The explosion shook the ground, rattling windows in nearby buildings and knocking those just outside the apartment building to the ground. They were far luckier than those inside, however, as the explosion and the resulting fire quickly engulfed the entire building, making rescue impossible. Fortunately, the place had been condemned and slated for demolition in less than a week, so the building, which at one time had been filled to overflowing with low-income families, was empty, except for the hapless occupants of Apartment 2C.

The unexpected explosion momentarily stunned Jax, who landed on the sidewalk in a heap next to Jerry and the two agents who'd prevented them from entering the building. "Brenda!" Jax screamed, as he scrambled to his feet and headed toward the building.

Jerry was on his feet in an instant, pulling Jax back from a surge of flames that resulted when a second explosion rocked the building. "Jax! There's nothing we can do!"

"Go to hell!" Jax shouted, as he broke free and ran full-speed toward the raging inferno, but he'd barely gotten a few feet when Jerry tackled him once again.

"Jax, you'll be killed if you try to go in there!" Jerry yelled, as Jax continued to fight him to get free.

"I don't give a damn!" Jax shouted, as he once again scrambled to his feet. "She's in there and I have to help her!"

"Jax! Look at that!" Jerry shouted, grabbing Jax by the shoulder, then forcing his head around to face the flames that licked the sky. "If she was in there, she's beyond our help now," Jerry said, his voice more subdued now. "Anyone in that apartment was gone the minute the first explosion went off."

Jax looked at the hellish scene in front of them and he knew that his brother was right. No one could have survived that…

The relentless scream of sirens filled the night, as hordes of fire trucks and police cars quickly descended on the scene. Swarms of firefighters fought to get the three-alarm blaze under control and prevent it from spreading to neighboring buildings, while police formed a barricade to keep the rapidly building sea of curious onlookers back from danger. Special Agent David Weygandt and his men advised the firefighters of the importance of trying to preserve evidence in Apartment 2C, but everyone involved knew that task was secondary to stopping the spread of flames in this deteriorating neighborhood of tinderbox buildings.

Meanwhile, Jax and Jerry stood to the side, watching helplessly as their hope of finding Brenda alive died with the growing flames.

A fourth engine company had to be called in to battle the blaze, but after nearly three hours the flames were finally out and the FBI's crime unit was given permission to go in to retrieve evidence and bodies. Jerry had wanted to be involved as well, but without revealing his background, he knew that the bureau would never allow him access to that area for fear that he would contaminate evidence. On top of that, he wasn't sure how detached and professional he could remain if there actually were bodies in that apartment.

Jax and Jerry stayed away from the scorched remains of the building and watched as agents slowly and meticulously combed the area that was once Apartment 2C for evidence. Despite the fact that the note had led them there, Jerry still held out hope that the explosion was merely a distraction and that Apartment 2C would be found to be as empty as the other apartments in the building. But those hopes were dashed when the medical examiner's van pulled up to the site. Someone had evidently found bodies among the charred debris.

Their hearts caught in their throats as one of the agents who'd been in the building came out to confer briefly with Weygandt, who nodded, then solemnly approached them. "I'm sorry," Weygandt began, sincerity in his voice and compassion in his eyes, "I know that you were both hoping that the apartment was empty and the explosion was just a decoy, but we've located two bodies. It's impossible at this point to tell who they are, of course, but one was found handcuffed to a metal bed in the bedroom and the second body was found in the kitchen. The one found on the bed was small, most likely a female…"

The picture they'd received earlier had shown Brenda bound to a metal bed.

Jax gasped and turned away, fresh tears in his eyes as his last hope that Brenda hadn't been there at all were now completely dashed.

"The coroner will need dental records to identify the bodies." Weygandt continued. "Do either of you know who -?"

"Dr. Robert Westheimer," Jerry answered matter-of-factly. "He has a practice on Houston. Brenda's been a patient of his for the past four years."

Jax looked up at his brother, amazed that he could actually think and converse at a time like this. They had just lost the one woman that they had each loved and Jax felt as if it was too painful to even breathe, and yet Jerry was acting as dispassionately as if this sort of thing happened everyday.

But perhaps it did for Jerry… Perhaps the fact that he'd lost Brenda so many years ago and had relived that painful experience over and over again daily for the past four years had somehow inured him to the acute pain of losing her so completely and finally now.

Or perhaps it was just that his brother saw death routinely in his line of work and he took it in stride, as Jax did a carefully constructed business deal that unraveled in the end. You win, some you lose some; that's life. You deal and then you move on…

But Jax's mind flashed back to Jerry's earlier recounting of the fiery incident with the drug czar in Mexico and the pain and guilt that he saw in his brother's eyes at those memories, and he knew that Jerry wasn't just taking this in stride. A man who could continue to hurt for those who had lost their lives all those years ago could never completely close off his heart from the pain that came from the untimely and unseemly death of the woman he loved more than life itself.

No, Jax knew that Jerry wasn't being callous about Brenda's death; Jerry was merely compartmentalizing his emotions and coping the only way that he could now. He was doing what needed to be done - cooperating with the investigation, providing necessary information, going through the motions. Jax was grateful to Jerry for handling those details now, while allowing Jax to lose himself in his pain and his grief immediately.

But Jax knew that sooner or later Jerry would feel the full impact of this pain just as surely as Jax did now. And when that time came, Jax knew that he would need to be there for his brother just as surely as his brother was there for him now. Because despite the depth of pain that Jax felt now, he knew that his brother's would be even deeper and more acute when Jerry finally faced it. Because Jerry carried a burden that Jax did not share - Jerry felt responsible for Brenda's kidnapping and death. Jax knew that while he might one day be able to grieve and move on, Jerry never could because he would carry that guilt and pain with him for the rest of his life.

Jax was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Agent Weygandt shout at a photographer, who had crossed the barricade and was busily snapping pictures of the burnt remains of 1117 W. 128th Street. As Jax looked up, the photographer turned his camera on him and Jerry, coldly shooting the picture of pain and grief that they presented. That angered Jax, but not enough to make him react to the situation. But when the photographer brazenly turned his camera on the ME attendants as they emerged from the ashes with the solemn cargo that they were transporting on their gurneys, Jax lost it completely, lunging for the photographer and his camera.

"You filthy piece of slime, feeding off other people's misery! Don't you have any respect for the dead?" Jax shouted, as he tried to wrest the camera from the photographer.

Jerry grabbed for Jax, who was still fighting to get the camera out of the photographer's hands. "Jax! He's just trying to do his job!" he shouted, as he pulled Jax off the startled photographer.

Reluctantly and without apology, Jax turned and walked away, leaving Jerry alone to deal with the photographer. "You have to understand that this is a difficult time for us," Jerry apologized to the man.

"I take it that you knew one of the fire victims?" the photographer asked, nervously fingering his New York Post ID badge as he pulled his NY Yankees cap down a bit further on his forehead.

Jerry hesitated briefly, measuring his words carefully before answering. "Yes, she was very important to both of us," he finally answered. Without another word, he turned and walked away just in time to see Jax staring stone-faced at the ME's van as it pulled away from the scene.

"Let's go, Jax," Jerry said softly, as he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

That simple act, coupled with the torrent of pain and anger that they both had kept bottled up since this whole nightmare had begun, was their emotional undoing, and they hugged and comforted each other as only brothers can, as they mourned the inexplicable and inconsolable loss that they had both suffered. They gave into their mutual pain and shared their mutual grief, aware of nothing beyond the fact that the woman that they loved was now lost to them both forever.

They were unaware of the continued activity around them: the firefighters gathering up their equipment; the police and the FBI painstakingly combing the scene for evidence; the crowd slowly dissipating; and they were particularly unaware of the photographer that they'd encountered earlier, who suppressed a smile as he raised his camera to continue chronicling the events of the night - events that he had so neatly set in motion.

It was nearly 4:30 a.m. by the time Jax and Jerry arrived at Jerry's penthouse. The drive back had been in complete silence, with neither brother feeling the need to say much since their cathartic cry, which had spoken volumes for both of them.

Jax had thought that they should let Dee know about the situation as soon as possible, but neither he nor Jerry thought that this was something that should be handled over the phone. So Jerry convinced Jax to return to his place for a shower and to change clothes before returning to Brenda's loft to give Dee the sad news. They also knew that they needed to call LA to let their Dad and Mike know what had happened as well, but neither was relishing that task either, and they hoped that after their respective showers they'd know how to break the news to all involved.

Jax used the shower in one of the guestrooms, while Jerry used his own. When Jax emerged after showering and dressing in some of Jerry's clothes, he found Jerry standing in the hallway, staring at the last photographs that he'd just purchased from the Ashton Gallery a couple of days before, Brenda's "Displaced Souls" series.

"They're powerful, aren't they?" Jax said, as he walked up beside his brother and gazed up at the framed series on the wall. "They draw you in and don't let you leave them easily. They made me feel the humanity of each of these people, whereas if I'd seen any of these same people on the street I would most likely have passed them by without a backward glance," he added, wondering how many times he'd done just that in the past.

"She really had a talent," Jerry replied, never looking away from the picture in the series at which he was staring, the one of a little girl with big, dark eyes and long, dark hair. She reminded him of Brenda - and of the little girl that he had fantasized that the two of them had. "I suppose it was wrong of me to buy everything that she exhibited. I deprived the world of knowing just how talented she was. And she could have made so much more money had she been able to make a name for herself by having her work widely seen and collected."

"She wasn't in it for the money or the fame," Jax replied, looking from the series on the wall to his brother, "and you and I both know that. If she had been, she wouldn't have donated the entire proceeds of the sale of this series to the homeless."

"You're right," Jerry answered. "$100,000 is a lot of money to just hand over without a second thought."

"$200,000," Jax corrected him, and when Jerry gave him a puzzled look, he explained: "When Brenda broke it off with me and refused to see me again, I visited the Ashton Gallery to do a little investigation as to how I could get back into her good graces. I saw this series and was immediately mesmerized by it, so I tried buying it. But Ashton said he couldn't do that. He'd already made the deal with you and he couldn't renege - not even if I doubled the money. But he added that a nice donation to the Coalition for the Homeless might buy me a dinner with Brenda and him. So I matched your price simply as a way to get to see her again."

"And she went along with that willingly? I mean, even after she'd made it clear that she didn't want to see you again?" Jerry asked, thinking it didn't sound at all like something that Brenda would do.

"Well, I had to conspire with Ashton and resort to a little trickery to get her there, and even then she almost bolted once I arrived, but in the end it worked out in my favor… She finally admitted that she loved me… That was the night before last," Jax replied, a wistful smile on his face as he remembered that moment. But the smile vanished as quickly as it had come as the cold reality of the situation hit him: she was gone and would never again tell him that she loved him.

"She'd just come from being with you when I arrived at her apartment," Jerry murmured, as he thought back to that night. She'd been crying and he'd assumed that the other man in her life had hurt her, but he'd been wrong about that - like he'd been wrong about so many things lately. "She'd be alive now if I'd never gone there…" he added, turning and walking into the living room, pausing briefly to look at the boxes of their old pictures that remained on one of the couches.

"But I couldn't leave her alone, could I?" he asked, picking up one of the boxes and fingering the top photo gingerly. "I had the feeling that she'd moved on and I had to go to her to prove to myself that I was still the only man that she loved and wanted… It didn't matter that we'd been apart for four years and that she had every right to fall in love again. I had to know that she still loved and wanted me as much as I loved and wanted her. I selfishly didn't want her to ever love another man in the future the way that she'd loved me in the past - and now I've assured that, haven't I? *I* killed her, dammit! My bloody, foolish pride killed her!" he exploded, hurling the box of photos across the living room, sending pictures sailing everywhere.

Jax watched as his brother broke apart before his eyes. He knew this would be coming, although he hadn't expected it this soon. He watched helplessly, wondering what he could do to help Jerry cope and to ease the pain of his guilt. The truth was, despite his earlier admonition to Jerry to deal with things as they now stand rather than dwelling on what might have been, Jax couldn't seem to let go of what might have been had things been handled differently… If Jerry had stayed away from Brenda… If Andrew Buxton hadn't been obsessed with keeping Jerry in the Agency's fold, no matter the cost… If Jax had taken Brenda at her word the other day when she'd told him that they were finished… If all of those things had happened, then Brenda would still be alive now, instead of lying on a cold, hard slab in the New York City Morgue.

But none of them had happened, and a part of Jax blamed his brother for setting all of this in motion. But a part of him blamed himself as well because he knew that if Brenda hadn't loved him enough to want to say goodbye to him in person that Jerry could have whisked her away to the safety of St. Beliz before Buxton and Jackson ever had the chance to get their despicable plan underway. So they both shared responsibility here - perhaps not equally, but that really didn't matter, did it? The truth was that no matter how they divided the blame for the circumstances that led to her death, Brenda was still dead, and no amount of blaming or second-guessing could ever bring her back to them.

Jax looked down as one of the pictures landed at his feet, and he stooped to pick it up. It was a picture of Jerry, sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of photos. Jerry was smiling and he looked happier than Jax could ever remember seeing his brother, even when they were still at home together. There was a special light in his brother's eyes; a light that Jax recognized as the same light that had once shone in his own eyes as well - a light that had now been forever extinguished; that light called Brenda.

He turned the picture over and on the back, written in Brenda's own hand, were the words: "JD, up to his ears in happy memories of us. 6/1/95."

"She documented nearly every moment of the six weeks that we were together," Jerry said, interrupting Jax's thoughts as Jax handed him the photo. "She even insisted on documenting me helping her organize and label all of the pictures she'd taken, which is how this picture came about," he explained, a small smile curling his lips at that memory. "She said that she wanted to be able to identify every moment we'd shared when we were old and gray and our memories were failing us… This was taken just a couple of weeks before I left. Little did either of us know at the time that memories would be all either of us would have after that… Or that one of us would never have the chance to reach old age…" he added, his voice cracking, as he began picking up the other photos that lay scattered on the floor.

"How did you get these?" Jax asked, as he helped his brother gather up the pictures. "I mean, Brenda said that she got rid of nearly everything that reminded her of you, except for that book on castles that you'd given her."

"Andrew," Jerry answered, the bitterness in his tone palpable as he spit out the name. "She asked him to dispose of them for her, but instead he *generously* brought them to me… He said that he knew how hard it was for me to give her up and he thought that having these would help ease that pain… What a fool I was to take him at his word - to trust him and to believe so completely in our friendship all these years! I put my blind faith in the very man who posed the most threat to Brenda! And on top of that, I managed to save his miserable life, but I failed to save Brenda's! I should have just walked away once he'd given us Jackson's name and let him go to hell, where he belongs!"

"You couldn't do that, and you and I both know that," Jax answered, as he put the last of the pictures back into the box. "You're not the kind of man who could callously take another's life - or just as callously allow him to die if there was something you could do to prevent it."

"But you forget that killing is a part of my job, Jax - and it's a part that I'm very good at!" Jerry answered bitterly. "In that respect, I'm no different than Andrew - or Jackson, for that matter!"

"I know you, Jerry, and you'll never convince me that you kill easily," Jax argued. "Sure, I've seen you in agent-mode when you pulled your gun on me earlier and also when you manhandled Dee, but despite your automatic responses you were still in there, Jer. You may be able to compartmentalize and hide your emotions at those times, but you'll never be able to bury your compassion completely!

"You *are* different than Buxton and Jackson, Jerry. Buxton had no qualms about ordering that assault on Brenda four years ago that killed your baby and that nearly killed her as well, just as he had no qualms about ordering Jackson to kill her now. Those men were less than human, but your humanity sets you apart from them and it always will. Somewhere along the line, both Buxton and Jackson lost their humanity, as well as their sense of right and wrong - if they ever had either of those things in the first place! But not you… Through everything you've seen and done, you've managed to stay human and to keep a conscience. You're nothing like them!"

"But I'm just as responsible for her death as they are! I might as well have rigged whatever it was that Jackson set to explode because I killed her just as surely as if I had!" Jerry cried.

Jax stared at his brother momentarily, trying to decide what to say to him that wouldn't sound hollow. On the one hand, a part of him agreed with Jerry that he was responsible for all of this, but on the other hand Jax felt that Buxton and Jackson were the ones ultimately responsible. But then a thought occurred to him…

"You said before that you could see in Buxton's eyes that he knew that Brenda had been kidnapped, but that he was shocked that you knew," Jax began, looking at his brother with hope in his eyes for the first time in hours.

"Yeah, what about it?" Jerry asked, wondering why Jax was bringing this up now.

"That means that Jackson acted alone to extort the $5 million out of each of us for her safe return," Jax continued.

"Yeah, that's likely what happened," Jerry nodded. "But he probably planned all along to kill her whether we paid or not. I think the man's psychotic."

"He may be psychotic, but that doesn't make him suicidal," Jax pointed out. "Doesn't it seem strange to you that Jackson would go to the trouble of setting up a Swiss account, getting us to wire the money into it, and then kill Brenda and himself once he had that money? Yet those notes he taunted you with said that if you didn't find her in time that he would take her with him and he also said that he would soon be beyond your reach, both implying a possible suicide - at least that was something that I understood from them, especially after the explosion and those two bodies were recovered…"

Jerry picked up Jax's train of thought immediately: "But what if his wasn't one of the two bodies that were found? … What if he simply made it appear that he'd killed himself *and* Brenda to throw us off just his trail for awhile?"

Jerry grew more animated as he continued talking: "He knew that I would assume that he had her hidden in the trunk of the limo when he gave me those hints. In fact, he led me there on purpose, knowing that there was no way that I could make it to the apartment in time to 'rescue' her before the explosions and I'd assume that he'd killed them both… He must have salted the scene with a couple of bodies to make it look like they were both dead. That means that both he and Brenda could still be alive!"

"Do you think this guy could be that sick? I mean, to kill two other people just to throw us off the trail?" Jax asked, then realizing what he'd just asked, he added: "Never mind… I'm beginning to think this guy's capable of anything."

"You're right there! I'm sure that this is the same animal who attacked Brenda and killed our baby, and he's the same perverse man who took those pictures of you and Brenda and then sent them to me," Jerry answered, his mind racing now.

"Okay, I can understand why this guy would see this as an opportunity to make money off of both of us, since he knows how important Brenda is to both of us," Jax conceded, trying to understand the warped workings of Jackson's mind. "But why go to these extremes to make it look like she's dead if she's not?"

"I presume you have a point, Jax - just make it!" Jerry answered impatiently, knowing exactly what Jax was leading up to.

Jax took a deep breath before continuing, knowing that his theory put the blame for all of this squarely on Jerry's shoulders. "It's almost like this guy has a personal grudge against you… Like this was as much an opportunity to put the screws to you as it was to make money… He contacted *you* with the picture of Brenda and me, demanding money if you wanted to see the face of the man she was with now. Then he sent *you* the disk, revealing that Buxton was behind the attack on Brenda. Even the notes and the calls after she was kidnapped were directed to *you*, more so than to me. He was extorting money from both of us, but it's like he's been trying to bleed *you* for far more than money. It's like he wanted to play with your head as much as possible before going in for the final act, killing Brenda - or at least making it look like she's dead."

"I think you're right," Jerry conceded, accepting that he owned the blame for all of this. "And I think his grudge included Andrew as well, since he sent me that disk showing that Andrew was the one who ordered that assault on Brenda. He knew that my first instinct would be to kill Andrew, or at least choke him into giving me the name of the man that he had doing his dirty work for him. This guy knows me - has studied me - maybe even been compared to me…"

"Well, he worked closely with Andrew all these years, doing surveillance on Brenda… Maybe Andrew talked about you to him…" Jax offered.

"No," Jerry replied, shaking his head. "Andrew would never compromise me by talking openly about me like that. Whatever Andrew's other faults were - and it's apparent now that he had plenty - he'd never do anything to endanger the life of an agent, especially not one that he'd personally trained and nurtured, as he did me… More likely it was his attitude toward Jackson that angered him… Andrew could be a real snob at times. He came from English aristocracy - not much money but a lot of attitude about societal class… And according to the little we were able to get on Jackson, he came from a lower-class Brooklyn neighborhood and his father died when he was young and he was raised by a mother who worked two jobs to make ends meet. Jackson was probably on the street and on his own most of the time, which would give him lots of connections for playing fast and loose with the rules. That made him perfect for handling Agency dirty work, and his obvious savvy with computers and his innate intelligence and diabolical mind would have made him a formidable agent, but something kept him out of actual service to the Agency."

"The fact that he's a psychotic might have worked against him!" Jax murmured.

"Actually, little brother, being psychotic helps in this business," Jerry answered, and while there was a hint of a smile on Jerry's face, Jax knew that Jerry wasn't being altogether joking about that point and that sent an involuntary chill down Jax's spine.

"Knowing Andrew, I'd bet that he was the one who nixed Jackson's admission to the Agency as an actual agent, instead relegating him to being his lackey for the past four years," Jerry continued, ignoring Jax's sudden pallor at his comments. "If my hunch is correct and Jackson tried and failed to get hired at the Agency to do more than grunt work, he probably has a lot of resentment toward any agent… The fact that he was relegated to surveillance and reporting back to Andrew when it's very apparent now that he was most likely as capable as I am to do the job that I do could have eaten at him and made him resentful of me."

"Resentful enough to pull off something as convoluted and heinous as making it look like Brenda was dead when she really isn't?" Jax asked hopefully.

Jerry's face brightened as he grabbed for the nearby phone: "Who knows, little brother, but I think it's worth a little hope on our part that he was, don't you?"

"Jer, who are you calling at this hour? It's barely 5:30," Jax pointed out, glancing at his watch.

"I'm calling Weygandt," Jerry answered as he punched in the numbers and waited for him to answer. "He said that they wouldn't be starting the autopsies on those bodies they recovered until 10:00 a.m. But I want him to put a rush on it now. I think it's a good bet that they're *not* Brenda and Jackson - and if they're not, then we have a major job ahead of us, trying to figure out Jackson's next move and where exactly he has Brenda and what he plans to do with her now."

"And what do we do in the meantime?" Jax asked, trying not to get his hopes and expectations up too far on this far-fetched theory that he'd come up with, despite the fact that it felt right.

"We go back to Brenda's and see just how reliable Dee Hotchkiss's sixth sense is - and ours, as well…" Jerry answered quietly.

Despite the fact that Agent Weygandt thought that Jerry was grasping at straws, he promised to get a team of pathologists in immediately to begin the autopsies on the two bodies found at the scene of the fire. He said that his agents had already begun the task of obtaining dental records for both Brenda and Jackson, so that information should be available as soon as the pathologists were ready for it, which would be in just a couple of hours. He wished Jerry and Jax luck in this, but privately he doubted that their theory about Jackson and the body substitution was much more than wishful thinking on their part.

He was hot, and exhaustion from too little sleep and too much beer had already set in, but more than anything he was worried… She'd been out for over ten hours now without food or water, and he was concerned that she would be nearing dehydration soon. With no air conditioning the apartment was hotter than hell, even though it wasn't even dawn yet. Since he was no longer worried about someone finding them, he'd picked up a couple of small fans while he was out to cool the place for the remainder of their short stay there. But the lone window in the bedroom where she was had long ago been painted shut and couldn't be opened, so the best he could do was circulate the hot air in the room, rather than bringing in the marginally cooler predawn air from outside.

He plugged in the fan and directed the air toward where she lay. The warm breeze it created ruffled her hair, but did nothing to awaken her. He ran his hand across her forehead, which was understandably hot, but damp with sweat. He breathed a sigh of relief at that, since he knew that as long as she was sweating that she hadn't succumbed to heat stroke or severe dehydration - yet. But under these conditions it wouldn't be long, especially with that drug evidently still in her system. He needed to cool her down and bring her around soon or he'd be in big trouble. Part of the deal he'd made was that she was to be in good condition when he delivered her. He doubted that his partner would consider her present condition anywhere near good.

He needed to cool her off quickly. Since the bathroom was still filled with supplies for developing the rolls of film he'd taken that night, he'd have to get water and towels from the kitchen instead. He headed back to the main room of the small, one-bedroom apartment, leaving the bedroom door wide open so that some of the cooler air from that area could filter into where she lay. Luckily, the windows in that area of the apartment could be opened; otherwise he would have melted as he'd kept his earlier vigil by the window. As it was, it had been a hot and tiring job, but worth it in the end. He'd gotten some great shots with which to commemorate this night and he'd already developed and faxed several of them ahead to appease his partner, but the next part of his deal could all still fall through if he didn't get her awake and moving soon.

He turned on the cold water at the kitchen sink and let it run as he grabbed a couple of paper towels and dampened them both, then returned to the bedroom and to her. He peeled off the tape from her mouth, eliciting a small groan from her. He was thankful for that response, which meant that she was not too far-gone to be brought back again. He rubbed one of the cool cloths across her face, and she breathed a small sigh as he cooled her feverish brow, finally leaving the damp cloth on her forehead. He unfastened her wrists from the bed and brought them down to her side, running the cool moistness of the second cloth down her arms as he did so. Short of filling the bathtub with cold water and dunking her into it, this was the best he could do to cool her off at the moment.

The air from the oscillating fan swept across them again, slightly lifting the bottom edge of her short T-shirt to reveal her toned and tanned abdomen. He licked his lips, remembering what lay just slightly higher beneath that shirt, as he thought about the pictures he'd taken of her and her lover just days before, some of which now adorned the walls of this very room.

Over the past few years he'd imagined feeling her beneath him so many times, doing to her what her lover had been doing so thoroughly and deliciously to her as he'd watched through the telephoto lens of his camera. She had been so willing, so receptive in those photos. In fact, she had been the one who had taken the lead for them, and that had turned him on to no end. She was a real tiger in bed, just the way he liked it.

He ran his hand slowly across her exposed flesh, as he thought about how easy it would be to have her now, while she was still unconscious, and she'd be none the wiser. And if she did wake up during it and fight, that would be even better. The fight would actually make their union sweeter… But despite the overwhelming urge he had to finish that which he'd started at that construction site four years before, his thoughts drifted back to his instructions and he immediately got himself under control.

"She's to be unharmed in *every* way," the man had warned, and despite the fact that this was the first and only actual contact that he'd had with the man, he'd known instinctively what would happen to him if he so much as laid a finger on her. He could hear it in the man's voice when he'd spoken to him on the phone yesterday. Despite the poor connection, there was no mistaking the intent in his words or the cruelty of the man delivering them; he was as cold and hard as ice. His cousin Vinnie had told him of the man's reputation for swift and sure punishment of those who betrayed him, and Rick had no intention of crossing him to test that reputation.

Vinnie… He was actually the one who'd gotten him in touch with this man in the first place. For the past year Vinnie had indirectly worked for the man and it had been a lucrative business arrangement for Vinnie, so Rick knew that the man could be generous to those who lived up to his expectations - just as Vinnie had warned that he could be dangerous to those who did not. And Rick had no intentions of testing just how dangerous he could be, since he had every intention of delivering her completely unharmed into the man's hands in just a few, short hours - but first he had to get her awake and moving…

In hindsight, he realized that he probably should have tried reviving her hours ago. Instead he'd taken advantage of the fact that she was still unconscious to go and watch the excitement of the explosion and its aftermath. Although the pictures he'd gotten of the Jacks brothers, especially JD - so upset and so thoroughly defeated - were certainly worth the trip and would no doubt please his partner as much as they'd pleased him, he hoped that it wouldn't cost him dearly in the end. No amount of self-satisfaction was worth his life! He'd already sacrificed Vinnie in this; he wasn't sacrificing himself as well.

His thoughts went back to his cousin and what he'd had to do to him in order to save himself… It was justified, he told himself. After all, Vinnie would have done the same to him had the situation been reversed and this opportunity had landed in Vinnie's lap rather than his. If that had been the case, he had no doubt that he'd be the one cold and dead and lying in the morgue at this very moment, instead of Vinnie and his "beloved" Theresa, who had at one time been Rick's beloved Theresa. In fact, she'd been Rick's Theresa up until the moment that Vinnie had stolen her out from under him four years before. So this was just payback time for Vinnie in Rick's book.

And so much had worked in his favor in this scheme. Vinnie's greed and Theresa's passions had made this almost too easy, in fact. And both Vinnie and Theresa's rather perverse sexual appetites had coincided with his needs for the night, and they had eagerly accepted his offer of the limo and even the condemned apartment in Harlem that Buxton had rented for him and Brenda. He'd stocked the place with plenty of food and liquor and a new pair of handcuffs with which he knew that Vinnie would waste no time in securing Theresa to the bed. And he knew that Theresa would be Vinnie's more than willing captive for the night.

He'd promised Vinnie half the $10 million for him and Theresa to act as decoys in all of this, but he'd neglected to tell Vinnie that their playtime that night would be their very last. And that Vinnie would never live to enjoy his half of the spoils of this night. Rick had known exactly what they were doing when he finally made that call that triggered the timing mechanism on the bombs that he'd placed in the apartment when he'd stocked it with food and liquor for the ill-fated lovers. And he'd taken a perverse pleasure in knowing that he had been able to do to both of them what they were most likely doing to one another when the bombs went off.

Yes, so much had worked in his favor in all of this…It was fortunate for him that Theresa was the same age as Ms. Barrett here and had a remarkably similar build as her as well. Just as it was his good fortune that cousin Vinnie had enough of Rick's physical similarities to pass as him for the coroner's preliminary findings - at least until dental records could be located and a definitive identification could be made. But Rick had made that difficult, as he'd done a little breaking and entering the day before into both his and Ms. Barrett's dentists' offices to do a little rearranging of the files. Nothing was stolen - they were merely misfiled - and he doubted that either office would know that anything was amiss until they were contacted this morning by the coroner's office to produce those particular records. Then it would take a thorough search of all files to find them, which would give him a few more hours of breathing space to meet up with his partner's people and then make his own escape from the country. Yes, good fortune had finally begun to smile on Rick Jackson after all these years.

He grinned as he thought about the life that lay ahead for him once this long day was over: fancy homes, fast cars, beautiful women hanging on his arms and his every word, and respect - the kind of respect that is afforded the very rich, whether they deserve it or not. And now, with his $10 million that was already in his Swiss account and the additional million that he would be getting upon delivery of Ms. Barrett, he'd be among those very rich for the first time in his life.

He'd dreamed of leading that kind of existence all of his life. Respect was something he'd always known he deserved but rarely came his way, mainly because of where he'd come from - the streets of a working-class Brooklyn neighborhood. As he'd grown up he'd seen the kind of deference from others that wealth and power brought, and he'd wanted it - almost craved it.

He'd worked his tail off trying to rise from being a petty street thug to putting his considerable brains and talents to far better use within the Agency, but the Agency had failed to recognize his full potential as a full-fledged operative, preferring instead to keep him on as merely an auxiliary worker. He'd been like some dog on a leash that was only given as much leeway as its owner permitted - and never allowed to forget who was master in the relationship. He blamed that situation on Andrew Buxton, who'd relished his role as Rick's master for the past several years, but in the end, Rick had shown him who was the master and who was the dog in that situation, as he'd turned on Buxton and given the old man his just reward.

He smiled as he recalled the call he'd placed to one of Buxton's neighbors around 10 the night before. He'd pretended to be an out-of-town nephew of Andrew's who had been trying to contact his uncle and was worried because there had been no answer at his apartment for hours. He had expected the neighbor to offer to go to check on Andrew and then find his cold, dead - or warm and dying - body, but instead he'd discovered that Andrew had been taken by squad earlier in the evening to nearby St. Vincent's Hospital.

He'd called the hospital immediately after that and was informed that Andrew Buxton was being treated in the emergency room there, but that they had no information as to his present condition and had suggested that he call back later. He'd waited another hour before calling the hospital once more, again pretending to be an out-of-town nephew anxious for word on his poor uncle's condition. He'd been transferred to a Dr. Carpenter who had worked on Buxton in the emergency room and who had somberly informed him that "his uncle" had died, most likely from a massive coronary. Rick had barely been able to contain his glee upon hearing that news, but he'd played the distraught and loving nephew to the hilt before hanging up the phone and dancing happily around the room.

If the hospital's lab was on top of things, they'd probably already caught the extremely high Digoxin levels in Buxton's system and his death had been ruled suspicious, especially when they checked his medical history and realized that the man wasn't even supposed to be on that particular drug. So by now Andrew Buxton's cold, dead body had probably been transferred to the coroner's office for autopsy and was quite possibly lying on a slab in the morgue right next to Vinnie and Theresa's charred remains.

It had been a long night and he was extremely tired now, but things seemed to be going his way. Three of his enemies had been neatly disposed of and all within a few hours of one another. He'd suffered their humiliation and disdain for far too long, but in the end he and his superior intellect and infinite patience had won out. He was the one who was alive and well and had a rich, full future ahead of him, while his tormentors were soon-to-be-forgotten memories of an unfortunate past. Now he had only one enemy left with which to deal - JD Jacks - but his end would be far more painful and prolonged than the others'. Unfortunately, that end would not come at Rick's hands, as the others' had, but it would still be just as satisfying for him.

He'd hated Buxton for his treatment of him and Vinnie and Theresa for their betrayal of him, but perhaps he'd hated JD Jacks most of all and it had nothing to do with anything that the man had ever done to him. After all, he'd only become aware of the man's actual identity in the past few days. And up until just a couple of hours ago when he'd spoken with him at the fire scene, the only contact he'd had with him had been by phone and the notes and pictures he'd sent him. No, it was simply that Agent JD Jacks had fallen easily into everything to which Rick had ever aspired - physical attractiveness and prowess, enormous wealth, prestige and power from both his social berth and his connections with the Agency, and the undying love of a beautiful woman, even though he deserved none of them - especially this woman.

Rick glanced down at the still sleeping woman beside him, marveling at her beauty even in this heat and under these conditions. No, neither Jacks brother deserved the love of this woman, just as Vinnie never deserved her love, yet that love had been freely given to them all. And once that love had been freely given to him as well…

He ran his hand slowly across the exposed flesh of her abdomen, then up across her breasts, relishing their full softness beneath his fingers. It had been so long since they'd been together that he'd almost forgotten what she felt like, how she smelled, how she tasted... He'd missed her so much that he couldn't restrain himself any longer. He lowered his mouth to hers and brushed it slowly across her full, pink lips. "It's been so long, Theresa…"

"She's not dead!" Dee declared emphatically, as Jax and Jerry entered the apartment. They had barely made it through the door when she'd begun her harangue, and her declaration surprised them, since neither of them had had a chance to say a word yet about what had happened while they were gone. But when they saw the TV tuned to the 24-hour news channel on in the background and a reporter standing at the scene of the fire doing a live shot, they understood where she'd gotten her information.

In the background, the TV droned on: "… According to unnamed sources, the explosion and resulting fire, in this neighborhood already riddled with abandoned and decaying buildings, may have been deliberately set as a murder-suicide in the aftermath of a kidnapping. The police and the FBI refuse comment on that question, but two bodies have been recovered and sources say that they appear to be that of a man and a woman, though positive identification of the badly burned bodies cannot be made at this time…"

"I don't care what the FBI thinks or what the evidence shows! I *know* that Brenda wasn't in that fire!" she continued, as she paced in front of the windows, completely oblivious to the fact that neither brother seemed to be trying to dissuade her from her staunch position. "I can feel it! I can feel *her* still! She has a very strong life force - one of the strongest I've ever felt in all my years - and I can still feel her… She's still alive, I tell you!"

It was then that she finally looked up to see that Jerry had shut off the TV and that Jax was pouring them all cups of the coffee that Dee had brewed, and they were both looking at her with half-smiles on their faces - certainly not the looks of men who had just lost the woman they loved in a terrible fire. "I'm right, aren't I? The reporter had it wrong, didn't she?" she asked excitedly, as she lunged at Jerry, who was in closer proximity to her, and hugged him.

"We don't know anything for sure," Jerry said, clearly embarrassed by Dee's unexpected actions as he quickly extricated himself from her embrace. "All we know for sure is that we were led to that location by the kidnapper and he wanted us to believe that he'd kill himself and Brenda if we didn't arrive in time - which was impossible to do in the time frame we were provided - and then two bodies were recovered from the scene; one of which had been handcuffed to the bed and was most likely a woman."

Dee's face fell momentarily at that last piece of information. "But… but I don't care how bad it looks, it *can't* be Brenda - it just *can't* be," she repeated quietly, as she sank down into one of the nearby living room chairs. "I'd feel it if it were her - I *know* that I would!" she insisted, but her tone indicated a hint of self-doubt. "I don't know… Maybe I'm just too tired to know what I'm feelin'…" she said, her usually faint Southern accent growing more pronounced as she grew more tired. She leaned forward in the chair and rubbed her hands wearily across her face, trying to energize herself. She'd managed to catch an hour's nap on the couch, but that had done little to relieve the all-over fatigue that had suddenly seized her mind and body.

"Here, maybe this will help," Jax said, as he offered Dee a cup of coffee. "It's been a long night and we're all tired," he added, as Dee nodded her thanks for the coffee as she took it from his hands, despite the fact that this would be her third cup of the morning.

"But if it makes you feel any better," Jerry added, as Jax handed him his mug of coffee, "we don't think that Brenda was in there either, despite evidence to the contrary. So we're all of like minds here - or instincts, or whatever you want to call it."

"Then what's our next step?" Dee asked expectantly, as she set her untouched drink down on the coffee table in front of her.

"We wait," Jerry announced calmly, taking a sip of the hot brew as he walked to the wall of windows and looked out at the early morning activity that was beginning to fill the street below.

Jax and Dee exchanged startled glances, surprised at Jerry's unusually calm demeanor given the events that had transpired over the past few hours.

"We just wait?" Jax asked, trying to understand how his brother had gone from crazed maniac in his apartment less than an hour ago to near Zenlike serenity now. Even on the drive back here and as he was easily fixing the service elevator he'd disabled the night before, Jerry had had a manic energy about him. But now he seemed so calm that it was almost unnerving.

"Yes, we wait - and try to get inside this guy's mind while we're waiting," Jerry said, turning around to face them. "Up until now, he's been running this show. In fact, he still thinks he's got the upper hand, but he doesn't. I'll give him credit for pulling off this little sleight of hand so masterfully, but I'm not ready to accept his illusion as fact. You were the one who saw it first, Jax, when I was the one who should have suspected it all along, since I'm the one who's trained to recognize such deception.

"But I'm back on track now," he continued, "and I'm ready to climb inside his head, just like he climbed inside mine. He knew enough about Brenda and me - and you, too, Jax - that he was able to orchestrate this whole thing from the very beginning. He laid down the music and I danced to his tune, all the way up to and including the fire scene. He anticipated how I would react every step of the way, and he planned accordingly, and I fell right into his trap.

"But that changes here and now… We have to start to think the way he thinks so we can anticipate what he's planning just the way he anticipated us. And our one advantage is that he thinks we've accepted that Brenda's is one of those bodies in the fire and we've given up looking for her - so that gives *us* the upper hand. He may relax his guard a bit and not see us coming," Jerry concluded, looking expectantly at both Jax and Dee.

"See us coming?" Jax asked, puzzled by what Jerry was saying. "How can we nab him if we don't know where he is?" He set his coffee down on the peninsula counter against which he'd been leaning and waited for his brother's insight.

"But I think we do," Jerry answered cryptically, setting his coffee down as well.

"And what the hell does that mean, Jer?" Jax snapped, the long hours of stress and lack of sleep finally taking their toll on him. "If we *know* where he is, then what the hell are we doing here, talking and drinking coffee like this is some coffee klatch while that madman is toying with Brenda's life?… And how can you suddenly be so calm about all of this? Did you forget what this man did to her the last time that he had her - and what he *almost* did, as well?!"

"I haven't forgotten a thing, Jax," Jerry replied calmly, but his eyes were hard and cold, reflecting the anger within, not at his brother, but at the situation in which Brenda was still inexorably enmeshed. "And I will *never* forget a single thing that this man has done - or that it's all because *I* brought him into her life."

"I'm sorry, Jer, I didn't mean… It's just that -" Jax stuttered, suddenly at a loss for words, and embarrassed that he'd blown up at his brother like that.

"It's just that we're all tired - you said so yourself," Dee interrupted, putting her hand on Jax's arm and patting it reassuringly. "Lord knows I am!… And I hope that you won't think I'm interferin' here," she continued, looking to Jerry as she spoke, "but I think we could all use some breakfast before we start this brainstormin' session you're lookin' to do now. It'll give us all the energy boost we're gonna need to get inside this guy's head and in touch with our own selves as well."

She waited for Jerry to object to her suggestion, but his reaction surprised both her and Jax. "I think that's a good idea," he smiled. "You could you whip up some breakfast for us, while Jax and I dig through the information we have on Jackson."

Dee burst out laughing at his suggestion. "Me - cook? I may be female and from the South, honey, but I'm afraid the only cookin' I can do is cookin' up a new plot line for one of my books! But I *am* very good at orderin' take-out and pickin' it up, and I'll gladly do that while you boys go through those papers. Just be sure to let me in on what you find when I get back 'cause I fully intend to be a part of bringin' Brenda home safe and sound!"

She stood up to retrieve her purse. "I noticed a lot of people comin' and goin' from that little coffee shop across the street, so it must have good food. Are muffins and juice okay with you all?"

"Sounds good. But let me pay," Jerry answered, grabbing his wallet and handing Dee a twenty from it. "Jax and I appreciate you doing this for us."

"Actually, I'm doin' it for Brenda. You two need to keep your energies up in order to think straight, so this is my little part in gettin' her home," she said, taking the proffered twenty from him and shoving it into her pocket.

"Well, you know that we're counting on your help in this as well," Jerry replied. "We're going to need that sixth sense of yours turned up on high on this one," he added, smiling slightly at Dee.

"I promise that I'll do what I can, and right now I can get us all somethin' to eat," she said, as she headed toward the door. "I'll be back in a jiffy," she added, as she slid the heavy metal door open.

"The elevator's back up and running now," Jerry called after her, and she smiled and nodded her gratitude as she slid the heavy door closed behind her.

Jax had remained quiet during all of this, watching the exchange with utter amazement. He felt like he'd fallen into the Twilight Zone, as he'd listened to Dee and Jerry carry on this cheerful banter as if they were old friends meeting for a cup of coffee to discuss old times, instead of mere acquaintances tied together through an unfortunate shared circumstance. Jerry had barely been civil with Dee when she'd first arrived and had doubted the authenticity of her story from the beginning and had only allowed her to stay because it was too dangerous to let her leave. Yet now he was acting as if he trusted Dee's instincts as much as his own. And Jerry's sudden serenity about all of this seemed all too surreal as well.

"What's going on with you, Jer?" Jax asked, as soon as he'd heard the service elevator begin its noisy descent with Dee inside.

"What do you mean, what's going on?" Jerry asked impatiently, as he grabbed the papers on Rick Jackson that Mike Moriarity had faxed the evening before.

"Jer, it's like you've snapped or something…" Jax began, trying to find the words that would make his brother understand his confusion.

"As a matter of fact, I *have* snapped - I've snapped back into what I've been trained to do - think, not merely react," Jerry answered bluntly. "Listen, Jax, *I* should have been the one to figure out that Jackson had used that explosion and fire to cover his tracks, not you. *I'm* the one who does things like that day-in-and-day-out - get inside an opponent's head so that I can always be a step ahead of him. That's how I've managed to stay alive all these years. But instead I've let this guy do the leading. And he's managed to push my buttons all the way through. That's because I've been reacting emotionally instead of acting rationally, and that's exactly what he counted on. He knew me better than I knew myself. But that changes here and now. I have to forget that she's the woman I love and look at this as just another assignment if we're going to have any hope of getting Brenda back alive."

"And can you do that? Separate yourself from your emotions now?" Jax wondered.

"I'll *have* to do that, Jax. We don't have any other choice," Jerry answered tersely.

"I think you're right there, Jer…I'm not sure that I could do it, but I'm glad that have that ability," Jax conceded, understanding his brother's attitude adjustment. "But what about your change in attitude toward Dee?" he pushed. "Why the sudden coziness with her?"

"I didn't realize I was being cozy, merely polite," Jerry replied simply. "Listen, Jax, I admit that I doubted her when she first arrived, but after learning about her work with the FBI, I'm willing to give her a shot here… Hell, I'd be willing to give Carnack the Magnificent a shot here if I thought it would give us a clue as to where Brenda and Jackson are now!" he added, throwing the papers down on the coffee table and running his hands tiredly trough his dark hair. "Besides, there is something to gut instincts and you and I both knew that before Dee pointed it out to us earlier. She was right - we both rely on our instincts to carry us through and had I listened to mine a long time ago, instead of letting my emotions take over, we'd never be in this situation in the first place. I knew in my gut that something wasn't right with Andrew for the past several days, and instead of looking into that, I went instead to Brenda, like some lovesick fool - which I was. And now she's paying for my foolishness! I have to look at all possibilities now in order to get her back safely, and that includes allowing Dee and her sixth sense to help in the search!"

Jax was about to tell Jerry that he thought he was right to include Dee in this, when his cell phone rang. Since it was his father's phone and his father was the only one, besides Jerry and Mike Moriarity, who knew he had it, he knew immediately who was calling. "It's Dad," he said, looking up at Jerry. "Since it's barely 4:00 a.m. out there, I'm betting that he just watched the same news feed that Dee had on. What do you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him what we suspect - that Brenda's wasn't one of the two bodies they found in the fire and that she's still out there somewhere," Jerry answered, and Jax nodded his agreement and understanding.

"Hello, Dad," Jax said, as he finally answered the phone's relentless ringing.

"Jax, I'm so sorry," John Jacks said immediately upon hearing his younger son's voice. "I just saw on the news about two bodies killed in an explosion and fire in Harlem. No names were released but it seemed too coincidental not to be Brenda and Jackson…. I'd hoped that things would turn out differently, son," he added, his voice full of sympathy and pain for Jax's apparent loss. "Your mother and I plan to fly to New York later today to be with you. We've already booked our flight and we've secured the suite next to yours at the Plaza."

"Mum knows?" Jax asked, dropping down into one of the large living room chairs and leaning his head back wearily. He'd hoped that she at least could have been spared this ugliness.

"Your mother and I have no secrets, Jax," his father replied. "I'd told her about Brenda early yesterday afternoon, when she came by the office to take the two of us to a late lunch. She was thrilled that you'd finally found the woman you wanted to settle down with, and then when all of this came up - Brenda's kidnapping and all - and Mike and I chose to stay the night at the office in case you and Jerry needed us, I had to let her know what was happening. She was up all night praying for Brenda and you. In fact, she was the one who had the news on and caught the segment about those bodies. And she's the one insisting that we fly there as soon as possible to be with you. She knows Jerry will support you, but she feels that we should all be together as a family now, and I agree with her."

"Dad, that isn't necessary," Jax interjected when his father finally paused to take a breath. "In fact, I don't want either of you to come to New York."

"They're flying here?" Jerry mouthed and Jax nodded.

"Are you coming back here then?" his father asked. "We'd just assumed that you'd want to stay there at least for a few days, to help with plans for Brenda's funeral and all," he continued.

"I'm not coming back to LA and I'm not making plans for Brenda's funeral because there might not be a funeral," Jax answered wearily.

"I… I don't understand…" his father stammered.

"Let me talk to him," Jerry said as he reached for the phone and Jax handed it over to him gladly. "Dad, it's Jerry," he said the minute he had the phone in his hands. "Before you say anything more, I need you to tell me where you are right now. Are you at home or at the office?"

"I'm in my office," John replied.

"Is anyone else there with you?" Jerry pressed.

"Just Mike… Why?" John was definitely curious as to where this was leading.

"I'm going to hang up here and call you back on your office phone, Dad," Jerry explained. "I want you to put me on the speakerphone because both you and Mike need to hear what I have to say. But you have to promise that it goes no further than the two of you - I don't want Mum knowing any of this for now. It's very important to keep her out of this for the moment, for her own peace of mind."

His father hesitated slightly before answering: "All right, son, but only because you feel it would be better that she not know… You know that I hate keeping secrets from her - it's not the basis for a strong, healthy, loving relationship."

"I know, Dad… trust me, I know that all too well…" Jerry answered softly. "I'm going to hang up now and call you back immediately."

"Okay, son," John answered, and then the connection went dead, as they both hung up.

"What are you planning to do?" Jax asked, as Jerry tossed down the cell phone and reached for Brenda's phone to call their father back.

Jerry quickly punched in the number to their father's office and then punched the speaker for their end. The loud ringing of the call going through filled the loft apartment as Jerry turned to answer his brother: "If we're going to figure all this out, it's going to take more than just you and me and Dee to decipher everything. So I think it's time that Dad and Mike knew the whole truth about this situation - including how and why all of this happened in the first place…"

A shrill ring from the outer room, signaling that there was an incoming fax, brought Jackson out of his exhausted state of delusion just as his lips settled onto Brenda's for a more thorough kiss. "Oh, god!" he whispered, as he realized what he was about to do - and more frighteningly - to whom he thought he was about to do it! Not that he wouldn't have enjoyed it, but he knew what it would cost him in the end. "I'm more tired than I thought!" he groaned, as he jumped off the bed, hastily refastening her hands to one of the bedposts before racing back into the other room to see the fax, leaving the door open behind him.

She'd awakened when he'd begun rubbing the cool cloths on her skin, and she'd had to fight to remain perfectly still despite the wave of revulsion she'd felt pass through her at this man's touch. But now that he was gone, Brenda shuddered at the very memory of his disgusting hands and mouth on her. She was hot, tired, and hungry, and the smell of his sweaty body, mixed with the dankness of the room and the aftereffects of the drug he'd given her, made her nauseous beyond belief. Luckily, though he'd bound her hands back to the bed again, he hadn't bothered to put the tape back over her mouth, so she was able to breathe deeply through her mouth in an effort to stave off the nausea.

She'd been awake several times over the past few hours, drifting in and out of consciousness. She'd heard another door somewhere in the apartment open and close nearly an hour ago, and then she'd watched through hooded eyes as the man had walked in to check on her before going back into the outer room again. Then she'd heard another door open and close and then water running briefly in what she presumed to be the bathroom, followed by that pungent odor that she'd smelled earlier.

It had finally dawned on her why that smell seemed so familiar to her - it was developing fluid, and he evidently was using the bathroom as a makeshift darkroom, and she wondered why she couldn't place such a familiar smell sooner? She supposed it was the drug that he'd given her that had shrouded her senses and clouded her thinking, but luckily that was wearing off now, as was her overwhelming urge to sleep.

She thought about the scene just before that bell had rung, and she felt that all too familiar wave of nausea threaten to overtake her again. The man had been pawing her and kissing her, and it had reminded her of the assault four years before and it had taken every ounce of her willpower to keep from kicking him and making a break for it. But she knew that in her weakened state that she wouldn't have gotten very far, if at all, and it would have only served to anger her captor. At the moment he didn't appear angry, only confused, as he had called her "Theresa" just before he'd kissed her. And then it was if the bell had broken through whatever delusional state he was in and he'd realized that she wasn't this Theresa, whoever she was.

Perhaps this Theresa had been the woman he'd meant to take and gotten her by mistake and now that he could see very clearly that she wasn't Theresa that he'd let her go, she thought hopefully. But she knew that whether or not she was his original target that it was doubtful that he'd just let her walk free. And more likely than not he worked for the same people that JD did and he planned to kill her anyway. But if that were the case, why wasn't she already dead? She'd gotten the impression from JD that this time her death would be swift and with no hesitation the minute that they found her, yet here she was still alive several hours after being grabbed.

Her mind drifted back to the airport and how all of this had happened… Although she knew there'd be a car waiting for her, she'd had a bad feeling about the driver the minute he'd approached her. She'd decided on the flight that she wasn't hiding out at Mr. Buehler's after all, instead opting to go to JD and the two of them call Jax to discuss their romantic "situation." She had tried to tell the driver that she no longer needed his services, as a way of forgoing the ride with him. But he had told her that his time was already paid for and her destination was her choice, so she'd finally decided to take him up on his offer.

But as they'd walked together toward the waiting area for the limos, she'd suddenly gotten this sick feeling that she knew this man from somewhere and that he wasn't what he appeared to be. She tried to gracefully bow out then, but he'd immediately grabbed her by the arm and then she'd felt something like a bee sting on her forearm. After that everything became fuzzy and she felt as if she were drunk. She supposed that he'd injected her with something then, but she never saw a syringe and she never saw a needle, and it had all happened in the blink of an eye. Whoever he was, this man was extremely cunning and dangerous and she'd have to keep her wits about her and avoid that drug again at all costs if she had any hope of surviving this and escaping.

Escape - was that possible? And what about rescue? Did anyone even know she was missing? Mr. Buehler would, since he'd sent the car for her. But she'd never mentioned Jax or JD's names to him, so he wouldn't know to contact them about her. Hopefully he'd called the police when she hadn't arrived at his place or her own last night. But what if this man had hurt Mr. Buehler before he'd come after her? Her heart lurched at the thought of her selfishness bringing harm to that sweet, old man…

Would Jax know that she was missing? She'd bolted from his office, after telling him that she was leaving with JD. Would he just assume that she'd done just that and leave it at that? And even if he did try to find her, he had no idea that JD was his brother and that she'd never made it back to him. JD would know she was gone because she had never returned, but although he knew she'd gone to say good-bye to her lover, he had no idea that her lover was his brother, Jax. She cringed at the memory of finding out just hours ago that her past and present loves were brothers. At that time she'd thought that her life couldn't get any worse - how wrong she'd been!

Her fear and recklessness last night had sealed her fate. She wished now that she could go back to that fateful moment and stay in LA to face Jax, rather than run as she had foolishly done. But hindsight was always twenty/twenty, wasn't it? And since wishes and regrets weren't going to help her now, she'd have to get a grip and deal with where she was now. But where was she - and who was this man who had her now?

She could hear him muttering excitedly from the other room, and she hazarded a furtive glance toward the open door to see where he was and what he was doing. He had his back to her and he appeared to be reading something - most likely a fax, since the noise that had interrupted him moments before had sounded to her like the ring of a fax machine. He appeared shaken by the contents of the fax, and she wondered what it was that could frighten a kidnapper? On second thought, she wasn't sure that she wanted to know that…

She could see that daylight was beginning to peak through the small slit of the window left uncovered by the blanket, and she guessed by the pink and orange hues that were cast across the room that it was early morning now. She struggled to look at her watch, but it was hard to make out the small numbers on the dial in the dimly lit room. There was enough light coming in from the open door to the other room, however, for her to get a better look at the collage of pictures that surrounded her, and what she saw made her gasp.

The pictures were all of her - running, dining out with friends, shopping, working on location - and they dated back almost to the time she'd moved to the city! Her heart caught in her throat, as the implications of what all of this meant became clear to her: this man had been watching her and invading her privacy and documenting her life without her knowledge for the past four years. Last night she'd wondered if this man had an obsession, and he did - and, unfortunately, she was it!

And then her eyes caught sight of the large cluster of photos tacked to the wall on the far side of the bed, and she felt her breath being sucked out of her. There, in black-and-white as well as full living color, were shot after shot of her and Jax making love. It was like looking at a pictorial diary of their affair from start to finish. She felt completely violated - more so than when this stranger had kissed her earlier. This man had been a voyeur to these private moments of love meant only to be shared between her and Jax, and he'd stolen them, making the physical expression of their love appear sordid instead of beautiful.

She was so shocked and angered by what she was seeing that she was unaware that he'd returned to the room until he spoke. "Well, Sleepin' Beauty, I'm glad you're finally awake - and I see you're admirin' my work," he said cockily, grinning as he sauntered toward her. "I can tell you like what you see. That makes me feel good, knowin' that you're a well-respected artist yourself… 'Course I can't take all the credit now, can I?… I mean we photographers know that we can't really take make great art without a great subject…"

"You pig!" she spat out, swinging her head around toward him, her eyes blazing. "This isn't art! This is an invasion of my privacy!"

"Well, you call it what you like and I'll call it what I like. But I gotta say that with a body like yours it was like capturin' a goddess on film, so it's as close to art as I'm ever gonna get!" he leered, as he ran his hand slowly across her cheek and then down her neck and across her breasts.

Brenda jerked her body as far away from him as her shackled wrists would allow.

He simply laughed at her reaction to his touch, then continued his running commentary about his "work," as if he were leading a tour in an art museum. "I did a good job capturing the moment, don't you think?" he said, pointing to the pictures of Jax and Brenda that filled the wall beside the bed. "Or should I say 'moments,' since there were so many of them… I don't have them all up here, of course, but I assure you that I do have quite the collection. At least I did… I had to let one or two of these babies go. I simply couldn't pass up the money I was offered for them…"

"You *sold* some of these?!" Brenda was both incredulous and appalled, suddenly picturing these appearing in some pornographic men's magazine in the coming weeks.

"Don't worry - it was to a private collector, and I doubt he'll be puttin' them on public display," he supplied, seeming to know immediately what Brenda had assumed.

"A private collector?" she echoed, feeling a chill go down her spine. The work that she did was always grabbed up by a private collector as well.

He smiled at her confusion and discomfort. He knew that she was starting to piece things together. "He paid big bucks for them - seems he wants anything he can get his hands on concernin' you… In fact, he's the one who's responsible for all the pictures in this room, as well as the boxes more that I have of you," he continued, gesturing broadly with his hands toward the picture-plastered walls that surrounded them. "And he's the one who's snatched up every picture you've ever sold through that Ashton guy, too. So it really is a small world, ain't it?" Despite the shadows that still filled the room, he could see her blanche at his implications.

"Who… who is it?" she asked, a sick feeling creeping over her as she dreaded his answer as much as she desired it.

His already broad smile deepened and his eyes sparkled malevolently in the brightening light of the room, as he went in for the emotional kill: "Someone very near and dear to your heart - Mr. JD Jacks…"

There was a moment of stunned silence on his end before John Jacks finally found his voice. "Jerry, I never dreamed…"

Jerry had just given his father and Mike Moriarity a brief rundown on his activities over the past ten years, including the fact that he was the infamous Jarrod Davis, who'd managed to wreak all this havoc on Brenda. He had, however, left out the part about the child that he and Brenda had conceived and lost. That was something too painful to be told on a speakerphone as part of a briefing with an outsider like Mike listening in. That was something he wanted to tell both of his parents in person and with Brenda by his side.

And now John was wrestling with what both of his sons had evidently already dealt with - the fact that they both were in love with the same woman and that woman was now missing and presumed dead. It was almost too overwhelming for him to fully grasp; he wondered how both Jax and Jerry had managed to get a handle on the irony of the situation?

"That was the point, Dad," Jerry interrupted before his father could say anymore. "No one was to have the slightest clue as to what I really did with my life. It was too dangerous for anyone to know - both for their sake as well as my own. Which is why I couldn't even tell Brenda. But now my work has come back to hurt her again and I'm -" (He glanced over at Jax.) " -*we're* going to need all the help we can get to find her now and bring her home safely."

"But the evidence… the bodies they found… You even said that Agent Weygandt had confirmed that it was most likely a male and a female and that the female had been found handcuffed to a bed," John pointed out, trying to be as gentle as possible while still being the voice of reason here. "I just don't want you two to get your hopes up if there's little possibility -" But was false hope really worse than no hope at all? John wasn't so sure there, and he knew that if it were his beloved Jane who was missing, he'd certainly not abandon hope either.

Jax interrupted his father this time. "Dad, until there's conclusive proof that one of those bodies is Brenda's, we plan to keep our minds open and our hopes alive. So, if you don't think you can support us on this, tell us now, and we'll get to work on our own! Otherwise, listen to what we have planned and offer suggestions and direction. You've still got one of the finest minds for solving puzzles of anyone we know, which is why we wanted you in on this… Besides, you were the one who taught us never to give up as long as there was even the least bit of hope, and Jerry and I both feel there's still plenty of reason to hope."

"Ah, so my own sage advice comes back to haunt me," John chuckled lightly, then his tone immediately sobered once again as he added: "Mike and I'll do whatever we can to help you. Just tell us what you want from us."

"Thanks, Dad," Jerry answered. "You've still got the info on Jackson that you faxed us, right, Mike?"

"Got it right here, Jerry," Mike answered.

"Good! This guy has managed to get inside my head and outmaneuver me every step of the way, which is why we need your help in getting inside his head," Jerry continued. "We need to be able to think like him, anticipate his next move, figure out where he's got Brenda hidden before… before something worse happens and she does wind up dead - or wishing that she was."

Jax looked away, both anger and pain playing across his face at the thought of Jackson hurting Brenda in any way. He'd already hurt her so deeply as it was. As had Andrew Buxton, the man who'd pretended to be friends to both Jerry and Brenda, yet had betrayed them both from the beginning… His treachery was beyond comprehension, and Jax sincerely hoped that there was a level in Hell especially reserved for that man for all the pain that he'd brought into their lives!

He thought back to the night before and the look of anguish on his brother's face when he'd tried to force the truth about Brenda's disappearance from Buxton and had come ever so close to killing the man. Then he recalled the look of anguish on his face this morning when Jerry had called the hospital to check on Andrew's condition and learned that the man had died of a massive heart attack. Each face had been the reflection of what his brother had felt in his heart at the time for the man, yet each face had been a reflection of distinctly different feelings toward him.

Last night's look of anguish was for all the pain that Buxton had caused Brenda and him, yet this morning's look of anguish was for the pain that Jerry felt for losing Andrew, a man whom he'd considered his friend for so many years. This was such a complex situation and each facet of anguish that Jerry had felt had reflected the love-hate relationship he'd just lately come to realize that he'd had all along with this man, who had at once been both friend and foe.

As hard as this situation with Brenda was for him, Jax knew that it was twice as difficult for Jerry. There were so many emotional landmines for Jerry buried throughout this entire scenario that he completely understood his brother's need to cut himself off from his emotional side in order to allow only his rational side to operate. It was a means of self-preservation for Jerry - a way to make it through this emotional morass with his sanity in tact. To do otherwise would be tantamount to emotional suicide for him and quite possibly cost Brenda her life in the process. They'd already seen the cost of reacting emotionally; now was the time for clear and rational thinking for all of them.

But now Jerry seemed to have so completely buried his emotions that he'd even managed to sound detached when he'd related his past with Brenda to their father, brushing over it as indifferently as one might mention a mere footnote in their life's story. Yet Jax knew the truth. Brenda was far more than a mere footnote in Jerry's life; for the past four years she'd been the very core of Jerry's existence. Everything that he'd done, he'd done with his love for her at the heart of his decision-making. And now he'd come to learn that everything that he'd done had been wrong - not only wrong, but possibly lethal as well.

The sound of the heavy loft door as it banged shut brought Jax out of his philosophical reverie. He looked up to see Dee setting two bags, bearing the name of Crider's Coffee Shop, down on the kitchen counter. She smiled and waved at him as she headed to the cupboards to look for plates, her smile making it impossible for Jax not to smile in return.

"Is someone else there?" John Jacks asked, also hearing the heavy door close.

"Ummm… yes, that's Dee Hotchkiss, the woman I told you about, Dad," Jerry answered.

"Ah, yes, Brenda's friend from the plane and the psychic," John answered.

"I'm *not* a psychic!" Dee protested, walking into the living room area, carrying three small plates, a handful of napkins, and the two bags from the coffee shop. "I'm a romance writer who happens to have a sixth sense about certain things and people," she clarified, setting everything down on the coffee table, then handing Jax and Jerry each a container of orange juice. "And may I ask who you are?" she directed to the phone. "Although, I'd guess that you were their father," she added in answer to her own question.

"You *are* good!" John laughed.

"No, merely observant," she laughed, setting a couple of blueberry muffins on a plate and putting it in front of Jax, then doing the same for Jerry. "Your voices sound remarkably similar."

"And your slight accent tells me that you're from the South - West Monroe, Louisiana, I'd say, judging from the inflection and dialect," he added, the teasing tone in his voice unmistakable.

A broad smile swept across Dee's face at that. "Well, Mr. Jacks, I'd say that you have a remarkable ear - as well as a fairly competent PI workin' for you."

"Touché, Ms. Hotchkiss!" John Jacks laughed, his booming baritone reverberating through the room.

Jax and Jerry exchanged amused smiles, not at all surprised that Dee and their father had hit it off so well. Despite his reputation for being tough in business, John Jacks was a fair-minded man with a wonderful sense of humor, whose philosophy of life had always been that a stranger was just a friend he hadn't met yet. Even those he'd bested in business situations had a difficult time staying upset with the man because he was simply too charming.

And Dee Hotchkiss had her own particular charm that was hard to ignore. Even Jerry, despite his initial reluctance to trust her, found it hard now not to like the effervescent woman, with her easy smile, her on-again-off-again Southern accent, and her strong personality.

"So what's your take on all of this, Ms. Hotchkiss?" John asked, his voice suddenly more somber. "Do you think there's a chance that Brenda is still alive?"

"It's Dee," she gently corrected him, "and I don't just *think* it, I *know* it! In fact, I've never felt anything more strongly in my life!" she added, pounding the coffee table lightly with her fist to punctuate her point. "Brenda has this incredible life force within her that I could feel even in the airport in LA, before I'd ever met or spoken to her. And I feel it just as strongly now as I did then - in fact, more so at the moment.

"I feel she's still alive and she's fighting to stay that way," she continued. "Brenda's beauty and her delicate appearance is deceptive. She puts you in mind of a fragile flower, but she's tough as nails inside. I think her kidnapper will be deceived as well by her outward appearance, and she'll use that to her advantage… Listen, I know that I haven't known her long, but I know that she's a fighter. I had the sense that she's gone through a lot - lost a lot in her young life - but all of that has caused her to fight harder in the face of adversity. She's not about to give up, no matter what the odds against her, so we can't give up either!"

Dee looked at both Jax and Jerry, then flushed slightly. "I'm sorry. I guess I just get carried away sometimes about things I feel strongly about… I'm sorry to have taken up so much time when you all have important things to discuss here."

"Nonsense," John Jacks replied. "Besides, what you just said helped convince me that my sons aren't just grasping at straws out of their love for Brenda… I have always believed that one should follow their instincts when it comes to pursuing something, and I've always tried to do that, and they've rarely failed me. Although my instincts have never been as strong or focused as yours obviously are, judging from your extraordinary help with the FBI and local law enforcement in the past. And both of my sons seem to feel just as strongly as you do that Brenda is still alive and that we've been completely misled by the evidence, so I guess this makes it unanimous." He paused briefly, then continued: "Jax, Jerry… Mike and I are going to pore over what we've already dug up on this Jackson, and Mike has been busy contacting a few more friends at the Bureau to see what more that we could dig up on him as well, like relatives or close friends. If your instincts are right and those bodies aren't Brenda and Jackson, then he's probably going to skip the country with his newfound wealth and he'll possibly need help to do that… We'll get back to you as soon as we find anything at all."

"Thanks, Dad," Jerry replied. "We knew we could count on you." He looked at Jax, who was slowly fingering the crumb topping of his blueberry muffin, seemingly lost in thought. "Jax, did you have anything you wanted to add before we hang up and get to work?"

"Ummm… yeah," Jax answered, setting the half-eaten muffin back down on his plate and wiping his fingers on his napkin. "Dad, I just wanted to apologize for the way I talked to you earlier... It's just… It's been a long night and I'm afraid the day may be even longer."

"No need to apologize, son," his father replied, his voice filled with tenderness. "I understand completely and had I been in your shoes - or Jerry's - I'd have said the same thing… You were right - One should never give up hope as long as there's still a chance, and I pray to God that the chances are good that Brenda is still very much alive and that she'll be safely back with all of those who love her before too long."

"We all do, Dad," Jax answered. "We all do…"

And Dee and Jerry nodded their silent assent.

The revelation sent her reeling, but she fought hard to suppress the bitter tears she felt already beginning to sting her eyes. "You're lying!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "JD would *never* invade my privacy like this!" she insisted, but in the back of her mind his words from the other night echoed loudly: ("I knew where you were… I've known all along…")

Even in the muted light of the room, Rick could see the doubt in her eyes at the sliver of truth that lay surrounded by his neatly spun lies. In his experience the most believable lie was always the one that contained a grain of truth at its core, as this one did. JD Jacks had asked for the pictures and updates on her for the past four years, but he'd never wanted anything as invasive as Rick had undertaken. That had been his idea as well as his pleasure, and JD Jacks had had no idea as to the true nature of his surveillance on her until just a few hours ago, when Rick had supplied him with that first steamy photo of her and his brother. But she didn't have to know that. "Am I lyin'?" he asked, leaning down over her as he spoke, "or is it just the truth you don't wanna hear?"

Brenda turned her head away from him and closed her eyes, trying to block out this man and what he was saying, but it was hard, especially since what he said had the ring of truth to it. JD had admitted that he'd known for the past four years where she was and what she was doing, but he'd never explained how he'd known. He'd just said that he'd known, and left it at that… She opened her eyes and forced herself to look back up at the wall of pictures beside the bed. But would JD allow *this* kind of intrusion into her life? She could feel the tears now slowly edging from the corners of her eyes; she was powerless to stop them this time, as they fell freely down her cheeks.

Rick could see that Brenda's doubts about her superhero lover were beginning to foment just beneath the surface, so he pressed on, this time with the cold, hard truth. "To be fair to Mr. JD Jacks, he's never actually met me… He's just very familiar with my work… He had a go-between take care of things for him while he was off savin' the world… That man took care of the little day-to-day things, like makin' sure you had a roof over your head, helpin' you get started in your career…" He paused, watching smugly as her eyes widened as it dawned on her where he was going.

"Mr. Buehler?" she whispered, feeling shaken to the core. First JD, now Mr. Buehler… Had the last four years of her life been nothing but a lie?

"Yeah, that's what he called himself with you," Rick explained, this time letting the undisguised truth stand on its own merits - or, in this case, faults. "But his real name was Andrew Buxton. He worked for the same organization that your precious JD does. In fact, you might say that JD was his student when he came into the program, and Buxton continued as his teacher until a few years ago, when he got bumped upstairs to assistant director. But he still always found time to take care of business for JD," he added sarcastically. "But now that won't be happenin' anymore because he just got bumped again, only this time he wasn't bumped *up*; he just got bumped *off* - and most likely he went *down* this time!" he snickered, laughing at his own pun.

"Mr. Buehler's dead?" Brenda asked, aghast at everything this man was telling her.

"Well, technically, Mr. Buehler never existed," Rick pointed out, grinning at the obvious pain he was causing her, "But, yeah, both he *and* Andrew Buxton bit the big one last night and are both likely burnin' in hell as we speak... Seems the old man had a bad heart and died from a heart attack - which is ironic if you think about it, since the man was totally heartless!" he sneered derisively.

"He was a good man," Brenda sobbed, still unsure of what was real and what wasn't here in all that this man was saying.

"Well, I wouldn't be cryin' no tears for him if I was you," Jackson added, sitting down on the bed beside her.

"Well, you're not me!" Brenda cried, ignoring the man's proximity to her. "You have no idea what this man did for me… How he was there for me when I was all alone and in pain and needed someone the most…"

"When you lost your baby," he answered coldly. At Brenda's wide-eyed stare, he added: "Yeah, I know all about that -"

"It was *you*!" Brenda interrupted, as it dawned on her how she knew this man - he was the one who'd assaulted her four years before. His hair was different but something inside her told her that this *was* the same man!

He grinned at her recognition of him. "How'd you figure that out? Not even my own cousin knew me like this - I mean with the hair and all! It must be that keen photographer's eye of yours that helped. I know that I have an eye for detail, too."

His tone indicated that he was proud that she was putting this all together and that shocked Brenda. "You talk about Mr. Buehler being heartless and yet you're the one who attacked me and killed my baby and now you're proud that I recognized you?" she screamed, as she kicked her legs at him in anger and frustration.

But he'd anticipated her reaction and deftly moved out of the way of her flailing legs. "Listen, lady, I admit that I was the one who jumped you, but I never woulda done it if I'd known you was pregnant," he said defensively, trying to justify his actions. "I'm capable of a lot of things - includin' killin' when it needs to be done - but I draw the line at killin' babies like that! I didn't know until it was too late. But he knew all along that you were pregnant, which is why he wanted me to rough you up in the first place! He knew that that kid of yours would muck up his plans. I was only followin' *his* orders."

Brenda's voice caught in her throat, as she tried to form the words to ask the question she both dreaded and craved. "*Whose* orders?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear and anger.

"Andrew Buxton," was his cold reply.

Brenda felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach, despite the fact that she'd suspected that would be his answer. The man who'd befriended her when she'd first moved to the city and literally saved her life after the assault had been the very man who'd ordered the assault on her in the first place as a way to make sure that she never had JD's baby… How could the man have hated her so much that he could kill an innocent child, she wondered? And how could he do that to JD? Unless… unless JD had known all along about the baby and wanted it gone! But JD couldn't be that heartless - could he? Her head was spinning, and she didn't know what to think.

But before she could organize her thoughts, the man continued: "In fact, Buxton ordered me to snatch you last night and kill you immediately."

Brenda was numb now, listening to all this man had to say - first about JD, and now about Mr. Buehler - and she wanted to do nothing more than curl up into a ball and cry for her lost innocence where they were concerned, but that wasn't an option at the moment. She'd already shown this man too much vulnerability as it was; she wasn't about to let him see how truly raw all of this was making her.

But he seemed oblivious to her reactions as he droned on: "He decided days ago that you needed to be taken out, but his plans were incomplete until you called him for help. Then you opened up the perfect opportunity for us to get our hands on you. I was supposed to pretend to be the driver he hired to pick you up at the airport and then I was to take you to some fleabag apartment in Harlem and wait for his instructions. But eventually, in his plan, you were goin' to wind up dead - and so was I, for that matter. But instead, you and I survived and Buxton is dead… So you actually have me to thank for savin' your life."

He smiled smugly at her, apparently expecting her gratitude for sparing her life, and that infuriated Brenda. "Do you actually expect me to be *grateful* to you for drugging me and kidnapping me and keeping me against my will, unconscious and handcuffed to a bed all night, simply because you didn't kill me as well?!" she asked contemptuously. "Because if I'm going to die anyway, I'd have preferred it happened immediately rather than after you've had your fun with me!"

The smug smile that had been on his face was immediately replaced by an angry glare. "Listen, if I was gonna kill you, I woulda done it long ago, not after I'd had to sit around here in this stiflin' apartment babysittin' you for most of the night, and worryin' if you was even gonna wake up or not! But, lucky for you, you're worth far more to me alive than dead."

Now things were becoming very clear to her. He was after Jax's money - most likely JD's, too, since he'd talked at length about him. Although the rational side of her knew if this man had pictures of her and Jax making love in her apartment, then he'd most likely have pictures of any and all visitors that she'd had, and that included JD, but she still feigned apathy as far as both men were concerned. "What makes you think anyone would pay to get me back?" she asked. "I mean, if you've been watching me then you know that Jax and I broke up days ago, and as for JD… well, it's been years since I've seen him!" she lied, hoping that his surveillance of her hadn't detected JD in her apartment the day before.

His smug grim returned. "Nice try, but I happen to know that you and blondie there -" He gestured at the pictures of her and Jax on the wall. " - made nice before he had to leave for his big emergency back in LA. And that kind of passion is pretty hard to cool just like that… Besides, it don't take no rocket scientist to know who you'd been visitin' on your whirlwind trip to LA." He moved closer to the bed, as he continued: "And JD… well, it seems that it was pretty hard for him to cool his passion for you as well, which really is understandable, after all..." He once again rubbed his hand lightly against her cheek, and she whipped her face away from him, which elicited a chuckle from him. "We both know that he came to see you just before you grabbed that red-eye for LA to see his brother.

"As for them payin' to get you back… well, that's already a done deal," he continued, as he pulled a key from his pocket and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You're lookin' at New York's newest multimillionaire and it was a safer bet than playin' the lottery, since the odds were in my favor all along. I mean, there was never any doubt that the brothers would pay top dollar to get *you* back…" He traced the key lightly up her left arm toward where her left wrist was bound to the bed. "You might say that you were the key that unlocked my future, just like this is the key to unlockin' your future."

"So… so you're letting me go?" she asked hopefully. Was this finally all over? He had his money - that's all he'd wanted, right?

"Well, yes and no…" he grinned. "First we're havin' some breakfast, then we're movin' to where the exchange will be made," he said as he released the handcuffs that held her left wrist to the bed, while her right arm remained bound to the post.

"The exchange? Where you release me to Jax or JD, right? I mean they already paid, right?" But something inside her told her that he was toying with her and her freedom wasn't part of his scheme at all.

"No, the Jacks boys won't be involved in this part… I'm afraid that they recently lost someone they loved very much and they're in mournin'," he replied, mock sympathy imbuing his tone.

"Oh, God…not Addie… or their father or mother," Brenda gasped, momentarily forgetting her own predicament and instead feeling empathy for both of them and wishing that she could be with them to comfort them.

"No, it wasn't Ms. Walsh or one of their folks," he said, an enigmatic smile slowly curling his lips.

Brenda wracked her brain, trying to remember anyone that either of them might have mentioned, but JD had never spoken of his family and she and Jax hadn't known one another long enough to discuss much beyond his immediate family. "Who… who was it that died?" she asked solemnly.

He remained silent for several seconds, relishing what he had to tell her and eagerly anticipating her reaction. His smile was full-blown and his voice gleeful as he finally answered her solemn question: "Why, it's *you*, Ms. Barrett! *You're* the one who died."

His words hit her like a ton of bricks and reverberated in her head. ("Why, it's *you*, Ms. Barrett! *You're* the one who died.") "I… I don't understand… I thought… I thought you said that you weren't going to kill me…" she stuttered, suddenly wondering if it was the aftereffects of the drug that was muddling her thought processes or if this man was simply playing mind games with her?

"I don't plan to kill you. In fact, you need to be completely unharmed for this next transaction," he answered matter-of-factly, referring to her as if she were some form of currency. He unlocked the other set of handcuffs, freeing her right arm, but she seemed oblivious to what he was doing, more intent on trying to understand what he was saying instead.

"But I… Why… why are they mourning me?" she asked, confused by what this man was saying.

"Because they think you're dead," he answered triumphantly, an arrogant smile again lighting his face. "And it was a masterful piece of illusion, if I do say so myself - worthy of any Agency operative," he added, a sharp edge suddenly lacing his tone.

"I don't understand… I know them… They're both persistent…They wouldn't just accept that I was dead just because you told them I was - not without proof," she insisted, but her voice showed a trace of doubt in her conviction.

"You mean, like a body?" he asked, a smug grim still plastered firmly on his face. "Oh, there was a body all right - two of 'em, in fact; one for you and one for me."

He ran to the outer room and returned momentarily, carrying a stack of photographs. He pulled her to a sitting position, not noticing as she swayed slightly, nearly overcome by lightheadedness brought on by the heat and lack of food and water. He was oblivious to her discomfort; he was more intent on showing her the proof of his cleverness, than making sure that she didn't pass out.

He proudly held up the first photo for her to see. "I was in the perfect place to get this one," he bragged, indicating a wide-angle shot, showing the explosion and the resulting fire just as it happened. "It's magnificent, isn't it? I bet I could easily have snagged an award for this one - maybe even a Pulitzer - if I sent it to one of the rags," he murmured, speaking more to himself than to her. He held it directly in front of her face, as he added: "For all intents and purposes, this was our funeral pyre."

He held up another picture for her. "As you can see, I'm a lot closer for this one. Got some great reactions shots here of bystanders, didn't I?" he asked, studying Brenda's face as she realized at whose soot-and-tear-streaked face she was staring.

"Jax…" A small sob escaped her lips with his name, as she slowly reached to touch the picture before her.

"And, of course, I wouldn't want you to think that JD wasn't torn up by your death as well," he goaded, as he held up a photo of Jax and JD holding each other and grieving, the smoldering remnants of the fire in the background.

"You sick bastard!" she hissed, angrily knocking the photos from his hands.

"Hey! I been called worse!" he laughed, stooping to pick up the pictures. "But at least now I'm a *rich,* sick bastard! And these pictures just primed the pump to make me even richer."

At this point, Brenda was almost afraid to ask him what he meant by that, but he never gave her the chance to ask, immediately shoving yet another picture in her face. "And this is the one that convinced your lover boys that this was the real deal," he said, pointing to the two identical gurneys bearing two identical body bags. "There was little left besides crispy shells by the time they dragged the bodies out, so it'll take time for them to figure out it wasn't really you and me in that building when it blew."

"Who… who were they?" she asked, unsure whether she really wanted to know who had been sacrificed in her stead.

"Nobody that'll be missed," he answered derisively. "Just my two-timin' cousin Vinnie and his girlfriend, who also just happens to be my ex-"

"Theresa…" she gasped, understanding now his earlier utterance of the name. She suddenly realized that this man was even sicker than she had originally thought. He'd killed his own cousin and ex-girlfriend in order to cover his tracks in this kidnapping of her!

She wasn't sure if it was due to the drug or the heat or the lack of food and water or the harsh realities she'd just been shown - or the overwhelming combination of them all - but she suddenly knew she was going to be sick, and there was no resisting the urge this time. "I… I don't feel so good," she choked out, but she'd barely spoken the words when she began vomiting, and what little that had been in her stomach ended up all over the side of the bed, barely missing her captor.

"Dammit!" he swore, as he grabbed a nearby wastebasket and shoved it under her bowed head. "Good thing we're getting' out of here soon 'cause I ain't cleanin' that up and in this heat the stench'll fill this place in no time!"

She continued to retch into the wastebasket until there was nothing left in her and she was relegated to dry heaves. Finally, she put the wastebasket on the floor and leaned forward so that she was folded at the waist, her head in her hands in her lap. She felt horrid, but she knew that she needed to pull herself together quickly in order to make her escape. He said that they were leaving this place soon, and the one thing that she knew for certain was that she had no desire to go anywhere else with this madman. But she needed a few minutes alone to think and to try to gather her strength, both physically and emotionally.

"Is there some place I could freshen up?" she asked weakly, feigning a meekness beyond what she was actually feeling. "And could I have something to drink?" She knew that it wasn't a smart idea to eat or drink this soon after getting sick, but she also knew that escape would be impossible if she didn't get some fluids in her soon.

"Ummm… yeah, sure," he stuttered, hesitating slightly before he ran to the other room.

She could hear him in the room where she'd heard him previously developing his pictures, and she assumed it was the bathroom and he was clearing it out so that she could use it. She dreaded being in a confined space with the pungent odor of developing fluid but it appeared that was going to be unavoidable. She'd just have to handle it one way or another.

He was back in the bedroom in less than a minute, carrying a small duffel bag. "You need to be getting' ready for the exchange anyway," he said, taking her arm and pulling her to a standing position. She swayed unsteadily, more for his benefit than from actual dizziness, although she did still feel lightheaded. She wanted him to think she was weaker than she actually was so that he'd let his guard down.

"You gonna be able to do this?" he asked, as they slowly made there way from the dingy bedroom and out into the only slightly less dingy outer room and to the bathroom door.

She had to work to suppress her smile. He believed her exaggerated weakness completely. "I… I think so," she answered feebly, as she leaned against him slightly for effect.

He opened the door and sat her down on the stool, then opened the duffel bag and set it on the edge of the sink. "I got a change of clothes in there, as well as soap and towels and other stuff," he said, nodding toward the open bag. "It's all stuff I know you'll like 'cause it's your stuff from your place."

Brenda stifled a gasp at the thought of this man going through her things in her apartment. Instead she nodded feebly, pretending to be too weak to even protest yet another violation of her by him, and waited until he left the tiny room, closing the door behind him. Then and only then did she allow herself to let out the breath she'd been holding, both as a way to avoid the hint of noxious fumes that remained in the room and to avoid losing her cool with him. He had to continue to believe that she was completely helpless at this point, she decided, as she stood a bit too quickly to rinse her mouth and was met immediately with another round of dizziness. Although complete helplessness wasn't all that much of a stretch at this point, she thought, steadying herself against the edge of the sink.

She looked up into the tarnished mirror of the battered medicine cabinet that hung just above the sink and was shocked at the face that was reflected back. Her eyes appeared dull and sunken and there were dark circles beneath them. Her complexion was ghastly sallow, and she knew she couldn't blame it all on the poor lighting in the bathroom. She looked like death warmed over, she thought. But then her mind went immediately to the pictures of what death really looked like… Those poor people…He'd killed them as easily and remorselessly as she swatted flies!

She felt a wave of nausea threaten again at the thought of how those people were probably burned beyond recognition, but she fought it back. She couldn't give into it - not now. She had to be strong if she wanted to survive - and she had to survive to get back to Jax and JD. She closed her eyes, remembering the anguished looks on their faces in the pictures. She couldn't let them think that she had died like that - so horribly and without letting them both know how she felt about them both.

This stunt of hers - running to Jax to say goodbye and then running from both of them when she'd learned that they were brothers - had hurt all three of them, and she would give the world to be able to rewind and start all over again before any of this nightmare had started. But where exactly would that be? In the LA just before she'd seen the picture of Jax and JD together? In her apartment before she'd foolishly decided to run to LA to see Jax one last time? In the park before she and Jax had even met? Or in Monaco before JD had approached her on that beach? Where exactly had the thread that had produced this whole chain of nightmare events started to unravel?

She heard a light rap on the closed door. "You okay in there?" he asked. "I don't hear no water or nothin'..."

"I… I'm fine," she answered, quickly turning the water on and grabbing a washcloth and soap out of the bag. "It just took me a little while to feel steady enough to stand… I'll be done in just a few minutes."

"Okay, well, don't take too long or I'll have to come in and help ya!" he warned, a definite leering tone in his voice.

She felt her stomach lurch involuntarily at the mere thought of this man's hands all over her once again, and her mind went back to his earlier confession that he'd been the one who'd nearly raped her four years before. He'd been the one who'd caused her miscarriage - he and Mr. Buehler. Mr. Buehler - her "friend," her "confidante," her "savior" - had been the very one who'd ordered this animal on her in the first place so that she would lose JD's baby. She felt the anger and hatred building in her at the realization that the one man she had relied so heavily on, both before and after the assault, had been the very man who'd ultimately been responsible for so much of her pain and suffering. If he weren't already dead, she thought she could kill Buehler with her bare hands. But his accomplice was still very much alive and waiting for her to come out of the bathroom, and she planned to exact a measure of revenge on him instead.

She finished washing and pulled out the clothes that he'd brought for her - her pale yellow, halter-style sundress; her sheer peach thong underwear; her clog-heeled sandals; and no bra. Interesting choices and typically male, she thought disgustedly, as she donned the clean clothes despite her revulsion at knowing that he'd fingered them. Had her other clothes not been so rank from sweat and vomit she'd have opted to keep them on.

She looked down at her bare feet and wondered if she should just go without shoes because trying to run in those heeled sandals would be almost impossible, but she decided to at least wear the sandals out of the bathroom. She could easily slip them off when the time came for her to make her break. She had no idea when that would be or how she would do it; she only knew that she had to at least try to escape. She had the feeling that if this man took her to a second location for this exchange he kept referring to that she wouldn't survive for long after that.

She took the brush from the bag and dragged it lightly across the unruly mass of curls that her hair had become, unable to do much more than tame it into partial submission. She longed for a large barrette or hair clip to keep it off her neck, but her captor had failed to lift any of those items from her place, when he'd taken her clothes and toiletries. Probably because most men seemed to prefer long hair to be down and loose and sexy, rather than up and cool and comfortable, she sneered as she peered at herself in the faded mirror one last time.

Once again she had to suppress her smile as she realized that his choice of the pale yellow sundress made her skin appear even more sallow, thus making her look even frailer than she actually felt. She'd use that deceptive appearance to her advantage, and when he least expected it, she'd take him out and make her break for freedom. Suddenly she felt a renewed energy and inner strength at the prospect of getting back at this man who had cost her and the ones she loved so dearly. She slowly opened the door, vowing to herself that this man was going down and he'd never know what hit him…

She slowly opened the door to find him waiting just outside it. She hadn't expected him to be right there, and the surprise almost made her forget her plan to appear weak and helpless. Almost…

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered weakly, leaning immediately against the doorframe for effect. "I guess I'm not as strong as I thought I was."

He was at her side in less than a second, supporting her as he walked her to one of the two mismatched chairs that sat at the well-worn chrome dinette table in the kitchen area of the room. "I have some orange juice and doughnuts I picked up early this mornin'. I think you should try to eat some to get your strength back," he said, as he set an individual container of orange juice in front of her and slid a paper napkin and the bag of doughnuts to her as well.

The yeasty smell emanating from the open bag made Brenda's stomach roll once again, and she immediately turned her head and closed the bag to avoid the offensive odor. "I think I'd better just stick with water," she said, then, remembering the color of the water that had come from the bathroom faucet, she added: "Do you happen to have any bottled water?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, opening the door of the rusty refrigerator and pulling out a chilled bottle of Evian to hand her.

She nodded her thanks and noticed that he watched her intently as she opened the bottle and took a brief swallow. He seemed very solicitous of her now; apparently concerned that her present "weakened" physical condition would somehow affect whatever deal he had planned for her. In fact, he appeared quite anxious that she bounce back quickly from her dehydration and concomitant sickness. He was evidently afraid of whomever it was that they were supposed to meet shortly, and she wondered if this was the same person who'd sent the fax earlier that had seemed to unnerve him so. If so, she wasn't looking forward to meeting the person who could so evoke such fear in someone like this man, who seemed capable of anything - including the cold-blooded murders of two people who had once been close to him. But it didn't matter anyway because she had no intention of going anywhere with him or meeting yet another thug - when she left here she was leaving by herself and of her own volition.

The shrill of the fax machine caught their attention and broke his concentrated stare upon her. His beady-eyed gaze had rarely left her since she'd emerged from the bathroom, and she'd felt as if he were picturing her naked as she sat there, so she was grateful for the brief respite that the incoming fax would give her from his lewd stare. She was also grateful that it gave her time to look around the room for anything that might help in her escape attempt without having his attention completely riveted on her.

Making sure that his back was to her, she turned slightly to get a 360-degree view of the area. It was small and sparsely furnished, with a worn recliner the only other furniture besides this table and its two mismatched chairs. It was certainly not equipped for comfort, so she doubted that this was where the man lived, although, judging from the collection of photos of her in the bedroom, he probably spent a good deal of time here anyway. Perhaps he lived with his mother and this rat trap provided him the solitude he needed to indulge in his obsession. That thought made her shudder as she tried not to picture what the man did on that bed surrounded by all of those pictures of her.

She turned her attention back to the room once again. The recliner that she'd noticed sat in front of the pair of double-hung open windows that were on the wall nearest the fax machine. There was an expensive-looking camera with a telephoto lens perched on a tripod and leaning in the corner just to the left of the recliner. Just this side of the fax machine, a small oscillating fan, identical to the one in the bedroom, sat on the floor in front of the open windows. Thankfully, it managed to pull in and circulate some marginally cooler air from the outside, making this room feel a good 20-degrees cooler than the bedroom, but the place still felt stiflingly hot compared to her air-conditioned loft. She briefly wondered how she'd find her way back to her loft and away from here, but she decided to instead concentrate on breaking away from here first, then deal with the logistics of getting home after that.

She noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, so she immediately brought her attention back to the table in front of her, taking another sip of her bottle of water. It was then that she finally noticed the landscape just outside the unadorned open windows, and she nearly gasped aloud as she realized that she recognized that landscape! She quickly regained her composure and once again donned her mask of weak placidity, but it was all she could do to contain her excitement. She knew exactly where she was and how to get home!

But as he turned back to face her, her excitement dimmed as she caught sight of something she'd somehow overlooked before - the presence of a very shiny and very large gun tucked just inside the front waistband of his jeans.

Less than thirty minutes after the conference call to LA had ended, FBI Special Agent David Weygandt, who was now officially heading up the investigation into the kidnapping of Brenda Barrett by Rick Jackson and their probable murder-suicide, called with the preliminary results from the autopsies. He'd called in some favors and had gotten a forensics team to come in to begin work at 6:30 a.m. so they could ascertain the identities of the bodies as quickly as possible. If Jax and Jerry's theory was correct, that these bodies were not those of Ms. Barrett and Jackson and Jackson had salted the site with other bodies, that meant that they still had an active kidnapping on their hands.

"So is it her?" Jerry asked anxiously, switching to speakerphone so that Jax could participate in the conversation as well. Dee had gone into the bathroom to shower immediately after they'd finished breakfast, and had yet to return.

"We've had a bit of a problem securing her dental records - Jackson's, too," Weygandt began. "It seems that somehow the dental records of both Ms. Barrett - or Brenda Wilding - and those of her alleged kidnapper, Rick Jackson, have mysteriously been misplaced at both of their dentists' offices, so no definitive identification can be made yet on the bodies."

"Don't you think that it seems a bit too coincidental that *both* Brenda's and Jackson's records are missing?" Jerry asked, feeling more and more confident now that the female body pulled from the scene was not Brenda.

Weygandt let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, but bureaucratic snafus like that happen all the time. We still can't rule out that the female is not Ms. Barrett, simply because her records are missing, and you and I both know that, Mr. Jacks!"

This time it was Jerry's turn to sigh heavily. "I take it that you've spoken to Mike Moriarity recently…"

"Yes, just a few minutes ago," Weygandt answered, "and it explains a lot about how you were so knowledgeable about a lot of things that are completely foreign concepts to most civilians - like profiling the suspect, respect for the crime scene… Don't worry - Mike told it to me in strictest confidence, and it'll go no further than me. I haven't told any of my men, and it won't appear in any of my reports or notes on this case. Mike just felt that I'd be more willing to follow your instincts if I knew your professional background."

"Thanks, I appreciate your discretion," Jerry replied, but at the moment he didn't give a damn about who did or didn't know about his secret profession. All he cared about was the info from the forensics team. "So what findings did they make?" he asked impatiently.

"I'll give you the results of the female first -" Weygandt began.

"I'm only interested in finding out if that is Brenda or not, Agent Weygandt!" Jax interrupted, frustrated that it seemed to be taking Weygandt so long to give the information they'd been waiting hours to hear. "I don't give a damn about the male at all!"

"Of course," Weygandt apologized. "As I said, this is only preliminary, but Dr. Bowers has concluded that the female was in her mid-to-late twenties, blood type O+, approximately 160 cm in height, and, to her best estimation, most likely around 40 kg in weight, before the fire."

Jax looked at Jerry, his face pale at what they'd just heard. It all sounded like it could be Brenda, if the blood type matched. "What was Brenda's blood type?" Jax asked, fearing his brother's answer.

Jerry turned away, trying not to look his brother in the eye. "I… I don't know," he lied.

"Dammit, Jer!" Jax yelled angrily, jerking his brother around to face him again. "You've had her under surveillance for the past four years, you know who her dentist is and where his practice is located, yet you have no idea what her blood type is? How naïve do you think I am? You told me yourself that they'd sent you her medical records after the assault. They may have altered the diagnosis and the doctor's notes in those records, but I doubt that they'd change her blood type! Just say it!"

"All right!" Jerry exclaimed. "It's O+! But that doesn't mean anything. O+ is the most common blood type there is! It's not necessarily her!"

"What's going on out here?" Dee asked, rushing in from the other room upon hearing the shouting.

"It's nothing," Jerry said, turning away from both Jax and Dee.

"Or it's everything," Jax supplied cryptically.

"Would someone tell me what the hell you two are talkin' about?" she asked her accent slipping back out as her annoyance level raised. "And stop talkin' in code!"

"The FBI Agent in charge of Brenda's case is on the phone with the pathologist's preliminary findings on the female body," Jerry answered matter-of-factly.

"And -?" Dee asked expectantly, looking from Jerry to Jax as she waited for one of them to give her an answer.

Jax took a deep breath and then answered her: "It doesn't look good, Dee… They haven't located dental records yet, but the age, the height, the weight, and even the blood type of the corpse are all identical to Brenda's."

Dee stood there, unblinking for several seconds. "It's not her," she finally responded firmly.

"Did you hear what I just said?" Jax asked, suddenly feeling more tired than he had ever felt in his life. He felt as if all of his life's blood had been drained from his body, along with his hopes and dreams for the future.

"Oh, I heard you all right," Dee answered, her green eyes flashing. "I heard you here," she said, pointing to her head, "but it's not makin' sense to me here," she added, pointing to her heart. "Here's what I always rely on to tell me what *is* and *isn't* true," she went on, continuing to point to her heart, "and since it's tellin' me it *can't* be her because Brenda is *not* dead, then that's the one I'm listenin' to!"

Before Jax or Jerry could respond, Weygandt spoke up. "Dr. Bowers found something else about the female that might help determine if this is Ms. Barrett or not… She said the female DOA was pregnant, though not very far along. She probably didn't even realize that she *was* pregnant."

"How far along was she?" Jerry asked, looking at Jax, who was holding his breath as he remembered Dr. Breyley's request that he have Brenda call her immediately. Could Brenda have been pregnant with his child and not known it? Anything was possible, he thought.

Jax and Jerry were so intent on hearing Weygandt's response that neither of them noticed that Dee was also holding her breath.

"Dr. Bowers put the fetus at approximately 3 weeks gestation," Weygandt answered, and his answer was met by a collective sigh of relief, followed by a collective shout of joy. "I take it that Ms. Barrett couldn't possibly be pregnant?" he asked.

"You were so right! It's not her! It can't be her!" Jax shouted, grabbing Dee and kissing her squarely on the lips, then lifting her up and twirling her around in his arms, before setting her back down on the floor to grab and hug his brother.

"You're sure?" Weygandt asked, wondering how they could be so certain about something like that.

"Yeah, we're more than sure!" Jerry answered, patting Jax on the back. "Because as up until this past week, Brenda had been celibate for the past four years."

"Well, then it looks like you were right to question those bodies," Weygandt conceded. "Good call, by the way," he added.

Jerry looked at Jax, whose smile, he imagined, matched his own. "Actually, my brother deserves the credit for figuring that one out. I just followed his lead."

"Speaking of leads," Weygandt interjected, "since this appears to be an open investigation once again, I'd appreciate it if you and your brother remember that this is the Bureau's case now. And in order to get Ms. Barrett back safely, we're going to need to be apprised of everything that you and your brother do from now on. You two can't go off playing vigilante on your own. You may have carte blanche to do that elsewhere, but as long as you're in this country, my jurisdiction trumps yours."

"I'd say that point was debatable, Agent Weygandt," Jerry replied, "but Jax and I have no intention of trying to go this alone any longer. Jackson broke that part of the deal when he started messing with our heads instead of bargaining in good faith, as we tried to do."

"Just out of curiosity, how much did he ask for her?" Weygandt asked.

"Five million from each of us, wired to a numbered Swiss account," Jax answered for them both.

Weygandt let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of money to hand over so casually."

"I can assure you that there was nothing casual about it, Agent Weygandt," Jax replied, his voice totally somber now. "We both knew how serious this situation was and what was at stake, which is why neither of us hesitated in the least. In fact, I'd give up my entire fortune if it meant having Brenda safely back here… I'd even give up Brenda if it meant at least knowing that she was still alive and happy and doing the things that she loved with the people that she loved."

Dee smiled at Jax's words; while Jerry seemed surprised by them, but neither said a word.

"She sounds like a very special woman," Weygandt said sincerely. "I hope that I get the chance to meet her."

"We all hope that," Jerry replied, "and the sooner you meet her, the better."

"Yes, well, I can assure you that you have the full force of the Bureau behind this now," Weygandt answered. "Just remember that we can't operate fully if we're not fully informed."

"Understood," Jerry answered. "And we'd appreciate it if you'd keep us informed on anything that comes your way as well."

Agent Weygandt stifled a yawn as he answered: "Yeah, well, it's been a long night and I have a longer morning ahead now that it's a safe bet that Ms. Barrett is still missing. And now I also have at least one - possibly two - unidentified corpses in the morgue, so this case has suddenly become more involved than it was in the first place. I have my work cut out for me, and a coffeemaker calling my name, so I'd better get to it… I'll let you know if anything new comes up. You just remember to do the same!" he warned.

"We've been suitably chastised, Agent Weygandt," Jerry answered, "and we're grateful for your help and cooperation, as well as your discretion." With that, Jerry ended the connection.

"She's alive!" Jax exclaimed, hugging Dee once again.

"*Maybe* - all we really know for sure is that she wasn't one of the bodies found at the scene," Jerry clarified, walking to the wall of windows to look out at the growing bustle of the early morning activity on the street below.

"No, Jax is right - she's alive," Dee said, walking over to Jerry, and putting her hand on his shoulder. "I can feel it, Jax can feel, it, and I know that you can feel it as well. Why are you continuing to fight that?"

"Because I have to be logical here; I can't afford to allow my emotions to control me," Jerry answered, turning to look at her. "I let my emotions lead me the past few days, and look where it got me - or more importantly, where it got Brenda!"

"What does following your instincts have to do with allowing your emotions to lead you?" Dee asked. "Instincts and emotions are two separate things. You can follow your instincts and be emotional about it, or you can follow them and be logical about it, but you can't just tune out what you know in your gut is right." She paused, weighing what she said next. "Listen, based on what I've sensed about you, as well as observed and overheard, I know that you have a pretty intense 'profession,' for want of a better word. And I suspect that in the course of your professional life that you rely heavily on your instincts to guide you, while managing to remain totally unemotional as well. Am I right?"

Jerry nodded, then gave Dee a half-smile, as he understood her point completely. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be as annoying as hell sometimes - especially when you're right?"

"Only my three ex-husbands, the entire staff at Peachtree Publishing, and half the town of West Monroe, Louisiana!" she laughed. Then her tone mellowed as she continued: "But I prefer to think of myself as persistent - just as I know that you and Jax are. And I know that that persistence won't let you *not* believe that Brenda's still alive as long as you feel it inside - just as it won't let Jax or me rest either. But you have to trust that feeling, and go where it leads you."

"But what if you don't know where it's leading you?" Jerry asked.

"But I think that you do," she answered cryptically.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jerry snapped, exasperated that she was the one who seemed to be talking in code here.

"You've been saying that we need to get inside his head in order to get one step ahead of him, but what about getting inside your own head as well?" she asked, looking from brother to brother once again.

"Now you've lost me, too," Jax said, as he and Jerry exchanged bewildered looks.

"I'm saying that each of you needs to get inside your own heads and do what you would normally do when faced with a challenge - just like you might plot strategy for a corporate takeover," she said, looking at Jax. "Or you might plot out strategy for the kind of takeovers that you do," she continued, looking at Jerry.

"Okay, I think I see where you're going with this now…" Jax said, his face brightening. "We look at what we know for sure about this situation and add that to what we don't know for sure, but what our instincts tell us is likely true… So we know for sure that Brenda's been kidnapped and this Jackson's responsible for her kidnapping, plus Jackson now has $10 million in his bank account."

"Plus we know for sure that it was not Brenda's body that was found inside the apartment," Jerry added, understanding the train of thought now. "And we know that Brenda's a fighter and she won't give up."

"Good!" Dee said. "What else do we know? What more have you learned about this Jackson, both facts and what your gut tells you about him?"

"That he's a sadistic son-of-a-bitch, who seems to get a kick out of playing mind games!" Jerry muttered angrily.

"And hurting those who have what he wants or thinks he wants!" Jax added. "Plus he has patience and cunning, and he's a skilled photographer. He could have made a fortune on those pictures that he took of Brenda and me by selling them to the tabloids. I've spent most of my adult life keeping my face and my personal life out of the press, so his photographs of our affair could have made him rich without all of this intrigue and game playing."

"But he needed that," Jerry answered. "He needed to prove that his mind was as sharp as any Agency operative, which is why he set up all of this the way that he did… The hospital said that Andrew's death was possibly suspicious because of the extremely high levels of a heart drug that they found in his system… I'd bet my last dollar that Jackson slowly poisoned Andrew… It wasn't enough to kill him; he wanted to make sure that his death was slow and painful, yet not altogether suspicious. Andrew had a deteriorating heart condition; it's what ultimately took him out of the field and relegated him to being a glorified desk jockey, and he resented it… I'd be also willing to bet that the two bodies found in that burned out apartment had ties to Jackson as well, and they either crossed him or he thought they'd crossed him and this was his revenge on them."

"Okay, let's assume that you're right there…But how do you and I and Brenda fit into all of this?" Jax asked.

"You said yourself that this guy has cunning," Jerry answered, "But I'd go so far as to say that he's a Machiavellian genius... I think he resented that I was a field operative and he was Andrew's hired help, when he felt he had more intelligence and savvy than I do and deserved the job more than I did. I think that he both desired and despised Brenda because watching her represented what he craved and yet couldn't have - the glamorous career, the money, the love of the beautiful woman… I think he got caught up in his revenge fantasy against me, and he used Brenda to try to put a wedge between you and me, once he discovered that we were brothers… I think the money was secondary in all of this; a nice bonus and a lasting remembrance of the havoc he wreaked on my life - a life that he saw as perfect. But it's been anything but perfect for the past four years, and the last 24 hours have been sheer hell!"

"Eye of the beholder…" Dee murmured, and when both Jax and Jerry gave her puzzled looks, she explained: "It was how he saw things, not necessarily how they actually were - He saw your life as perfect, whereas you were miserable in it… We're all guilty of making assumptions about people and things in life based solely on our experiences or our hopes and dreams, not necessarily on what is actually there."

"You're right there," Jerry said, as he turned back and leaned with his forehead against the windows again. "I could only see things for Brenda and me from my perspective; I wasn't looking at the full picture, only what I saw or wanted to see… If I'd had any idea the hell I was going to break loose after my visit here the other night, I would have never -" He stopped mid-sentence, as he moved back away from the windows and looked at them.

Both Jax and Dee had been listening intently and were perplexed by Jerry's sudden silence. "What's wrong, Jer?" Jax asked.

"Did you open the drapes?" Jerry asked, looking back at Jax questioningly.

"What are you talking about, Jer?" Jax asked, wondering if his brother had somehow slipped over the precipice from rational to irrational. He'd just been discussing his regrets and now he was asking about drapes?

"I asked if you opened these drapes," Jerry repeated, his voice quivering slightly with excitement. "Either of you?"

"No, I haven't touched them," Jax answered, wondering why this point seemed so important to Jerry.

"I haven't either," Dee answered, when Jerry looked at her.

"Someone else has been here!" Jerry exclaimed.

"What makes you say that?" Jax asked.

"Because the drapes were closed the other night when I was here - I closed them myself - and they were still closed when I returned yesterday morning to get Brenda, but she was already gone to LA and you then," Jerry answered.

"But why would anyone come into this apartment and open the drapes?" Jax asked, still unsure why this seemed so important to Jerry.

"I closed the drapes to prevent anyone from the Agency with a telephoto lens who might have been watching from seeing me here with Brenda…" Jerry answered, as he scanned the façades of the buildings across the street.

"So whoever opened them probably wanted that clear view again of everything going on in this apartment…" Jax immediately picked up Jerry's train of thought. "Jackson insisted that we come here to wait for that delivery concerning Brenda, but he just wanted to make sure that we were here to be able to watch us sweat!" Jax continued excitedly. "That was the ultimate payoff for him - watching us agonize over her whereabouts, while he had her nearby the entire time. The money was secondary all along! The game was the thing for him, and we played right into his hands!"

"Bingo, little brother!" Jerry replied, his eyes finally lighting on a pair of open windows on the top floor of the building almost directly across from this one. "But the game ends here and now! I think I found where they are - where they've been all along!" he said, excitedly pointing to the window he'd just spotted. "Let's go!" he barked, grabbing his gun from off the counter and tucking it discreetly into his waistband, but Jax was already two steps ahead of him and headed for the door.

"What about Weygandt - and Dad?" Jax asked, as he slid the door open roughly.

Jerry pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tossed it to Dee, who was watching with a mixture of awe and anxiety. "Call Agent Weygandt of the FBI - hit speed dial #5 - and tell him where we are!" he barked. "Tell him that we couldn't wait, and he needs to get backup there immediately! Then call Dad - speed dial #1 - and tell him what's happening! Then you stay put! Your helps been invaluable up to this point, but we're the ones who have to take it from here."

"I understand," Dee nodded, as she caught the phone in midair. "Just hurry, please!" she added, an ominous feeling suddenly overwhelming her. But by then Jax and Jerry were both already halfway down the stairs, completely unaware of the dangerous situation that had unfolded and the deadly scene they were about to discover.

"Looks like our timetable's just been moved up again," he said, smiling as he turned around to face her once again, fax still in hand. But the smile quickly left his face at the sudden pallor that seemed to have crossed hers. "Are you gonna get sick again?" he asked, grabbing for the wastebasket that sat on the floor by the fax machine.

Unbeknownst to him, her pallor had nothing to do with her physical condition, which was improving by the minute, and everything to do with her emotional condition upon seeing his gun. How had she missed seeing that before? And even if it wasn't there before, why hadn't she figured that he'd at least have one? Could she still make her escape when he was armed? It didn't matter, she decided, because her best chance of escape was while she was still at this location and not after he'd transported her somewhere else to meet up with someone else. She'd just have to seize the right moment and go from there, gun or no gun.

"Ummm… no… no… at least I don't think so," she replied shakily, continuing the sickly female routine for his benefit. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly in her seat for effect, then leaned forward so that her head rested on her forearms on the table. "If I could have just a couple more minutes to get my strength and my equilibrium back," she added breathily, gauging his reaction closely from beneath hooded eyes.

"Yeah, we can wait another fifteen minutes or so - but then we gotta get outta here. We both got places to go and people to see, and now I got money to spend coming out the whazoo, so I'm itchin' to get started!" he crowed, strutting around the small table like a bantam rooster. Suddenly he stopped beside her and dropped his hand onto her bare back, stroking it lightly with his left hand. "Too bad things couldn'ta been different. I think you and me coulda had a fun time together - I mean, I'm a real *fun* guy and now I got money, and we both know those things turn you on…"

He trailed his index finger slowly down her back to just above her waist, where the material of her dress finally began. His actions made her skin crawl and she had the urge to knock him across the room, but she knew that without something substantial in her hands to assist her, that she was still probably too weak to take him out. So she tried to ignore his unwelcome touch on her body while she tried to come up with a scenario that would distract him enough that she could make her escape.

And now her window of opportunity was definitely narrowing. In fifteen minutes they were leaving this place that she knew and going somewhere that she didn't. She had to think fast and swallow her fear. She'd only have one chance and if she blew it, she didn't even want to consider what lay ahead for her. If this nightmare were ever going to end for her, she'd have to be the one to put a stop to it.

She felt the air from the oscillating fan ruffle her hair slightly and suddenly she knew what her next move had to be. "Ummm… do you suppose that you could move that fan a little closer? Maybe up here on the table so that it blows directly across me?" she asked in a meek voice. "I think if I could just get cooled off a little more like that, I'd feel better I no time," she explained, praying fervently that he'd take her at her word.

And he did. "Yeah, sure… Anything to get you up and movin'" he answered, grabbing the fan from its position on the floor and setting it onto the table directly in front of her.

Remaining with her head on her forearms on the table, she slowly inched her hands toward the base of the fan, hoping that he wouldn't notice her inconspicuous movements.

He didn't.

"I got you in here in a laundry bag, but it was nighttime and you was out like a light. But it's mornin' now and I kinda wanted you up 'n movin' on your own two feet when we leave here - make it look like we was a couple leavin' for the day, instead of me carryin' my laundry again," he chuckled, as he plugged the fan into its new outlet and turned it on, directing the flow to stay on her alone rather than flowing back and forth. "And I know you don't wanna leave in that laundry bag either, so that means you're gonna play nice, right?… I mean, I want us both to walk outta here and I don't wanna attract no attention when we do, and I know you don't want that either. Right?" he added, touching the handle of the gun lightly to make his point.

Brenda swallowed hard, tamping down both her fear and her anger, before she answered: "Right. I understand. I just need a few more minutes to cool off and then I'll be okay," she said, her voice remaining meek and soft. "I promise I won't make a scene."

He flashed that smug smile of his once again. "You know, it really is a shame that you 'n me couldn't gotten to know each other a lot sooner. I really think we coulda had some real good times together…"

As he continued to talk, she slid her feet out of her sandals, shoving them quietly out of her way under the table, and rested her bare feet flat on the floor, readying herself for her move. She continued her imperceptible movement toward the fan, so that now her fingers were within easy reach of its base.

He lightly brushed the dark curls away from her face, and she tried not to grimace as he leaned over her so that his lips were just inches from her face. "I know we had some real hot times in my dreams, but I think we coulda for real, too, 'cause I know just how you like it…"

She could feel both his hands lightly trailing down her arms in his pathetic attempt at seduction. She held her breath to keep from retching from his touch, as she finally curled her fingers tightly around the fan's base. When she felt his tongue begin to slowly caress her right earlobe, she simultaneously jerked away from him and swung the fan toward him, hitting him squarely on the side of his head, knocking him off-balance and causing him to stumble backwards. She quickly jumped off the chair, knocking it over and into his path as she ran toward the door that led to the hallway.

Unfortunately, the blow to his head had merely stunned him, and he pulled the gun from the waistband of his pants as he stumbled after her. "You, little bitch!" he screamed, as he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back away from the door just as she was furiously trying to open the series of deadbolts there.

He waved the gun at her menacingly, but Brenda's adrenaline was in overdrive by then. She hit his right arm, knocking the gun out of his grasp and sending it sailing across the room, just as she brought her right knee up and hit him squarely in the groin. He immediately released his hold on her, as the blow sent him grimacing to the floor, writhing in pain. She stepped over him in an attempt to get back to the door, but he grabbed her by the ankle and jerked her onto the floor beside him, holding her firmly with one hand and himself with the other, as she flailed her arms and legs wildly in an attempt to break free.

Just then there was a loud crash from behind them, startling them both, and two huge men, dressed in dark suits and carrying large guns, burst through the splintered opening that had seconds before been a securely locked door. One of the two men pulled Brenda safely out of Jackson's grasp, tucking her neatly beneath his arm and against his broad chest, and she assumed they were the FBI or the police and that she was finally safe and her nightmare was over. But that illusion was quickly shattered as the second man raised his gun and aimed it at Jackson, who remained prostrate on the floor, shooting him cleanly and noiselessly between the eyes.

Brenda watched in both horror and fascination, her mind not fully comprehending that all of this was real. The shot had been virtually noiseless and the speed of the events beyond comprehension. This had to be another of her hallucinations, this one brought on by dehydration and stress, her mind told her, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible.

But it was all too real. And just as the bullet found its mark, sending blood and brains splattering everywhere, the first man clamped a cloth over her nose and mouth, stifling her scream at the horror that she'd just witnessed. She felt her grip on consciousness rapidly fading, as everything went dark once again. Only this time the edges of the darkness were tinged with traces of blood red. And the usual comforting stillness of unconsciousness was instead split by the relentless scream that continued to reverberate through her soul at the realization that her nightmare, that just moments ago she had thought was on the verge of ending, had just taken an unexpected turn for the worse…

It took the brothers just a matter of minutes to make it from Brenda's loft to the top floor of the building across the street, but only a matter of seconds after that to find which apartment it was on the otherwise unoccupied floor. The splintered door was a dead giveaway and also their first clue that something terrible had happened inside.

Their hearts beat wildly as they cautiously approached the battered doorway; Jerry insisting that Jax remain behind him since Jax was unarmed. But when they were near enough to see inside the apartment and the carnage that was there, Jax ran past Jerry and inside in a flash, fearing that he'd also find Brenda dead elsewhere in the apartment.

"Brenda!" Jax screamed wildly. Trying to ignore the blood-spattered mess that had once been the kitchen area of the tiny apartment, he ran past Jackson's lifeless body and through the partially open door nearest to him. It was a bathroom, and there was a bag on the floor with Brenda's things, including the clothes she'd worn the day before, but Brenda wasn't there. "These are hers!" Jax called to Jerry, as he ran back into the main room and then through the only other door in the small apartment.

Jerry had stopped to check the body, but he was just seconds behind Jax entering the dingy bedroom, which was still dim despite the sunlight filtering through the tattered blanket that hung over the window. Jerry flipped the switch on the wall and the light from the lone, 100-watt bulb in the bare ceiling fixture instantly illuminated the room, casting an eerie glow across the room and its contents. At first, the brothers were so intent on finding Brenda that they were oblivious to everything else in the room, including its unusual wallcovering.

"This is where he had her," Jerry said, fingering both sets of handcuffs that now dangled loosely on the bedpost. "No blood in here, which is good… Looks like she got sick at some point though," he added, examining the dried vomit that covered the top of the bed and in the wastebasket on the floor. "I wonder if that was before or after the scene in the other room?"

He looked down to see the photos of the fire littered across the floor. Stooping to pick them up, he swore loudly, "Dammit! Jax, look at these! This guy was at the scene of the fire - and we talked to him! He must have shown these to Brenda to let her know how he'd tricked us into believing she was dead… She probably thinks we've given up all hope that she's alive!"

It was then that he realized that Jax hadn't said a word since entering this room, and Jerry looked back to see if Jax were all right. He followed Jax's gaze to see what Jax had been staring at all along and why Jax was so strangely quiet. They both slowly turned around, their gazes slowly taking in everything on the walls that surrounded them, both sickened and angered by the magnitude of Jackson's apparent obsession with Brenda and the obscene shrine he'd made in her honor.

But neither had time to deal with that particular outrage at the moment. They had a far more serious situation to face: Jackson, the man who had kidnapped Brenda and left a trail of bodies in his wake, was dead, and Brenda was still missing.

The waxing whine of sirens filled the air, signaling that Dee had contacted Weygandt and that both police and FBI would soon be swarming the area. Realizing that their access to the scene and possible leads would be restricted the minute the first agent hit the scene, they both went back into the main room, where Jackson's body lay sprawled across the floor just inside the door.

"Be careful, Jax," Jerry instructed, as they stood at Jackson's feet surveying the room. "We want to gather evidence, but we don't want to contaminate it."

Jax nodded, understanding that this was Jerry's venue and that he needed to follow his lead. His face paled, as he looked around the apartment, which had been Brenda's prison since she was kidnapped more than 12 hours before. The gruesome scene was like something out of a horror movie. Besides the blood that was splattered everywhere, the room looked as if a major struggle had taken place. "What do you think happened here?"

"Looks like there was a struggle before the shooting, and I'd say, judging from the position of the body that Jackson was on the floor when he was shot, Jackson was already on the floor when whoever it was came in and shot him… He probably never knew what hit him… The body's still warm so all of this happened within the last thirty minutes or so… The splintering of the door indicates there was considerable strength behind whoever broke it down, and the shot between the eyes indicates it was a professional shot, probably done with a silencer because a shot like that should have gotten the attention of the entire building.

"If you look over there -" he continued, pointing to the floor just a few feet away, near the living room windows. " - it looks like something's been jerked from the wall and removed. Judging from the stack of new paper there, it was most likely a fax, removed to prevent anyone from easily tracing who Jackson was keeping in constant touch with - probably a partner in all of this."

Jax listened intently to his brother's assessment of the scene, then swallowed hard as he asked: "So what do you think happened to Brenda?"

Jerry glanced quickly around the room. "I don't see any other rooms where she could be hiding, and if they were going to kill her, they would have done it here when they took out Jackson... It's my guess that whoever shot Jackson took Brenda with him… As to who that might be, I haven't got a clue! All I can say for sure is that whoever he is, he's a wild card and he's far more dangerous than Andrew Buxton or Rick Jackson ever were…"

He smiled as he looked again at the faxes. It really was a small world, made smaller still by the technological wonders that now filled even these farthest reaches of the world, he mused, running his fingers over the grainy surface of the pictures he'd recently received.

Months ago he had all but given up hope of ever having an opportunity such as this, and yet here it was being handed to him literally from out of the blue, as it had traveled thousands of miles through cyberspace to land in his lap. A virtual gift from a virtual stranger sent through a virtual medium, he thought, laughing at his own witty play on words, since there was no one else around at the moment to appreciate his cleverness.

Despite the fact that not a day had gone by over the last many years that he had not burned with rage for what had been done to him, he had nearly resigned himself to never finding his enemy and exacting his revenge in the most painful of ways. He thought back over what had transpired over the past few days and he marveled at the myriad of chance events that had finally brought him this stroke of luck.

It was through someone who worked for him, far down his chain of command, that the stranger had contacted him with this opportunity. He had no idea how the stranger had found his enemy or his enemy's weakness, nor did he care. He only cared that the stranger had given him that which he'd longed for all of these years: the chance for retribution.

Now for the first time in four, long years, he had a reason to smile, despite the pain that was his almost constant companion. Soon he would have what he had dreamed of for so long - vengeance. An eye for an eye, as he saw it; inflicting excruciating emotional pain in exchange for the chronic physical pain he now suffered, for mere death was not enough to punish his enemy. No, he had something far worse in mind for this duplicitous man - a man whom he had thought a friend, but who had been his enemy all along… A man who had cost him nearly everything, including the only woman that he'd ever loved.

Juan Carlos Sanchez truly relished the days that lay ahead and the pain and suffering that those days would bring to James Barrington, now known to him to be JD Jacks, as Jacks came to realize that the woman he loved had fallen into Sanchez's very powerful and deadly hands…