Doug looked up at his friend and sighed. "I just got a text. They had to let him go."

"What?" Tom asked incredulously.

"I'm sorry, man. We just…we didn't have enough evidence to charge him yet," Doug answered.

"Wait…wait," Tom said. "You didn't have enough evidence? What the fuck is this?" He held his hands out, wrists up, showing the healing wounds from the restraints.

"I know, but…" Doug started.

"What about…about…Jesus, Doug…he was all over me…in me…there was evidence all over the place!"

"Listen to me, Tom…I know…they have all that. It's just…" Doug sighed, exasperated, and decided to get it over with. "All that proves is that you guys were…together. There wasn't any evidence to show that he attacked you."

"This isn't evidence? That I was…tied up…that I got the shit beat out of me??!"

"He said he didn't do that. He said…"

"Of course he said that, Doug!" Tom exclaimed. "What…is this your first day on the job?! You think he's just gonna sit there and admit he did it?"

"I know…I know…" Doug answered. "But there's no other evidence. And we can't find these other guys you say were there."

Tom sat back, stunned. His eyes were starting to tear up and his lips trembled as he responded, "That I say were there?" He choked back a sob and continued, looking at his friend pleadingly, "You don't believe me?"

"Tom, c'mon, I didn't mean…"

"You don't believe me," Tom repeated flatly.

"Of course I do. We all do. We just have to find the evidence so we can prove it. Hey…you don't want to go through all of this and then have a freakin' stupid group of jurors set him free, do you? We need to make this stick. We're gonna get them. We are."

Tom sat silently, his head down, not looking at his friend.

Doug decided he might as well go for broke. "He's saying you went to his place and had sex with him."

"What?!" Tom's head jerked up. His breath was coming faster now, and his face fell as he finally gave in to the emotions that were tearing at him. "God…" He put his face in his hands and tried to regain control of himself, shaking his head and mumbling, "Never never never…never gonna stop this is never gonna stop."

"Tom," Doug said. "Did…did you go to see him when he was in prison?"

"Oh Jesus." Tom was crying softly now into his hands. "They're gonna use that against me, aren't they? Jesus…"

"Why did you go see him?"

Tom looked up at his partner, his face wet with tears. "'Cause I'm a fucking idiot, that's why."

"What happened?" Doug asked.

"He has a kid." Tom sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "When I was undercover…for those two months…with him…there was this girl…Janie. She hung out with us a lot…made a few drug buys…but she was pretty straight. I…I tried to make her stay away, you know? I mean, fuck, the guy had just killed a girl just a few years younger than her. But…she kept coming around." He sighed. "He got her pregnant. She had the baby three months after he was convicted."

"You kept in touch with her?"

"No! I mean, not really. But I had given her my cell number in case she ever got into trouble. I ran into her a few times on the street, but she was keeping clean. Then she called me…said she wanted him to see the baby…to take him some pictures, but he didn't want to see her." Tom looked at Doug. "He said he'd see me though." He shook his head. "And I went. Like a fucking idiot. Because she cried and begged me and…shit…he didn't want to see any pictures. Wouldn't even take them. He just wanted to get me in front of him again so he could swear and yell and threaten some more."

"He threatened you?"

Tom laughed a humorless laugh. "Wasn't the first time. You heard about court, right? Anyway, yeah…once he started with the trash talk, I just got up and left. That's it. That's all there was to it."

The two men sat in silence for a moment before Tom asked in a quiet, trembling voice, "Doug…did he…do you think he…did he have this all planned out?"

Thoughts of the sheet found in Eckert's apartment entered Doug's mind, but he replied, "I don't know, man. I don't know."

"God, Doug…what am I gonna do?" Tom was crying again now, his face in his hands.

Doug watched as his friend broke down, feeling horrible for him. In a matter of a few minutes since Doug had arrived at the house, Tom's world had been crushed again, quickly sinking from being hopeful and confident to being fearful and despondent. He got up and went to sit beside his partner on the couch. "Hey, c'mon, Tommy," he said as he put his arm around him. "It's gonna be okay."

"He's still out there, Doug. What if…" Tom raised his head. "What if he…?" He looked toward the kitchen.

"He won't. We'll put a watch detail on the house. I'll call it in before I leave, okay?" Doug leaned over to look into Tom's eyes. "Okay?"

"Yeah." Tom nodded.

"It's gonna be okay," Doug said again.

"Yeah…yeah. Um…I'm kind of tired. I think I'm gonna go lie down for a while."

"Oh…yeah…okay. Hey, uh…Fuller said he'd be by later."

"Okay," Tom answered, unenthusiastically. "Thanks for coming by."

Doug stood up to leave. "I'm taking off then. I'm gonna get some uniforms over here before I leave though. I'll call you later."

Margaret Hanson heard Doug leave and then the door to Tom's room open and close. She put down the dish towel she had been wringing with her hands for the last several minutes as she had listened to the conversation in the other room. It had taken all the strength within her not to go into the room and…do what? She did not know. She was angry, and there was no one to take it out on. Her heart broke for her son, and she longed to go to him and comfort him…protect him. But she knew he needed to start doing some of this on his own…that he needed to do that in order to heal and grow stronger. Now, quietly, she went down the hall and stood outside the door to Tom's room…the room he had grown up in and had now come home to. From behind it she could hear the sound of him crying. As quietly as she came, she left.

About an hour later, Margaret stood outside the door and listened again. This time, all was quiet. She carefully and slowly opened the door so as not to awaken him. Her son lay sleeping on his side in his bed, curled up slightly with one arm tucked under his head. She smiled to see him at peace, even for a short while. She walked over to the bed and picked up the blanket folded at the end of it. Gently, she covered him with it, smoothed his dark hair with a soft hand, kissed him on the forehead, and left the room.

Later in the afternoon, Margaret answered the doorbell to find Fuller standing on the steps. The captain decided to wait until Tom woke up, so he sat in the living room talking to Margaret. She told him that she had overheard the earlier conversation between Tom and Doug, and he assured her that there would be a constant watch on the house until they felt it was no longer necessary. After about a half an hour, Margaret apologized for the captain having to wait, but she was happy that Tom was getting some much needed rest. She would soon find out, however, that his sleep was not restful.

Tom tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around him. Every once and awhile he moaned a little as he rolled onto his side, his sore ribs taking his weight. He finally settled for lying on his stomach, one arm draped over the edge of the bed. Just about to drift off again, he felt something brush against his hand. He shook it quickly, thinking something must have been crawling on him. A moment later he felt another touch, this one more defined, moving back and forth on his hand and then traveling up his arm. The realization hit too slowly for him to react quickly enough, and his arm was grasped tightly and jerked, pulling him from the bed and onto the floor. Gasping and lying on his back, he turned his head to the side and looked under the bed where Lee Eckert lay, his teeth gleaming in the darkness as he smiled at him. Tom cringed and desperately tried to pull his arm away, but all he succeeded in doing was dragging Eckert out from under the bed, his face and clothes covered in dust.

"Hey, buddy! Miss me?" Eckert laughed wildly as he climbed on top of Tom, straddling his chest with his knees on either side of him, pinning his arms down.

Tom panted in fear, finally managing to ask, "How…how did you get in here?"

Eckert grasped Tom's face with both hands and leaned over close. "Awwww..." he cooed. "I never left, Tommy. I've always been here. And I'll always be here." He gripped the younger man's face tightly. "You'll never get rid of me!" He let go and leaned back, laughing.

"No…" Tom whispered, shaking his head, tears springing to his eyes.

"Yes…" Eckert whispered back, nodding his head as he began to unhook his belt.

Realizing what Eckert was doing, Tom began to whimper and struggle, but the man's weight and knees kept him firmly in place. "Please…" he uttered.

"Please what?" Eckert asked as he unbuttoned his jeans and slid his zipper down.

"Please don't…please."

Eckert's long, hard cock sprang out of his pants. He grabbed it with a tight fist and brought it close to Tom's face. "Don't worry…you're gonna like this." He leaned over and whispered into Tom's ear, "Your mom did."

Enraged, Tom spat out, "You son of a bitch!" and struggled as hard as he could to get free, but to no avail. "You leave her alone!"

"Too late," Eckert snickered. He stroked his growing cock as he spoke. "Don't worry…she loved it. I know because she was doing so much screaming…like you did!" he laughed.

Tom was crying now, furious and frustrated that he was helpless to do anything. "Leave her alone," he begged again.

"Come on now," Eckert said enticingly as he grinned, "it's not that bad. You'll see. Open up! C'mon…" He rubbed the head of his cock over Tom's lips which were tightly shut. "Don't make me hurt you," he warned as he slapped Tom's face hard with his free hand. Still, his captive did not comply, so Eckert grabbed his jaw, digging his fingers in and drawing blood, and forced it open. He then slid his thick cock in, moaning. "Ohhhh yeahhhh…now that's not so bad, is it?"

Eckert pushed himself up onto his knees to better position himself and grabbed Tom by the hair, holding his head firmly in place as he began to thrust himself in and out of the younger man's warm, moist mouth. "Oh sweet Jesus," he sighed, closing his eyes. "That feels soooo gooood. Your mama taught you good, Tommy."

Tom gagged when Eckert's cock invaded his mouth, choked by both his tears and the massive member as it thrust deeper and deeper, forcing his mouth open as wide as it could go. He panicked with fear and desperation, unable to breathe as the ex-con loomed over him, laughing. "This can't be happening," he thought. "This isn't happening…please…please." Darkness slowly overtook him as his chest screamed for air and he felt himself beginning to suffocate.

Suddenly Tom was aware of a softness surrounding his face. His mouth was empty again, although it was open, gasping for air and screaming. The darkness abated as he lifted his head from the pillow to find that he was still lying face down on his stomach, one arm draped over the edge. He quickly turned over and sat up in the bed, covered in sweat and wrapped in the sheets, as he frantically looked around the room.

In the living room, Margaret had just finished serving Fuller his second glass of iced tea when she heard the muffled scream coming from behind the door to Tom's room. She turned her head toward the sound, then politely excused herself and headed down the hall, leaving a shaken Fuller to stare after her.

Although the captain had visited Tom several times in the hospital and had heard about his nightmares, he had never been a witness to them. When he heard the scream from Tom's room, he jumped in his seat at the panicked sound. What was even more disturbing to him, however, was the calm reaction that Tom's mother had just had. When his shock wore off, he realized sadly that she must be used to it. He heard a door open and then faint weeping and soft, murmured words, and he wondered if he should stay or go.

Margaret opened the bedroom door to find her son as she had so often found him in the hospital, sitting up in the bed looking terrified, tears on his face. She went and sat on the bed next to him, no questions asked, and put her arms around him, pulling him close to her.

Tom did not resist her touch. He let himself be embraced and let her hold him and rock him gently as he cried. "He was here…" he mumbled.

"No, sweetie…no, he wasn't. Everything is okay." She spoke softly and gently, trying to soothe him.

"But…but he said he…" Tom looked at his mother. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, baby. It's okay," she said as she put her hand on his head, guiding it back to rest in the crook of her shoulder.

Resting in her arms and feeling her hand stroking his hair, Tom soon felt himself calming down. He knew that everything was all right, at least in this moment.

"Are you feeling better now?" she asked him. He nodded, and she said, "Captain Fuller is here to see you. He's been waiting for awhile…will you come out and talk to him?"

Tom nodded again, wiping his eyes. "Yeah," he said. "Just…just give me a minute…okay?"

"Sure, sweetie." She smiled at him and gave him a tight hug before leaving the room. In the living room, she told Fuller, "He'll be out in a minute."

"Sure," Fuller replied. "Is uh…is everything okay?"

She sat down on the couch and sighed. "Yes. I'm getting used to it. The worst part though, is that he's getting used to it too. He's afraid it's never going to get better."

"It will."

"I know," she replied. "I believe that. I do. I just wish…" Her voice broke, and she took a moment to compose herself before continuing. "I just wish things would get better for him soon."

They both looked up as Tom entered the room, his eyes still tired and red, but looking better than he had moments ago. "Hey, Captain."

"Hi, Tom," replied Fuller.

"I'll let you two talk," said Margaret. "I have some things to finish up in the kitchen."

Tom watched his mother leave, then took her spot on the couch.

"So," Fuller began, "I hear Doug filled you in on what's been happening."

"Yeah." Tom nodded, then lowered his head. "Doesn't sound too good."

"Don't worry about it, Tom. It's going to be fine."

Tom raised his head to look at the captain. "Do you…you believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I…"

"It's not true…I swear it! What he's saying about me…it's…" Tom stopped and collected himself. He was so tired of crying all the time, and especially in front of other people. He took a few deep breaths, like Dr. Hirsch had suggested, then continued, "Everything I told you was the truth. That's what happened."

"Tom, I believe you," Fuller assured him. "We all do. Look, I saw this guy…talked to him…sat face to face with him. He's a lying sack of shit. Anyone can see that. But we have to prove it."

"Yeah, and in the meantime he's pissed off and running around loose out there. I can't…I just…I don't know what to do."

"Everything's going to be okay, Tom. We've got around the clock surveillance on the house, and we've got guys tailing Eckert…to keep him away from you and also to see where he goes and who he talks to." The captain broke into a large smile. "And, we had some good luck this afternoon."

"What happened?"

"The DMV database matched one of our suspects with a car similar to the one you described. The guy's name is Marty Walsh. We can't find any connection to Eckert, but he fits your description and so does the car, except…"

"Except?" Tom said.

Fuller sighed. "It had been freshly painted."

Tom groaned in response.

"So, that ruins any evidence on the outside. It's suspicious, but it's not proof that he was trying to hide anything. We're holding him for questioning though, and the car's been impounded. CSI is turning it inside out looking for something. In the meantime," Fuller reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "I was hoping you might be able to help us out."

Tom looked apprehensively at the envelope and then at the captain. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Take a look at some pictures...see if any of these guys look familiar."

"Uh…I…" Tom shrank back against the couch, looking again from the envelope to Fuller. "I don't know. I told you…it was too dark to see very well."

"I know…I know…but could you just take a look? Maybe you'll be able to recognize one of them anyway," said Fuller. He took three small photographs out of the envelope and placed them face up on the coffee table. "Please?"

Tom looked at him a moment before glancing down at the table. He sighed and moved closer, leaning over and looking at the pictures.

…the eyes were void of compassion.

Tom reached out and placed his index finger on the third photo, dragging it out of the row and across the table toward him. He stared down at it, his finger still holding it against the table. He looked up at Fuller with wide, brown eyes. "Him. It's him."

Once again I surprised myself by getting a chapter done sooner than I thought I would. :-) And it's a bit longer, I think. Thank you again to everyone who reads and comments. I really appreciate hearing from you, and it makes it all worthwhile!