Ray and I had moved to the Colorado property after our return from Italy, both of us seeming to have a new purpose. The cabin then was unfinished so we would help Benjamin finish and improve upon what was then a "doomsday prepper's" dream. All Benjamin wanted in return was for Ray and I to continue his work. As he was considered a philanthropist at that time, I wasn't sure exactly what that meant. But over time, it became clear: help those who needed it, without the exchange of money, oversee his charity work, and make sure at least someone had a better life because of his ideas.

Benjamin Blake was a gentle and kind soul. He was 74 when I met him and reminded me a bit of Jack Palance, the actor. He was tall, still a proud 6'3, lean and could certainly look the gruff older man. But in his blue gray eyes there was such a deep kindness, if anyone took the time to look, they wouldn't fear him unless they had reason to. He had certainly been fierce in his younger days. He had been a warrior - a soldier serving his country proudly in World War 2. He had gone on to adventure around the world as a fortune hunter, who acquired his gift of helping people, and overall jack-of-all- trades. He had always been gifted with the talent of ideas and invention and held over 30 patents on his own unique ideas. Coming from a prosperous family, Benjamin had learned early how to invest wisely, yet live frugally thus leading to his wealth.

He and Ray had become acquainted some 25 years ago, and Benjamin had passed many of his skills to Ray, as Ray had then passed to me.

We lived there together-but separate for the next year. In that time I learned so much from the older man in the short time he had left. He taught me chess and seemed to thoroughly enjoy beating me. He read to me from various works from the likes of Hemmingway and Jules Verne to things as varied as The Art of War by Tzu to learn strategy. I also learned the last language I was to pick up so far, Russian, and he talked about his years spent in Russia at the height of the cold war, serving the US while Russian KGB thought him to be serving them—a double agent in the Kennedy era. He got me to learn the ins and outs of his various holdings and companies so that I could hold down the business side of things—which Ray had never been interested in. And he made sure I was the niece he never had.

Then he was gone. Foregoing a funeral with military honors, he chose to be buried simply in a plot overlooking the landscape he loved. And it was as private as he was—he died how he lived, as only a legacy and a memory.

That time, as a sort of family, was the happiest I can remember as I think back. We would all take turns cooking in the evenings then watched old movies, played chess or cards and in the daytime spent working on the house and surrounding barn, garage and landscape. Ray and I for that time had the closest thing to a marriage either one of us would ever experience. There was love and laughter and more nights than not we shared a bed.

There were few cases then. Ray knew Benjamin's time was short from the terminal cancer that was killing him from the inside out. So we chose to spend that time learning all that our mentor could teach and enjoy things when we could.

After Benjamin's death, it was different.

Again.

Ray took cases alone—his way of coping, and healing. I gave him his space, though it hurt (and so did I.)

I did what I could to keep my own sense of loss and loneliness at bay. I gardened and trained the young horses we had bought. I canned food I grew in the garden and practiced my new archery skills, hunting some small game to make variety of packaged meat in the freezer and stews I canned and put up for winter. I made some trips to Dallas, Chicago, and LA even to handle Benjamin's various businesses and charities and ran most other things from the extensive computer network.

Ray's moods usually had settled some when he would return from his ventures. But there was still not the closeness we had shared. I recall one time he had arrived home late one night, and he came to me, wordless, and we had shared a heated almost violent passion.

It had been much needed for both of us.

And much later, early dawn, he must have thought I was asleep.

"I love you…more than I ever thought I could," he whispered.

I lay still. I knew he wanted me to be asleep. My only wish was that I had the guts to tell him then, the love that I had in my heart and the wish that things could be as close as we could get to real love.

Now who was the fool?

I landed in Seattle and found it was mostly sunny; a change from the usual late summer and fall rains. A driver waited for me, again arranged by Anna Marie. I was certainly putting a lot of trust in someone I had never met. I just kept my guard up and went along for the ride, so to speak. I was dropped off courteously but unceremoniously at the Marriott. Check in went smoothly and I rode the elevator to the fifth floor. Inside the very posh king suite, I found and itinerary for the Stalling Retirement Banquet.

Friday evening, tonight, it seemed there was a cocktail party at the Stalling residence. Saturday at 4 pm the banquet started in the Oswald Banquet Ballroom right here in the Marriott. There were some other events, but I dismissed even the possibility of visiting any of the "other festivities" that included volleyball and a downtown Seattle tour. It seemed Anna and the Stalling family had spared no expense for this weekend. The address of the Stalling house was on the itinerary and I found the rental car paperwork also on the desk. All I needed to do was contact the hotel concierge and have my rental car brought over. Well, she had thought of everything.

I unpacked some things and hung up my cocktail dress for this evening, a black number Ray had bought for me in Italy years ago, that got worn almost never but had classic yet simple lines that never went out of style. I had also brought a more formal outfit, a navy color floor length backless dress, for the banquet tomorrow. Maybe it would do me some good to dress up and at least "play" like a regular woman for the weekend.

The cocktail party was nice, maybe 40 people filled the Stalling's large ranch style home. Anna Stalling was an amazingly gracious hostess and she hugged me at least four times. Her husband, a mild mannered older gentleman, seemed easy going and polite. And of course there was Scott– he was probably my age, a good 10 years younger than Ray–and an imposing figure he was. He stood like the retired military man he was, 6 foot 2 of lean well built muscle, trained to smile and look attentive at these kinds of events. He would have looked more at home on the firing range, or a baseball game though. His blue eyes and sandy hair with only a slight touch of gray at the temples were certainly easy on the eyes of many of the ladies there. Anna hadn't mentioned a Mrs Scott Stalling and when I made deductions of my own, I noted that there used to be a wedding ring on his left hand, but it hadn't been there in a while- the indentation was long gone and the white line where it had been shaded from the sun was fading, but not all the way gone. He was most certainly recently single and this fact was probably not lost on his female admirers, who were old friends and neighbors, and who were probably up on all his life events through Anna, who was certainly a small town celebrity in her own right.

It was nice to be out and for awhile I was able to mostly fit in with the others at the party.

I took a breather finally, after several hours of conversation with various people, to go out on the terrace where a few less mingled now, as an evening chill had began to set it. But there was a beautiful view of the ocean in the distance and I could almost see a fog rolling in off the water.

"Getting chilly." Scott was suddenly there, his presence undeniable.

I smiled. "Oh, its not bad. Colorado is already cooler at night." There was no denying Scott Stalling was attractive and certainly seemed to be interested in apparently the only single woman at tonight's event who was a mystery. But was she interested in him? Not in the way I wished I could have been.

"Camille, I wanted to say thank you again for coming…I should have said so many things to Ray…"

You and me both buddy.

"It means a lot to me and Anna that you could come," he continued. "And please don't let any of these overstuffed shirts and drama home wreckers make you feel uncomfortable."

I had to laugh then. "I may have spotted a few," I agreed.

"If it were up to me, Id've had a couple of beers at the Ore House with a couple of buddies and called it a night." He shrugged. "Anna, well, she's always run with a bit more upscale crowd. I was never really an 'officer event' kinda guy."

"I'm glad to hear," I said with a genuine smile.

"In fact," he checked his watch. "It's about time for me to make my grand escape. How 'bout you escape with me and we go down to Molly McGuire's, have some Guinness and maybe catch some baseball?"

It sounded fantastic. But there was no way I could…could I?

"I promise I will be on my best behavior. It'd just be nice to hang out, I'd like to have a drink for Ray. And aside from my war-story buds, well you're about the most fun here. And, well, a lot more attractive than they are."

He was laying it on pretty thick. Was I going to bite? Why the hell not.

We made a stop at the hotel so I could change into less formal clothes–jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt– and my comfortable boots that relieved my feet from the 4 inch heels they'd been trapped in. Scott had a been in a business casual suit so all he'd done after making some excuses and brief goodbyes at the party was toss his jacket in the backseat and lose his tie.

Molly McGuires was a low key bar and grill, a standard "Applebees" kind of place though their bar boasted two pool tables, a dart board, and video trivia. We took a booth near one of the pool tables and a waitress took our order over the mediocre irish ballad that was playing out of some unseen speakers.

"Not that my sister's shrimp kabob weren't great, but I'm starved," Scott said looking over the menu. "Chili fries and a Oatmeal Stout."

"Chili fries and Amber Bach." I did have a penchant love for chili fires.

We talked for awhile about the retirement party, and Scott's career.

Of course the conversation drifted to our common interest: Ray.

"Why did he do it, do you think?" Scott asked, sometime after most of our chili fries were gone and two beers in. "Help, I mean?"

I tried to arrange something into words that would describe it for him. I shrugged a little. "Peace?" it was a statement and question, if that's really possible.

"Wars leave us a lot of guilt. Maybe it was guilt, making things up."

I shook my head. "Not so much guilt as sense of duty. Responsibility for things that...that maybe others couldn't take on. And yes, a little maybe, in doing so it eased some guilt. But more, to know that he made a difference at least to someone out there."

"He did. He made a difference. One person can, you know?"

I thought about that for a time. He sounded like he was trying to tell me something. Or my mind was telling me.

We talked more. I told him about some of the trips...Maldives, Germany, Italy...I didn't mention Greece or Africa. Somehow those trips were too deep, to private, to share. Scott asked about our work, and I told him what I could. It made me think just about how much maybe we had really accomplished in work that did the most good we could with asking so little in return. I told him also about my charity work, leaving Benjamin out of it, for again that was too private.

Scott was very interested in the youth clubs, Razeing Roofs, that targeted at risk teens. The clubs taught the kids, who had known little but drugs, gangs, or crime, a trade in the form of carpentry or building skills which they in turn used to help build homes.

"Maybe I could give a hand with that sometime?"

Always glad for support in any of Benjamin's foundations, I gladly gave him the contact number for Roof's chairman down in Los Angeles.

It was very late when we left the pub. Scott politely walked me into the hotel lobby.

"It has been really great meeting you Camille. I'm going to be a total gentleman here and say goodnight." He gave me a kiss on the cheek.

I smiled. He knew there was no way I was anywhere near being ready for anything with anyone.

"Hey, do me a favor though?"

"That's my line."

His turn to smile. "Think about maybe starting again."

I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. Starting what? A relationship? The business? Life?

I just nodded.

"Well, goodnight."

Not goodbye, I noted. Just goodnight.

"Do you ever say goodbye?"

Ray : "Not the first time, I know I'll be back. Later, after the favor is re paid, sometimes."

Last Dance, Last Chapter

I headed for the long term parking garage, space E 15, where the Stingray was parked. The weather in Denver had not improved since boarding in Seattle. It was overcast and a slight drizzle had begun to fall, making it almost misty walking to the car.

So on the plane ride, I had made the final decision. I would just do it. Reactivate the ad. Maybe some of what Scott had said made sense, maybe it was time, and certainly it was what Ray would want. It's what Benjamin would want as well. After all, isn't that what I had been trained for? I was letting them all down just stewing away, hiding. Someone had to carry this on, didn't they? If not for people like them, and inevitably me, what kind of a world would it be. I had dwelt on these things long and hard and now I longed for the solace and the comfort of the deep leather seats and blissful ride home.

I opened the trunk and put my bag inside, then unlocked the door and slid inside.

On the dash lay a folded piece of paper.

My mind suddenly shifted gears going into alert/danger mode, my hand going for the pistol cached under the seat. I checked the car, then the lot and my surroundings.

I had locked the car when I left. I know this. I'm paranoid. Of course it was locked.

There was nothing amiss in the mostly vacant lot around me, nor in or around the car.

I took the paper with trembling hands. I locked myself inside the Stingray and opened the fold.

"I told you not to hide forever because

depriving the world of you

is like keeping a star under the clouds –

it does no one any good

and they can't see it shine.

Just shine Bella.

Love always

Ray

PROLOGUE
I placed the ad.

"1965 Stingray- For barter only." The disposable cell number.

And soon, not immediately, but soon, I got a call not related to buying a car.

"I need help," a woman's voice said on the message. "Someone told me this ad was for someone who could help with problems that the police can't help with…"

Things were back to normal. Well, in a way.

Just knowing Ray was out there, somewhere, made it somehow better. Oh, don't get me wrong. I was furious, sad, mad, and hundreds of emotions all rolled into one for a while. But being the student I had always been, I knew there was an answer and it would come in time.

2 months went by. I had finished one successful case. It was more difficult alone, but I had the skills, the contacts and the willingness to help. And I had helped. And that was somewhat rewarding all by itself.

I had gotten in late from a long drive from Texas. It was almost 2 am when I arrived back home. I had already checked the security cameras and alarm system via the phone. All was well.

Too tired to put away the car tonight, I parked out front. I disarmed the alarm system once inside and tossed my bag on the foyer chair. Heading to the kitchen for a well-deserved drink and possibly a snack, I didn't bother with the overhead lights. The programmed night light system was engaged and it was bright enough when you knew where you were going. I briefly wondered what kind of business Blossom and Jones were up to, being as the kitties usually greeted me, starved for attention. I opened the refrigerator.

Only then did I feel it. That feeling when you just know someone else is in the room, that their eyes are on you. I spun and crouched at the same time, anticipating attack, reaching for the spring action drawer where the pistol was hidden.

He was sitting at the end of the bar, in the shadows. Blossom and Jones were lying on the counter top near him and he absently petted them.

"I took the liberty of removing the Ruger, figuring you might shoot me on principle alone."

Ray.

I flipped on the kitchen light. There he was. Same old Ray, the lines on his face a little deeper, hair a touch grayer, handsome as ever and eyes still as piercing and blue.

I went to him then and tears started in my eyes. He held me, his embrace so long missed and so very familiar. I wanted to hold him and slap him at the same time.

After the few moments it took me to recover, I finally broke away, wiping at my eyes. Ray wore a white button down shirt and a replacement black leather jacket (his being at this moment in my closet), worn jeans and boots and looked perfect to me right then.

"Dammit Ray!" I exclaimed, but my voice broke, only sorrow not anger being conveyed.

"I know that 'I'm sorry' doesn't really hold any weight right now, but I am."

"Just…. Some kind of explanation—some thing…" I stammered.

"I had some unfinished business." Ray shrugged. "Now it's finished."

There would be no real explanation.

"When I was contacted by Paul Whittaker…he said you were dead! Why couldn't he have told me-"

Ray lifted a finger. "Ah, wait. Think Bella."

My mind raced back to the day, the phone call.

"…he was working an old operation," the voice of old friend Army Major Paul Whittaker. "There was an explosion. No one could have survived. I'm so sorry Camilla, but it would have been almost impossible for even Ray to get out of there."

I could have smacked myself in the head.

"You were feeling again my Bella."

" 'almost' impossible, " I repeated.

"Key word being 'almost'," Ray pointed out. "Just like I taught you. Separate feelings and thoughts."

But I hadn't. I had only used my heart, feeling pain.

I channeled more anger, not only at him but also at myself now for not seeing. "But a year Ray! It's been a year! I was so lost…"

His eyes showed me that he too hurt inside over this. I knew it couldn't have been any other way or surely it would have been.

"You may have been lost, but you were also found. Even if it took a little while."

Puzzle pieces started clicked together in my mind. "Scott Stalling…that was you? Your doing? To get me back to work?" I asked the questions but I already knew the answers.

Ray neither confirmed nor denied. "They did owe me a favor," he said.

All I could do was sigh.

"It's late. You need some rest. I could use some too. I'm not as young as I used to be." He got up then, and that's when I noticed the cane nearby, which he picked up. He used it, taking weight off his right leg.

He noticed me noticing of course.

"Are you…ok?" I asked then.

"Better ever day."

We went upstairs, Ray slower than I this time. Upon reaching the top, he took my arm, just like that day so many years ago on the beach.

"I never wanted to be away from you," he said, the dim lights hiding his expression, but I could hear all I needed to in his voice. "And I don't intend to be away from you anymore."

I managed a smile and kissed him then, soft but lingering, feeling his lips and then letting mine drift to his cheek. "So don't," I whispered close to his ear.

I took his arm then, and we walked slowly to the bedroom knowing there would be plenty of time to get to know each other again.