Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.

Chapter 9

Red slowly ambled back outside, a tumbler of scotch in each hand. From the doorway, he could see that Denny was looking at the picture of Lizzie (or Anna?) on the swingset again. The moonlight reflected off of the single tear that escaped from Denny's eye, and to safeguard his friend's dignity, Red paused for a moment before approaching while Denny dabbed it away with his sleeve.

Red took his seat and slid the scotch in Denny's direction, offering a reassuring smile as Denny tucked the photograph back into his coat pocket. Soon, Red would change the subject. He only had two more questions to ask.

"Denny, I hope you don't mind, but if I'm to help you with this, I need to ask just two more questions. Is that okay?"

"Spit 'em out, Ray. We both know you aren't really asking for my permission."

Red chuckled. "I've really missed your no-nonsense candor. In my line of work, nothing disturbs me more than the forced congeniality, especially since it comes so easily to me. You know, I'm not proud of it."

"Raymond, that makes two of us. I am a lawyer, you know. Denny Crane," he replied with a wink.

"Yes, so you are. Very well. Do you know the name of the man who raised Anna? The man in the photograph, I mean. Any known aliases?" This was somewhat disingenuous to ask, because Red already knew the answer. He wasn't ready to tell Denny that, however, and Denny would certainly expect him to ask.

"His name was Lucas Mahone. The only alias I know of is Jeffery Smart, but he probably had others."

Red nodded thoughtfully. His next question was genuine, and technically was more than one, but they were related. "Was Anna ever given any aliases? Is it possible that Anna was one of them? Could her mother have given you the wrong name?" He paused, giving his friend a moment to let the inquiries sink in before he went on to explain, "This won't be an easy search. I have to think outside of the proverbial box and explore any conceivable possibilities." Red sighed heavily. He was pretty buzzed, but not buzzed enough to make this easy.

Denny took a long drag from his cigar and hesitantly shook his head. "I can't say I've ever considered the possibility. Why would they even give her an alias? She was only a child."

Well, Red thought, Lizzie would remember if her name had been Anna. After he carried her out of the flames, she told Red her name. It was neither Elizabeth, nor Anna. Sam had hastily given her the name 'Elizabeth', to protect her anonymity, and Red procured all of the documentation to match it. He got her birth certificate, vaccination records, dental records, and social security card. Everything. None of it was real, but Liz didn't find out about that until after Sam's death. The fakes were so good that even the FBI couldn't discern them from real documents. Lizzie had always known that she was adopted, but again, for her safety, she wasn't aware of the unconventional nature of her adoption. On the fateful night that they met, she told Red that her name was Summer. If Lizzie is actually Denny's daughter, then her mother must have lied about her name. Either that, or they changed it while she was still too little to remember. That was quite possible, given that she was only a baby when Denny met her.

But why? If her birth name was Anna, why did they change it? To keep Denny from finding them? Her mother didn't seem too worried about that, since she sent the photos from the places they lived each time. Maybe it was for the same reason that Sam had to change her name: To protect her from her fake father's enemies and associates. And hell, Red himself was counted among the former.

Red leaned forward, hoping to reassure Denny by conveying his sincerity. "I can't speak to the motives if her mother lied to you or changed her name. If she did, I can only assume that she had a reason. Hopefully, a good one."

"Raymond, I want to thank you for pushing me to share. I had become so accustomed to carrying this burden that I hardly noticed how heavy it was. It was my 'normal'. Thanks to you, the load has lessened. You've given me something that I nearly forgot how to feel. Hope. If anyone can help me, it's you. Thank you for offering your assistance." The last sentence came out strained.

"You're welcome, but you still need to be warned. It's possible that I won't be able to find her, and that's if she's even still alive. I have a feeling that she is, but I can't qualify that feeling with anything concrete. I can't tell you not to have hope, but I'm begging you, please do your best to not let it mount too high."

"Don't you think that should go without saying?"

"Perhaps, but I'd be remiss not to say it. There are few who understand the burden of loss as much as I do, and even worse, not knowing if it's a true loss at all. I've spent the last two decades on a quest for truth, and I still haven't figured it all out. There's no way I could see you in this state and not try to help."

"Your persistence is admirable."

Red shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just really bad at this and haven't realized it yet."

At that, the conversation finally drifted to lighter topics. After a final round of drinks, they decided to call it a night. When they stood up to leave, Red took his time pushing his chair in, meticulously aligning it with the center of the table. That bought him a moment to smoothly slide Denny's empty tumbler into his coat pocket, while Denny headed toward the door, assuming Red was in tow.

The men heartily embraced near the patio doorway. "Your towncar's waiting out front. Swing by my office tomorrow whenever you'd like. Thank you, Raymond."

"It's my pleasure. After all this seriousness, we still need our night of fun. As delightful as it was in some moments, this doesn't count. We'll have to come up with another idea when I get to your office tomorrow."

"I couldn't agree more! Night, Ray."

Red's lips tightened when his eyes met Denny's. "Goodnight, Denny. See you tomorrow."

In the back seat of the towncar, Red began making plans in earnest. With Denny's DNA sample still in his coat pocket, his next step was acquiring Lizzie's sample. But how? The usual routes weren't possible in this situation. Hairbrush, toothbrush, cigarette butt, drinking glass, lipstick, eating utincil, chewing gum. None of it. He'd have to get creative.

THE LINT ROLLER! He never traveled without one. There's no point in spending thousands on a suit, only to let it gather fuzzy bits of lint and hair. With a little luck, it could have one of Lizzie's hairs stuck to it. Despite having the very best of intentions, Red didn't like the idea of being so sneaky.

It was too late to call her, and Red desperately wanted to hear her voice. Wallowing in the pain of their geographical distance, he was suddenly assaulted by the memory of Sam's death, and how he called her after it was done. Despite knowing it was too late, he offered to help her. It was a ruse, hailing from the only man who never lied to her. He never lied, but he was disturbingly close that time. It didn't matter that Lizzie was so cross with him, and despite Sam's cancer, it wasn't entirely for his sake. Red killed him to shield Lizzie from the truth. He needed the reminder that it was worth it. He needed the comfort of just hearing her voice.

That phone call was a selfish indulgence, and though to a much lesser degree, Red found himself feeling the very same impulse all over again. This time, he would control himself. This time, he wouldn't turn her into a living bandage.

Tomorrow, he whispered aloud to himself. He'll call her tomorrow.