as he turned his back to the camera up in the corner.

"Oh you're one of those?" the overweight guard said under his breath.

"Yeah," Ryan said, "real winner huh?"

The guard just looked at him and raised his eye brows. "Sign in," he said rotely.

Ryan signed in under a different name. He signed his brother's name 'Craig' and wrote illegibly in the other sections. The guard didn't seem to care, looked at the name, looked at Ryan. "Come on."

Following the guard, Ryan sat down on an orange plastic chair from somewhere in the 60's. Probably had been there that long, and gazed at the other side of a glass window, looking into another world. Joe's world.

Joe looked blankly as he came in the room wrists and ankles chained. Ryan knew he didn't recognize him. Sitting down heavily, the prisoner looked down at his hands. "And who do I owe the pleasure?"

Ryan lifted the bill of his hat and looked directly at Carroll and then lowered the bill again so his face was in shadow. "Ah," Joe said a grin appearing on his face "This is a pleasure, Ryan." They both gazed at each other for a moment. "I'm sorry about Claire. I heard you were her latest victim."

"Did Carrie tell you that?" Ryan tried not to sound vindictive.

"Ah Ms. Cooke. Lovely woman," he said hurriedly, "Working on a book. Something you and I have not been able to accomplish in some time."

"So Joe, what have you been talking about?" Ryan looked down, taking a deep breath. All exquisitely painful, and Joe knew it. Damn it.

Joe smiled. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"I don't care Joe. I really don't care."

"Really? Are you going to embrace who you are? Because that would be wonderful Ryan. A first step to your recovery."

Ryan looked up at the camera in the corner.

Joe leaned back and smiled. "Don't worry they aren't recording us."

Ryan's heart beat faster. "And how do you know that Joe?"

"You worry too much. Did Claire ever tell you that?"

"So Joe what did you and Carrie talk about then?"

"I have given her information on our adventure, in exchange for..." Joe stopped, looking guiltily down at his hands.

Ryan had a feeling he knew. "What Joe?" he asked impatiently.

Joe put his head down guiltily. "Information on you."

Ryan looked down. He didn't want Joe to see his eyes. So frustrating. He couldn't seem to escape his fate. The link between him and Joe never seemed to sever.

"It's okay, Ryan." Joe reassured him. "It's good to know who is your friend, " he paused, "and who isn't."

"I don't care."

"You think I really believe that? Who in your life can truly accept you as you are Ryan? Tell me that. Claire knows who you are, and rejected you."

"Shut up." It was too close to the knife in the heart. Claire had rejected him. And from that moment on he had wanted to self destruct. Drown his pain in something good and maybe not ever wake up.

"There is one person who knows who you are, and accepts you. As you are." Joe reached over and placed his fingers momentarily on the window pane separating them.

Ryan leaned back, closed his eyes. Joe continued soothingly, "It's okay Ryan. We don't even need to talk."

Feeling the silence weigh on him, Ryan opened his eyes and looked up. "I think I'm in trouble Joe."

Joe watched him for a moment, contemplating, his eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think that?"

Ryan shook his head, leaning closer, whispered "I know someone is trying to frame me for the murders."

"The two girls?"

"Yes, you've heard?" Ryan tapped his fingers on the ledge.

Joe rolled his eyes. "I have been interrogated ad nauseum."

Ryan asked impatiently. "And are you involved?"

"No, I am not. If I were I would tell you."

"A follower, Joe?"

"Most were killed at the church, Ryan. I don't have anyone left capable of such…efficiency."

"I saw someone here at the prison, Joe. One of the guards. I recognized him." Ryan looked directly at Joe, "From somewhere..."

"Really?" Joe asked tilting his head to the side. "Tell me more."

Ryan shook his head. "I was hoping you could tell me?"

Joe shook his head, but looked troubled.

"I have to go." Ryan stood, and scooted the plastic chair back.

"Ryan," Joe said, "I'm glad you came."

Ryan said nothing, looked again at the camera. He had spent too much damn time here..

Joe continued talking just as Ryan was about to leave. "I'll see you again Ryan. Soon."

Ryan had said enough and left the room without saying anything or looking back. At the same moment his phone rang. Carrie Cooke, his ID caller said. He hit 'ignore.' He felt too raw right now. A cryptic text showed up right after her call went to voice mail:

'Ryan, we need to talk. Someone sent me information on you. Bad information. It can't be right. Please call me. They threatened me if I didn't release it. Please call.'

Shit, he thought. Carrie was in danger. He would call her when he got out of here. Go over to her house. Shit, shit, shit. He was eyeing an exit sign, when he almost ran into Mike Weston going around the corner.

"What are you doing here Ryan?" It was an accusation, plain and simple.

Ryan regained his composure, brought his hand down from his chest. "I could ask the same of you Mike?"

"Everyone is looking for you. And I mean everyone, Ryan. They found your fingerprints and your DNA at the last murder. "

"Shit," Ryan said. It was all he could say.

"Come on in with me Ryan. It'll look better if you turn yourself in."

"Don't they know I wouldn't be that sloppy?" Ryan backed away.

"Very funny." Mike took his cell phone out and began dialing.

"Wait," Ryan said raising his hands in surrender. "I'll go."

Mike relaxed for one moment, and Ryan swung a punch right at his temple. The surprise worked, and he barely caught Weston as he lowered to the floor. Ryan's right hand throbbed in pain. Turning, Ryan saw Robert the guard watching them, a look of surprise on his face. This just wasn't Ryan's day.

But Robert came over to them and instead of pulling his gun, he told Ryan. "Let me help you. I know about you Ryan. I'll watch him, make sure he's okay. You go."

Shocked, Ryan let the guard help him drag Mike into a holding room. They propped him up against a wall. He was breathing alright, but knocked out dead to the world.

"You sure?" Ryan asked tentatively. It wasn't often someone offered to be complicit in a Class A Felony.

"Go," Robert commanded.

It was all Ryan could do to keep from running as he got past the guards and out to freedom. He had to make sure Carrie was okay.

Joe sat in his jail cell, his journal in hand. His writing was coming much easier since Ryan had come to visit him. It just seemed to flow right now. But he had the disturbing feeling he was being watched since he had come to this cell. And Ryan's words stuck with him, 'I recognized someone…' He would need to ask Bob about it but if anything was off, Joe would have heard about it.

He put his pen down for a moment and turned towards the barren wall, did not see when a shadow came up from behind him in the hallway. He didn't turn but he could feel the presence watching him, breathing.

"I know you're there," Joe said out loud to the shadow not bothering to turn his head. "Why don't you show yourself?" But the shadow receded and soon there was no one there. Joe turned, looked out at the dimly lit hallway and puzzled on this. Nothing he could do about it tonight. But it was Ryan that he worried about. His friend did not look well and Joe knew he was falling back into his own personal hell. Well, nothing Joe could do about that…at this moment. He leaned back on his pillow, thinking of his visit with Ryan as sleep drifted over him.

Ryan was driving too fast for conditions, windshield wipers on 'fast' it was all he could do to see in front of his hood. A couple horns honked in the distance. Carrie, he thought. He glanced at his phone from the corner of his eye. No more messages had come through since the last cryptic one. He thought about pulling over and calling her, but his instincts said 'move.' His tired screeched as he pulled over to the curb in front of Carrie's house.

The rain drenched him when he got out of the car and stepped into the puddle accumulating on the street. He didn't care about being wet. He looked up at Carrie's house. It all looked quiet. The malicious word 'bitch' that someone had spray painted on the front of her house was hastily painted over but remnants of the offensive black remained.

It was too damn quiet in this neighborhood. He walked up to the porch, tried to peek inside. There was a light on, but the curtains were tightly shut. He thought about knocking but tried the door. The door was unlocked. Shit, shit, shit. Ryan quietly opened the door and entered, water dripping on the hard wood floor inside.

"Carrie?" he asked quietly. There was no answer.

He wished he had his gun. Why didn't the bureau trust him after all this time? He picked up the poker from the fire place mantle and continued on quietly. No sound in the house.

The kitchen looked like someone had just made toast. The jelly was still out. Jelly toast with egg was Carrie's comfort food. He moved up the stairs to the bedroom, a sinking feeling in his gut.

There was blood on the white hall carpet. It was blood. Ryan stopped, adjusted the steel poker in his hand and went to the side of the bedroom door. The blood trail went into the bedroom, under the door. Carefully he pushed the door open. He saw a hand lying on the floor lifeless.

He rushed into the room, all caution aside now. Carrie was on the floor, her throat cut open, eyes looking lifelessly into the closet. Ryan knelt down tried to check a pulse, realized it was hopeless. She had been like this for hours.

And he had left his cell phone in the car. Damn, damn, damn. "Carrie." He said tenderly, feeling the familiar despair of death wash over him. "No, Carrie." He was frozen in time, huddled over her, blood on his hands from her neck wound.

It was only when he heard the footsteps on the stairs that his mind came back. A gruff voice from the hallway said "Freeze! Drop your weapon!"

Realizing he had the fire poker still in a death grip, he lowered it down, He dropped it and raised his hands in surrender. The officer dressed in black with a flak jacket on, came around him, lowered Ryan face down to the floor.

"You have the right to remain silent…." Those words were the only words he heard as Ryan was roughly hand cuffed and his cheek pushed into the coarse carpet. There was a commotion of voices, and people barking commands. And Ryan could see Carrie out of the corner of his eye. Lifeless. She was dead because of him, he knew it in his gut.

There was a large crowd bundled in rain gear standing out in the street, by the time he was led out in hand cuffs to one of the police cars. His head was roughly pushed down as he was loaded into the back. He was lower than trash to that officer's mind. Ryan could see it in his eyes. Tried and convicted in one fell swoop. But perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps if he went to jail, his nightmares would be over. Wasn't jail where he belonged ultimately? No it was death that beckoned him every single day. He did not only deserve jail, he deserved to die. In the worst way imaginable. He thought about Carrie, and what she must have gone through in her last moments. He could have saved her. He pressed his forehead to the frosted window. Yes, Ryan knew the truth deep down to his bones. He could have saved her.

Ryan mouth was dry as he sat in the familiar interrogation room at the downtown FBI. Once again, on the wrong side of the table.

Drew Jones walked in, tall, former high school foot ball star, suit and tie impeccable. Wire glasses that were too small for his face. He was an up and coming FBI agent, profiler. Just what Ryan had been early in his career. And Jones had caught 3 serial killers in his first year at the bureau. Ryan smiled at him but it was not returned. In fact the agent did not give Ryan eye contact, plopped a few files down on the desk and sat in the chair opposite Ryan studying something of great interest.

"So," Ryan said. "Is this an interrogation or are we just going to enjoy each other's company?"

Drew removed his reading glasses, and rubbed his eyes. Oh yes, Ryan remembered those days. Likely the agent had just been at the morgue going through the autopsy and report. "You're in a lot of trouble Hardy."

Ryan leaned back in his chair. "Is that the verdict?"

"It is…" Drew flipped his glasses back on, licked a finger and turned the page of the paper he was reading. He took his glasses off again, and pointed them at Ryan. "You need a lawyer."

"No I don't."

Drew shook his head and grimaced. "It would be wise. But who am I to argue?" He gazed at Ryan for a moment. "It's interesting what we found at Carrie Cooke's house." He smiled as he held up a file. "A dossier on you. "

"A what?" Ryan was finding this hard to believe.

He tapped the papers. "I think we have motive here. It seems to have proof that you started killing when you were young, and have continued a 'proud' tradition since."

Ryan was puzzled. "What?" His first thought was that Joe had betrayed him. But he didn't think so.

"Seems it started when your father died?" He tried to look sincere but Ryan wasn't buying it. "A "quote" fixation on revenge?"

"Can I see it?" Ryan asked.

"Later." Drew shut the file. "Is there anything you want to confess?"

"No, not really."

"Ryan you know how this works. It'll be better for you if you tell us everything."

Ryan shook his head. "I don't know anything."

Drew watched him a moment. "Let's start with how you arrived at Carrie Cooke's house?"

Ryan took a deep breath and let his story roll out. They wouldn't believe him, he knew. Whoever was framing him was doing a very good job. An excellent job in fact.

Tim was scared of Joe Carroll. How ironic was that? The one person he was looking forward to killing. But he hadn't been able to do it. And it was time. He was going to be paid handsomely when it was all done. He had the chance earlier

He could have ended it all. It was just Joe and him, and he couldn't do it.

He had killed Carrie Cooke earlier that afternoon and it had felt good. Good to be back on his game. Doing it Joe Carroll style had left a bad taste in his mouth. He had tried so hard the last several years to develop his own style away from his mentor. Mentor, he smirked. They had all been duped. Seduced by a charlatan who played with people like little pawns.

He thought of watching Joe's lifeless face after he strangled him. The fear that he always saw in his prey's eyes moments before when they realize it is hopeless. They are going to meet their final fate. Carrie had it, and her fear had been galling. It was beautiful just moments before he had slit her throat.

Tim Nelson was looking at a lot of money when he finished this job. One mark left: Joe Carroll. He had gotten a job at the prison fairly easily. A fake identification and a 100% on the psychological profile and ability test. He smiled at how easy it was to be a different person. After he killed Joe he was going to leave the country. Somewhere with sun, and far away from Mark Gray. The Gray family had wanted to possess him, just like Joe. He would never allow it. Never again. Once he got his hands on Mark's money maybe he would kill him too.

The night shift was very quiet tonight. Not a lot of action in the prison population. Tim had gotten a sweet job on death row. Stupid a-holes, getting caught. Tim was much smarter than that.

He stopped right before Joe's cell, gaining his composure. He had grappled with whether to reveal himself before killing him. That would be sweet.

"Hello Joe," Tim said quietly.

Joe appeared to be sleeping but roused quickly. Carroll had always been a light sleeper, saved his skin more than once. Well not this time. Tim smiled.

"Roderick?" Joe frowned trying to see around the shadows of the prison bars.

That eloquent English accent embraced the name with a familiarity that Tim had once mistaken for affection. "Don't call me that." Tim's heart began to pump furiously. He hated that name. Hated it with a vengeance.

"I thought you were dead." Joe moved closer to the bars, fingering them gently as he watched the shadow. Tim smiled, that curiosity would be his death.

"You should be." Tim wished Joe had died in that fire. All so long ago.

Joe watched him for a moment. "Things did not end between us as I would have liked. You were like a son to me."

Tim's face contorted. "You lie."

"For years you were my protégé. You were my son in all ways possible. You were there, you know this."

"It was all a lie." Tim fingered the wire in his pocket. He could end it all now. But his fingers seemed to freeze. Hesitation got you killed in this line of business. So sloppy. But as he stood in front of Joe Carroll, he was freezing.

"Was it? I did not think so."

There was a silence between them that made Tim very uncomfortable. Joe had been his only family for so long. He had thought he had found his true family, and the truth had hurt.

"I hurt you." Joe said quietly. "I couldn't give you what you needed."

"I'm going to kill you Joe."

Joe had the audacity to chuckle. "Well that will be a fitting finish. Killed in my jail cell. Sounds lovely."

"I know you fear death Joe. You try to hide it. But I know."

"You do, don't you? Well I'm waiting Tim. Get it over with."

Tim fumbled with the keys in his pocket. He thought it would be strangulation. But he also had a knife. Perhaps that would be more dramatic. But before he could pull the keys all the way out, he felt a blow on the back of his head. Drifting down to the ground, strong arms grabbed him and pulled him aside as he lost consciousness.

Ryan sat alone in the police holding cell. They hadn't offered him bail, said he was too much of a flight risk. He was cold and hungry. They hadn't let him change out of his wet clothes. There was a blanket and he wrapped it around himself.

"Ryan?" Without looking up he knew it was Mike Weston.

"Hello Mike."

"I want to say I told you so, but you are in deep shit Ryan."

"I know."

Mike held onto the prison bars. "Why the hell haven't you gotten a lawyer yet? Max has paid for one and they'll be here in an hour."

"Great."

"That's it? 'Great?' Ryan what the hell are you doing? They think you did this. And you aren't helping yourself. They've got an effin list of people they say you've killed. They've been interrogating me."

"Yeah sorry about that Mike. I didn't want you and Max involved at all."

"God forbid someone should care about you Ryan."

Ryan shoved the blanket off of himself. "I don't want help Mike. I want you to go away, go back to your life and forget you ever met me."

"Well that won't happen."

Ryan swore under his breath. Why couldn't Mike leave well enough alone. He was ready for his fate. "They are right about me."

"You killed those women? Look at me and tell me you did it. That you killed Carrie."

Ryan regarded him in stony silence.

Mike frowned. "You need to snap out of this and start protecting yourself."

"Maybe there is someone else that I want protected."

Mike gave him an exasperated look. "Ryan, you know me and Max can take care of ourselves."

"If I admit that I did it, will you leave me alone?" Ryan sat back down on the cot, wrapped the blanket around is shoulders.

"No." Mike backed up. "Just wait for the lawyer before you say anything else." And with that he left.

Silence. Good. Ryan closed his eyes and hoped it would all be over soon.

Joe looked down at Tim, unconscious on the floor. Bob smiled at him as he holstered his gun. "Are you ready Joe?"

"Let's get him in here." Joe took Tim's upper arms and Bob took his legs as they placed him in Joe's cot, and put the covers over his head. Joe touched Tim's cheek, completely unconscious. He had loved Tim as a son once. A long time ago. He realized Bob was watching him. "Excellent timing Bob, as always."

"Shall we move up our plans?" Bob was smiling.

Joe looked left and right as he exited his cell. Bob followed him, pretending to cuff him. The other inmates were either sleeping or absorbed in their own little lives. In a short time he would be free. But freedom had it's own drawbacks. Free to do what? What would be his next feat? Ah, but he knew. His friend needed him. And soon, he would be there for him.

Ryan was pacing. His counsel had arrived and had sat down with him for hours. He had gone over his story, but he could tell from their eyes that it didn't look good. Mike peaked in, looking worried. "I need to talk to him alone."

Everyone left and Ryan looked warily at Mike Weston.

"What is it Mike?"

"It's Max." He winced as he looked again at his cell phone. "She's not returning my calls."

"What?" Ryan shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "You said you two weren't together anymore."

"Yeah, but this is important stuff. We've been communicating ever since you got arrested. And now. Nothing."

"Does she still have that boyfriend? Did you try him?"

Mike grimaced. "Yeah he's some big wig," he rolled his eyes, " in the police department up in Vermont." He looked down at the table. "But Ryan, I can't seem to get a hold of him either. And the police station doesn't know anything. Thinks he went out of town for a couple days which isn't unusual for him…"

"I don't like this…" Ryan began tapping his foot. The Hardy Curse. Max and his sister were his only two relatives that were still alive. He owed it to his brother to keep Max safe. And he would, even if it meant breaking out of this place. "Mike I need out of here."

"You aren't going anywhere," Mike said flatly. "Let me handle this for once. I can handle it Ryan."

"Yeah," Ryan said and sighed. "Whoever is doing this to me is going after her. I know it Mike."

"Who do you think is doing this?" Mike rubbed his forehead. "Did you get anything from Carroll?"

A pang of guilt hit Ryan for punching Mike. "Listen Mike, I'm sorry…"

Mike waved him away. "I know why you did it… Forget it."

Ryan shook his head. "Joe didn't give me anything. I didn't get the feeling he knew about any of it."

"Yeah but getting anything out of him…"

"I know him Mike. I got the feeling he really doesn't know anything about the murders."

"Yeah," Mike said. "But he's incredibly hard to read. Just like you…"

"I probably missed something important. I'm getting sloppy. I should have seen this coming. Someone came in and managed to walk all over me Mike."

"There was no way to see this coming Ryan." Mike stood. "I'm going up to Vermont. I'll keep you posted."

With every inch of his will, Ryan wanted to stand up and walk out with him. He had to be there for Max. But there was the matter of a locked door and not to mention a few armed guards standing in his way. It was all he could do to keep from crashing the table through the damn wall. There had to be way.

Max Hardy had been through hell and back again. Had been able to ride through the roughest storms. Just like her uncle, she was a fighter, and a damned good one. The fact that she was now tied up in a trunk really didn't surprise her. She knew in her gut something was going to happen. Ever since Ryan got himself arrested.

But Ryan always thought she needed protecting. Even after proving to him time and again that she could take care of herself. Men. Well, she would get out of this too. She kept track of the ride, the straight smooth freeway miles and the slower off road. She thought she was traveling South, away from Vermont. And she still had her small gun tucked under her pants leg. Whoever was doing this to her would get a surprise when they stopped.

Mark Gray smiled as he pulled his SUV into one of his mother's country estates. It was right on the bluff and the view of the ocean stretched as well as the blue sky. It was one of his favorite homes that his mother owned. She hated it, said it was difficult to defend. But she obviously didn't appreciate it's beauty. His mother had many flaws but then again who didn't?

And soon he will have avenged her memory in a style that would have made her proud. He took a picture of her out of his pocket and blew a kiss to her. Then there was the problem with the girl in the trunk. It really wasn't anything personal. It never was. But she was going to die. That was all there was to it. In one broad stroke of the brush, his family would have revenge against both Hardy and Weston. The two pests that stood in the way of his peace and his mother and brother resting peacefully in their graves.

He wondered briefly about Tim. Something had gone wrong. He had not shown up as planned, and no news of Joe Carroll dying. Nonetheless, Carroll was small pickings compared to the other two. It was Tim that wanted Carroll dead. Mark could really care less either way.

He went over to the trunk, heard the muffled screaming. No need for that. He opened the trunk and looked at his catch. Max Hardy stared at him with razor sharp eyes. She was dangerous and he wouldn't forget it, or underestimate her.

"Come on," he said as he helped her to sit up and took the tape off her mouth. She huffed as she looked around with wide eyes. He knew what was going through her mind. Escape. "I wouldn't bother trying. We're way out in the middle of nowhere. It's just you," he smiled. "And me."

"Fine," she said simply, stretching. She looked at him squinting in the sunlight. "Hi Mark, how's it going?"

He frowned. "It's going very well. I hope you enjoy your stay."

"I'm sure I will." She tried to get out of the trunk and realized her ankles were tied together. "Some help?"

Mark contemplated this for a moment then helped her untie them. "Fine. Don't try anything." She motioned to have him untie her wrists but he shook his head. He wasn't stupid. He helped her out of the trunk and watched her take in her surroundings.

"This is beautiful," she said, gazing out at the ocean. The rhythmic crash of the waves below the cliffs and the seagulls overhead seemed in stark difference to their current situation.

One thing Mark had forgotten was how beautiful Max Hardy was. She not only had It was a pity to have to kill her.

"What now?" Max asked.

"Let me show you the house. You'll love it. Beautiful views of the ocean."

"Great, let's see it." Max kept her eyes on her surroundings as Mark escorted her inside.

Ryan had his head in his hands when his new lawyer walked in. She was dressed in a suit, papers in hand, glasses covering brown eyes, her hair up in a bun. She must have been around Max's age. Max had sent a child to defend him. Ryan smiled. "Hi."

"Hi," she said curtly throwing the papers down on the table. "Why the hell did you talk to them without a lawyer? You just made my job a thousand times harder."

Ryan just watched her and shrugged.

She pointed to herself. "I'm not making any money off this. I'm doing it as a favor to Max." She raised her hand to shake and Ryan chose to ignore it. "I know I'm young but I'm good at what I do."

"She shouldn't have involved you. I'm very mad at Max."

"I'll be careful." She shuffled some papers betraying some nerves. "Listen, you need to know that Joe Carroll escaped last night. It has been hushed in all the news until just recently it leaked out. They want to question you some more, but I stopped them until I talk to you."

Ryan stood, suddenly angry. "He what?"

Michelle looked blankly at him. "He escaped. He's gone. Two guards were attacked and injured."

"But not killed?" Ryan thought this odd. It wasn't Joe Carroll's M.O.

"No both of them alive. But both messed up."

"Do you know their names?"

She shook her head. "They're both in the hospital." There was a tapping on the window and she looked over her shoulder. "They want to come in and talk to you. You ready?"

"Yeah."

Drew Jones walked in on cue and another lackey Ryan recognized as true staff shrink. Ryan waved to Drew. "Hello again."

"Hi," he said darkly returning the wave. "I want to introduce you to Terrence, our psychiatrist. I think you're in trouble Ryan and we want to help you."

Ryan raised his eye brows. "Really? That's news to me."

His 'lawyer' piped up. "Whatever you have to say to my client, you go through me."

Drew glared at her. "Well we would like to ask your client about his last meeting with Joe Carroll."

"Yes?" his counsel asked curtly.

"What did they talk about?"

Ryan sighed. "It's okay. I asked Joe about the murders and I asked him if he was involved."

"Did you talk about helping him escape? Did you attack an FBI agent on the way out?"

"Don't answer that Ryan," Michelle said.

Ryan shook his head. "It's okay. I can't believe he escaped…again. How is this possible?" He directed his gaze to Drew. Too much ineptness. "I thought everything was in order?"

"Sloppy that's what this is," Drew replied. "Did Carroll say anything that might be of help? Any thing at all?"

There was a silence. "No," Ryan answered finally. But his mind was racing, reliving what Joe had said. There had to be something…

Drew stood, straightened his tie and his lackey followed his lead. "You aren't being very helpful Ryan." He gave him a warning gaze but his words did not match the anger on his face. "If you think of anything remotely useful, let us know."

Ryan smiled warily at the two of them. "Will do."

Tim Nelson woke up in the hospital and yawned. He had a terrible headache. He was hooked up to wires and and an IV line. He looked up at it. He must have been out for a couple days. Who had come up behind him? But there was no guards outside. Did they not suspect him? He disconnected the leads and managed to silence the alarms. He carefully removed the IV line from his arm, and put pressure to stop the bleeding. He was in a wimpy gown, tied loosely in the back and he desperately needed to fix that. He peeked out the door. Laundry room nearby. Perfect.

He overhead the nurses in the other room. '

'Did you hear Joe Carroll escaped again?' 'Yeah your patient Steve was one of the guards he got when he escaped.' 'Damn, too close to home.' 'Tell me about it.'

Tim slipped into the laundry and put on some light blue scrubs. Straightening out some of the wrinkles, he went out pile of folded towels in hand.

He walked past the nurses station and no one questioned. Not for long though, he knew. He looked for the nearest stair well to get out of this hell. So Joe Carroll escaped….Damn, damn, damn. But he could have one last victory before he went after Carroll. He had a score to settle since Havenport. He was going to kill Ryan Hardy. Should have done it sooner when he had the chance. But looking back did nothing. It was the future that mattered. And Ryan lying dead at his feet would be a very good thing. Mark Gray wanted to kill Ryan himself. But if he beat him to it? So what? Tim smiled to himself.

His forced-upon-him lawyer frowned at Ryan. "You could be a little nicer to them, you know? Pretend you care?"

"I don't pretend well."

"They are going to hold on to you Ryan. They have motive," she counted on her fingers, "opportunity. You've given them everything they need except a confession. And they are pretty sure they are just a few more DNA tests away from that."

"Great."

Michelle stood and gathered her things. "They are going to take you back to your cell." She pointed at him. "Don't do anything without talking to me first."

"Okay," Ryan said congenially. He was going to get the hell out of here first opportunity. If Carroll could do it, so could he. He smiled at her briefly. "I'll be good."

Michelle regarded him a moment, then left without another word.

Tim Nelson had found his victim. Someone just his height about his weight. The clothes didn't fit him as well as he thought, and he had misjudged the shoe size. But that was okay. He had what he needed to go see his old friend Ryan Hardy. He had found some more wire that would be perfect for strangulation. Yes, strangulation just seemed the way to go. But he patted his pocket. He had his trusty gun just in case. Shooting from a distance just wasn't as much fun. But it did the trick. Having Ryan suffering, begging with his eyes for his last breath, sounded like the perfect evening.

He whistled as he walked down to the police station. Nothing was going to ruin his good mood. Not this time.

Ryan was led to his temporary holding cell, and what was scary to him was that he was getting used to it. The walls, the single sink and toilet. It was home. And the meals, well, at least they were warm, and better than the canned soup he had at home. But it was getting old. And Max needed him. The guards had his hands cuffed behind his back and one of them guided him by his elbow. Perfect.

He had his back to the two guards as they fumbled with the key to his new home. He heard a scuffle and turned. The guards were gone and he was suddenly alone, the cell still locked in front of him. Seconds later when he heard a muffled scream behind him. Flinching, Ryan tried to take a defensive posture but it was difficult in hand cuffs. He heard a familiar voice behind him. "Just relax Ryan, I'm getting you out of here." Ryan's blood ran cold. The voice was Joe Carroll's.

A few feet away, one of the guards was unconscious. Damn, damn damn. Ryan knelt down and looked at the guard who had fallen. He was still breathing. "We don't have much time, Ryan. Come on." Joe had his black baseball hat low on his forehead and dark glasses covering most of his face.

Ryan hesitated a moment struggling with his cuffs to get back on his feet. This was Joe Carroll. This was madness. He stood in shock. Joe put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on Ryan," he whispered between his teeth. "I've risked a lot for this."

What was madness? Madness, Ryan decided was going with Joe. He thought of Max. She needed him. And this was convenient. But was there alternative? Ryan came to a decision nodded briefly, and Joe let out a relieved breath. "Come on," Joe said again with more urgency. And this time, Ryan followed him and prayed that they didn't encounter anyone else. He did not want another death on his head.

Joe had another uniform for Ryan but stopped short of releasing his handcuffs. The dark jacket was placed over his shoulders and a cap placed on his head. Night time was not as well staffed, and Ryan would have to mention that to Drew. Next time he saw him. If he saw him again. As he left with Joe, he had the feeling this would be the last time for everything in his life. There would likely not be a next time for anything.

Opening the door to the black sedan, Joe smiled and motioned Ryan into the front passenger seat. He fell into the seat, the damn hand cuffs were really getting in his way. The door shut and Ryan had a sinking feeling. Out of the frying pan… Joe looked cheerful as he hopped into the driver's seat. But as Ryan sat back in the passenger seat and braced himself, a shot fired from the direction of the police station.

"Bloody hell," Joe said as he got out his glock complete with silencer and fired as he revved the engine. Ryan tried to duck but a bullet pierced the window and he felt something warm pierce the top of his shoulder. Tires screeched as Joe pulled the car out of the alley and turned sharply. Ryan looked back and thought he saw the same guard that he had seen at Joe's prison. Roderick? No, it couldn't be. He was seeing things. Ryan shut his eyes to mask the pain.

Ryan opened his eyes they were driving into the ghetto. He looked in the rear view window and no one seemed to be following them. Craning his head to the side, Ryan's shoulder was seeping but nothing he couldn't handle. There were other things to think about. "So…where are we going Joe?"

Joe glanced over at him. "A friend has a place near here."

"A friend of yours?"

Joe shrugged. "Is that so hard to believe?" "Don't worry Ryan no one will find us." He turned abruptly into an alley. "We're going to ditch this car."

"Smart," Ryan conceded.

"We should find you new clothes, just in case they've put a tracer on anything."

"Also smart."

Joe pulled over and parked behind a dumpster. Two men came around the corner at the same time. They were tattooed, carrying knives and looked like they wanted the car. Probably part of the local Gang. "Your friends?" Ryan asked.

"No," Joe replied simply. "I'll see what they want." He smiled at Ryan as he opened the door. "Be right back." He exited and Ryan noted that he locked the door behind him.

Several moments later, there was silence, and Joe came back, his glock in hand.

"You killed them?" Ryan felt a wave of despair.

"It's kill or be killed here Ryan. You should know that," Joe chided as he slipped his gun back on his belt. "Come on." Joe came around to the other side and opened Ryan's door.

Ryan glanced around. He didn't have a weapon. But he could end this. Somehow. Bring Joe in. Then his thoughts turned to Max. She needed him out of prison at least for the moment. And Joe convenient at the moment.

"Handcuffs?" Ryan reminded him.

"Yeah," Joe said, glancing behind them. "Let's wait until we get to safety. And take a look at that shoulder."

"I'm not arguing." Ryan said as he hobbled out onto the street, and it was starting to drizzle.

Joe led him down several flights of stairs to a parking garage where Joe typed in the code. "Come on," he said, as he led him to a white van. "Get in." The side door opened and there were supplies in the back.

Ryan hesitated once more. He could stop this, turn himself back in. But to what end? Joe was looking impatient and Ryan reluctantly stepped into the back. There were clothes, food and water. He shut the door and looked around. There were cumbersome AK-47 rifles locked securely to the side of the van. No guns. Damn. But sandwiches, water and some chips were in bags in the back. There was a mish mash of clothes, mainly the red uniform from Korban. Great, Ryan thought. He turned as Joe got quietly into the drivers seat.

Joe got in behind him and began fumbling with keys. He held one up in the semi-light. "This should do it." There was a click and Joe helped get the cuff's off his wrists. Ryan rubbed his wrists, the metal had been digging into them for an hour. Joe motioned to him. "You need to get those clothes off."

Ryan grimaced and started unbuttoning his shirt. "Why are you doing this Joe?"

"Friendship," he replied simply, sitting down on a bench facing Ryan .

"I told you before that I'm not your friend." His shirt was off and Ryan looked at his bare shoulder. The bullet had grazed him and hadn't pierced his skin. Good, it was painful but it would be okay..

"You haven't learned what friendship is Ryan."

. "And I suppose you know?" Ryan asked dryly.

Before Ryan could pul on a Korban red t-shirt, Joe had a first aid kit in his hand. "Let me clean that up," Joe said. He had alcohol in his hand and gauze. Shit that was going to hurt. But necessary. Ryan turned so Joe could have access to his shoulder and closed his eyes with the burning. Joe taped a gauze pad to collect some of the blood. "That should do it." Joe looked thoughtfully at Ryan's shoulder. "You know Ryan when it comes to friendship, I'm learning right along with you."

"Great," Ryan said as he pulled off his prison issued pants. The jeans in the back that were a size too small. But they would work. This was madness, Ryan though. Complete madness. But if he tried to take Joe out, then what? He didn't know and the alternatives were not looking attractive right now. He managed to button his pants and throw on a sweatshirt, being careful to avoid his right shoulder. It felt really good to get out of his prison gear.

"Where should I dump my clothes?" Ryan peered out from the darkened van windows and moved towards the seat.

Joe glanced at him. "Hold on. I'll take them. You stay here."

The windshield wipers were on high as they got back on the freeway. It was dark except for the street lights and occasional headlights going in the opposite direction. The constant hum of the wipers was hypnotic and Ryan's eyes began to grow heavy. He was determined to stay awake. Stay on top of Joe. But as they drove a few miles more, he decided to shut his eyes just for one moment. One moment only.

Ryan opened his eyes and it was still night. Joe was not there and they were parked again in an alleyway, just off a major intersection. His right shoulder ached, and his neck was sore from the awkward position he had slept in.

Moments later he heard foot steps, and Ryan jumped involuntarily as the driver's door opened. Joe had several cups and a white bag that he threw in and got back into the driver's seat.

"So, both those coffee cups are for you?"

"Yeah," Joe smiled, then handed one of them carefully to Ryan. .

"Thanks," Ryan said looking down. The warmth of the cup felt wonderful on his hands. But his shoulder ached more today than when he had been shot yesterday. It was absolutely throbbing. It hadn't helped that he had slept in a strange position.

Seeing Ryan wincing, Joe stretched his hand out to show two white pills. "Something I found in the back of the van," Joe explained. "I don't think they're very strong, but should take some of the edge off, huh?"

"I'm good. " Ryan refrained from wincing again and took a sip of the coffee. It had never tasted so good. "So what's the plan Joe? Rescue me from prison and then what?"

"Roderick is alive." Joe said simply. "And I believe there are other ghosts wanting us both dead." He reached into the bag and brought out an egg and cheese biscuit. He offered one to Ryan.

"Such as?" Ryan asked.

"I also think Mark Gray survived."

"Impossible," Ryan said as he unwrapped the warm biscuit "I saw his body."

"Nothing is impossible. You saw both Mark and Luke?" Joe took another sip of coffee.

"Mark had drowned and he was disfigured." Ryan thought about this. But something in his gut had told him had told him something was wrong.

"You doubted your instincts?" Joe asked.

"I did." Ryan admitted. And the ramifications if Mark was alive were scary, especially for his niece. He looked directly at Joe. "I think Mark has Max."

Joe narrowed his eyes. "You are sure?"

"She disappeared and I have a gut feeling…"

"It's okay Ryan, we'll find her."

"I need to call Mike. See what he knows."

Joe looked doubtful. "May I remind you, you are on the lam, Ryan. Are you sure you want to bring Weston into this?"

"Do you have a secure cell?"

Joe hesitated, took another bite of his sandwich. "I suppose trust is part of the friendship thing, hmm?"

Ryan tried not to smile. "Perhaps."

Joe had given him the cell phone awhile later. He had said it was secure. Well I guess Ryan would soon find out. He hesitated before he dialed. One ring, two…Ryan tapped his foot nervously.

"Weston," came the harried voice on the other side.

"Mike, it's Ryan."

There was a silence. "Ryan? Where the hell are you?"

"I can't tell you that Mike. Listen, I don't have much time. I need to know any info you've gotten on Max. Anything."

Max Hardy gazed out of the large garden window at the crashing ocean below. It was windy today and the waves crashed on the rocks and she could hear the faint roar even through the window. It would have been a wonderful place to visit. That is, had she not been handcuffed to the nice antique peach colored couch and hosted by a complete psychopath.

She sighed and tested the handcuff's again. Not coming off. She was able to get her right hand close to her face, but no where the near the gun hidden in her sock.

Mark came walking in to the room. Outwardly he appeared quite shy and disarming. But Max knew better.

"Hungry?" Mark asked staring out at the horizon where a boat had appeared.

"No thanks," said Max curtly. Actually she was starving and would kill for some water.

"Well as soon as your boyfriend gets here, we'll save what we have for a grand get-together." Mark smiled and it was not returned.

Psychotic, Max thought completely psychotic. She hoped Mike didn't take the bait. With her Uncle in jail, she didn't think he could take out Mark alone. Nor did she think Mark was here by himself. She heard noises downstairs and bet her life there were guards down there. From what she saw, Mark was loaded with money.

Ryan had gotten some of the story out of Mike. He was to stand on a corner and get into a car on command, or Max would die.

Not if I can help it, Ryan thought.

"It's going to take us a couple days to get up to Maine." Joe was looking at an unfolded map in the back of the van.

Ryan stood. "For me to get up there. This is where it ends Joe. You and me are done."

"Now Ryan, you need to think this through." Joe moved back up to the driver's seat. "I have the resources that you don't. And you will not get far alone, and you know it."

Ryan thought about this for a moment. Joe was definitely handy to have around right now. But for how long. How long would this friendly façade last? He looked into Joe's eyes, tried to read them. But they were mysterious as ever. And though he loathed it in himself, he enjoyed his company. It was selfish, purely selfish.

"Alright," Ryan said at last, mumbling. "I could use your help." He looked down at the floor embarrassed because Joe was smiling at him.

They pulled up to a rickety motel that looked like it hadn't been updated since the 1950's. A neon sign was only half working and read only 'otel' in red flashing neon. A vacancy sign looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Joe pointed. "I've been here before, they are rather good at discretion."

Getting out of the passenger seat and not moving sounded good to Ryan. Mike's deadline was two days from now and sleep was not something he had gotten much of since he was arrested. "Alright but we're only taking a short break," Ryan said. "And we should park some where away from here. "

"Read my mind," Joe said making a turn to the left. They parked in an alley far from the main stretch and hiked back to the motel.

Joe looked at him. "I have a feeling you've been on the news more than I have. I'll check in." It was getting cold and Ryan wished that he had grabbed a sweater when he had gotten out of the van. He hopped around blowing into his hands as the wind whipped up and made it even colder.

Joe came back shortly with keys. He smiled, "Cash does wonders. They are ordering us pizza."

Ryan's stomach growled at the mention of food. Joe fumbled with the lock and they went into room #8. It was cold and musty smelling. And the one double bed hadn't been used in awhile. The bedcovers were even dusty.

"It'll do," Joe said propping up on the one chair and tugging the chain that turned on the one lamp. There was a small black and white TV and Joe pulled the button that turned it on.

Ryan sat down on the bed and removed his shoes. The news was on and the cameras went immediately to the front of the New York police station. A woman in a long tan jacket was standing on the street corner, her long blond hair blowing to the side. "I'm standing at the police station where two days ago, suspected murderer Ryan Hardy escaped in the middle of the night. Police have not gotten any leads, but he is to be considered armed and dangerous. Shots were fired shortly after his escape and he is believed to have a weapon. If you know anything, you are not to approach, only to call the following number." A number appeared full screen for a moment.

"You're not writing it down?" Ryan asked Joe.

Joe replied with a straight face. "Not for the moment."

A knock came from the door and Ryan jumped. "It's okay," Joe reassured him, getting up and peeking through the small hole. "They dropped the pizza off."

He opened the door and slid the pizza on in, along with a six pack of beer. Hot pepperoni temporarily replaced the musty smell. Joe plopped the box and beer on the table. He opened the box and handed a slice to Ryan.

"Thanks," Ryan said. Food, protein was exactly what he needed.

Joe flipped open the top of a beer and settled down again in front of the TV. He pouted as he twisted the dial, landing on news channel after news channel. "Absolutely nothing about me."

"So sorry," Ryan said with his mouth full.

Joe picked up a beer and offered it to Ryan. God, that sounded good. Ryan shook his head and Joe nodded, putting it away.

"So you really are serious about this tee-totaling stuff?" Joe asked as he took another swig.

"It's been difficult but I haven't had a drink since…" Ryan stopped, he had been tempted more than once. Had several bottles of vodka that he had in his car. But when was the last time? When Luke had forced him to down vodka when he had captured both him, Joe and Claire. And Joe had revealed his darkest secret to Claire and the twins.

Joe nodded. "It's okay Ryan. It's just us."

Just us, Ryan thought darkly. He went to the bathroom and got himself some water.

"I'm sorry about Claire," Joe said when he returned to sit on the bed.

Ryan took a sip of the cloudy water. He made a face. God, it tasted bad. "I don't want to talk about it, Joe."

Joe continued. "I am so glad to have the time that I spent with her. I do regret what happened. But the one thing that I do not regret…" he paused and turned to face Ryan. "…is meeting you."

Ryan almost choked on his water. "Please Joe, that's the beer talking."

Joe acknowledged this. "Perhaps, but it is true nonetheless. I've often thought that you got together with Claire for a subconscious reason. Tell me if I'm wrong. You got together with her to be closer to me."

"Now that's your narcissism talking."

"Is it?" Joe asked taking another drink. "Why did you write the book Ryan?"

Ryan was getting increasingly uncomfortable. This was too close to home. "Because…." He stopped, couldn't say anything more.

Joe set down his beer and smiled. "We are so much alike. It's uncanny. Perhaps we are two people that fate has thrown together for a reason."

"You're so full of it." Ryan tried to ignore him and tune into what they were saying on the TV. Something about a wild fire on the west coast.

Joe sat next to him on the bed. "Tell me you never thought about being with me."

Ryan glanced at him. Suddenly that beer was sounding really good. He pointed at the table. "I think I'll have that beer now Joe."

Joe smiled, stood, flipped the top off another beer and handed it to Ryan. He took his own beer and offered a toast. "To friendship."

Ryan ignored him and gulped down a mouthful. That familiar taste, the feeling of release from his constant demons. God he had missed this.

Joe sat back down next to him and leaned closer. "What if I told you that I have often thought of being with you?"

"Please, Joe," Ryan said as he took another swig and did not turn to face him. He felt his face flush involuntarily.

Joe sat his drink down and placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan did not push him away. The hand went up to his cheek and turned Ryan's head to face Joe. Ryan glanced down but Joe moved in gently tipping his chin and planted his lips squarely on Ryan's lips. Joe tasted like beer and pizza and the two day shadow scratched Ryan chin but it was not unpleasant. Ryan licked his dry lips and felt paralyzed for a moment. Joe waited his face inches from his own, waiting for any cue. And what to do?

Ryan put his left hand on Joe's shoulder and moved in for another kiss. More exploratory than anything else. Was this the beer taking hold? A tongue jetted briefly between his lips, and perhaps it was habit, but Ryan instinctively returned the favor, moving his tongue inside Joe's mouth and briefly exploring his tongue.

Damn, what was he doing? Ryan pulled away and stood, suddenly panicked… "I need to use the bathroom."

"Come back here Ryan." Joe grabbed his arm and Ryan allowed himself to be pulled back down.

"It's okay," Joe said reassuringly, as Ryan sat down next to him, again exploring Ryan's mouth. He took Ryan's beer from his hand, stretched and set it down on the edge of the table. But he was back in a moment, warm lips and hands caressing his back.

It was starting to get more intense for Ryan. The touching seemed to electrify him. He never considered himself gay. What the hell was this? But feelings were emerging from him for this man, perhaps they had always been there?

Joe began unbuttoning the dark red shirt that Ryan was wearing. Where the hell was this going? Ryan tried to think but the moment was getting in the way. He kissed Joe on the neck and began undressing him. The t-shirt had to go Ryan decided. He wanted to be close to Joe. Closer than they were right now. And why the hell not? What did he have to lose?

They soon had all their clothes off and had moved under the covers. Ryan pushed the knife he had retrieved and buried it in his shirt. 'This is a bad idea', flashed constantly in the back of Ryan's mind. Joe traced his tongue down from Ryan's neck to his stomach. Ryan was not sure how to proceed. This was not like being with a woman. But Joe seemed to know as he put his mouth around him down below and started moving in time with him. It was intense, much more intense than when he had been with Carrie…or Claire. Neither of them had done this with him…maybe Molly. That had been some time ago. Joe began moving himself against him seductively while his mouth completed it's task. They were both at the same point of intensity when Ryan came. He called out again involuntarily while Joe dug fingers into Ryan's back near the same time.

Ryan became limp as Joe put his arms around him as Ryan lay lifeless against his chest. Joe kissed the top of his head and leaned back into the pillow.

He didn't remember much more but he was stretched beside Joe when he awoke a few hours later. Joe's arm was around him and as Ryan opened his eyes, so did Joe. "Good morning," Joe said sleepily.

"Good morning," Ryan replied habitually. It was still dark out. Must be around one AM. He had a headache, and it was too cold to get out form under the covers. He put his fingers to his temples to try to tame the throbbing.

Joe propped himself up on the pillow. "So was it as bad as all that?"

Ryan shook his head. "Not at all."

Joe came back down for another kiss and Ryan met him halfway. When Joe's tongue began to move back in, Ryan pulled away. "We need to get to business."

"This isn't business?" Joe stopped and propped his head back on his arm. "Please Ryan, we have some time. We're almost to Maine."

"I want to get there as soon as possible. We've already wasted too much time." But getting out from under the covers did not sound appealing.

"One more and then we go," Joe negotiated.

Ryan paused, but the cold air decided for him. "One more," he agreed. He would process what was happening some other time. As Joe moved on top of him and kissed his neck, all logic and worry stopped and he was brought completely to the present moment.

Ryan was in the shower, when Joe stepped in, and pulled the curtains back. "I've found the perfect gun for you."

Ryan turned his back to Joe, embarrassed. "Do you mind?"

Joe smirked. "No need to be shy at this point Ryan."

Ryan turned back to face him. Fine. He stepped further under the hot water. "What did you find?" He had seen only rifles in the van stash.

Joe pulled out a Ruger, an older version that was not as good as the Glock Ryan knew Joe was carrying . "It was hidden under the panels in the back of the van." Joe held the gun out of the water, but reached his left hand in to pull Ryan closer to him. Joe ignored the hot water drenching him, as he leaned under the shower water to kiss Ryan gently on the lips. Joe slipped his arm around Ryan's back, hand dangerously low on his hips.

Backing up, Ryan extricated himself from Joe's grasp. Joe looked disappointed. "Thanks Joe," he said. "I'll be out in a minute." He couldn't let anything cloud his thinking. Max's life was on the line, and so was Mike's. He had to keep it together.

Ryan pulled on the one size too small borrowed pants and slid his new Ruger into the waist band. Joe had taken a shower and was coming out of the bathroom partially dressed. He slipped back into his shirt and pants, donning his baseball cap.

"Ready?" Joe asked.

"As I'll ever be." Ryan ran his fingers through his wet hair trying to brush it back. It was going to be cold outside and he hadn't thought to look for a coat in the van. Joe handed him his own coat.

Ryan shook his head. "I'll be fine."

"I'm dressed warmer than you. Go ahead and take it."

Reluctantly Ryan took the black leather jacket and put it on. It was a welcome relief when he stepped outside into the wind. It was still early morning, and the sun hadn't risen yet.

He put his head down and went back to the van, Joe right by his side

Max ignored the throbbing in her head. She was thirsty and hungry and Mark was eating a hamburger in front of her. And drinking ice water. Of all the tortures in this world… "Are you sure you don't want some water?" Mark asked again.

"Alright," Max said licking her dry lips.

Mark handed it to her and she drank it down. It felt so cool on her throat. She felt half way decent for a moment. She would need to keep her strength because she knew at some point Mike would be here. She wondered if Mark had gotten to her now boyfriend, Detective Steve Smith who was with the local police department. She had thought their relationship was going to take off. Now, here she sadly understood her uncle's reluctance to get close to anyone.

There was always something. The curse that seemed to follow her family. Maybe she didn't want Steve involved in all this crap. Or anyone for that matter. She only needed one chance to take Mark out and she watched every moment for her chance.

"You lost your mother," Mark said. It was not a question.

Max gave him a questioning look. What the hell was he doing? "That's right," she said matter-of-factly.

Mark sat in a chair across from her. "I miss my mother, my family..," his voice cracked as he continued. "How do you do it Max? How do you keep going on?"

"You have to just keep living," Max said. God this was a weird conversation.

Mark nodded. "You're right. You have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. But it's hard. I don't think I have anything to really live for."

"I think we all feel that way in the beginning. But you make connections and you keep breathing." She took another sip of her ice water. "You have to just keep going."

He sighed. "I thought revenge would make me feel better."

"It doesn't…" Max replied. "It doesn't do a thing to help the pain."

"I'm finding that out." Mark stood and gazed out at the ocean, swirling the ice at the bottom of his cup.

"I'm sorry about your uncle." Mark gave her no eye contact.

Max tried to bury her anger deep. "You set him up. You destroyed him. He was my only family"

"I know. I wanted to hurt him. Hurt him bad." He glanced at her. "But I don't feel any better."

Max felt a pang of fear as she thought of her uncle alone in a cell. Alone with his own demons. She didn't think that would end well. She hoped Michelle, her close friend from school was figuring out a way to help him. But her uncle was elusive and extremely frustrating. She had warned her, but most times Ryan Hardy was a closed shell.

"You did a good job. Of ruining him, I mean." Again she said it matter-of-factly. It was the truth and why not mention a job well done?

"I know." Mark replied. He let out a big sigh. "And now I am going to kill Mike Weston. It's only a matter of time now. I've set everything into motion and I can't stop it."

"What did you do?" Max thought, it didn't hurt to ask.

He shrugged. "Hired professionals to take him out."

Max retreated into herself. She had enough talking to this psychopath.

"So I'll have taken out your family and your boyfriend. Not very fair to you is it."

"Mike isn't my boyfriend. You got your intelligence wrong."

In the blink of an eye, Mark got angry. He punched the wall leaving a dent in the plaster. He shook his finger at her. "Don't," he said slowly trying to control his voice, "question my intelligence."

Noted, Max thought, pulling her legs up to her on the couch. Damn this family was messed up.

Mark took some deep breaths apparently trying to center himself. "Why did you break up?"

Max hesitated not sure she wanted to engage him anymore. She sighed. "He was too obsessed with all this." She waved her unchained hand in the air. "Revenge becomes an obsession and you don't have room to actually live."

"True," Mark replied putting his fingers to his temples. "I can't put it out of my mind. Even for a second."

"Well you and Mike have that in common, at least," she said.

"How did you move on?" Mark sat back down in the chair. Max was not thrilled about that.

"Well," she said looking at him skeptically. "I saw what it did to my uncle. I don't want to repeat his life."

"He was obsessed with Joe Carroll…" Mark said.

"That is an under-statement."

"Makes sense since he and Joe and so much alike."

This time Max started to get angry and did not attempt to hide it. "They are nothing alike."

"Ohhh," Mark said as he smiled. "Your uncle never told you…"

"Told me what?" Max regretted it as soon as the question came out of her mouth.

"When your uncle was 17, and his father was killed. He tracked down the boy who did it and…murdered him."

"That is so untrue." Max tried to slip the cuff off her wrist, to no avail.

"It's true. He admitted it. And once you experience that power, you can't go back. Not for someone like your uncle, or Joe Carroll."

"You're wrong."

"Well once Mike Weston is dead, I'll release you and you can ask him. It takes awhile to get the chair, and I'm sure you'll get to see your uncle again."

Max spat at him. Her spit missed, but it had the bonus effect of getting Mark to stand up and move away.

"Your uncle probably will like being on death row, because he knows he deserves it. Just as much as Joe Carroll."

"Shut up." Max said.

Mark pointed at her. "You'll see. You'll see when you talk to him again." With that Mark left the room and Max was able take her first deep breath. She let it out. Thank god, he was gone. She glanced out the window. How to get the hell out of here?

Tim Nelson was lying low trying to lick his wounds. Not physical wounds per se, but emotional ones. Joe Carroll had missed him but he still hated that he couldn't have done more. He had hit Ryan. He knew it in his gut. But he would not feel better until Ryan Hardy was dead, along with Joe Carroll.

He wished he knew what Mark Gray had planned next. Tim knew he had the girl, somewhere. But if he knew where, he could get her. If he got the girl, he could get Ryan back and perhaps Joe as well. That would be sweet.

He needed to get back in touch with Mark. He had all the resources. And though he disliked him, Tim still had some things he wanted to accomplish before going underground. Mark would be an excellent way to achieve those means.

He entered a pay phone and dialed the number that he had written on his inner arm.

Ryan ate a sandwich as Joe parked in an inconspicuous place right on the intersection of 2nd and Main. It was a busy street, one that would be inconspicuous to have someone get in a car. Taxi's bustled back and forth as well as pedestrians. It was getting towards Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations were starting to pop up on the street lamps and store fronts. Ryan hated Christmas. He took another bite of the peanut butter sandwich that had been stored in the back. For how long? At least the bread wasn't moldy. He didn't want to risk him or Joe being seen and recognized.

"Did Weston tell you when he was supposed to meet them?"

Ryan glanced at his watch. "He said 1 PM." Could Mike have lied to protect him? He didn't put it past him. It was 9 AM now, and he hoped that they weren't too late. He knew Mike would sacrifice himself for Max, and he hated it. He didn't want any more deaths on his head.

Scanning the crowd and digging into a bag of really greasy chips, he saw him. "Joe, he's here."

"Where?" Joe looked up in the direction of Ryan's eyes.

Mike was wearing a non-descript black jacket. He had sunglasses on and looked much older than his 27 years. He was much older mentally, Ryan knew. The things they had been through together would age anyone.

"Let me know if you see any suspicious vehicles," Joe said at the ready.

Ryan was completely focused and pointed. "That black Lexus has circled the street twice in the past hour." He recognized it despite the dark windows. Any pattern would strike him.

"That's probably it," Joe said.

And sure enough the car stopped and 2nd and Main and Mike paused right there. The back door opened and Mike hesitated then stooped over to get in. Mike looked around nervously and then closed the car door behind him.

Shit, Ryan thought, this could be bad. He watched as the car slowly got back into traffic. Joe looked ready to go and Ryan stopped him. "Wait," he said putting his hand on Joe's arm. "Wait just a few more seconds then pull out."

Joe pulled out smoothly and began to tail them. It was an hour that they followed from far behind. Once they pulled over, Ryan hoped they would be able to intercept. They. He was starting to consider Joe his partner, however unreliable he might turn out to be. He regarded Joe a moment, drinking in his features. They had been friends once, before all hell broke loose. Ryan had not suspected him. His first major lapse in profiling. It was the gift, his ability to give people what they needed. The gift he brought when you were near him…

"You're staring," Joe observed.

Ryan flushed again. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"I like it." Joe smiled, his sunglasses shielding the expression in his eyes. Suddenly Joe slammed on the breaks. Fortunately there were no cars behind them. "I've lost them." Joe said, banging his fist on the steering wheel.

Think, Ryan said to himself. "Pull over Joe." They were on a freeway but there was a small shoulder. Ryan got out and the wind immediately hit him and the door held some resistance. He slipped out of the car and looked around. Could they have gone down the ravine? In that nice Lexus? Ryan came back to the Lexus and motioned for Joe to roll down the window. "Hey, do you have binoculars Joe?"

Joe reached into a bag and handed some to Ryan. Ryan stepped back to the edge of the ravine and looked through the binoculars. It was all he could do to keep his balance on the edge. A few cars raced by and the wind chilled him. He realized he was still wearing Joe's coat.

Sure enough there was a worn track going down into the ravine a mile from where they were parked. They would have to take this by foot once they got close.

Joe checked his Glock, took off the safety. God that was unnerving to Ryan. He tried to ignore his stomach. He pulled out his Ruger but kept the safety on. "You ready?" Ryan asked.

"Ready," Joe said.

They followed the tracks down and they heard voices just past a few trees. Ryan motioned for Joe to be quiet.

"On your knees," the voice said in the distance. Mike, Ryan thought. He gave Joe the single to follow him.

There were three men, all with rifles and one was aimed at Mike's head.

"Do it," Mike told them looking his killer right in the eye. "Just do it."

Ryan pointed to the one man on the left and motioned for Joe to take him out. He pointed to himself and the man on the right. He counted for Joe with his fingers 'one, two, three…" It was simultaneous and Joe and Ryan fired at the same moment. Both men fell and the man with the rifle looked up momentarily. Mike took that moment to strike and kicked the rifle out of his attacker's hands.

Joe and Ryan were there instantly and Ryan held his gun to the man's temple. He looked like he was in his late twenties, probably military. Ryan knelt beside him. "Where is she?" he whispered, digging the Ruger further into his temple.

"Not telling," the man said. Ryan stood and kicked him in the ribs. The young man moaned. He straddled him and put the gun right between his eyes. "Please…" the man begged.

"Tell us where Max is or I blow your fucking brains out." Ryan released the safety. He could do it. He felt like doing it just for the hell of it.

The man looked nervously around him, both to Joe and then to Mike. "Joe…Joe Carroll?" he asked his eyes opening wide as he focused on the figure just behind Ryan.

"That's right," Joe said, enjoying the attention but pointed at his comrade. "But it's Ryan you should be worried about."

The man swallowed, blue eyes terrified as he looked at Ryan. "They are up in Maine. I don't know the exact location. It's a house on the bluff near the ocean."

"Thanks," Ryan said and hit the man hard on the temple with the butt of the gun. Eyes rolled into the back as his head lolled to the to the side.

Mike looked from Ryan back to Joe. "Come on Ryan, we have to go get her."

"You're not going anywhere Mike," Ryan said. "Joe and I can handle this."

"You and…" he stopped. "What the hell Ryan?"

Joe smiled and pointed with his gun. "Listen to him Mikey."

Mike glared at him. "You aren't thinking straight Ryan." He lowered his voice. "Joe is going to kill you first chance he gets."

"I'm just looking at the best odds for getting Max back." Ryan didn't say what he was really thinking, 'and I don't want your death on my conscious.'

"I can handle this Ryan. And Joe is not going to help you. He's got his own agenda." Mike motioned for Ryan to come with him.

Joe put a steadying hand on Ryan's shoulder. Mike lunged for one of the dead men's rifles. But Ryan had his Ruger out and steady. "I can't let you do this Mike. I'm sorry."

Mike laughed. "What are you going to do Ryan, shoot me?"

"If I have to." Ryan slowly raised his gun to point at Mike.

Mike raised his hands in mock surrender. "I don't believe you."

"That's a big mistake."

A shot rang out behind him distracting both Ryan and Mike. Ryan turned instantly, his gun rotating instantly in the other direction. Joe had shot the young man he had knocked out minutes before right between the eyes. There was blood absolutely everywhere on the ground. Ryan looked to Joe. "He was reaching for something…" Joe said, his gun still pointed at his kill. Mike took the moment of distraction to rush Ryan and grab in around the shoulders.

Right where Ryan had been shot. Ryan bit his tongue trying to control the pain as Mike wrestled him down to the ground and secured his wrists. His Ruger had flown to the ground a ways away in the commotion. Ryan held still as Mike pointed the gun down at Ryan's head. Joe pointed his gun steadily at Mike, eyes looking furious.

"Hold up Joe. Hold up!" Ryan shouted from the ground.

"Use your brains Ryan…You can't go back with Joe. You're coming back with me and making things right."

"We don't have time for this." Ryan said out of breath. "We need to find Max."

"We'll take Joe with us, as a prisoner. We'll get Max and then return him to prison. You know what you have to do Ryan."

Ryan breathed out and relaxed. "You're right Mike. What was I thinking?" He raised his hands in surrender, smiled. "I'll go back with you." Mike seemed to relax for a moment too and at that point, Joe knocked him out with the butt of his gun. In slow motion Mike dropped the gun and fell over to the ground, unconscious.

Joe retrieved the gun as Ryan brushed the dirt off his pants and stood.

"What do we do with him?" Joe asked.

"Take him back to the car…" Ryan swore under his breath.

Between the two of them, Ryan taking his shoulders and Joe taking his legs, they got Mike into the back of the car. Ryan felt a pang of guilt as he handcuffed Mike's wrist to the inside van door.

Joe unfolded the map in the back and Ryan looked over his shoulder. "There are a few areas that he could have been referencing," Joe said as he traced his finger over the map.

Ryan thought about Lilly Gray, her taste for the extravagant. He thought he knew an area that fit the bill. "How about here?" he asked Joe.

"Let's go," Joe said as he moved back to the driver's seat.

Joe's cell phone rang he looked at it baffled as he drove. He looked at Ryan as it continued to ring. "That's strange. No one has this number."

Ryan picked it up and watched as it continued to ring. "no number coming in…"

Joe motioned for Ryan to give it back and he put it on his shoulder and chin as he drove. "Hello?" he said, one hand now on the wheel.

"Hi Joe," came the voice from the other side. "This is Mark Gray. Good to hear your voice."

"You too," Joe said glancing at Ryan.

Mark continued. "I heard that you and Ryan escaped. Good job both of you."

"Thanks." Joe glanced at Ryan and mouthed 'crazy.' He said impatiently, "Now what can I do for you?"

"Bring Ryan and Mike to me and we'll call things good between us. No hard feelings."

"Now why would I do that?" Joe asked.

"Well Roderick is here, do you remember him Joe? He would like nothing better than to kill Ryan's niece. I've told him that I would like to do it, but he thinks he would have more fun. Besides, killing Mike Weston would be so much more satisfying, don't you think? We want to bring you in on the fun. And we'll give you your choice of kill."

"How thoughtful," Joe said. "But why do you need my help? Seems you are doing splendidly."

"Well, I don't have Mike and Ryan and I think.. I know you can help Bring me Mike and Ryan and I'll be out of your hair… permanently. I will consider our debt to each other completely absolved. That must be worth something to you?"

Joe glanced at Ryan who was listening in. Ryan nodded for Joe to go ahead. "Alright Mark, I'll bring them to you. Where do you want me to deposit them?"

"I'll be in contact…" There was a click and the line was dead.

Mike groaned in the back of the van. Ryan grimaced as he was not looking forward to this conversation. He glanced at Joe and then in the back where Mike was starting to move.

"Ryan?" Mike said quietly from the back. "Are you there?"

"Yeah, buddy, I'm here." Ryan turned and looked into Mike's drowsy eyes.

"Where are we going?" Mike clanked his cuffed wrist against the wall.

Joe was silent as Ryan contemplated this. "Mike, we are going to rescue Max." It was the truth, and if Mike didn't like his methods then he could remain chained to the back.

"With him?" Mike motioned to Joe who continued to quietly drive.

"Yes," Ryan said simply. That summed it up nicely.

"Ryan, this is crazy. He is not going to help you."

Joe glanced back nervously at their hostage and Ryan replied, "Shut up Mike, you aren't helping right now."

Mike laughed. "Do you know that he killed some of the guards when he rescued you? Do you really know what you're a part of?"

Joe brought the van into a temporary skid. He brought the van back under control and glanced briefly back at Mike. "You are lying Mikey. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Who do you really trust Ryan?" Mike watched Ryan a moment. "Look what he did to that man back there. Do you really think he was reaching for a weapon when he blew his brains out? No, he did it because he wanted to." Mike didn't address Joe but looked squarely at Ryan.

"Ryan," Joe said trying to redirect his attention. "He is lying. I did not kill any police officers when I rescued you. Knocked out, yes. But I did not intentionally kill anyone." He glanced back at Mike. "But I could have if I had wanted to…"

Mike laughed bitterly. "Are you threatening me Joe? Why don't you kill me and show Ryan who you truly are."

Joe hit the top of the steering wheel with his fist and bit his lip.

"Shut up both of you." Ryan said flipping open the road map. "This is about Max and not about any of us."

"Ok Ryan," Mike said, "we'll rescue Max and then discuss this."

*************''

They had stopped for the night. There were plenty of blankets in the back and against Joe's advice, Ryan had released Mike. Sleep with one eye open, he told himself. Mike had turned out to be a thorn in his side. He had earned Ryan's reluctant trust, and now this.

Joe decided to take a walk outside and Mike and Ryan had a heated discussion about their methods. It was all foolish. "I'll be right back," Joe told them as he opened the side door.

Ryan glanced at him, and nodded.

He stepped out into the night. It was fairly clear out, the stars were out and just a sliver of a moon. They had pulled over off an old forestry road. There were trees all around and a makeshift bench that some back woods camper threw together with timber. His phone rang again. He took it out of his pocket and gazed at it for a moment. "Hello?" he said.

"Hello again Joe." It was Mark Gray. The line went silent for a moment.

"What do you want?"

"You know, I don't know anymore Joe. I've lost my family. Perhaps it is time to bring together a new family. My mother wanted it for me at one time. Wanted you to be my father."

"I don't think that will ever happen," Joe said quietly.

"I'm sorry I threatened you. It was short sighted of me. I think we could be amazing together.. Start a new Following that will rival what you had before. Think what I'm offering you Joe. I have the resources. You have the gift. You would be in charge of your own fate. My mother wanted to control you and I don't want that. I want…"

"What?" Joe asked.

"I want a family again…" Mark said. "Think about it. I'm texting you my address. Joe, I think you know that I'm offering you everything."

He looked up and saw that Mike and Ryan were talking quietly by the van. A moment of jealousy washed over Joe and then he regained his composure. Mark was right, his destiny didn't lie with Ryan. When this was over, they would part their ways. Or he would go back to prison, or, he glanced at Mike, be dead. Ryan was his best friend, but perhaps his friend would be better off without him. He could not make eye contact as Ryan walked over to him.

"How's Mikey?" Joe asked him, as Ryan sat down on one of the large boulder looking out into the forest.

Ryan glanced at Mike who was stomping his feet and blowing into his fist to keep warm in his light jacket. "He's agreed to cooperate." For all that's worth.

Joe sat next to him on the boulder. "After we get Max from them…"

Ryan interrupted him. "You were talking on the phone over here. Was it our friend?"

Joe tapped his cell phone in his coat pocket. "It was indeed. Seems that he is offering me another chance to have a Following. Offered me the funding, the resources."

"And?" Ryan asked.

Joe looked down at his feet. "And…I am a realist. I know that our friendship cannot continue. Not like this. I enjoyed killing that young man back there." He glance cup at Ryan. " Mikey is right. It's who I am. You deserve much more."

It startled Joe when Ryan reached out for him, cupping his hand on the nape of his neck, fingers brushing him gently. Joe was frozen in place, when Ryan pulled him in close and pressed cold lips firmly to his own. It was a long lingering kiss that promised something more. Joe was reluctant when Ryan pulled away. "Joe it's who I am too.."

Joe shook his head. "You're different, Ryan. But …I did not kill those guards. Mike lied to you."

"I believe you."

Joe gazed at him. He was so close, he could reach out and kiss him again, but he refrained. "I can't change who I am Ryan. If I could, I would."

Blue eyes met his own. There was new something there. It almost looked like fear to Joe. Ryan was usually very easy to read.

Ryan reached over and grasped Joe's hand. Joe gazed at their hands for a moment, unable to say a word. This was friendship, and perhaps something more? He would need to explore that further. They would get his niece back, and then they both would have much more time to explore the possibilities.

They walked back together to the van where Mike had been watching them and now staring rudely. There was an expectant look on his face that demanded an explanation. Ryan smiled at him, but no explanation was forthcoming.

Ryan s nerves were frayed as they got closer to the ocean. Mike was really wearing on him. There were only two flak jackets and two guns The plan they had concocted had been met with disapproval from Mike who was being unusually quiet in the back.

Joe pulled over by a scenic overlook of the ocean. It was cloudy and Ryan took in the familiar salty scent as the cold ocean breeze blew at his hair. He and Claire had gone to a bed and breakfast near here. So long ago.

Mike complained from the open side van door. "I am not going to stay in the van and put Max's life in his hands."

Ryan leaned his head back into the van and said. "It's not too late to back out. We'll drop you off in town."

"No," Mike said firmly.

"Then you play by our rules."

"You are crazy Ryan." He shook his head disapprovingly. "You've finally gone over the edge." Mike gave him a mistrustful look. "You do belong behind bars. I'm even thinking you did kill Carrie."

Ryan felt a his temper flush his face, and the vein in his forehead began to pulsate. That question did not deserve an answer. He turned, took a deep breath and left it at that.

Joe was fumbling with a few things in a bag and called out. "You ready Ryan?"

"As I'll ever be." Ryan replied looking out one last time at the ocean. He often felt death near him. It goaded him. Perhaps today would be the day. It was for a good cause. The best he would ever have. Max Hardy. He owed it to his brother. Maybe things would be set right and Max would never have to be thrown into his personal hell ever again.

Mike chimed in. "Listen, I want to help."

Ryan raised a brow. "I don't think so buddy. We only have two flak jackets. I'm not letting you anywhere near that psycho."

Joe appeared thoughtful. "You know Ryan, Mark's psychopathy will make him need to 'play' with his targets. Mike will not be in immediate danger, and neither will you."

"How can he be so sure?" Mike ignored Joe.

Ryan shook his head. "No, he's right Mike. And Mark wants the two of us, not necessarily Joe."

Joe nodded. "Mark does want you two. At least for the moment. And he will want to torture Max in front of you both to maximize the impact before he kills all three of you."

"Which gives us time," Ryan said, "and will lead us to Max."

"I have a plan but your little buddy will not like it." Joe looked to Ryan and then to Mike who through looks only expressed his displeasure.

"I'll do it," Mike said finally. "But when this is all over, you're going down Joe. I promise."

Joe merely shrugged and got back to the business at hand. There was much planning to do.

Ryan had gone on a reconnaissance mission and had hiked up a tree lined hill overlooking the ocean. His face was beet red from the strong winds, binoculars slung over his neck. He was out of breath when Joe met him. "I'd say about 10 guards surrounding the house and probably a handful inside too." Joe straightened out a paper on a boulder and held it down.

"I think I take your little buddy with me to distract Mark and you follow and eliminate some of the guards." Joe pointed to the main entrance of the house and then to the back. Ryan thought guiltily of Mike handcuffed again in the back of the van. It was the only way Ryan told himself for the thousandth time.

"Sounds good to me," Ryan said, fingering his gun. "Do you have another silencer?"

An angry voice came from inside the van. "Do I have any say in this?" Mike asked crossly.

"No," Ryan answered. "Not really."

And that answered that. Ryan really hoped that he wouldn't regret not dropping Mike off before they went in. But the more he thought about it, the more essential Mike was to distracting Max's captor. There were emotional ties between the two. The death of Mike's father and the death of Mark's mother. It would be the distraction that could mean life or death for Max. It sucked. But it was essential to the plan. And he knew Max meant the world to Mike. He would understand…eventually.

When they reached the house, Ryan said a silent prayer to a god he didn't even believe in. He glanced at Joe. Worry was not concealed in his face. "It will be okay Joe."

"I just have the feeling we may never see each other again Ryan."

Ryan glanced down. He also had the feeling that this could be it for all of them. "We'll see each other again Joe. I promise."

Joe managed a smile. Ryan reached over the center console of the van and kissed him gently on the lips. Joe reached his hand out and caressed Ryan's face. This was met with a groan from the back. "Please…" Mike said in pure frustration.

But Joe didn't want to let go and kissed Ryan one more time, ignoring the protests from the back. This time the kiss was deeper, and Ryan didn't want to let go. Max was waiting. "Be good Mike," Ryan said as he slid out of the van. "Meet you inside. Take care of him Joe."

"You have my word Ryan." Joe replied, ignoring the furious looks behind him from Mike.

Ryan nodded as he hooked the silencer up to his ruger, and prepared himself for what was going to likely not end well. But, he told himself, it may just buy Joe and Mike enough time.

Joe watched Ryan walk to the back of the house, a pang of regret filling him. This was probably the last time they would see each other, and it hurt him. More than he would like to admit.

"So what's the plan Joe." Mike said sarcastically from the back, rattling his handcuffs.

"I'm not in the mood for your lip," Joe said evenly. "Why don't we conduct this rescue in silence."

"You'd like that wouldn't you." Mike tried to even his breaths. "You know how vulnerable Ryan is, and you've taken advantage of him," Mike accused. "First chance I get, you're going down. I want to see you suffer."

Joe rolled his eyes, "how lovely." He continued to drive the van right to the front of the address that Mark had given him. The clouds had moved in, but even with the windows rolled up the deep road of the ocean echoed up from the bluff. The white house itself was three stories, an estate with immaculately landscaped shrubs and marble pillars that accentuated the oversized entrance.

Joe opened the door and the sea air hit him. It was cold and he zipped up the coat he had in back. He smiled, Ryan had kept his leather jacket. He was glad that it was with him. He wondered where Ryan was now and wished that he was with him. He glanced back at Mike who appeared lost in his own world.

The door opened and Mark Gray walked out, a guard positioned behind him with a sniper rifle. Joe glanced up at the dormers above. Likely he was in the sights of several snipers. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Hello Joe," Mark said warmly, just loud enough to hear over the crash of the waves below.

"Mark," Joe replied with equal warmth. "I have something for you."

"First things first, Joe. You need to give me your gun. There needs to be trust between us."

"Of course," Joe said, taking his Glock out of his belt. The guard behind Mike was itchy on the trigger, and Joe lay the gun gently on the ground and raised his hands back up. He gazed up at the top floor, knowing that one pull of a trigger and his brains would be spaghetti.

Mark walked up to the van and Joe opened the back sliding door. Mike was handcuffed on the carpeted floor, gazing defiantly out at the both of them.

"Hello Mike." Mark smiled at him. "Boy do I have some great surprises for you."

"Can't wait," Mike replied, mimicking the smile.

"Where's Ryan Joe? The deal was Mike and Ryan." Mark motioned for the guard to get Mike out of the back.

Joe shrugged. "I'm sorry, Ryan got away."

Mark gave Joe a long, searching gaze. Finally he said, "okay, come on in." Mark's smile returned as he gazed at Mike. "I'll show you around."

Ryan peeked around the side of the house, his Ruger pulled. He had counted 4 different guards that had been rotating positions around the house. They were in communication with each other, and he noted, they were on high alert. Joe and Mike must be going inside.

He had to keep his cool. There was a guard that was coming close. Ryan took the opportunity to knock him in the head with his gun. Surprise had it's benefits. One twist of the neck and the man stopped breathing. They were in a black uniform, and Ryan began stripping out of his coat, and undressed the corpse. It wouldn't hurt to blend in.

His Ruger in hand, he peered out of the bushes. Another guard. Alone. He smiled, soon there would be two down.

Joe was herded into the house by the black clad guard. Mark was showing them the house, and even offered Joe a drink. Joe smiled and declined politely.

There in the main living room, was Max Hardy. She was cuffed to the couch. She called out "Mike!"

Joe watched as Mike and Max gazed at each other. Horror, terror and fear both revealed in their faces. Just what Mark wants, he thought. And one look at Mark showed that he was right. The boy was enjoying himself. As he should, Joe thought.

"Shall we start the party?" Mark rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Joe smiled. "How do you want to proceed?"

Mark watched Mike and Max for a moment. "You know the deal was to deliver both Mike and Ryan. I'm really disappointed Joe. I can't lie to you."

"I'm disappointed as well," Joe replied.

Mark smiled as he pulled out a wire garrote and swung it in Max's direction. "Even though you disappointed me, you still brought me Mike and you should be rewarded. Even though Tim really wanted to kill her, I am going to give you the honor." He held out the wire and Joe took it reverently.

"I'd like her un-cuffed. I want to have her life in my hands, completely."

"No Joe…" Mike said, a desperate edge in his voice. "Don't do it."

Mark thought about Joe's request. "Can't hurt anything." He dug in his front pocket and took out the key to the cuffs. "If you will enjoy it more. Be my guest. She's not going anywhere."

Max regarded Joe defiantly as he took the key from Mark. Such a brave girl, Joe thought, just like her uncle in so many ways. Joe approached her and she swallowed reflexively. "Get it over with," she said angrily.

"Joe, please don't do this." He struggled against his restraints. "I'll do anything. Anything!" Mike was being restrained by a guard.

Joe got closer to Max and whispered, as he unlocked her cuffs. "Pretend to die." Her blue eyes met his and seemed to understand.

Placing the wire gently around her neck, Joe tugged it tight.

"Please just kill me instead," Mike begged.

"Don't worry you're next," Mark replied, enjoying himself immensely. "You have to watch her die first, Mike. It's the way it has to be." He watched Joe with satisfaction. "Make her suffer, Joe."

Joe gazed back at Mark and then at Ryan's niece. "Of course," Joe replied, and tugged the wire tighter around Max's neck.

Ryan had downed four guards, and was now inside the mansion. The downstairs was dark, no lights but was filled with blinking computers, the monitors all black., News articles covered every inch of the walls. Ryan saw his own face from a news clipping staring back at him from the wall. And Joe's mug shot next to his. All the news clippings of the killings were there. They had done a very good job of setting him up, Ryan admitted.

He was looking at the computer, when he heard a noise behind him. He turned and aimed his Ruger behind him. No one there. Damn, he was being jumpy. He had to find his way upstairs and get to Max.

"Hello Ryan," a disembodied voice said from behind him.

He turned but saw no-one. Only shadows.

"No need to get all edgy, Ryan. We're good. I've been looking forward to this day for a long time."

"Why don't you show yourself?" Ryan said, following the voice quietly.

Roderick continued. "I hoped… but I didn't think I'd have this chance."

"Here I am," Ryan said smiling at the shadows. "Come get me."

But Roderick stayed hidden in the shadows. "Did Joe get to you Ryan? Are you a Follower?" He laughed. "He has a way of getting under your skin, doesn't he?"

"You would know," Ryan said. It was then that he felt a crash come down on his head. It was the last thing he remembered before blacking out.

Joe had to admit, that Max was a very good actress. He pretended to pull the wire tight, and she fell to her knees, gagging. Good girl, Joe thought silently, as she went through the motions. She knew her stuff, and even Joe was convinced as she started to lose consciousness.

He could hear Mike in the background, repeating 'no' over and over again. He glanced back, and Mike was on his knees, Mark hovering over him. Mike would be next, Joe knew. Where are you Ryan?

As if on cue, the door opened, and Joe saw Roderick come up the stairs with Ryan grasped in his arms. Roderick's gun was pointed squarely at Ryan's temple.

Mark smiled. "Ryan! How good of you to join the party." Max was lying motionless on the ground. "I'm sorry you missed the good part." He pointed to Max lying motionless on the floor, Joe standing over her with the wire limp in his hand. Ryan was looking horrified.

"Hello Roderick," Joe said in greeting. "I see you've brought us our last guest."

"You're going to die Joe," Roderick replied. "You're going to be next."

"Now Tim," Mark said, "that's no way to treat our guest. I'm sorry I gave him the honor of killing the girl. I know how much you wanted to do that."

"Killing Joe will be even better, Mark. Don't worry." Roderick smiled.

Joe caught Ryan's gaze. Ryan was waiting for his signal, Joe knew. But Roderick had that damn gun pointed right at his head. This was not good and could be a horrible mess in a matter of seconds. But it was now or never. And life was short. As he gazed at Ryan, he swore to himself that if Ryan died, he was going to go with him. He raised the garrote towards Ryan and in that instance, Ryan stomped on Roderick's foot, turned and kneed him hard in the groin.

Roderick's distraction had cost him and was soon on the floor. Ryan had taken his gun, and knocked him in the head, leaving him to sprawl on the floor, blood splattering where Ryan had hit him.

Mark raised his gun towards Ryan, who was temporarily distracted by Max's lifeless body. But in that moment Max moved in a fluid motion, grabbing the gun from her sock and putting a bullet right into Mark's stomach. Mark gasped gazed at her, his stomach which was now flowing with blood, then Joe before he fell to the floor in a head.

Max immediately pointed the gun at Joe, and was just about to pull the trigger when Ryan jumped protectively in front of him. But she had already pulled the trigger and the bullet went right into Ryan's shoulder. He went down on top of Joe, writhing in pain.

"Ryan." Max ran over to him fear filling her eyes. "Ryan…I'm sorry. I was going after Joe."

"Finish him off Max," Mike urged her from the floor. "Finish Joe off."

"No," Ryan managed through clenched teeth. "You'll have to kill me first."

Max held her gun steadily at Joe. "Why Ryan? We can finish this now. We can finally finish this."

"Not now," Ryan said to Max trying to refrain from moaning. Joe had rolled him over and started putting pressure on his shoulder. "Shit," Ryan said as the pain bit into his nerves.

Max saw a phone hanging on the wall in the hallway. "I'm calling this in. Keep pressure on his shoulder," she commanded Joe.

"It won't take the police long to get here. Maybe 20 minutes," Joe said. "Ryan I can't stay here."

Ryan nodded understanding. "I'm coming with you."

"You can't Ryan. You've got a family. You've got Max. You can't leave this behind."

Max unlocked Mike's handcuffs and embraced him. They had both been through hell.

Ryan set himself, sitting up and ignoring the pain. Besides pain meant that the wound was not so bad. "I'm coming with you damn it. You don't have a choice."

Max let go of Mike and watched them. "What are you doing Ryan? You're coming with us. Their sending an ambulance. We'll get you to the hospital. I'm not losing you again."

"I love you Max. But you are right. This ends now. I'm going with Joe, and leaving you two to your lives. You and Mike deserve a life without all this."

Max came over, ignoring Joe and hugged Ryan. "I won't let you go."

Ryan managed to get out of her embrace, biting back the pain. "Take care Max, and take care of Mike."

Joe put his arm around Ryan, and they walked out together on the cobblestone walkway. There were sirens in the distance drowning out the waves below. "Are you sure?" Joe whispered to him.

"We're going Joe." Ryan shrugged. "You asked about friendship. This is it."

"I never dreamed…" Joe said. At that moment Ryan kissed him. They gazed back at the mansion to see Max and Mike watching them through the window. The sirens were getting closer. Joe took Ryan's hand and led him to the van. It was time to go. And together, the possibilities were endless.

The End