The downtown streets were quiet. In the dimness all around, large
glass covered office buildings echoed softly with different
sounds, their shapes towering up towards the slender blue expanse far
where a faint early morning light was glowing down onto the city
The air was new and crisp, calm. At that hour, there were only a few
pedestrians walking the sidewalks of those twilit valleys, scattered
apart, here and there. Nothing much was happening. It seemed a scene of
serenity and quiet had settled upon everything in sight. Between the
towers of steel and glass, everything was at peace. Then, from
somewhere far away, a strange sound wailed.
The soft, elongated sound seemed to fluctuate, hovering in the air,
echoing off the skyscrapers and growing louder. Slowly it became
recognizable. It was still very dim and faint, but growing noticeable.
Somewhere in the unseen distance, the sound was approaching. It bounced
off the buildings, louder in the crisp air and becoming more prominent.
man in a suit and tie paused on the corner of the sidewalk. He looked
around, curious at the sound, but there was nothing he could see.
Stepping off at the corner, he started to cross the street.
In one of the long, intersecting metal valleys nearby, the echoes
suddenly became louder, clearly now the sound of approaching sirens.
Dimly seen, red and blue colors began to flash faintly across the walls
of glass, growing brighter.
Then appearing suddenly without warning, a large worn down blue
screeching around the corner, its tires screaming and smoking as its
engine roared in protest, the loud sound shattering the silence. The
car's driver was trying desperately to force the careening vehicle
around the turn, leaving smoke and skid marks behind. The car slid
sideways, tilting slightly up on one side, skidding right towards the
man in the suit. He dived back towards the sidewalk behind him
he had just stepped off. A sharp rush of air whipped past him in mid
dive, the car's back end missing him by inches, as the man rolled hard
With an erratic,
squealing weave, the convertible stabilized after it
roared past him, zooming away on the downtown street. Suddenly several
police cruiser were tearing around the corner as well. The intersection
became a chaotic maelstrom of sound, motion, and wildly flashing,
bright siren lights. The police cruisers stabilized quickly, their
drivers more experienced, as their engines roared louder too and
they sped off
Inside the blue convertible, the whole world seemed to be shaking
wildly. Parked cars rushed closer, passing to either side in a blur.
Trevor gripped the steering wheel tighter, his vision bouncing this way
and that with every change of direction. He couldn't believe how fast
they were going. It wasn't fast enough. Running on pure adrenaline, his
hand steered, frantic, swerving dangerously around slower traffic on
the street. Claire was in the seat beside him, holding on for dear
life. There was a frightened expression on her face, her dark hair
flying in the chaotic wind caused by them racing down that metal valley
A sign and median in the middle of the street suddenly raced towards
their front bumper. With one blink, Trevor knew he couldn't avoid it.
They crashed into it even as he threw the steering wheel to one side,
trying to turn. The world shook again as the front of the car clipped
and bounce over the median, sending the small street sign that had been
bolted there sliding across the hood to fly up past the windshield and
over their heads. Smoke rose from the street behind them as the sign
clattered to the asphalt. Two police cars in pursuit dodged around the
bouncing sign, racing clear.
The car's engine roared in Trevor's ears. His breathing was fast,
panicked. The police pursuit was still behind, red and blue swaths of
light serving as reminders as the colors reflected frantically off his
windshield glass. In the open air above his head, the city's
skyscrapers still towered, sliding by, echoing back the wails of sirens
in that enclosed space. In the seat next to him, Claire looked back at
the pursuit. Behind her head, the parked cars and buildings were a
blurred weave of color from the speed they were traveling. Her hair
still danced wildly in the fast wind, and she looked more scared
had ever seen her.
Trevor's mind raced, trying to keep track of the constantly shifting
obstacles ahead of him. But he was also thinking back on the past week,
and all that had happened. He risked a quick glance into his rearview
The reflection of two police cars seemed to fill the small glass
square, dodging and weaving in his wake, headlights flashing as the
dark asphalt streaked past under their tires. The engines of all the
cars in the chase still roared loudly in the chaos, parked cars
passing to either side.
The world whipped frantically to one side again as Trevor decided to
another high speed turn. His eyes widened when he saw that this time,
he wasn't going to make it. There was a car parked before him, just
ahead, Trevor shoved the steering wheel to the left. Claire screamed.
the side of the convertible scraped harshly past the parked car,
sending a sheet of white sparks pluming up right next to her in a
shower of light as everything shook. With a hideous metal screech the
convertible they were riding slipped past, all in a quarter of a
now still somehow racing down the road.
Trevor did his best not to panic at the close call.
"Gods, how I prefer flying..."
His eyes studied what was ahead intently, adrenaline still pumping
through him at a million miles an hour it seemed. Swallowing, he could
feel his entire body painfully clenched in exertion, racing onward. And
again, he wondered... how it had all come to this.
ONE WEEK EARLIER...
Frechette couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Faith was standing calmly there in front of his desk, smiling at him as
if nothing were wrong. But everything was wrong. As he looked at her,
she appeared completely untarnished, not stained, not dirtied. Instead
of her hair being sickly twisted into a pool of her own dark, dried
blood, her blond strands were now lying freely across her shoulders,
glowing golden and straight. She still wore the hospital scrubs he had
last seen her in. But now they were clean, smooth and immaculate. There
was no bullet hole puncturing the middle of her scrubs top, no mud
staining the lower trim of her pant fabric above her feet.
Frechette's eyes moved to her arm, towards the exposed skin where she
had been carving a heart surrounding Trevor's name repeatedly for
months, carving it deeply in with any pointed objected she could
find... forks, pens. But the red, scabbed lines that had been there
There wasn't even a scar. Her pale skin was smooth, unblemished. He
looked back up into her eyes, the back of his head still throbbing.
Instead of looking into dead, empty orbs of glass, as he had the
previous morning when he had stood over her body, now he was looking
into astonishingly blue eyes that were vibrant, sparkling, and very
much alive. But above all, above everything else, what struck him the
most was that Faith seemed happy. She looked... whole. Complete. No
damaged. As her blue eyes glittered at him, her smile made him feel
that somehow she was happy to see him again. He couldn't stop staring
at her, standing there, full of serenity.
This was insane. Frechette didn't move from his chair, petrified.
Somehow he forced himself to say something into the silence. The words
spilled softly from the hard line of his mouth, saying the only words
he could accept.
"This cannot be..."
She didn't seem concerned, watching him. "It's okay, Ian."
Slowly, he pulled back in his chair. "You... you're not real. You can't
Faith smiled, the sight of it genuine. "There are far less cant's in the
world than you think..."
"Trevor killed you."
"Only a little..."
Looking away from her, Frechette paused to think. He couldn't accept
this. "This means... I'm going crazy."
There was a playful glint in her eyes as she looked at him. But when
she spoke, there was no concern in what she said. "Maybe. Give it
You'll see. Everything happens the way it has to."
"Happen? What does that mean. What will happen?"
For no reason, he was suddenly struck even more strongly by how
beautiful she was. He had forgotten how blue her eyes were. They looked
at him with a certainty, unwavering and kind as she answered. "You'll
try to help him,
Ian. Help him to capture Trevor. But don't worry. He won't."
Frechette's voice grew harder, angry for the first time. "What? Who?
That makes no sense. No one want's Mr. Hale in custody more than I do.
I want him caught."
Again she only responded with a kind smile. "Maybe. Give it time...
Suddenly he felt like he was dancing with a shadow, grabbing for
something solid, but instead being frustrated by her cryptic responses,
yelling out. "And just what the hell am I supposed to see!?"
Not liking his tone, a deep male voice called out. "Doctor?"
Blinking suddenly, Frechette pulled back in surprise at the new sound.
Faith was no longer there. Instead, the thick, imposing figure of the
police detective who was investigating Faith's murder was standing in
front of his desk. The man's hard features were giving him an angry
look, obviously displeased that Frechette had raised his voice to him.
Frechette tried to get his bearings. "What's... what's happening."
The police detective's gaze was definitely not kind. "Well, Doctor. I
arrived to talk to you. I came in, found you working at your desk. I
called out, but you ignored me. You mumbled something, and ignored me
again. And just when I was about to get really, really angry at all of
the being ignored... you decided to yell at me."
Squirming slightly under the angry police man's stare, Frechette
couldn't help but feel that he had been caught in a delicate situation.
"My... apologies, Detective. I was just... obviously lost in my own
imagination. Talking to myself. I must have been caught up in my work.
I was up all night, studying Faith's records. How can I help you?"
Still obviously trying to contain his anger, the detective stepped
closer, looming over him as he stayed seated at his desk. Frechette
could tell something had already upset him before the hard faced
policeman had ever even
come into his office. "That's interesting, Doctor. I was up late last
night too. Going through Dr. Allen's records on Mr. Hale. Accessing her
laptop computer. Can you imagine... what I found?"
"Found?" Frechette looked away, nervous. "Found what?"
"Well... Let's see. It was a fascinating read. Claire's laptop had the
remains of some... book that she had apparently been writing. One she
also apparently abandoned. After reading that rather enlightening
document and comparing it to Dr. Allen's own session notes with Mr.
Hale, well..." Turning, the detective slowly put his palms slowly down
desk top, leaning dangerously over him, a dim anger in his eyes.
"...I couldn't help but come to the conclusion that you haven't been
telling me the whole truth, Doctor."
"Truth?" Frechette swallowed, feeling very much interrogated. "Wha-what
"It seems that Dr. Allen and Mr. Hale were more than likely
romantically involved. A little detail her records indicate you had
definite suspicions of. A little detail you also conveniently failed to
mention when you informed me of this suspected 'kidnapping'..."
"I... nothing of what
I told you was in error."
"Really? We both know
that's not true, don't we? You want to know what I really think is
Frechette looked away.
"I don't know what you are talking about...."
"I'm thinking that
you're lying to me, Doctor..." The
detective said the last word with disdain, not trying to hide it. "That
clear this up a little? I think you know more about what's really going
on than you've told me. I believe you're holding information back from
Without warning, he
could feel his entire body go tense, his hands still resting on the
exposed sheets of his hand written session notes with Faith. For a
moment he was grateful that his handwriting was so bad. The detective
probably couldn't read it from where he was standing. But if he could,
he would realize he was hitting closer to home than he realized.
Frechette pulled the sheets slowly back, trying not to be noticed.
"That's.... that's ridiculous..."
The detective noticed
his hands, looking more carefully. "What are those papers you're
Frechette's body went
cold. "Nothing. A... a session from yesterday I have to catch up on."
The look the detective
gave him made it obvious that he didn't really believe that. "Then I'll
ask you directly, Doctor. DO you have information you haven't given me?
About Faith? About Trevor and Claire's relationship? Perhaps a contact
list of people who may be in the process at this very moment of aiding
and abetting their escape?"
believe it. It was surreal. Those were the exact
notes he had been last reading the night before. They were right there
under his fingers. Names of people Faith somehow knew Trevor had
helped. People Frechette had already planned to question on his own.
And now, the detective was asking for that exact thing. Frechette
swallowed, not willing to implicate himself any further, not wanting to
give the detective any more ammo to distrust him.
"No..." He said
simply, looking at the hard faced man. "I have nothing like that."
There was a knowing
glint in the detective's eye. "Okay... I think I understand."
Frechette was nervous.
The detective seemed to have a course of action in mind, but he wasn't
saying. But Frechette could see the man's mind working, the detective
"I'll be going now,
Doctor. If you do somehow... 'discover'... any new information related
to this case, such as where the two of them are, or who may be
currently helping them, you'll need to pass that information to me as
soon as you have it. I..." The man's smile was small, but immediately
menacing, looking down at him behind the desk. "...I trust that we're
clear on this?"
Frechette was putting up his session notes with Faith, slipping them
into his desk drawer as if nothing were wrong, but feeling inside that
his stomach was tied up in knots. Trying to put the most convincing
calm expression he could muster onto his face once his desk drawer was
fully closed, he looked back up at the detective and smiled. "You
already have all that I have..."
Shaking his head
silently, the aged police man decided to say nothing further. He turned
and quickly left Frechette's office, his footsteps fading away. After a
few moments in the quiet, Frechette finally exhaled, his chest relaxing
again. His body went limp, feeling he had been in a dueling match. He
looked at his now empty desktop.
Walking away from the
doctor's office, the detective was in a foul mood. His brow was hard
and angry as he walked past his seated assistant, who was waiting for
him in a cushioned chair outside the office. The younger man stood
quickly, rushing to catch up to the detective's determined steps. As
the two of them walked down the hallway, he looked expectantly at his
"So? The doctor give up any leads on this?"
"No..." The detective
seemed lost in his own thoughts. "But he's holding something back. I
know it. Get me a judge. We're gonna have to subpoena all of Dr.
The younger man looked
confused. "So was it like you thought? Do you no longer think this was
an armed kidnapping?"
He shook his head.
"No, I think she went with him willingly. Something Dr. Frechette
definitely kept from us."
"Then should we have
the alert level we sent out for Mr. Hale lowered?"
The detective stopped
in the hallway, thinking about this as his subordinate waited. "No...
No. We'll keep it where it is for now. The man's a nut. Thinks he's the
god of love so he murdered a mental patient. Not much crazier than
that..." The detective scoffed, chucking as he and the younger man
began to walk again. "As if he were really Cupid..."
The two of them
disappeared down the hallway.
Frechette was still
silent at his desk.
Slowly his hand
reached out and slid open his desk drawer, pulling Faith's session
notes carefully out again. Thoughts tumbled through his head, looking
down at his writing. He knew what he would have to do. He would have to
question all the people Faith had mentioned on his own. He couldn't
offer this to the detective directly, not now. And if he was honest, he
didn't want to. It was time to get Trevor caught and back in custody.
And he wanted to be the one to accomplish it personally. That was the
only resolution that would give him peace. And considering what had
happened, the momentary stressed induced vision of Faith, perhaps it
was the only thing that would get her out of his mind. Frechette
paused, surprised. He could smell something... a scent, a perfume that
Faith had once used. That was strange.
Frechette shook his
head disapprovingly. He knew this was all in his mind, just wild
imagination. It had to be. Otherwise... he truly was insane. It was a
one time vision, nothing more. Did he just hear a bare foot moving
across the carpet behind his desk? Frechette froze, smelling her
stronger in the air over his shoulder, almost certain there was a
on the edge of his vision and falling across his desk, feeling a
of contentment there. But he forced himself not to look.
Staring straight ahead instead, he looked down at the list of people
Faith had mentioned. She wasn't there over his shoulder. That was
foolish. But she could help him catch Trevor Hale. Looking down at the
names, Frechette smiled, already making plans. Jaclyn was useless. The
key was with one woman, Trevor's supposed kidnap victim, and her
group. The woman who had brought these people together to
Claire Allen was
sitting in silence as the cab bounced down the country road, her face
calm and thoughtful. Trevor was asleep in the seat beside her as she
looked out the window of the cab, the green image of reflected trees
passing across the glass over her pensive expression. Then the cab
driver made a turn, moving the vehicle onto a smaller path off the main
road, Claire looked eagerly up, searching ahead. The foliage still
slipped past, but then the hazy image of a distant house hovered over
her face, reflected on the glass, and she smiled.
Turning, Claire gently shook Trevor, asleep on the back seat beside
Slowly, he yawned,
blinking himself to awareness. It was the first real rest he had had in
days. He looked around at the small country dirt lane they were
bouncing down, the afternoon light falling out of a calm blue,
cloudless sky. The lane was lined and surrounded by thick green trees.
His eyes focused on the two story house up ahead at the end of the
"Here? Where's here,
"A home..." Her eyes
glinted brightly as she watched the house grow closer. Then she turned
to him with a hopeful smile. "...a home you helped create."
understand, looking ahead. As they approached a couple came out of the
house and onto the front porch, holding hands as they watched the cab
approach, waiting. It took a few seconds for Trevor to finally see
their faces. It was an older man and woman, their faces happy, watching
them drive up. And it was then that he recognized them. Angela and
Michael Bennett. The man who loved to dance, and the woman who had been
afraid too. Claire looked at Trevor, appreciating the small smile that
was blossoming on his face. Whatever Trevor's situation with the gods
or with himself, she knew he always felt better when he saw one of his
pairings that had actually worked out. And she saw that familiar look
on his face right now.
The couple on the
porch looked happy, complete, having gotten through their own hard
times, with a little of Trevor's help. Reaching over, Claire held his
hand, hoping he understood the good she was trying to show him.
"See what you've done,
He couldn't help but
smile as the cab came to a stop, the couple coming down the wooden
steps to greet them, obviously eager to help, and obviously not fearing
the consequences that they were wanted fugitives. And for once, Trevor
was at a loss for words.
The last remnants of
the dinner plates were carefully guided into the kitchen sink, clinking
softly as Claire helped Michael and Angela clear the kitchen table. It
had been a good, full meal, one that they hadn't had in what seemed a
long time. Claire paused, placing the last of the plates on top of the
others, letting her worries fall off her shoulders, feeling safe here.
She turned to Michael, his face content in the afternoon light
streaming in through the small window over the sink.
"Thank you so much
Michael. It was delicious."
Angela walked by her
with a small laugh. "Well if there's something Michael can really do
well, it's cook," She looked at him tenderly. "...and dance."
He laughed, touching
her hand nearby. "Well you are the music that keeps my feet moving, my
Claire exhaled. "Well
I'm glad you can do both. And thank you for taking me and Trevor in. I
know it's a risk--"
Michael waved his
hands carefully interrupting her. "Don't worry about that. You both did
so much for us." He looked at his wife. "You helped save our marriage."
He turned back to
Claire. "And whatever this business is that's on the news... I know
Trevor. I know he couldn't do this. Not without reason."
Angela nodded her
agreement. "And whatever we can do to help, we will."
"Well thank you very
much. We'll be leaving in the morning. Gotta keep moving." Her face
grew concerned. "On the news? How bad is it?"
Michael's face grew
somber, looking her straight in the eye. "Bad."
Claire looked down.
Michael smiled at her
again. "Don't worry. I'm sure all this will be cleared up soon. Anyone
who knows him, knows Trevor well enough not to believe the lies on the
news. It won't stick."
"I hope so..." Claire sighed, keeping her thoughts to herself. Then she
looked up. "Where's Trevor?"
Angela replied while
she wiped the now clear kitchen table down, doing the last of the
cleaning up. "Oh, he went outside after dinner, into the backyard.
Don't worry. It's secluded back there, and he said he needed some fresh
Curious, Claire walked
over to the window over the kitchen sink, looking out as the late
afternoon light gently bathed her face. And then she paused, looking
out sadly towards a small swing set some distance back from the house,
the sunset falling in beams through the thick trees beyond. Trevor was
seated there in the orange sunlight, swinging sadly, facing away from
Claire's lips closed slowly, watching him. Then she turned, heading for
the back door.
Trevor didn't even know Claire was approaching until he suddenly heard
her footsteps, soft on the grass behind him, remaining lost in his own
thoughts. But he didn't turn around, staring ahead of him at the rays
of the sun as they angled warmly down through the green of the
trees in the late afternoon,. The swing creaked as his body swayed on
it. Claire came closer. Carefully, she took the swing beside him, not
saying anything, but quiet as she leaned towards his swing, her
shoulder on the chain, keeping silent. They both sat there, like two
kids, tired after a long day.
But Trevor knew what they faced was much more than child's play.
"The news thinks I'm a murderer, Claire..."
"I know..." Claire looked over at him.
"After dinner..." Trevor looked sadly ahead. "... I turned on a tv.
Couldn't help myself. There are still news reports going. To the world,
I'm just a label now. Worse than my previous label. Worse than just
insane psychotic. Now I'm a murdering insane psy--..."
A tear fell quietly down his cheek, stopping him as he wiped it away.
"But the truth is, maybe they're right. I murdered someone, Claire. I
killed her. I... maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe I gave up
on her, when I should have been trying to help her." He sniffed,
trying to keep his feelings in. "She's dead, because I didn't help her.
Some god I am, huh?"
Claire sighed, looking ahead. "Trevor, let me tell you a little about
As the two of them sat there on the swing set, he turned to her, hand
holding the chain beside him. For a moment, he had the strange
sensation of being just a young boy talking to his girl.
He was curious about what she was going to say.
"There are things you didn't know about her, Trevor. I... I had a look
at her file once. Richard consulted me on it. Long before Mary Simmons
long before she even knew you existed, Mary, Faith, was
"But I murdered her, Claire. I--"
"--did what you had to do, Trevor. She was trying to kill me. It's hard
to remember sometimes, but people live entire lives on their own,
before we ever meet them. Everyone has decades of story behind them. A
history. Events that shaped them. Faith's history was set long before
you got there. Her father... abused her. Told her it was okay. It was
'love'. Despite that, the child inside her loved him, and the
victim he turned her into hated him. She wanted to kill him
eventually, I think. But he died long before she
ever got the chance to. So she started searching. Relationship books,
mythological figures, dating services, looking for what 'love'
truly was. Unable to accept the hideous things her father did to her
claiming it. She just wanted that pain to end. Wanted something
her. Her relationship with the word, with the emotion of 'love', was
skewed. She didn't realize she was hunting 'love', sabotaging it while
looking to it for the release, for a revenge she could never have.
tried to kill you, the god of love. Then she wanted to be killed by
you. Wanted 'love' to make the pain it had caused, stop. All that
she did... All
your matches she purposely ruined. I know you told me you
thought it was the vendetta of the gods. Some Olympic condemnation.
But Trevor, it wasn't gods. It was just... a disturbed woman."
Trevor looked at her. "Disturbed? Like me?"
"You never intentionally wanted to hurt anyone, Trevor."
"Well... Dr. Dehnt."
"Anyone who didn't deserve it." Claire smiled.
Trevor smiled too, before looking away. "I don't know. We can't just
keep running like this forever. We can only hide ourselves for so long,
before the real world looking for me out there catches up.
Nothing changes the fact that I killed her."
"No it doesn't change that. I don't know what happens next, Trevor. I
can't give you those answers. But who you remain within that, those are
answers only you can only give yourself. You are still the man I love
inside. The man who knows deep down that he really is Cupid. Who has
faith in THAT. No matter how much the world changes around you.
Give yourself credit, Trevor. You help people. Lots of people..." She
looked past them towards the house, sunlight in her eyes as she paused,
a smile growing on her face at what she saw. "And sometimes those
changes... are changes for the better."
She pointed gently past his shoulder. Curious, Trevor turned in his
swing, looking towards the house. In the field beside it, holding each
other in the golden light, were two figures, surrounded by tiny motes
floating in the tranquil air, the green of the trees behind them. It
was Michael and Angela,
unaware that they were being watched, their eyes only for each other as
they swayed... and danced. There was happiness on their faces, the two
of them circling
through the gentle specks as the sun's warm glow held
them close to each other, content. They were dancing to some
unheard music inside themselves, enjoying
the moment, enjoying each other. And as Trevor watched them, he
again what had happened to them, what he had done for them. What he had
"That's your legacy, Trevor. Not Faith. Not news reports. Faith
made things happen the way she wanted them to. She had a twisted view
of love, of her father. Why do you think she wanted to kill you? Or to
be killed by you? Because you represented 'love' to her." Claire looked
away, thinking of Mary Simmons. "I just hope that in death, that she's
"It's all so clear to me now, Ian."
Smiling, Faith looked up into the morning sky the next day as, dressed
in the same immaculate scrubs as before, she walked barefoot down a
crowded Chicago sidewalk, accompanying an obviously tense Dr.
Frechette. He did his best not to look at her, did his best not to
notice that no one else on the crowded sidewalk seemed able to see or
hear her. Did his best not to think of the implications of that.
"Go away..." He said simply, not turning his head as he strode
purposely forward. "You're not real."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." she said back at him, keeping
pace. "Do you know how sad it
would be if I actually believed you?"
"I'm not listening."
"Yes you are, Ian. There's no way you can't. But I can help you. Help
"You're in my head."
"Well... I do have that affect on people. Don't worry. I'm fond of you
too. That's why I'm here. To help you. We're going to spend a lot of
time together. So talk to me."
"You really aren't going to make this easier, are you? Well, the
morning's beautiful, the air is new," Faith suddenly spun barefoot on
the side walk in her pristine hospital scrubs, her blue eyes glowing
with happiness. "It makes me feel alive. Free. And I'm going to
be right here with you. Help you get through this, however long it
takes. I've got nothing but time..."
Stopping on the
sidewalk, Frechette had heard enough of her talking. He
suddenly turned to face Faith behind him, fixing her with an
glare. "Enough! Stop it!"
A pedestrian walked by giving him a strange look, seeing him
there alone and talking to thin air. Frechette's jaw clenched, lowering
his head, embarrassed and silently furious, growing angrier by the
second. He looked back up at Faith, waiting patiently before him.
"Look, I know you're not real. You're in my head. But I'm going to do
these interviews. I'm going to gather information on Trevor and Claire,
and I'm going to hunt
him down. Even if I have to question all of his friends, all of their
friends, I know that will
give me what I need to accomplish that. And no one... not even you,
will stop me."
Faith seemed sad, her voice quiet. "You really don't understand, do
you... I already told you, long ago, when and how you would find
Trevor. And you believed me. You even made the call. But that moment's
not this moment.
Everything will happen the way it should. When it really is time for
you to find where they are, Ian ... believe me. You won't even need to
leave your office to do it."
The sky above was blue and clear, full of new promise as Michael
Bennett led Trevor out of his home's side door and towards a
small building towards the back of the grounds, walking along a wide
dirt path in the grass. Morning sunlight was shining crisply down
through the cool air, falling through the tree limbs gently
dancing in the soft morning breeze. Trevor followed calmly,
feeling better in the new morning light, the heavy gloom f the previous
day lifting somewhat, even if he knew that it was still hovering there
somewhere, hidden behind the bright light of a new day.
Michael didn't explain where they were going. Once he reached the wide
wooden portal of the old building, he simply turned the handle with a
creak, lifting the door upwards with a rattle on rusty rails. A
shower of light dust poured down like a waterfall, falling slowly in
the air. Trevor watched the dust motes float in the sunlight for a
moment, seeing them swerve in the breeze, for some reason remembering
the sensation of
flying. But then he looked past them into the shadows beyond, into the
Michael had opened up. As he watched Trevor's reaction, Michael stood
there proudly, a small smile on his face as Trevor slowly stepped
forward, amazed by what was inside the dark recesses of the small
"Been saving her in here for some time..."
Trevor was speechless.
"She's all yours..." Michael said, looking inside, fondness in his
Michael would hear none of it, interrupting with a kindly gesture.
her. She'll do you more good than she will us..."
Claire was inside the house, gathering their things and getting ready
leave. She looked down at the paltry supplies she and Trevor had. A
suitcase she had borrowed from Jaclyn. Another she had borrowed this
morning from Angela. There wasn't much, not much food, not much
clothing. But she still had plenty of money. It would have to do.
Claire began to wonder where they could run to next, already thinking
about calling a cab when Angela appeared at the bedroom door and gave
her a look.
Wondering what was happening, Claire stepped closer. "Angela? What's
Angela's eyes gave away nothing. "You have... a visitor."
Swinging the house's front door open, Claire walked outside and onto
the porch, Angela following right behind her, as Claire paused at what
she saw. A car had pulled up, parked there in front of the house.
Standing beside it was Priscilla, a woman from Claire's singles group,
smiling eagerly at them in the morning sunlight.
"Priscilla... My god, what are..." Claire couldn't help but smile back
as she hurried down the steps and hugged the woman warmly. "What are
you doing here?"
"Hello, Claire." Priscilla said happily. "I'm not doing anything to
exciting here. Just a quick supply run. Angela called us. The FTR
gathered some money, supplies. Figured you could use the help."
Claire blinked. "FTR?"
"The Free Trevor Resistance Cell." Patricia said proudly. "But I'm
kinda on a secret mission here so... don't tell anyone." Playfully, she
lifted a finger to her lips and shushed Claire.
Claire simply looked at her, feeling grateful. 'Wow. That's... thank
"All the supplies are in the trunk, Claire. Come on, take a look."
Everything was pitch black for a moment. Then the car's trunk
up, revealing a deep blue sky with Angela, Claire and Patricia, looking
into the compartment. Claire seemed impressed.
"What is all of this?"
"The resistance cell's collection. Only the essentials of course..."
lifted out a large bag filled to the brim, taking it out from the
assortment, curious as to what it was. Priscilla reached into the bag
and pulled out a small, spongy yellow object wrapped in clear
plastic. "Snack cakes... for Trevor. The
other bags have some clothes, various things.... That large box there
from Nick. said it was something you would need
the most, and that's the biggest box he could fit in the
With effort Claire lifted the box, smiling when she saw it was an
extremely heavy shipping package of condoms.
She looked down at all
the supplies that had been gathered. And
standing in the morning sunlight, with the air quickly warming all
her, she couldn't help but feel touched by all that they had done.
"Thank you so much, Priscilla. We could really use the help. But
please, don't put yourself or the others at risk if you can avoid it."
"Claire, we all vowed to thwart THE CREATURE at every turn, and we
will..." Reaching down to pull out more supplies from the trunk,
Priscilla didn't see
Claire's confused look behind her as she silently mouthed the words
'the creature' to herself. Priscilla carried on, turning back to face
"And there's no risk in this, Claire. All very subtle stuff. Don't
worry. Completely low key. Except maybe for the fliers..."
"Yeah. Ooh, and the web site. Maybe T-shirts soon... Jackie's been
"So it seems..." Claire tried to hide her smile.
Priscilla handed her a small slip of paper. "Here's the next contact
number to call tomorrow. It will switch everyday. They'll set up the
next supply drop, maybe another place to hide too. We're all working on
it. Don't use cell phones. They can track which tower you're on. Just
know that a lot of people love you. Speaking of love...
"I don't really..." Thinking, Claire paused, looking around. She
realized she hadn't seen him all morning. For a brief, cold moment she
thought maybe he had gone on without her and left her behind. But then
the quiet scene was broken by a loud engine roar, as a shiny black
mustang convertible darted out next to them from beside the house. With
a boisterous move, the car spun expertly in place, the end flipping
around towards them, wheels spinning and kicking up a wake of dust as
it finally came to a stop. The powerful muscle car was jet black, shiny
and pristine in the morning light. Seated in the driver's seat next to
an obviously stunned Michael, was Trevor, laughing at his new toy.
Michael finally released his vice grip on the dashboard as Trevor
beamed happily, eyes sparkling as he looking over at Claire.
"Ok, Claire... NOW we can leave..."
Finally beginning the session, Frechette carefully straightened his
notepad sitting on the desk before
him. He looked across it to see a man staring at him silently. The
hardened psychologist paused, swallowing, not knowing if he could go
through with this. Something was itching across the back of his
shoulders. Because without turning around, he knew that Faith was
there during all of this, right behind him. He felt her
standing there in the
shadows, heard her
feet scrape the floor whenever she moved, smelled her perfume on the
air as she listened. The therapist he looked at before him seemed to
acknowledge none of
this. So he refused to acknowledge it as well.
"I suppose you know why I'm talking to you..." he told the man.
Suddenly it was a completely different room, no desk this time.
Frechette was in a chair, his notepad on his lap, facing another chair
where Lawrence sat, nothing between them as they sat in the younger
Lawrence looked uncomfortable as he waited to answer the
doctor's question, as if searching for a safe response. For a moment
brow furrowed, wondering if he would be cooperative.
"Well... do YOU know why you're talking to me?"
Sighing, Frechette lowered his head. He was sitting in front of the
therapy desk again, notebook lying there before him, everything quiet
dim room. "Of course I know... I arranged for this session because... I
need therapy. Things have been happening in my life, things that cannot
That's why I came to see you, to help me with my problem..."
Now Frechette was suddenly in a completely different room, full of loud
conversation and bright lighting. He was seated at a small table inside
a downtown Chicago Starbucks, two
untouched cups of coffee on the table before him, waiting across from
Claire's singles group. She was silent, giving him a disdainful glare,
not looking very cooperative.
"What problem is that?" she asked coldly.
"My Trevor Hale problem..." Frechette looked down at his cup of coffee
across from hers. "I'm conducting these interviews so I can help
dangerous man. You can tell me his whereabouts, can't you?"
Confidently, he lifted
his cup and took a drink, assured in his mind that there was no way
anyone could resist his authority. Slowly, he reached down and placed
the coffee mug back on the table. But then--
--it was a different
container in his hands as he let go, a glass filled with ice and soda.
Around him was the wide
open interior of Taggerty's, slightly less than packed at that
time of the day. Frechette was now in a booth, sitting across from Mike
from the singles group. The gruff looking man had a Chicago Cubs cap
on. There were two glasses of soda on the table between them, both of
the men covered in the warm daylight glow from the front window beside
waited for a response to his question. And then... he continued to
Mike's arms were crossed
across his chest, his fiery eyes steady and unblinking as he fixed
with a long, unwavering, hateful glare. Frechette wondered for a moment
if the man was going to hit him. Slowly, he looked down--
--before he looked up
again. He was back in the dim, quiet office where he was
having his therapy
session. Frechette looked up again at the man who was watching him
desk, but neither of them offered anything more. Knowing how strange it
in his own ears, he started to explain further. "You're right of
course. I guess I should be
succinct as to the exact symptoms of my condition. I've been having...
"Hey doc, Nick's here for you, you know? Whatever you need..."
Cars were whipping loudly by on the street as Frechette stood on a
sunlit sidewalk. He was outside of a downtown strip joint called the
Cherry Orchard Club, a questionable establishment which he had
Nick out of.
The building's music could still be heard thumping dimly from within,
competing with the noise of the street. Blinking, Frechette looked at
Nick, for some reason growing suspicious, not believing his sympathy
second. To his eyes, Nick didn't seem worried at all, like he had
already known Frechette was going to talk to him.
Nick gestured to the thumping strip club. "Sure you don't want to do
this inside? You can see some amazing things in there. I could loan you
a few ones..."
"No thank you." Frechette twitched, feeling uncomfortable in that
neighborhood. "However, I am--"
"--glad you are cooperating in this very serious matter. As you must
surely know, I am here with questions."
Frechette was back in Taggerty's again, sitting across from Mike, who
said nothing in response to his simple statement. Instead,
Mike merely stared at him, unblinking, a long dangerous glare, his
features hard and uncompromising.
After a few seconds of awkward silence under that harsh gaze, Frechette
began to squirm uncomfortably, shifting slightly in the seat of the
booth. "Very well, Michael... Since it seems you aren't volunteering
information, let start again. Do you know why I'm here?"
In his very small apartment, Lawrence nodded, putting a pen to his
lips as if giving it very deep scholarly thought. Then finally, he
looked over at Frechette sitting across from him and answered as if it
"Do you know why you're here?"
Frechette's eyes were softer, seeming concerned as he looked across the
desk into the eyes of his therapist. "I'm here because I'm seeing
things I shouldn't be seeing. Because I may be going crazy..."
Seated in the Starbucks, Tina nodded, calmly taking an unconcerned sip
from her coffee mug. "Because of your small penis, right?"
Frechette sputtered in surprise as he sat in the crowded room. "What?
No... That's completely... I'm here because of Trevor."
In the sunshine outside the strip club, Nick
sniffed. "Trevor? What's a
Squinting at him in the bright glare, the bearded doctor couldn't
believe what he was hearing.
"You can't be this stupid."
Lawrence shrugged in his apartment.
"I don't know. Do you think I could be this stupid?"
Frechette shook his head in frustration. "I think that the
authorities... that I... need to find the man. The simple man named
Suddenly Nick was more jovial and animated, stepping closer on the
sidewalk. "Hey doc, whatta you need Trevor for? I'm the master of love
too, if you know what I mean. Sure, you're old. But I can still hook
with some sweet thang. And for once you won't even need to pay her. Get
you some dirty down low love. Bottle your
rocket. Shiver your timber. Yeah, buddy." Nick couldn't help but laugh,
lifting his hand in anticipation of a high five that would never come.
Frechette glared at him, thinking. "Or... there's another way
that you can--"
The doctor's voice was low, somber as he looked across the desk at his
In the Starbucks coffee shop, Tina shook her head, not agreeing with
him. "I doubt there's a cure for small penis."
Outside, Nick sniffed again and shrugged. "So why ask for help?"
Back in his therapy session, Frechette couldn't contain himself,
opening up, his words soft, fast and intense.
"Because she's in my thoughts, she's in my dreams--"
He looked past Tina's shoulder in the crowded coffee shop and saw that
was standing there smiling at hi. So he yelled over at her. "--she's in
Lawrence blinked, seated in his apartment. Confused, he looked
over his shoulder at the empty space behind
"Who are you talking to?"
Lowering his gaze, Frechette seethed in his embarrassment. "No one.
Let's stay on the subject."
Nick didn't mind, continuing his pointless story, gesturing and talking
excitedly as the cars blurred past behind him. "So like I was sayin,
when I finally got her back to her place, and I slipped that sweet
off of her... wasn't till then that I saw it." Suddenly Nick
seemed embarrassed, disappointed in what had happened.
From within the confines of Lawrence's apartment, Frechette leaned
forward eagerly, his expensive pen waiting in anticipation over his
"What did you see?"
Lawrence paused yet again, searching for some clever answer. "What...
did YOU see?"
Lifting his eyes, Frechette looked dejectedly across at his therapist.
"A dead woman..." he said sadly.
Calmly, Tina put her coffee cup down and looked at him. "You really
never have touched a woman, have you?"
Nick laughed loudly in the sunlight, smiling. "Knew it all along, man."
Struggling for calm, Frechette continued. "That's... not what this
interview is about."
Still keeping a thoughtful expression, Lawrence tapped his pen against
his lips, looking very shrinkish.
"What IS this interview about?"
As Taggerty's began to fill, Frechette tiredly ran his fingers over his
head with a sigh. "It's about Trevor Hale. Wanted murderer. So let's
again. Could you give me just one straight answer please?"
Mike was silent, giving him a long, angry stare. Then after a few
seconds, he finally spoke. "Do you know how many breakable bones there
are in the human body..? All of them."
Frechette tilted his head. "Now that's not very helpful, is it. Let's
get back to Trevor. I need to find him."
In the coffee shop, Tina gave him a disdainful look. "Because of the
small penis thing? You could always switch."
Frechette blinked at her. "Switch?"
Lawrence blinked too. "Switch?"
Nick simply nodded. "Might be the way to go, boss."
Mike was still staring at the doctor, loudly cracking his knuckles,
Inside the Starbucks, Frechette didn't understand, asking again.
"What do you mean by switch?"
Tina didn't hesitate. "Switch sides. Do all women
a favor. Play for the other team. Though the other team might not like
your small penis either."
Nick gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, sunshine streaming onto
them. "And despite what chicks tell me, it really does matter, man.
Yeah buddy. My other girlfriends? Sore for days, know what I'm sayin..?
See, that's the reason they never answer my calls after. Know
why?" Nick nodded proudly. "Did it right the first time. Well, hope
"Not in the slightest. I believe all of this is the definition of a
'run around'. Well... who do you think could assist
Pausing, Nick thought about it. "Umm... god?"
Frustrated, Frechette was walking alone along a Chicago sidewalk.
Tina frowned. "Lawrence?"
And as Frechette walked there, he paused... seeing something on the
Lawrence bobbed his pen along with his words. "Have you talked to Tina?
Or maybe Mike?"
Mike sat wordlessly in Taggerty's, with the same long, silent glare.
Reaching down where he had stopped on the sidewalk, Frechette
gingerly picked up a piece of paper
Nodding, Tina tried again. "Or maybe Nick knows..."
Confused, Nick scratched his head. "What was the question again?"
The doctor seemed to surrender. "It was... unimportant."
Frechette sighed, looking over again at Mike still staring at him. "Are
we done for today?"
Out on the sidewalk, Frechette was stunned at what he read on the
paper. It was a flier, announcing the next meeting place of something
called the FREE TREVOR RESISTANCE movement. He couldn't believe his
eyes. Standing there at a complete loss, he could still hear Lawrence
talking. "Don't know..."
Lawrence shrugged, facing him in his apartment. "Do YOU think we're
done for today?"
"Yes... I think we're done. I don't believe we accomplished anything
Frechette finally put
down his pen, resigned as he looked at
his paltry, unproductive notes. He looked across the desk at his
therapist. He was completely alone in the therapy room, facing a large
mirror he had placed on the far side of the desk to run his own
therapy. He looked into the eyes of his reflection and gave up, rising
from the chair in his office, and calling it quits.
Pausing later that night, Jaclyn looked up from the information she was
writing down, and quietly smiled at what she had made.
The crowded interior of Cuppa Java was bustling with a hectic, almost
party like atmosphere. People were moving hurriedly back and forth,
playing in the air above their heads as the bustling hive of activity
continued to run at a full tilt. Some people were handing in money from
numerous containers they had spent the day gathering it in. Others were
carrying supplies, or placing bundles of new cloth in large boxes. Even
more were in small groups all around the busy room, clustered together
on dozens of cell phones, laughing but serious as they made calls,
trying to find new hiding places, routes Trevor and Claire could take.
It was a crowded bright place Jaclyn faced, set against the glittering
skyline of Chicago shining through the wide window behind her.
draped above that window was the same FREE TREVOR RESISTANCE banner
hung in her small apartment. Jaclyn couldn't believe how fast this
'secret' organization had grown, the meetings now far bigger than her
tiny apartment could handle. The manager of Cuppa Java had offered
them the use of the coffee bar overnight, and the group had moved
there. Everyone was still worried for Trevor and Claire, but they
happy to help, to actually be doing something proactive. That spirit
lifted the room, the
same room where Claire's singles group had held meetings, and
where Trevor had
always been so very much Trevor. It seemed somehow fitting. Her eyes
lingered for a moment on Champ who was there helping too, but she
moved on. So many people. Willing to back up Trevor because of what he
had done for them. Maybe soon, even
Cuppa Java would be to small.
Going back to her work, she finished writing down the last of the
information that had been offered to her. Picking up several sheets of
paper, she stepped forward on the stage, raising her voice to be heard
over the music as she addressed the busy group..
"Okay everyone! We've had a good haul for tonight! Kudos all around.
Lots of money and supplies. We should get it to Claire and Trevor on
our next drop. And we have more phone numbers lined up in new cities,
giving them more options for which direction to go. And I've completed
the master contact list." She held up multiple sheets of paper, each
page jam packed with names and numbers. "This list is important. It's
our lifeline to Trevor and Claire. It keeps us together and organized.
No one sees this list, understand? NO ONE. Especially not..."
Jaclyn paused as she spoke, stunned as she looked towards the back of
the room. "...Dr. Frechette."
Everyone else in the large group turned, following her scared eyes, and
gradually the room went silent, the music cutting off as Frechette
slowly, a smirk on his face as he entered. Every eye was on the bearded doctor. Lawrence looked
like a deer frozen in the headlights,
as if he had been caught in something. Frechette seemed to ignore the
murmuring passing through the crowd, yet some of it was discernible,
whispered voices here and there saying 'the creature'.
Beside Jaclyn, Mike stepped forward dangerously, but Champ stopped him
with a simple hand on his shoulder, going over to stand next to Jaclyn.
Frechette stopped in front of her, and arrogant sneer on his face as he
looked around at the scene. He spoke softly.
"So... this is your little underground rebellion..." The doctor picked
up a party drink that had been left on a table beside him, looking at
it. "I thought as
much. Not much of a secret, is it?"
For a moment, Frechette eyed the contact list Jaclyn held greedily, information Faith hadn't given him.
Jaclyn pulled it slowly away when she noticed his gaze, holding it
behind her back
She spoke calmly. "How
did you find us?"
"Well, the fliers that were passed out, for one. I also think I saw a
poster at an EL stop."
Lawrence looked down sheepishly as beside him Tina punched him softly
in the arm.
"And yet... you don't see it, do you?" Frechette's voice was low and
dangerous as he continued. "You don't realize you are actively breaking
the law. Aiding a wanted fugitive. Thwarting a police manhunt.
Obstructing a murder investigation. Should I go on? You. All of you are
getting in very... very deep here. You could be in serious trouble, do
you know that?"
spoke up behind Frechette. "Yeah, well you're not the
"No. I'm not." Turning to her, Frechette smirked again. "I'm not the
police. But if I were to inform the authorities about your activities
here, about your 'resistance'... If I were to do that simple, easy,
satisfying thing... and they knew about all of this, do you think THEY
would care that I'm not the police?"
The crowd murmured softly in the quiet room, most of them looking
nervous. The party atmosphere was gone, everyone growing somber.
Frechette turned again, looking at them seriously, continuing.
"Didn't really think this through, did you. What if I already did
exactly that. What if I brought dozens of policemen with me, and
they're waiting outside? You could all be experiencing the joys of the
communal holding pen in Chicago's finest lock up before sunrise."
Standing numbly, Lawrence's eyes widened even more, motionless as the
drink he had been holding dropped from his hand and splattered to the
smiled, pleased. "I thought about it... Pleasantly. But for some reason
I still can't fathom, I decided against it. So consider yourselves
fortunate that I didn't avail you to that
particular experience. You should be helping me, not hindering me. I
simply can't comprehend why you would risk so much. For a
Jaclyn had heard enough. "Because Trevor's helped all of us. In ways
you couldn't possibly understand. If you can't see that, then it's your
failing, not ours. So yes. Maybe we've been careless. But we still
care. The risks of helping both of them doesn't matter. It doesn't
What we care about, is returning the favor."
There were several nods of agreement from the crowd, a silent
understanding. Shaking his head, Frechette looked at them. "The police
could bring you all up on charges of collusion. Conspiracy. And yet you
think you're 'helping' Trevor. You're not. You're only prolonging his
fugitive status. Making his escape longer. His list of crimes, greater.
So go ahead. Laugh. Joke. Throw parties in the guise of 'resistance'.
Have your little fun and live in the delusional belief that you're
improving Trevor's chances. But deep down, I suspect you know better.
Deep down you realize this little movement you've concocted here,
isn't helping matters. It's only making them worse."
Jaclyn ignored him, speaking to someone beside her. "Start up the music
As the man moved off, Jaclyn addressed the crowd as the music began to
play. "Okay everybody, keep going!! Ignore the creature. He can say
what he wants, but we're not stopping!"
Slowly the mood of the room returned, people laughing, making calls,
all smiles again. Silently Frechette walked through them, heading for
the door. He passed a man near a large box, where the new folded cloth
bundles were. The man reached in and calmly handed him one. Frustration
on his face, Frechette held on to the bundle, unfolding it to reveal a
black T-shirt with the words FREE TREVOR printed on it. Frechette
simply let it slip from his fingers, dropping it to the floor without
another word, before the grim faced doctor left CUPPA JAVA as the music
and the party continued behind him.
It was a sparkling Chicago night as Frechette walked out onto the still
busy sidewalk underneath an archway of glowing bulbs, pausing. People
were were slipping past him happily in the dim glow of the city's
lights. But he looked disturbed, looking up at the building behind him.
How could they all be so stubborn, so blind? His brow looked troubled
he had seen, all the obstacles Trevor's friends were throwing in his
way. Like the group meeting tonight, the interviews today. And he was
troubled by his continuing visions of Faith. At least the specter of
that beautiful dead woman wasn't there, ignored over his shoulder.
Turning, he searched, but she was nowhere in sight, and that left him
feeling something he didn't expect... disappointment. All he saw were
normal people passing by
on the sidewalk. Pedestrians and passing cars. That was it.
Chiding himself with a stern exhalation, Frechette looked back down and
pulled the flier from his pocket, still amazed by the audacity of it.
Crumpling it up, he dropped it to the floor, walking off at a brisk,
angry pace, trying not to think of the 'resistance'. But more
importantly, trying not to think about the woman that was constantly in
Frechette disappeared in the distance, a lone figure in the crowd.
Surrounded by all the bustling activity inside CUPPA JAVA, Jaclyn
looked introspective as she stood quietly on the stage, thinking about
what Frechette had said. She watched for several seconds, somber,
thinking about what they were doing. Smiling, Champ came up to her, but
he paused when he saw her serious expression.
"Jaclyn? What's wrong?"
And finally, she came to a conclusion. Her face was still serious but
brightened slightly as she looked into his eyes. She touched Champ's
arm and gave it a grateful squeeze. Moving past him she went to the
front of the stage and addressed the crowd again over the din.
"Okay everyone, listen up!" The group quieted somewhat as they all
turned their attention to her.
Resolute, she sighed, knowing this was the right thing to do and
deciding to go through with it.
"Okay everybody. Change
The next morning, without warning, the complete contact list and
numerous other papers slammed loudly down onto the finely polished
surface of Frechette's desk. His hand cautiously reached out and picked
up the list, morning sunlight falling on it like it was a treasure,
streaming through the window at his back. Slowly Frechette lifted it up
to his completely stunned face, staring at it in amazement. He couldn't
believe what he was holding, a list of every person who was helping
Trevor. Contacts, phone numbers, the order they were going to be
called, possible hiding places. With this information, Trevor could be
in custody within the next few days, maybe hours. Incredulously, he
looked up into the face of the person who had brought it to him.
Jaclyn stood there before his desk, unashamed. She looked at him
proudly for several seconds.
"We'll talk to you. We'll give you any
information you want."
"Any information but that. You wanted us to talk to you. Freely.
Without obstruction. Wanted to know who's involved. The group agreed
last night. It's all there. We're willing to talk. If you are truly
willing to listen, truly listen, to what everyone has to say."
Frechette couldn't understand this. "Why?"
Jaclyn looked at him. "Something you said last night. You could have
turned us in, but you didn't. Made me think, that maybe you're willing
to hear our side of it."
Frechette paused for several moments, still stunned by her bravado,
looking up into her resolute eyes. "You play a dangerous game... How do
you know I won't just turn this information over to the police?"
"I don't. But talk to them. The people on that list. You'll see what
kind of man Trevor is."
"Why this gamble? To be honest, even I don't know what I'm going to do
"I know. That's exactly why. We're gambling that you'd be
willing to listen, first."
Frechette looked at the list again, thinking of how good he would look
with the police if he turned the information over. But then he thought
about how much more information he could get himself from cooperative
interviews instead of obstructive ones, accomplishing things on his
own. And some small part of him was curious to see what drove these
people, what drove their loyalty to a man which he saw as completely
delusional, but who they obviously didn't see the same way. His
curiosity finally won out.
"Fine then. Interviews. With FULL cooperation."
"Yes." Jaclyn exhaled happily.
"So then... when?"
"How about now?"
Stepping back, Jaclyn opened his office door. A nervous looking
Lawrence was waiting there, followed by Tina behind him, followed by a
Mike, a yawning, half asleep Nick, and several others waiting in line
stacked well beyond his outer office.
Frechette blinked. He couldn't believe how much they were all willing
to go through
to help Trevor, and for a moment in his amazement, his harsh face
seemed almost touched by their devotion, as ridiculous as it seemed.
Still trying to grasp that this was really happening, Frechette pushed
the button to talk to his receptionist.
"Madeline, cancel all