Chapter 11

With October's arrival, the cold weather and colorful leaves did as well. The first Saturday in October, Brock woke up about mid-morning. He was surprised to see Misty was already awake, she usually slept late on the weekends, but she was in the kitchen making breakfast for herself and Fiona. She smiled at him.

"Hey, Honey, do you want a pancake?" she asked.

"Sure. Do we have chocolate chips?" He asked, and Misty smiled.

"That's what Fiona asked for, too," she kissed him good morning and set to work.

"Daddy," Fiona said, stabbing her pancake with her fork. "Mommy said we can decorate for Halloween today!"

"Yea! You want to help me after we eat?" He asked, and Fiona nodded, excitedly.

Misty brought him his food and sat down beside him.

"Where's Rose?" Brock asked, knowing he had been avoiding her for the past week since she tried to feel him up in the kitchen.

"Is she still asleep?" Misty asked, hoping her mother would just stay in her bedroom all day. She felt bad for feeling that way, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't really like her mother.

"Probably," Brock said, finishing up his pancake, and taking his plate and Fiona's plate to the sink. "Alright, kiddo, go over to the closet and pull out the halloween box. I'm gonna help Mommy clean up."

She ran excitedly into the living room, and opened the closet that her parents didn't use, except to store holiday decoration and stuff. There were bunnies for easter, ornaments for the Christmas tree, and some wrapping paper from last year, among them, she found the box marked "Halloween" and pulled it out, rummaging through it, pulling out candy bowls, fake spider webs, a bag of fake cobwebs, and an inflatable vampire that Brock had insisted on getting because he thought it looked "cool".

Brock stood at the sink with Misty as she rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.

"You didn't eat anything," Brock told her. "Are you feeling OK?"

"I feel fine, sweety," Misty said, trying to ignore her nauseous stomach. It was probably just her nerves and the lack of sleep she had gotten. She looked over at Brock and he was watching her. "Do you really think we are safe?"

"Of course we're safe," Brock kissed her lips softly. "Don't be afraid of anything. Tracey can't find us, and even if he does, he can't get through our alarm without notifying the police, who will be here before he even knows what hit him. He'll be arrested and locked up forever."

Misty nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I've just been so afraid he's going to find us, and try to hurt Fiona. Or me, again. Or you..."

"He's going to have a hell of a time getting passed me," Brock said, winking at her. "I'll snap his little bitch ass in half!"

"Brock, don't be so violent. Fiona can hear you!" She scolded him, but he just grinned and pulled her into another kiss.

"I'm sorry, but it's true," he said, and she kissed him back. Fiona ran into the kitchen with the bag of spider webs.

"Daddy! Let's go!" She said, impatiently.

"Alright, my little goblin, get out side and let's make this place look haunted, OK?" He said, chasing her out the door and onto the porch, mockingly acting like a monster and making her squeal with delight.

Misty walked upstairs to the bedroom to lie down, her dizziness was getting worse. After climbing the stairs however, she ran to the bathroom, and threw up in the toilet. The queasiness in her stomach began to immediately subside, and after her disgust wore off, she stood up and rinsed her mouth out.

She knew she had to get a pregnancy test now.

Looking in the mirror, she splashed her face with cold water, and her stomach growled with hunger. As she wiped off her face with a towel, feeling refreshed, she looked into her shower, through the clear, glass door and saw Tracey Sketchit.

His mouth was stretched into a wide grin, and his eyes bore into her with rage, and hate. Her throat contricted and she couldn't even scream. He was there, and he slowly crept into the linen closet, never taking his eyes off of her. She was looking right at him! She immediately whipped around, and he was completely out of sight, the linen closet was closed.

She started to cry and backed out of the bathroom, running down the stairs, screaming for Brock to come inside. She opened the door, and saw her husband and daughter stringing up orange lights, Brock was stringing them on the roof, and Fiona was wrapping them around the railing of the steps leading off their porch.

Brock saw the look of pure horror on her face, and they both looked over at Fiona, who was proudly displaying her cobwebs she hung in the corners, but when Misty fell into Brock's arms and sobbed, she knew something was wrong.

"Mommy?" She asked, tugging on her shirt.

"Honey, what's the matter?" He asked, pulling her back so she could look up at him.

"He was...he was in the bathroom," she stammered. "I saw him. He went into the closet and I...I...I saw him, Brock!"

Brock didn't have to ask her who she was talking about. He told her to stay outside on the porch with Fiona, and he grabbed the metal baseball by the closet by the front door where they kept their coats and headed upstairs.

He went into their bathroom and swung open the closet by the shower. Nothing. Nothing but towels, washrags, and a bakset full of soap refillers. He walked across the bedroom and checked behind the door, and finally in their closet that they shared. He moved things around, looking behind every piece of clothing but found nothing.

When he emerged from the bedroom, he was shocked to see his father, his hair was messy, and Rose stood beside him in her green, oriental print, silk robe.

"What was all the noise about?" Rose asked, and Brock rolled his eyes.

"Misty thought she saw something," he said, descending the staircase, clinking the baseball bat on the stairs. "What are you doing here, Dad? Did you...did you spend the night here?"

"I hope you aren't mad, Brock," Rose said, sweetly. "We were out very late last night, and we both had a little too much to drink." She giggled.

"Drink?" Brock asked, discarding the baseball bat by the wall of the staircase. "I don't allow drinking in my house, Rose. I ask that you respect that."

"We didn't drink here," Rose assured him. "We just went out to dinner and we had a little too much. We took a cab home, everything was safe."

"I thought you didn't drink anymore," Brock said, fury rising up within him. "The only reason I am letting you stay here, Rose, is because I am a good person and you are my wife's mother, but I don't have to be generous..." His eyes flashed over to his father. "And you..."

Flint looked into his eyes and saw nothing but resentment in his son's face.

"I'm your father," Flint said.

"Does mom know your here?" He asked, and Flint nodded his head, a look of shame came over his eyes.

"She kicked me out," He replied and Brock slumped his shoulders.

"Oh, Jesus Christ..." Brock buried his face in his hands.

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain, son. I've told you about that," Flint said, scoldingly.

"No, Dad, this is my house!" Brock raised his voice, and by now, Misty had stepped through the front door with Fiona. "I will use any fucking language I want to in my own damn house. I am not a little boy anymore and I refuse to let you treat me like one."

Flint backed away from him. "I'm sorry."

"You're damn right you are," He said, noticing Fiona was staring up at him, her eyes fill fo questions. Why was he yelling at her grandpa like that?

"Can I stay here, Brock?" Flint asked. "Just until I can find a place to stay?" He asked, and Brock looked at him, practically begging him for help.

He looked over at his wife and daughter, and he remembered what he had told Misty when he had allowed Rose to stay here. She deserved a second chance, and if he turned his father away, he would be hypocritical. And besides all of that, Lola Harrison raised him to be charitable.

"No more drinking," Brock said, looking directly at his father and then at Rose. "And I want you to be looking for a place to live, Dad. Don't think this is permanent." He turned away from him and headed back down to Misty, who was cradling Fiona.

"I didn't find anything," he said, keeping his voice low, as not to let Rose and Flint know what she had told him. "You don't look like you feel well, Honey."

She bit her lip and looked down at her feet, before meeting is gaze again. "I think I might be pregnant."

...

Misty sat in the exam room that following Monday. She would have settled with just a store bought pregnancy test like she did when she found out she was pregnant with Fiona, but she was clearly hallucinating and needed to find out why.

Brock had rescheduled a battle, postponing it only a couple of hours so he could go with Misty, and he returned a moment later with a bottle of gingerale from the machine in the waiting room.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Nauseous," she said, sipping the gingerale, hoping it would sooth her stomach.

"That's because little Brock Jr. is in there," Brock said, winking at her.

She smiled. "We don't know that yet. Besides, it could be a girl. You made a bet with me that Fiona was going to be a boy, and you were wrong."

"Well, I have a 50 percent chance of being right," he said, taking a large gulp on the Pepsi he had bought. A few moments passed, Brock was flipping through a brochure on how the birth canal works and he winced.

Eventually, the door opened with a small click and a dark haired woman in her forties walked in and smiled at them. Dr. Wilma Fleming had been the doctor that delivered Fiona when they first got an OB/GYN in Pewter City.

"Well," Dr. Fleming said, opening up her folder. "Mrs. Harrison, you will be happy to know that you don't have the stomach flu. You are indeed, pregnant."

"I am?" She asked, feeling frightened, then overjoyed. Her emotions had been a rollercoaster lately. "I am!"

"How far along?" Brock asked, clutching onto his wife's hand.

"Six weeks," Dr. Fleming smiled, and lifted up the gown, applying cold gel on her stomach and moving the camera around. "It's hard to see right now, but you see that little gray area there? That's your baby. About the size of kidney bean right now."

"So my baby will be due in the spring?" Misty asked.

"Yes, May 15th, according to the conception date," she said. "I'll want to see you back in here in November for another check up. You can just make the appointment at the front desk. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison."

As she walked out, Misty stepped off the table and Brock hugged her. "We're going to have a baby!"

She kissed him passionately and he chuckled. "Whoa! See, this is exactly why we are here in the first place."

She laughed and slapped him on the arm. "I just hope my mother and your father are gone by the time this baby comes." She said, her tone turning serous.

"Oh, they will be," Brock said. "I want them out after Christmas. We are going to have to turn the room into a nursery. I'm also going to fix up the basement."

The basement always scared Misty, and she had been wanting Brock to fix it up, but she wasn't sure if it would help with the creepiness of it. It always seemed like someone was hiding, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.

...

"Pregnant?" Rose asked, her shocked gaze slowly turning into a smile.

"I'm six weeks," Misty said, she hadn't stop smiling since they left the hospital. She had wanted to wait to tell anyone that she was pregnant, at least until she hit her 3 month mark, but she couldn't resist, telling someone, anyone, even her mother.

Flint smacked Brock on the back, a little too harshly. "Good job, Son. Maybe you will have a son who will carry on the Harrison name."

Brock winced, not liking the feeling of his father touching him, in anyway. "Thanks, Dad. That's what we're hoping for."

He kissed Misty on the cheek and told her he would be upstairs taking a shower. Misty didn't really want to be alone in the kitchen with her mother and Flint, but she knew why he was really going upstairs. To call his Mom.

Brock pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolled to his mother's name and pressed the call button. On the second ring, her heard her pick up.

"Brock?" She asked, and he could hear the sadness in her voice, the hurt.

"Mom, hey," he said, settling back against his pillow. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine, honey," she smiled, even though she knew Brock couldn't see it, but he also couldn't see the tear on her face. "He's there with you, isn't he?"

"Yea," Brock replied. "I'm sorry, Mom. If it hurts you, I will kick him out. I'll-"

"No, Honey," Lola's voice was soft and kind, almost like wrapping him up in a warm blanket and cradling him. "Don't do that. Your father needs you. And you are a far bigger man that he ever will be. Set the example of kindness for Fiona."

"Alright," he agreed, feeling the guilt of letting his father stay there, subside. "Listen, I have some really awesome news. It should cheer you up."

"Oh, I could definitely use that now," Lola said, chuckling. "What's going on?"

"Misty's pregnant," he said, and immediately he heard Lola gasp.

"Oh, Honey! That's wonderful!" Lola squealed. "How far along is she? Is it a boy or a girl? Oh wouldn't it be cute, watching Fiona be a big sister?"

Brock laughed. "I don't know yet, Mom. Misty is only 6 weeks. We aren't really telling anyone except for immediate family right now. We haven't even told Fiona yet. I'm not sure how she's going to take it."

"Well," Lola said, thinking back. "You took it well. We told you as soon as I found out I was pregnant with Forest. You were so excited. All you did was talk about the baby for 7 and a half months."

"I just hope Fiona takes it as well," he said, then he sighed. "Do you need me to come over?"

"Honey, you know you, Misty and Fiona are welcome here anytime you want or need me," Lola replied. "But your first priority is your wife and your babies right now. So don't come over to take pity on me. Only come over if you want some delicious apple pie."

He chuckled. "Alright, Mom. Well, I'll let you go. Misty and I are going to take Fiona out for ice cream and break the news to her. I hope she doesn't ask where babies come from."

"Tell her you order them off of eBay," Lola said, laughing, trying to cover up the pain she had been feeling since she kicked Flint out, and Brock could tell, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm sure she'll buy that one," Brock said, laughing, then his voice turned serious. "Hey, I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Sweetheart," Lola said, and then they hung up. He headed back downstairs and Flint was showing Fiona how to color inside the lines in her coloring book, since she had a tendancy to scribble.

Misty's face immediately lit up when Brock entered the room and she stood up. "I'll grab my purse."

"Where are you two going?" Rose asked.

"We are going to take Fiona out for ice cream," Brock replied and Fiona looked over at him, jumping off of Flint's lap and into her father's arms.

"Yay! Ice cream!" She squealed, and Brock slid her to the ground.

"Go grab your coat. Put on your shoes," he said, and watched her go over to the closet and pull out her jacket. Misty came around the corner, ready to go and get out of there as soon as possible. As soon as the three of them left, Rose gave Flint a smile.

"We're alone now," she said, pulling him up the staircase.

...

Fiona had taken the news really well. So well in fact, that she hadn't asked Misty to walk her inside the school for the rest of the week. She was simply escorted by the teacher who stood out in the freezing cold every morning, to make sure the children got in safely.

By the time Friday had rolled around, Fiona wasn't crying, even though Misty had been ten minutes late from picking her up, because she had dozed off on the couch. She was exhausted, and she knew the next nine months were only going to make her more tired.

As Fiona climbed into the car, she smiled over at her mother. "Mommy, can I spend the night with Holly?"

"Spend the night?" Misty asked. "Well, if Holly's mom says it's alright, I suppose you can." She replied.

"I'm a big sister now. So I have to do big sister things, right?" Fiona asked as they drove down the road towards their house.

"Right," Misty nodded and smiled at her. "But you don't have to spend the night if you don't want to. I don't want you to get homesick." Misty realized what she was doing. She was reflecting her own anxieties onto her daughter, and she knew she shouldn't be doing that. But Fiona had never spent a night away from home.

"I won't," Fiona promised, and Misty pulled out her cell phone after parking in the driveway. After a couple rings, Eve's voice cracked over the speaker.

"Hey, it's Misty," she said, as Fiona unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car. "Fiona asked me if she could spend the night with Holly tonight. It's alright with me, if it's alright with you...since I know you don't want Holly over at our place right now."

Eve sighed. "Holly's been asking me the same thing all day. It's fine with me."

"I'll bring Fiona over about 5. Brock and I will give you some money for her dinner," Misty offered, but Eve declined.

"No, it's fine. I can order a pizza," she said, then paused and Misty sensed she wanted to say something else. "I hope you aren't offended that I won't let Holly come over there anymore."

"No, I understand," Misty said, walking towards the house. "It's because of Tracey. You have to protect your baby just like I have to protect mine." Both of mine. She reminded herself, feeling a little queasy from being out in the sun.

"Good," Eve smiled. "See you at 5."

Misty gave Fiona an early bath and helped her pack. By the time five o'clock rolled around, the sun was starting to set and the air was crisp and cool. She pulled up to Eve Castillo's house, a two story, white home with dark blue shutters and a large oak tree in the front yard.

Misty carried her sleeping bag and Fiona hauled her overnight bag up the lawn, despite Misty telling her not drag it in the grass. Eve invited Misty into her home, and she noticed that her house was much like her own. Her living room was covered in a thick, plush ruby colored carpet, and in her kicthen sat a long, glass dining table with a centerpiece.

A thin hallway veered off from the living room, and she saw a large poster of "My Little Pony" on one of the walls, and she assumed that was Holly's room. The house smelled like lilacs and was very clean. Fiona would be alright here, Misty convinced herself.

She pulled out a notepad. "Here is my phone number, and Brock's phone number. If you need to contact me at anytime. If she gets homesick, or gets hurt or sick, you can call me at anytime. No matter what time it is."

Eve smiled. "Don't worry, Misty. I'm sure Fiona will be fine."

Misty nodded and leaned down, kissing Fiona on the head. "I'm leaving now. I love you."

"I love you, too" Fiona said, pulling out a barbie from Holly's big box of dolls. "Bye, Mommy!"

Misty waved again and soon found herself heading back to her car, childless. Eve had a nice, normal, quiet home. Nothing bad would happen to Fiona there, right? Nothing bad ever happened in homes like that.

Still, as she drove back to her own home, where so many strange occurances had happened, her confidence began to wane, and as twilight turned into the blackness of an October night, her anxiety grew worse.

...

The girls had eaten as much pizza as two four year olds possibly can, and had been through Holly's entire Disney collection, and were now diving into the collection Fiona had convinced her mother to let her bring.

She had a few movies that Holly didn't have, and they decided among themselves to watch "Tangled". It was almost ten o'clock, and normally Fiona would be ready to go to bed if she was at home, but over here, she wasn't quite so ready.

As the movie drew to a close, Fiona looked up to see if Holly wanted to pick out another one, but she was already asleep. Fiona twisted uncomfotably in her sleeping bag, and thought maybe her mother was right. This was her first night spending the night away from her parents.

The house was eerily quiet, it didn't have the usual sounds that her own house did. She imagined that her parents were down in the living room, watching television, and even though they usually sent her to bed before watching movies, the sounds of their voices and laughter had always lulled her to sleep.

Fiona wished that her father was there to tuck her in, tell her a story he'd make up out of his head, and that her mother would come in, smelling sweet like the lotion she always wore before bed, leaning over and kissing her on the head, and sometimes, sitting on the edge of her bed to talk to her, about anything and everything, before she drifted off the sleep.

Eve didn't do that.

She buried her face into her pillow. It smelled like her mother, like the laundry detergent she used on all the clothes and the linens. An uncomfortable feeling rose within her throat, and she tried to shake it off. The only other time she ever got this feeling was that one time her father had scolded her for dipping her shoes in white paint and stomping all over the porch while he was staining it.

"Fiona!" He had yelled, with a heavy sigh.

"I decorated it, Daddy!" She said, smiling.

Brock had raised his voice at her, but immediately resented it when he saw her tears. Then he had scooped her up in his arms and explained to her why she couldn't do things like that because he had to do it all over again.

Her mother had thought it was adorable, and her father, eventually was able to see the cuteness in it too, once he was finished with the staining.

But now, she was going to be a big sister. She couldn't cry anymore. Brock had explained to her all of the responsibilities of an older sibling, and that she was going to be in charge. She was no longer the baby.

A tear fell down and soaked her pillow case.

She got up on her knees and moved out of her sleeping bag, peeking into the hallway. It was pitchblack, and the only light that was there was emitted from Holly's nightlight. Another door down the hall had light coming from underneath it, so she knew that Miss Castillo was still awake.

She ventured out into the pitch dark hallway, and almost turned the knob on the door, but had remembered what her mother had told her about knocking first. Her knuckles made a low knocking noise on the wood of the door, and just as she was about to turn around and go back to Holly's room, Eve opened the door.

"What are you doing up?" Eve asked, but her voice held a note that made Fiona recoil.

"I can't sleep," Fiona said. She was ready to tell Eve that she missed her mother, and changed her mind and wanted to go home, but she thought that was too childish. No big sister would do that, would they?

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" Eve asked, her shoulders sagged in frustration.

"I'm thirsty," she said, her mouth suddenly feeling like it's full of cotton.

"Fine," Eve immediately stomped toward the kitchen, her feet making a hollow thudding sound on the hardwood floor. She poured Fiona a glass of water, and she took it, gratefully, sipping the water. Then, just as she was done, Eve jerked the glass from her hands, poured the remainder in the sink.

"Now, go to bed!" Eve's voice was raised, even louder than what her father's had been that day on the porch, and instead of looking remorseful for raising her voice, Eve just stomped past her.

"I want you in there, lights out and asleep in ten minutes," she told Fiona, then grabbed a ruler from on top of the refridgerator. Fiona saw it, and flinched when Eve smacked it against her own hands.

Suddenly, the words just came out, and Fiona didn't care how much of a baby it made her out to be. "I miss...I miss my mommy!" She was on the verge of tears again, and Eve rolled her eyes.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" She grabbed Fiona by her wrist, squeezing so tightly that Fiona squealed in agony. "Oh, hush up! I'm not squeezing you that hard." She shoved her into Holly's bedroom and Fiona quickly crawled into her sleeping bag, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to keep her sobbing quiet.

"Stop crying! You'll wake the dead! I'm not calling your mother. You need to grow up!" Eve said, uplugging the nightlight by the wall. "And this should be out by now because you should be asleep. Don't waste my electricity."

She slammed the door and plunged the room into blackness. Fiona cried into her pillow, until finally, her fretting sobs turned into steady rhythms, and she eventually fell asleep.

...

She wasn't aware of how long she had been asleep, but something woke her up. Something moved in the darkness above her, and in those first few seconds of conciousness, she thought she was at home. But she wasn't in her bed, and the floor beneath her was hard, despite the fluffiness of her sleeping bag.

Fiona's eyes snapped open, and she saw what she was feeling. Black figures that were tall, broad and looming over her had surrounded her in the room. Sharp fingers prodded at her skin, and yanked at her covers.

She remembered when she was now. She was spending the night at Holly's, and then terror had set in even more when the rest of the memories had come back. The way Eve had yelled at her, the way she yearned for her own mother, who would have given her a glass of water in a sippy cup, let her take it to her room, and tucked her back in.

The figures moved the blanket down and she felt the coldness of he room through her pajamas. She screamed out, but a gloved hand went over her mouth. The smell of foul, rotting breath filled her nostrils and Fiona gagged, trying to escape the odor.

She wanted to run, escape, but to where? Her parents weren't here, and she wasn't about to go back to Eve for anything.

"This one is Harrison's girl," one of the voices said, it was a male voice, rough and raspy.

"If she's even half as pretty as her momma, we'll be doing good," the other voice said, with a laugh. Fiona had figured out there was two of them, and they momentarily left her alone to turn their attention to Holly. Fioan wasn't aware she had been awake, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and by what little moonlight was showing through the clouds outside, she could see her friend, sitting up in bed and cowering at the wall from the two men.

"Run," she whispered, and it took Fiona a few seconds to realize she was talking to her.

"Holly...what's wrong?" She asked, and the two men leered their heads back to her. She could make out their faces now. Fiona cowered from them, but one snatched her up, and threw her back on the bed, next to Holly.

"Get undressed," one of them demanded, and Fiona shook with fear.

"I'll get the Harrison girl," the other one said, his voice holding a sick, sinister note.

"Eve promised me the Harrison girl," the other one protested, then looked straight at Fiona. "Then I'm going after your pretty momma!"

The other one laughed, and pulled out a gun, casually loading it. "Like Misty Harrison would ever touch you. I guess Eve promised you the girl since you can't even dream of getting the woman."

They both stopped their squabble and pointed the guns at the girls. "I said get undressed!" One of them yelled and Fiona started to pull off her shirt, but Holly stopped her.

Then she kicked them, right between their legs as hard as she could. She had done it so fast, the the other man didn't have time to react fast enough when the first man was kicked and before he knew it, he too was curled up in a ball on the floor.

Holly grabbed Fiona, who was stunned and shock and forced her to her feet, and ran out into the hallway, picking up the cordless phone that sat by the living room entrance.

"Call your Mom!" Holly called out, keeping her voice low. She didn't know where her own mother was.

"I-I don't know her number!" Fiona said, her hands shaking over the buttons.

Holly heard shuffling in the next room, and grabbed Fiona, pulling her into the closet. It was stuffed with coats, a vaccume cleaner and a small Christmas tree, but Fiona was surprised to see Holly remove part of the wall. A 4 foot high area, that was roughly cut around the edges was revealed, and Holly shoved herself into the hole, just as the men emerged from the bedroom and entered the living room. She pulled Fiona inside and covered the wall back up with the plaster she had cut out.

They couldn't see a thing, and they were so cramped, that Fiona knew they would suffocate within a matter of minutes. Her whole body tensed as she heard the door to the closet being opened, and the coats being shuffled around. Holly kept her hand over Fiona's mouth, and they both quietly sobbed.

Then, they heard the closet door shut and the footsteps walk away.

...

Brock was starting to think he might never have sex again. Ever since his father had moved in, Misty hadn't been to keen on having sex with him. He supposed it made her feel awkward with her father in law in the next room, but he hadn't cared. This was his house and he'd be damned if anyone made him feel weird about making love to his wife.

After dinner, which was thankfully just the two of them, since Flint and Rose had stepped out to go see a late movie, Brock had decided it was the perfect opportunity to try and get Misty to relax. They went upstairs and Brock turned on the shower, re-entering the room as he watched her checking the phone. No calls.

"Honey," he said, grabbing her hips and pullng her towards him. "Fiona is fine. She's probably asleep by now anyway. And we're going to get her in the morning."

He kissed her then, but she had insisted she bringing her cell phone into the bathroom and putting it on an extra loud ringer, in case Eve called because Fiona needed her. They got in the shower together, and washed up, Brock taking the opportunity to soap up her body and touch her breasts, paying special attention to the areas that never failed to turn her on.

It had seemed to work. She pushed him against the glass tile walls of the shower,kissing him passionately, but after a few moments, he could tell she was distracted. His own arousal didn't waver at all.

"Babe," he whispered, breathlessly, not wanting to stop, but wanting to know if she was alright. "Are you OK?"

"I just...I just feel like something is wrong with Fiona," Misty told him, her body still pressed against his, and the warm water cascading over both of them.

"If something is wrong with Fiona, we would have gotten a phone call," Brock reassured her, deciding he would give up on sex for now. When Misty's anxiety was up like this, his job was to calm her down. He had always been good at that.

"I just have an awful feeling," she said, tears coming to her eyes.

"That's called an anxiety attack," he grinned at her. "Look, it's only 10:30. Maybe Eve is still awake. Did you want to give her a call and see if Fiona is alright?"

Misty wondered if it was too late, but she desparately wanted to put her mind at ease. She picked her cell phone and dialed Eve's number and waited. After 2 long rings, she heard the phone being answered, but no voice.

"Eve?" Misty asked, as she shrugged on her robe and Brock dried himself off, hoping that Eve would tell Misty that Fiona was fast asleep so she would finally relax.

No answer.

"Eve?"

Her eyes darted over at Brock as he put on a pair of geodude printed lounge pants. Then, she heard it. Heavy breathing and soft moaning, it crackled over the phone.

"Who-who is this?" Misty asked, her voice rising with terror. "Eve? Can you hear me?"

Brock grabbed the phone from his wife and pressed it to his ear. "Eve? Hello? This is Brock...I-"

A soft chuckle cracked over the phone. And a deep, sinister voice followed.

"You got a pretty wife..." The voice growled, in a low, gutteral tone.

"Who the fuck is this?" Brock asked, his own anxiety and anger now rising with in him.

"But your daughter is just my type," the voice growled again and Brock gripped the phone.

"Who is this?" He screamed at the top of his lungs, and Misty watched, frightened, holding her breath. "You sick bastard! You tell me who you are right now! Where is my daughter?"

The phone clicked off, and Brock looked back at Misty. They didn't bother getting dressed, and they didn't care how card it was outside. In less than a minute, they were racing towards Eve Castillo's house, never thinking of locking the door behind them.