THE TERROR ZONE

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Alex, George, and Greg arrived at the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, at six-thirty-five p.m. Greg parked his car at the restaurant, down from the bridge. They went into the restaurant, and looked around.

“You must be Officer Beck,” said Captain Schroeder, offering his hand.

“The one and only,” said Greg. “These two fellows are Alex Finch and George Chatterly.”

“I’ve seen one of you guys around town. Glad to meet you,” said Captain Schroeder.”

“Officer Beck, please try to relax. We have the bridge surrounded. We only have five more minutes, and things should liven up here,” exclaimed, Captain Schroeder.

“I need to be out there, he’s my brother for God’s sake,” said Greg, heading for the door.

Captain Schroeder grabbed Beck by the shoulder and stopped him.

“Please, Officer Beck, let my men do their job! This isn’t even your jurisdiction. Everything’s going to be –“

Just than one of Miami’s finest ran into the restaurant, ranting, “Captain Schroeder, we found the hostage! He’s tied to one of the beams off the top of the bridge. We aren’t sure if he’s alive or not! I radioed the fire department. They should arrive shortly.”

“Thank you, Officer Glass,” said Captain Schroeder.

“All right, let’s go, said Captain Schroeder, as he looked at the three of us. Follow me,”

The captain flashed his badge, as they had the bridge already sanctioned off.

The fire truck drove onto the bridge and positioned itself underneath Larry. Then they positioned the net, atop the truck far enough away to keep Larry from truck impact. When they estimated he’d be safe, if he fell without help, of their services, they raised a crane and bucket up as high as it would go, but still could not reach him. They had to stretch a ladder, across the top of Larry, and onto a beam. When they finally crawled out to him, they realized he was connected to a small bomb.

They had to think fast! They didn’t have time to call the bomb squad, so Fireman Joseph, pulled out his knife and cut the ropes around the bomb, and tried to catch it, only to have it fall, and in that instant, Larry’s body ripped free. Larry and the bomb fell to the net. Officer Beck was standing beside the net, to be sure Larry was all right. Beck picked up the bomb and threw it as far as he could out into the water. The bomb went under, for about seven seconds and then blew!

“Larry, are you, all right?” asked Greg. Larry, didn’t answer. Larry, didn’t even move. Greg picked him up by the shoulders and held him in his arms. He checked his breathing. “He’s alive,” shouted Greg, as the ambulance drove up, sirens blaring.

As the stranger and I drove up near the restaurant, he started swearing. “Damn,” he bellowed. “We’re to late. I wanted to watch the fireworks! He was furious. He took off my blindfold and made me watch the commotion. “You see what can happen, when you get nosey,” he said.

I turned my head around, enough to get a look at the stranger. He was the spitting image of his brothers. He even sounded like them. His eyes; I recognized those right away. The same eyes that were in my office weeks ago. They were evil personified. I shivered all over. It was as if he didn’t have a soul. But yet he seemed to be screaming for help. I wished so badly, that he would take off my muzzle.

He reached over and looked me in the eyes. “Do you want to play doctor?” he asked.

I tried to speak, but there were just muffled noises. I fidgeted around, and he grabbed my arm and pinched it tight. While I wriggled, I bumped the lock and in between the noise, I was making, the jiggling and him yelling an intimidating tone, he didn’t hear the lock open. He had hold of me so tight, tears came to my eyes.

Things were starting to clear up on the bridge, so he started his engine. I saw a cop car a ways, behind. The car was moving fairly, fast; so, I pulled the handle and pushed my body out the door. He slammed on the break, and realized he had no choice, but to keep going, or he’d be rear-ended or caught.

Two cars sped by me, and then the cop car stopped and came to my rescue. Then I noticed that Alex and George were coming for me from across the street.

“Guys, I said, once they’d removed my muzzle, he tried to kidnap me!” I was in a lot of pain, considering, I’d just jumped out of a moving vehicle, but I could barely feel it. Adrenaline was rushing through my veins, and I was so happy to see Alex and George.

“Dr. Skyler, are you okay,” asked George.

“We felt his presence,” said Alex. “I could feel his rage! I guess we can read him when he loses control,” said Alex.

“Paul,” I mumbled. “Paul and I were forced off the road, and the car flipped. Paul was in the car when your brother took me. I don’t even know if he’s dead or alive. Please, we have to go find, him.”

I tried to stand, but could only wobble.

“Collect yourself, ma’am,” said the officer.

“I’ll be alright,” I said, trying to stand again. “We need to find Paul!”

“Are you going to file a statement?” asked the officer.

“Just as soon as I can,” I said, hurrying to Greg’s car. Alex tried to grab for my arm, to keep me from wobbling. I backed away, cowering.

“What’s the matter,” Doc,” asked Alex.

“I don’t want to know anything about Paul, until we get there,” I said, shaking.

Alex nodded, and said, “I understand.”

“I’ll go get Greg,” said George.

George and Greg, came back quickly. Greg knew what hospital his brother was being taken to, and his job was done here.

When we were all safe, in Greg’s vehicle, Greg turned on his sirens.

“How far is it?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I was blindfolded, and I was so scared. I guess I didn’t handle the situation very well. I should have counted or something,” I said, feeling ashamed.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Doc,” said Greg. “Jesus, woman! You were blinded, speechless and obviously beaten. You think, in between that, severe distress, you could think straight? You’re in way over your head here; and you’re not allowed to play the martyr yet!”

“There, up ahead, you see the Jeep?” said Alex.

“Yeah, I see it,” said Greg. “You’re lucky it didn’t explode, being upside down like that!”

As we parked on the side of the road, I was the first one out of the car. I stood there for a few minutes and then headed for the crash site. I didn’t realized it, but I held my breath the whole way over to the accident. When I looked around, and under and all over, Paul was not there. I started to cry.

“Where could he be?” I asked.

Just then, I noticed something white, on the ground. I picked it up and realized, they were tickets to see the, Wayan’s Brothers, at the comedy Shack.

“Please, don’t get to upset, at what I am about to say, said Greg, but it’s quite possible, brother number 4, has taken him hostage. I started to shake, then cried some more. I felt like, I was having a nervous breakdown.

“Or, possibly, he just came to and decided to hike home,” said Greg, trying to calm me.

I broke out, into roaring laughter. I couldn’t stop and soon, everyone was laughing.

“Brother number 4’s name is Aaron Marx," I said.

While we drove back to Okeechobee, we all kept an eye out for Paul, but there was no sign of him.

Greg dropped me at home. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right, here, alone?” he asked.

“She won’t be alone,” said George. “I’ll stay with her.”

“Me too,” said Alex.

“You guys are too kind, as usual, but really, I’ll be okay. I’m going to melt away in the hot tub and then, retire. Thank you for the sweet, gesture, though,” I said.

“I insist,” said George, as he hurried, out of the car, and stood by beside me, as did Alex.

“I can see, there’s no changing your minds,” I said. “I guess, pizza is on the menu, tonight.”

“Give my love to, Sharon and the kids, Greg, and I’ll see you in the morning,” I said.

I turned on the jacuzzi, first thing. Then, we ordered pizza, and played dice.

“Did you want another Pepsi, Alex,” I asked.

“It’s three o’clock, a.m.; thank you for the wonderful evening, but I think I’ll retire. Please lock your door, so you don’t go sleepwalking!” I know he was just trying to keep me from hurting myself, so I nodded, yes. George was passed out on the couch.

“George, I said, wake up and go to bed!” He didn’t budge, so I covered him up and went to my room.

I barely slept all night. I was to the point, where I prayed for daylight. Finally, I was, aroused, by the smell of coffee. I put my robe on and headed for the kitchen.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” said George. “How did you sleep?”

“I had terrible nightmares. I dreamed about Lindsey, and Paul, and I kept waking up, covered in sweat. I looked at the clock every time I woke. I only slept, fifteen minutes at a time,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” said George. “Can you tell me what the dreams were about?”

“Paul and Lindsey were in some dungeon, or something, where there was lots of wet, packed sand. Lindsey was coughing, and Paul was holding her in his arms. It was as if they had been calling to me, all night. Lindsey was filthy, and they were both terrified. They were talking to each other, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I could see them, but I couldn’t quite touch them! I know, it sound ridiculous, but I almost felt like I was standing there, with them!” I said.

“It doesn’t sound, ridiculous at all,” said George. “I had the same dream. I wanted to reach out, and take them home, but I couldn’t quite get there.”

“Where’s Alex?” I asked.

“He hasn’t shown, his handsome face, yet, this morning,” said George, winking.

“I’m going to make us some breakfast,” I volunteered. “Why don’t you go wake up, ‘Rip Van Winkle’, in there,” I said.”

“Be back in a jiff, to help you with the toast,” said George.

“Knock, knock,” said George.

George tapped on Alex’s door. “Alex, bro, get up buddy, Dr. Skyler is fixing breakfast.” There was no answer.

George tried the doorknob and pushed the door opened. George looked at the bed, but Alex wasn’t there. He walked to the bathroom door and tapped. “Alex, you in there, bro?” said George, tapping harder; then the door creaked, slowly open.

“Alex,” screamed, George. “What the hell!

Dr. Skyler!” yelled, George.

I went running into the extra bedroom and couldn’t believe my eyes.

“Alex,” I shrieked. “What did you do?” There was blood everywhere. By the time we’d lifted Alex up and onto the bed, George and I were covered in blood. George dialed 911, while I tried to bandage some of Alex’s wounds. He was bleeding profusely. I tore his sheets to apply some tourniquets, to his arms ad legs, while he lay there near death. George entered the bathroom, one more time and found a Swiss army knife lying in the pool of blood. He picked it up, wiped it with a towel, and brought it into the bedroom.

Alex came to, screaming, “No! No more! Please stop,” he insisted. He kept screaming.

I grabbed hold of him and held him tight. He seemed to calm down, as I whispered, “You’re going to be all right now. Shh, you’re okay. George and I are here with you. I rocked him in my arms. “Hush,” I said, and then he passed out.

The ambulance, arrived quickly and took, Alex to Mercy General. George and I followed, in my beamer. We didn’t say a word, all the way there. When we arrived, we were ordered to take a seat in the waiting room, and Dr. Jacobson, would be with us when he could. We waited, several hours, and finally, Dr. Jacobson, walked into the waiting room.

“Mr. Finch, has lost an enormous, amount of blood. We stitched him up and are now feeding him blood, intravenously. How did this happen?” asked Dr. Jacobson?

“The wounds were self-inflicted,” said George.

I offered, Dr. Jacobson, my hand. “I’m Dr. Susan Skyler. I’m Alex’s doctor. He’s been seeing me on a daily basis. We’ve been making great strides, but last night, things just got out of hand. I don’t mean to belittle his pain; I just wouldn’t know where to begin to tell you the story!”

“I see,” said Dr. Jacobson. “He won’t be going home soon. He’s very weak.”

“You are obviously his brother,” said Dr. Jacobson. “I’ve seen you here before, haven’t I?”

“No, sir,” said George, matter of factly!

“Really!” said Dr. Jacobson. “I recall, six months ago, you came in for an x-ray, on your left ankle. You had a severe sprain. I told you to keep it up and take some aspirin, for the pain.”

Before George could answer, I interrupted…

“Dr. Jacobson, I said, do you have the paperwork, on this patient you’re talking about?”

“Well of course, I can’t give out that information,” said Jacobson.

“Sure, you can, Doctor, I remember now,” said George. “I wasn’t sure, it was you, but now, I’m positive. Dr. Skyler is my doctor, as well. I’ll give you permission to hand my paperwork over to her!”

“This is quite, unorthodox, but if you insist.” Dr. Jacobson, turned and walked away.

“George, I said, you could get in a lot of trouble, pretending to be someone you’re not. I’m not sure, but I think, it’s a criminal offense.”

“You going to turn me in, Doc?” asked George.

“Of course, not George. I’m just scared for you. What if Dr. Jacobson asks your name, or any other questions?” I presumed.

“You can jump in any time, Doc,” George said.

Dr. Jacobson, came back to the waiting room and handed me a file. “These are duplicates, Dr. Skyler,” he said. “I won’t need them back. Just see that they don’t get the hands of any imposters,” he said, looking at George, curiously.

“So, Aaron, how is that ankle, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s much better, thank you. I put it up, on a pillow, like you said and kept ice on it for twenty-four hours. The swelling subsided and there has since been no pain at all,” answered George.

“Do you mind, if I take a look?” asked Dr. Jacobson.

“Oh, sure doctor,” said George, as he lifted his left foot up onto a chair and started to untie his tennis shoe.

“Dr. Jacobson, said Nurse Fielding, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. You have a patient in 707, complaining of chest pains.”

Dr. Jacobson nodded, to Nurse Fielding, and asked us to excuse him for, a moment.

“Whew,” I said, looking at George. “Let’s get out of here, before he comes back.”

We left the hospital, as quickly as we could. We drove to the Okeechobee Police Department. While waiting for Greg, to get in, I read the file, that Dr. Jacobson, handed to me.

“Well, you know, your brother’s name is Aaron Marx. It says here, that he lives at 6554 Boca Raton Road South, Miami. This is wonderful news, George. We’ve got him! Shoot, where’s, Greg, I mumbled.”

“Take it easy, Doc. We’ve only been waiting twenty-five minutes.”

“Maybe we should leave Greg a note and take off toward Miami.”

“Oh, you’re thinking clearly,” said Greg, sarcastically.

“I’m serious, George. We may find Lindsey and Paul there,” I said. I picked up a pen and fished around in Greg’s desk, for some paper. I wrote that we were going to 6554 Boca Raton Road South, Miami and that was where Alex and George’s brother lived. I left the file on his desk, and we took off.

“Damn, I said, as we drove; we don’t have anything to protect ourselves with,” I said.

“Yes, we do,” said George, as he pulled a .45 pistol out of his pocket.

“Ahh, George, where the hell did you get that?”

George started to open his mouth. I put my hand over his mouth and said, “Never mind, George, I don’t want to know. Just put it back in your pocket and try not to hurt yourself.”

“You have to turn here,” said George. “That sign, reads, Boca Raton Road South, six miles.

“Thanks, co-pilot,” I said, with a smile. “I almost missed it!”

We drove for five and half miles…

“Look at this place, George. It’s a catastrophe.”

“I saw this area, on the news, years ago,” said George. “This is one of the neighborhoods, that got hit by Hurricane Andrew, back in August of 1992. Hurricane Andrew took forty-one lives, and left more than two-hundred people homeless.”

“Yeah, I remember that. It was horrendous. It looks like, only a scattered few, kept their homes intact,” I said, as we drove slowly through, the ten-year aftermath.

“There doesn’t seem to be a 6554 Boca Raton Road, anywhere,” said George.

“Now what,” I asked, pouting and unhappy. “Boy, talk about your dead ends!”

“Yeah, it couldn’t get much deader than this,” said George, as we stared, at nothing but dirt, sand and rubble, and beyond that, the ocean.

We sat in my car and pondered, what to do next…

“I hate to leave now, when we’ve come so far, George,” I said. “Maybe we should speak with some of the neighbors. Perhaps they could tell us something.”

“You mean, you just want to walk up to complete strangers’ houses, and ask them questions about the neighborhood?” asked George.

“Yes, George. Where’s your sense of curiosity? I need to know the answers, or otherwise, I feel like I’m not trying hard enough. C’mon, George, just follow my lead!”

We knocked on the first door, closest to the sand and rubble. There was no answer. We rang the doorbell and still, there was no answer. We walked to the next house and rang the doorbell. We heard a dog barking.

“He sounds pretty vicious, doesn’t he George?” I asked.

“I hate dogs,” said George. “I’ve been bitten seven times, since I was a boy. They don’t like me.”

“That’s a sad story, George. Tell me something good, in your life, please!” I begged.

“Okay, when I was little, there was this stray cat, that use to wonder the neighborhood. I used to sneak food out to him when my mother wasn’t watching. My parents bought me a pup tent. I set it up in the backyard and would leave it there all summer. At night, when I would sleep out, Fluffy, that’s what I named him, would crawl into my tent and sleep with me. I loved that kitty.

“See, now that’s what I’m talking about, Georgy,” I said. “Whatever happened to Fluffy?”

George began to laugh, uncontrollably. “George, what’s so funny?” I asked.

As he continued to laugh, he said, “Fluffy, was taken to the pound. My father didn’t want stray cats bothering him, or anyone else in the neighborhood!”

“Oh, George,” I said. Then we were both laughing.

“Someone’s opening the door,” I said.

We sobered up and wiped away our tears.

A little girl, opened the door and looked at us. She screamed and slammed the door in our faces. From inside the house we heard, “Julie, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Who’s at the door?” “It’s that horrible man, who lives in the sand, Mommy.”

The lady of the house, peeked through the peephole, in the door, and said, “Go away. I’ve told you a thousand times, we don’t want you here. Do I have to call the cops?”

“Please ma’am,” I pleaded. “My name is Dr. Susan Skyler. We only want to ask you some questions.”

“Sure. That’s what you say, until I open the door and you shove your way through! Not this time. Go away!” she said, sounding distressed.

“We are not who you think, ma’am. You’re talking about my brother. He’s my identical twin, only bad. We want to find him and incarcerate him, so he doesn’t hurt anyone else,” said George.

As we tried to talk her into coming out, three cop cars drove up and parked.

The lady, behind the door, flung the door wide, knocked George down, ran down the sidewalk and clung, to Greg’s side. Officer, please arrest these two, they are trespassing, and that man, tried to kidnap my daughter!” said the lady.

Greg looked up, and said, “Dr. Skyler, George, please come here.”

We approached Greg and the lady, moved, behind him, feeling unsafe and unsure, what would happen next.

Greg, turned around, and said, “What is your name, Miss?”

“Debra, Officer. Mrs. Debra Yates. Aren’t you going to arrest them?” she asked, pointing at us.

“Mrs. Yates, I’d like you to meet, Dr. Susan Skyler and Mr…”he hesitated, and looked at me…

“It’s George,” I said.

“Yes, and Mr. George Chatterly. They are here in a friendly capacity. The stranger you are afraid of is Mr. Chatterlys’ identical brother. They are here to find him and take him down,” explained, Greg.

“I’m terribly, sorry,” said Mrs. Yates. I thought…

“We know what you thought, ma’am,” said George, as she stepped back. “We understand, completely. However, we would like to ask you some questions, If we could?”

Mrs. Yates, still feeling uneasy, nodded, yes.

“What happened to the man, you thought was George?” I asked.

“His house was obliterated in 1992 by Hurricane Andrew. He didn’t have insurance, so from time to time, he goes from house to house, begging for money and food. My husband caught him trying to walk my little girl off our property, and called the police. When they drove up, he ran, and we haven’t seen, hide nor hair of him, in some time,” she said.

“So, you don’t know, where he stays?” asked George.

“Once in a while, I see footprints on the sand, leading to where his house used to sit. I know that sounds weird, but I’ve been pretty cautious and aware, since he tried to kidnap my daughter. We’ve complained to the cops several times, but they said no, crime was committed, and there's no proof of him being caught doing anything illegal, so, there isn’t much they can do. My husband keeps talking about moving away, but I don’t want to run for the rest of our lives. Anyway, this is our home. So, we have just been locking the doors and not going out at night. It’s been quiet, for several months,” she said, uneasily, looking at George.

“Is there anything else, you can tell us, Mrs. Yates, that might help in the capture of this predator?” asked Greg.

“I can’t think of anything,” she said.

“You can go back to your house now, Mrs. Yates. If we have any further questions, we’ll call on you later. If you think of anything, that might be of assistance, please, don’t hesitate to call me,” said Greg, handing her, his business card.

Greg looked at George and I, and shook his head, in disgust…

“Since I’ve asked these Miami cops, for their assistance, I’m going to have them search the area. Why don’t you two sit in my car and stay out of the way,” said Greg.

“Are you angry with us?” asked George.

“Hell, yes, I’m angry, with you,” said Greg, pushing George down in the seat. I don’t know what you two were thinking, but this is the stupidest stunt, you’ve pulled yet. You could get yourselves killed! You aren’t the cops, and you certainly can’t protect yourselves, if you were attacked…

“So,” George said, as he pulled out the .45 from his pocket. “I beg to differ. We can protect ourselves!”

Greg, slowly shook his head in disgust…”You frigging idiot,” he said. “I could arrest you, right now for stealing, brandishing a loaded weapon, and carrying a gun without a license. Not to mention, I was looking all over for that!”

“We waited for you at the department, but you took so long,” I said. “We just got the jump on you, that’s all; we knew you’d show up,” I said.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m coming down on you so hard, but these guys you are messing with; they’re far more dangerous, than your average thug. I cannot stress enough how foolish you are, to be chasing these criminals alone. How can I sleep at night, thinking you could be out there playing rogue cops and robbers?” asked Greg.

George and I, hung our heads in shame. We couldn’t face, the Gregster.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I will try to contact you from now on before running off to handle things myself.”

“Ditto,” said George.

“Thank you, both. You don’t know how happy that makes me.”

“Officer Greg,” said Officer Johnson. “There are large footprints in the sand, leading to what looks like a tunnel underground!”

“Has anyone, checked it out yet,” asked Greg.

“No, sir. Captain Schroeder, ordered us not to make any moves without your go-ahead, sir,” said Officer Johnson.

“Let’s check it out then,” said Greg.

George and I got, out of the car and started to follow, Greg.

“Oh, no, you two, wait by the car. This might get complicated,” said Greg.

“I’m going with you,” I said. “I have a stake in this too. My daughter and my boyfriend are missing, and I won’t take that lying down!”

“Me either,” chimed George.

“All right, but stay behind me,” ordered Greg.

We followed the footprints in the sand. Greg sent some of the officers to get shovels out of their trunks. They dug through and hit something hard.

“I’ve got something,” yelled Officer Johnson.

They pushed the rest of the sand off the hard surface and realized they had hit a door. It was locked with a giant paddle lock.

“What now,” I asked, again feeling defeated.

Greg reached in his pocket, pulled out his .45, aimed at the lock, an blew it clean off!

“Good job,” I screamed.

Greg shook his head, and smiled. He raised his arms and motioned for the cops to open the door and carefully, make their way in. We followed. There were approximately thirteen steps leading down into what appeared to be a leftover basement, of a house. The smell was damp and musty, and the floor was very wet.

There were pieces of junk, moldy dishes, garbage and several other gross things, that proved that someone had to be living there, not to long ago. They found a metal box that had children’s clothing in it, along with other material that I was certain would lead to other missing persons and or animals. Officer Johnson, shone his flashlight on another door. Greg blew the lock off, and we opened the door slowly and cautiously; there, we found bones, lying all over, and the stench was unbearable.

“I think, I’m going to be sick,” I said. I ran out and up to the outside and gasped for air.

Greg called for back-up, a forensics unit and the FBI.

“You two might as well go home. We’ll finish up here, and I’ll call you when we know more and things have been studied,” said Greg.

“Greg, before I leave; how’s Larry?” I asked.

“Better. I think I have a lead on who took him. I‘ve still got some investigating to do. I’ll be sure to inform you if I find anything, resolute.”

“Thanks,” I said, hugging him and then headed for home.

When we arrived home, we stopped at the hospital to check on Alex.

“Doctor Jacobson, I said, how’s Alex? "

“He’s holding his own,” Dr. Skyler.

“How are you Aaron,” asked Dr. Jacobson.

“I’m fine, Doctor, and you?”

“Can’t complain,” said Dr. Jacobson. “I see you must have taken my advice and bought wider shoes. You aren’t limping so much!”

“What are you talking about, Dr. Jacobson?” I asked.

“You must’ve read his file by now, Dr. Skyler,” he said, inquisitively. “Aaron has six toes on his left foot. How about, you show me that ankle of yours now, Aaron,” asked Dr. Jacobson.”

George backed up, raised his arms, and positioned his body in a karate stance.

“What, the … ? said, Dr. Jacobson.

Mumbling, quietly, I said, “He’s schizophrenic, Doctor. It’s best to leave him be when he gets like this.” I looked Dr. Jacobson in the eyes and nodded.

“You can visit your brother now, Aaron. Perhaps when I have more time, I can check your ankle,” said Dr. Jacobson, as he walked away briskly.

George and I giggled hysterically. “Good job, Dr. Skyler, way to watch my back,” said George.

“Alex,” said George, whispering, Alex, wake up buddy, it’s me George.”

I reached over and kissed Alex on the cheek. He opened his eyes for a few seconds and then fell back to sleep.

“I guess we won’t be speaking to him tonight. Let’s go grab something to eat,” said George.

“That’s a great idea. I’m famished,” I said.

When we finished eating, we went back to my place and watched television and tried to relax.

“I guess, I’d better go furniture shopping pretty soon,” I said.

The phone rang…

“Hello,” I said.

“Dr. Skyler?”

“This is Kerry’s mother, Marge. I’m calling to advise you that Kerry and Jeff’s funerals will be held, Sunday, afternoon, at Grant’s Funeral Home. If you’ll be kind enough to tell me where you moved to, I can send you the information.”

“Oh, Margie, I’m so sorry, about what happened to Kerry. I’m also sorry, I haven’t called you. I’ve been in a terrible mess out here and well, it’s a long story,” I said.

I gave her my address and invited her to come and visit me soon. I hung up the phone, and noticed I had a message.

“Dr. Skyler, Greg here. We got some results back from the bones, we found in Miami. They belong to the rest of the children, that were missing.”

I pushed the pause button, as my, knees buckled and I became weak, I fell to the floor, weeping.

George, pushed the button to listen to the rest of the message…

“Lindsey, was not one of the bodies, found at the site. The clothes were from all the other children, he’d kidnapped, and he’s been living there recently. We have cultures back on the food, which is approximately three days old. I also need you to come and see me. I have news about Larry’s perps'.

I sat on the floor for several more minutes, before pulling myself together.

George handed me some hot cocoa, with whip cream. We sat on the floor and watched TV, and talked for hours.

Gosh, I hadn’t realized how late it was,” I said, yawning.

George knelt up, and went still, as a statue.

“What’s the matter, George?” I asked.

“I thought I heard something,” he whispered.

After waiting several minutes, and all was quiet, we went back to watching TV, and then I heard a noise, as well. George stood up and listened. He put his finger to his lips, for me to be quiet.

“Go to the kitchen and get two big knives,” said George.

George pushed mute on the television, and listened, intently, as I went for the knives. We heard a loud crash, coming from the garage. I grabbed Georges arm, and we tiptoed toward the door.

“Stay here, Doc,” said George.

“No way, I’m not leaving your side,” I said, hugging his arm.

“Right, stay behind me,” he ordered.

He grabbed hold of the door handle and slowly turned the knob. It squeaked a bit, so, George, stopped in mid-turn. When he figured it was safe, he turned the knob the rest of the way, and heard it click. He pulled the door toward him and quietly stepped onto the stairs, as I followed. clinging to his arm. I was shaking furiously.

We were afraid if we turned the light on, it would give the prowler an advantage.

Feeling around in the dark, we brushed against my Beamer. We gasped for air, only to realized we’d jumped of fright, at an inanimate object. We let out our breath and kept searching for prowlers. We must have been out there fifteen-minutes, but found no one. George, finally flicked on the light and looked around. We spied a small door across the garage, where large tools would fit. George walked over slowly, with me, hanging on tight to his shirt, and reached out to open it. Just then a broom, fell onto his arm and frightened us into next year. I screamed, and George almost wet his pants. We opened the little door but found nothing, unusual.

We both started to laugh. We shut the light off, in the garage and entered the house, thanking the Lord, that we’d found nothing. George turned off the light in the entry way. We crossed through the kitchen and headed for the living room, when all of a sudden, a body fell in front of us and landed on top of George.

I screamed, lifted my knife and pulled the body off of him. “Oh my God,” I screamed, Paul. Sweetheart, are you okay?” Where have you been? Paul, talk to me!”

I checked his pulse. He was breathing fine.

“He has passed out,” said George.

I went to the kitchen and filled a bowl with warm water, while George, laid Paul out on a sleeping bag and covered him up. I nursed him with warm water, a rag and a towel.

“Should we call an ambulance?” asked George.

“His breathing seems to be fine, and he doesn’t have a fever or any large, open wounds. I think we should wait a while. See if he comes too,” I exclaimed.

George and I fell asleep next to Paul, while watching TV. Paul woke up the next morning.

“I thought you guys, were never going to wake up,” said Paul.

“Gosh, darn it, Paul, where the heck, have you been? You scared the heck out of George and I last night,” I said.

“Good morning, sweetheart, I love you too,” said Paul, still sort of in a daze.

“Oh, honey,” I said, hugging him dearly. “Where have you been?” What happened to you? We thought you were taken, by Aaron Marx.”

“And, that would be who,” asked Paul?”

“He’s my brother, said George, all be it an evil brother, but, my brother, nonetheless.”

“Enough, all ready,” I said, exasperated. “Tell us where you’ve been, Paul”

“I woke up inside the Jeep. I had a splitting headache, but nothing was broken. I didn’t know where you were, Susan. I was scared for you. Then I saw that same station wagon coming up the road. I slid out of the Jeep and crawled into the bush. I heard the wagon stop, and someone walked around the crash site, for a few minutes. I guess looking for me. I hid in the bush a while and I saw them walking my way. I crawled out of site and stood up and tried to run, but I must have passed out. I woke up later and it was dark. I walked home, from there. I tried to hitchhike, but no one wanted to pick me up. I guess I was looking quite disheveled by then. Anyway, here I am, safe at home and lucky I’m alive.

“You, poor baby,” I said, hugging him.

“Gee’s it’s almost noon; we need to change and meet, Greg at the station,” said George.