Disclaimer: The characters of Simon and Simon do not belong to me. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Comments welcome at Barbart@globalsite.net

The TV was about to go on the blink again. The audio was nearly gone and the picture was fuzzy. "Damn!" Rick blasted the air with an oath. "If it's not one thing, it's another. Skeeter! Skeeter, did you call the TV repairman today?"

No answer was forthcoming to his question. Fine. The darn woman didn't have time for him anymore. Fine. The kid was going on a field trip and that's all Skeeter could think about. Fine. He knew married life would be this way sooner or later. He'd call the repairman himself tomorrow. In the meantime, he would just make do with what picture and sound he had. Picking up the remote, Rick began to change stations, hoping to find at least one worth watching. Ah, there was one with a fairly clear image. He turned up the sound. That wasn't bad either.

"What the devil am I watching here?" he asked himself, leaning forward to see and hear better. "News? You might know the only station I can get would be a news channel."

Rick watched the news for a while. It was a national network, one of those twenty-four hour news deals. He wasn't much interested, but then----"What the hell----"

He switched the TV off quickly.

As always when he was about to approach a podium, A.J. Simon shook himself to calm his nerves. He moved his head, shrugged his shoulders, shook his arms, bent his knees, and then kicked his legs. All of this was done quickly and in what would seem to an observer to be in one single movement. Now, he was ready to go out there and make his acceptance speech, for he certainly did intend to accept the results of the election that kept him on as a California state senator.

With the reelected Senator Simon were his wife Anita, their eight-year-old daughter Krista, and their four-year-old son, Jackson. Also along for the celebration was Simon's mother, Cecelia. Placing one hand on Anita's arm and using the other hand to hold on to his young son, he guided his family to the podium.

Music was blaring in the background and the crowd was noisy. They liked Senator Simon in San Diego, liked him a lot. He had won reelection in a landslide. None of the problems he'd had in his first run for the office had resurfaced, nor had any new ones. It had been an easy ride this time. A.J. stepped up to the microphone, his family surrounding him.

The music stopped and the crowd quieted. The focus of their attention smiled at them, smiled that beautiful smile which so melted the hearts of women of all ages and even endeared men to him. He was a very nice man and he had done a fine job as State Senator and his smile had helped him every step of the way.

"Thank you very much," A.J. began. "Thank you so very much for your support. Anita, my mother, Krista and Jackie thank you for being so kind to them, and I thank you for reelecting me as your State Senator. I'm proud to accept."

The crowd roared its approval. A.J.'s eyes roamed the room, focusing here and there on different people. He recognized a few, but most he didn't. "I will do my best as I have been doing since I was elected originally, I-----"

It wasn't difficult for Rick to locate what he was looking for. The New Orleans newspaper carried the story on the second page. CNN had covered it twice now in the hour he'd been watching. The TV reception was poor, but it was easy enough to see all he needed to see. What should he do? He couldn't go to San Diego. Could he?

Lost in thought, Rick was startled to hear his wife of nine years, Skeeter, speaking to him from close range. "Whatever is the matter with you, Rick?" She asked, frowning at him. "You've been in here readin' and watchin' the news for hours this mornin'. It's not like you, Honey. Is somethin' wrong?"

Was something wrong? It sure as hell was, but he couldn't tell Skeeter. "I'm goin' on a trip, Sweetie. I've got somethin' I have to do."

"Rick Donahue, what are you talkin' about?" Skeeter railed at him. "You can't leave now!"

"Why not?" he asked. "You're takin' Lisa to the country. No reason for me to sit at home while you're gone."

Skeeter's hair was jet black and so were her eyes. No one could miss her Cajun' heritage when they looked at her. She was thirty-seven, thirteen years younger than her husband, the man she knew as Rick Donahue. "It's a school field trip, Rick. What's your excuse?"

He couldn't tell her that. Could he? No, not after all of this time. But what could he tell her? "I need to go to San Diego for something."

It sounded lame even to his ears and Skeeter wasted no time in giving her opinion. "San Diego! What or who is in San Diego? You've never mentioned anything about the place!"

What she said was true. Rick had never so much as mentioned San Diego to his wife. What she didn't know was that he had purposely avoided any mention of the California city because he did not want her to know he'd spent most of his life there. "No, uh, I suppose I haven't," he said to her now. "But I, uh, I've been there."

Skeeter was staring at him now with those dark penetrating eyes of hers. She was not a stupid woman, although she sometimes acted dumb as heck. "You've been there?"

"Yea," he said. "And I need to go back. Listen, Sweetie, I might just be home before you are, so don't worry about me. I'll---"

"You listen to me, Rick Donahue---" Skeeter began, but was cut off.

"Don't call me that. That's not my name."

Well, he'd done it now. Spilled the beans, or part of them, at least. Something he'd never thought he would do. If only he hadn't been watching the news last night. If only he hadn't seen---Skeeter was exploding.

"Not your name!" she screeched, alarm written all over her face.

Trapped now, and by his own doing, Rick had a notion to run, to run away from here as he'd run away from San Diego ten years ago. Skeeter and Lisa would get by. There were plenty of programs to take care of people. No! "No, it's not my name," he said.

"Well, what is your name? Robert, Jim, Harry, Howard----"

She had misunderstood. "No, none of those. My name is Rick, or Richard."

"Rick, what is wrong with you? First you say it's not your name and then----"

"It's not my first name I'm talkin' about, Skeeter. My name isn't Donahue."

"What? Rick, you're scaring me."

"I'm sorry," he said and sincerely meant. "Sweetie, listen to me. I have to go, but I promise I'll be back. And then I'll explain. I promise, Skeeter."

"No, no, you can't go like that. I won't let you. You won't come back, Rick, I just know it. I'm going with you."

A million thoughts swirled through Rick Simon's head. His first inclination was to say no. It would not be good to have a wife along on this trip; especially a wife who had just learned her husband was a stranger. His next inclination was just the opposite. He needed Skeeter, had needed her from the first moment he laid eyes on her. That's why he had ignored the risk involved and married her. Then, he returned to first base. "No, no, you can't go. You need to stay here with Lisa."

"Lisa's goin' on a field trip," she rationalized. "You said yourself you'd probably be back by the time I was. Well, if I go with you, we'll be back before Lisa is."

"Maybe," he said. "But we can't take the chance. You either stay here or we take her along."

Rick was startled by his own words. He couldn't do this! Take his family out to San Diego! Could he? Skeeter reacted quickly. "Then we'll take her. I'll get us packed."

When she had left the room, he picked up the remote again and switched on the television. He saw immediately that they were again talking about what occurred in San Diego the night before. A little boy was shot, shot on the podium where his father was about to make an acceptance speech. The little boy was Jackson Simon, Rick's nephew.

Senator A.J. Simon had not left the hospital since he had arrived there with his critically injured son. Anita had taken their daughter home to be cared for by a neighbor, and his wonderful Mom had gone home to rest, but he had not left his son's side. And all the while his mind had been in the playback mode. He had relived the events leading up to the shooting over and over. The children should not have been taken to the podium, he told himself, but then went on to chide himself for thinking such a thing. Who could have known?

The bullet, of course, had been meant for him. That made it all the more painful to A.J. He was the one who should be in bed with all the tubes hooked to him, not his beloved little boy. Jackie was an innocent bystander and yet he might die. The doctors were working feverishly in their attempt to save him, but they weren't at all reassuring that he would live, and even if he did, they said, he might be brain damaged to the extent he would never live a normal life.

A.J. wondered if he would be able to stand the loss of the boy. He knew he must prepare himself, must prepare to comfort Anita and Krista, if Jackie died. He also knew he would never give up until he found the perpetrator of the crime. He knew who it was, although he hadn't as yet told the police. No, he would handle this on his own. Just as soon as Jackie either improved or----well, as soon as he knew the fate of his son, he would set out to look for the man he had seen pointing the gun last night.

The doctors and nurses came and went from the small cubicle in which Jackie lay. They checked his vital signs continually. All A.J. could do was watch and occasionally ask a question. Most of the time, he could do nothing but remember, remember the face in the crowd. A familiar face it was, although he hadn't seen it in years. Why? Why would Rick do it? If he wanted to kill me, A.J. thought, why didn't he do it in private? Why take the chance of hurting someone else? "I wonder how you feel about what you've done?"

"Who are you talking to, Honey?"

A.J. whirled around in his chair. He hadn't realized anyone would hear him except perhaps a nurse and she would likely not pay any attention to him. But someone else had heard him. His Mom had come into the room without his knowing it. "Mom, I didn't hear you come in."

Cecelia Simon glanced at the bedridden form of her grandson. She was very close to the boy, to both of A.J.'s children, but especially the boy because he was so much like another boy she loved. "How is he?"

"The same. Mom, you should have stayed at home. I'll call you if there's any change."

"I couldn't stay home, Honey, I just couldn't. Now tell me, who were you talking to just now?"

"Myself," he lied.

Cecelia smiled in that way she had of saying she didn't believe a word of it, but would accept it if he really wanted her to. "Alright, Honey, you were talking to yourself. Asking yourself quite a pointed question, it sounded like to me."

He turned away. A.J. had never liked to lie to his mother, to anyone, for that matter. "I was talking to the person who shot Jackie, Mom."

"I thought so," she said. "Oh, A.J., I certainly hope the police catch him or her. To shoot a little boy, that's so horrible there are no words for it."

"He wasn't shooting at Jackie," A.J. said, and immediately wished he had not.

"Oh? I thought you didn't see the person, A.J. That's what you told the police. And now you are speaking in terms of the person as a he and you are saying he wasn't shooting at Jackie. A.J., what are you keeping from me?"

She was bearing down on him as only Mom could. He should not reveal anything to her, though; certainly not that he had seen her oldest son, his brother Rick, in the crowd last night. And most certainly not that Rick had been the one who shot the bullet that nearly killed that little four-year-old boy. "I'm keeping nothing from you. I just said he because it comes natural to think someone who would do this would be male. And common sense tells me I was the intended target."

"Common sense," Cecelia repeated. "Well, I'll not press you now, Honey, but I still think you are keeping something from me. Have you told Anita what it is you're not keeping from me?"

A.J. could not help but smile. Mom wasn't fooled. "No," he replied. "She's too overwrought to hear anything but news of how Jackie is doing. She should be back shortly."

His mother patted his arm and said no more. A.J. was glad, because if she kept pressing, he just might spill his guts. It was hard keeping it to himself, but he must. He was a well-known figure in the community, in the state. The law enforcement agencies were no doubt going all out to find the perpetrator of the crime. He hoped they didn't come up with Rick before he could locate him. He wanted to take care of Rick Simon himself. Mom was speaking again.

"This is so dreadful, Honey. We've had enough tragedy. First, your father, then your brother disappears and is surely dead. And now this."

A.J. did not trust his voice. He only nodded. Yes, they had thought Rick was dead, but now he knew different. Rick was not dead. Rick had attempted to kill him and shot his son instead. If A.J. had his way, his brother soon would be dead, as dead as they had thought him to be for ten years.

The kid was putting up quite a battle. Oh, not really a battle. A little girl like that couldn't change much, but she could sure as heck carry on until you were persuaded to give in, to let her have her way. Of course, giving Lisa her way was now impossible, because they were on the road, miles away from home, and it was too late for her to go on her long planned and anticipated field trip.

"It's not fair!" Lisa squalled.

"You said that," Rick told his daughter, not taking his eyes from the road as he drove his 1996 Buick toward San Diego. "Give it up. You'll have to learn in life that plans change, we don't always get to do what we want."

"What Daddy means," said Skeeter from the passenger side of the front seat, "is that something important came up, and we have to make this trip. You have to go along with us, because there is no one to take care of you and we can't leave you alone."

"I wouldn't be alone, I'd be on the field trip. We were going camping. I wanted to go. I wanted to be with my friends. I don't wanta go to San Diego!"

Rick's insides were churning. He loved the kid, loved her with all of his heart, but it had been hard being a father. It meant he had to settle down more than he'd ever done in his life. And what with the circumstances of his life, the secret he was keeping inside of him, the using of an alias, well, it had all added up to major frustration at times, and the little girl had often been the catalyst which set him off. He felt the need to blow a gasket right now. "Listen, Lisa! I want you to keep still back there. Otherwise, I'm gonna have to stop the car and-----"

"Rick!" Skeeter cut off what he was about to say. "She'll be okay. Just concentrate on your drivin'. How long will it take us to get there?"

"We won't make it today," he answered, grateful to his wife for diffusing the situation before he threatened Lisa. She was a good kid, really. People often commented on how pretty she was, and, how different her coloring was from her parents. Skeeter, of course, sported a dark complexion to go with her black hair and eyes. His own hair was fairly dark, brown, at least, what was left of it, although he did have blue eyes. Lisa was a lovely blonde. Her complexion was extremely fair and her eyes were as blue as the ocean. Just like----

Well, one person Lisa looked like was his Mom. She resembled her grandmother quite a lot. It was just too bad she didn't know she had a grandmother. Would that all change now? Rick didn't think so. He couldn't see this working out and that they would all become one big happy family. The little boy, A.J.'s son, he might die. A.J. and Mom would be distraught beyond words. They needed to know who had fired the shot and Rick was determined, at the risk of his own life, and now the lives of his wife and daughter, to help find out who it was.

Lisa looked so much like A.J. it was frightening. All of her life she had and Rick could not mention it. She didn't know she had an uncle. It was because of A.J. Rick had left San Diego and now it was because of A.J. that he was returning. The thought made him chuckle.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Thinkin' of a joke I heard at work," he lied.

"Oh," she said, but didn't ask him to share the joke with her. Instead, she asked about something else. "Rick, what we talked about at home. You know-----"

He shot her a quick warning glance across the seat. "Later, okay?" he said. No way was he going to talk about the fact that the name they went by, the name that little girl in the back seat knew as her own, was not really their name. No way. Lisa had experienced enough trauma for one day.

"Sure," Skeeter agreed, not looking at him. "Later. But we will talk about it."

He grinned. "Yea, I'm sure we will."

He drove on, wondering all of a sudden, why he had agreed to his wife and daughter coming along with him. Things could really get nasty in San Diego. He should have left them in New Orleans where they would be safe. Too late now. "Anybody want a Big Mac?" he asked.

The Big Mac seemed to calm Lisa and her mood improved. Rick was grateful, for he didn't think he could stand a complaining, whining kid all the way to San Diego. Of course, tomorrow she might take it up again, but now she was asleep in the motel room where they had stopped for the night. Skeeter, on the other hand, wasn't asleep, and he felt certain it wouldn't be long before she began questioning him about the whys and wherefores of things she had learned today.

The TV in the room was a good one, far better than the television they had at home. Rick turned it on and settled down to watch the news. His wife had something to say about it. "Honey, what is it with the news lately? You've never watched the news since I've known you. You don't know what's goin' on in the world. And now, that's all you seem to wanta watch. Why?"

Good question, Rick thought. A damn good question and he hated to answer it. Truthfully, that is. "Oh I don't know, Skeeter. A man my age oughta be more up on things, don't you think? I just, uh----" He stopped speaking because the coverage of the shooting was on again. He held out his hand for Skeeter to be quiet. She was having none of it.

"Rick, you look so---I don't know-----Oh, they said San Diego! Does this story have anything to do with why we're goin' there?"

He heard her, but pretended not to. He wasn't ready to answer her questions, and, besides, he didn't want to miss anything. "Be quiet!"

"No, I won't be quiet!" Skeeter countered. "Rick Donahue, you tell me right now---oh, you said that isn't your name----well, for starters, how about telling me what is your name, and then you can tell me why you're so interesting in that story they just told."

"Simon! Simon, that's my name. Richard Simon."

She seemed taken aback. Rick wondered if she had thought he was putting her on about the name business, and now that he had given her his real name, she hadn't been prepared at all to hear it. "Oh," she mumbled. "Simon."

"Yes, Simon. Now, be quiet a minute and let me listen to this. Then---well, then I'll try to tell you what you want to know."

Anita was here now and Mom had gone home again, after being told repeatedly that there was nothing she could do to help Jackie and that she was only going to make herself ill by staying. His wife, A.J. knew, was a different story. There was no way he could make Anita stay at home, and really, he didn't want her to because he needed his wife, needed her badly, and she needed him.

Usually, high school sweethearts marry young. A.J. and Anita had not done so. In fact, they had both been engaged to marry others, A.J. more than once. But, they had both remained single and, after Anita returned to San Diego shortly after Rick disappeared ten years earlier, they began dating again, and soon married. They had been happy, happier than A.J. ever dreamed possible.

The children born to them had added to their happiness greatly. Krista had a heart shaped face and reddish hair like her Mom, but her personality was a mixture of both her parents. Jackson, their precious son, on the other hand, had darker hair and was not much like either of his parents. A.J. knew whom the boy was very much like, and supposed Anita thought so as well, although they had never discussed it. Jackie was the spitting image of Rick. And now Rick was the last person A.J. wanted his son to resemble, because Rick was responsible for the boy being in the condition he was in.

"You'd think something would change, wouldn't you?" Anita said, sitting next to A.J. by their son's bed.

He knew what she meant. "Yes, but---"

"But?"

"But, Anita, as long as he doesn't change for the worse, then there's hope. If he stays this way, and then improves, it will be alright."

"I can't stand it, A.J. I mean, why did it happen? Who was that lunatic? Was it someone who had opposed you politically? I mean, surely no one would take the State Senator's race that seriously."

"I don't know who the lunatic was, Anita. The police will catch him. They have ways of tracking people like that down." As he said it, A.J. hoped no such thing occurred. He wanted to be the one to catch Rick Simon. And he would be out there searching just as soon as Jackie---well, as soon as there was a change one way or another.

"Maybe he was after me," she said.

A.J. was shocked. Why would this lovely woman think someone meant to shoot her? He took her hand in his. "Anita, no one is after you."

"I wouldn't have thought anyone was after Jackie, A.J. My God, he's just a little boy!"

"They weren't after him. They were after me."

Anita was staring at him. He could feel it. He moved his head to meet her gaze. She said, "You think the bullet was intended for you?"

"Yes, of course," he said. "I thought you knew that."

"No," she shook her head. "I thought someone shot Jackie to get even with you. What makes you so sure you were the one being shot at?"

Now, his back was to the wall. He didn't hedge. "Anita, I saw the gun before it went off. It was pointed at me. Someone must have brushed the shooter's arm and when the gun went off, it was aimed at Jackie."

"Did you see the person? The person with the gun? A.J.?"

Should he tell her now? He didn't like being dishonest with her. "Yes, I saw him."

"Did you recognize him?"

A.J. was about to tell his wife that his brother, his long missing and presumed dead brother, had been in San Diego the night before, had come to his victory celebration, and had brought a gun along with the intent of shooting his own brother. But just as he began forming the words, a nurse came in to tell him a policeman was waiting in the hall to talk to him. A.J. patted Anita on the hand and excused himself.

"Senator Simon," began the officer. "There is some news we thought you should know."

"Please, what is it?" A.J. asked.

"A man came to the station and turned over a picture he took last night," said the policeman.

"A picture?" A.J. said. A strange feeling came over him. He hoped this didn't mean what he thought it did.

"Yes, this man was taking pictures in the crowd in front of the podium. He happened to catch a shot of a man with a gun in his hand. That's the picture he turned in."

"And you think it was the person who shot my son?" A.J. questioned, feeling stupid as he did. Of course they would think that.

"Yes, Sir, we do. And Senator, the person looks like----"

"Like who?" But he already knew what the man would say. He'd seen the fellow from the podium.

"Well, Lt. Brown says the man looks like your brother, Sir, and he, Lt. Brown, would like for you to come down to the station."

The TV was off in the motel room where Rick and his family were spending the night. All was quiet. Lisa was still asleep and Rick was grateful she had not heard the conversation between her mother and father which had taken place earlier. Skeeter was not asleep, although she was pretending to be. Tired of comprehending all it was that she hadn't previously known about the man she had been married to for ten years, she had pleaded exhaustion and gone to bed. Rick was left alone with his thoughts.

The news had taken a turn he hadn't expected, and Skeeter had heard every word of it. Rick could barely comprehend what they were saying. It seems they had a picture of the gunman who shot A.J.'s son. And they were saying it was he, Rick Simon, a man thought by the San Diego police and his family to be dead.

"I'm not dead," Rick said aloud, not caring if Skeeter heard. Evidently, he was now a very much-wanted man. Wanted for attempted murder. His old friend, Downtown Brown, had taken to the airwaves to say so. There was a nationwide search for him. What should he do?

One thing was for certain. He could not take Skeeter and Lisa on with him. But he was going on. Whoever it was who had been impersonating him last night had to be caught. Town said Senator Simon would not be making a statement. Rick wondered what his brother was thinking. He planned to ask him shortly, because he was about to go out to his car and make a telephone call on his cell phone.

"Where are you going?" Skeeter said, when she heard the door open.

"To the car," he answered honestly.

"Are you leavin'?"

"No, at least, not now."

"Rick, how could this have happened?"

"Easy, Sweetie," he told her. "It's easy when you're Rick Simon. That's why I've tried so long to be somebody else. I'm sorry I got you mixed up in this."

"I just can't believe it, Rick. You're a wanted man. You have put our little girl, and me, in a hell of a spot."

He couldn't help but smile. His wife was no pussycat. Of course, she probably wasn't really his wife, either. He had used the name Donahue on the marriage certificate and that might nullify the marriage. "I didn't shoot that child, Skeeter. You can testify to that, but first, I have to do some things on my own."

When A.J. reached the office of Lt. Brown earlier in the day, he had been greeted warmly. It had been a while since he'd seen the man he'd always called "Town." Twelve years earlier, Town and his wife, TV reporter Temple Hill, had left San Diego for Denver. Two years ago, they had returned to the California city, but long before that, A.J. had been out of the Private Investigator business and so didn't see that much of his old friend.

Town had actually embraced the youngest of the two brothers he had been so close to all those years ago. "A.J., it's good to see you, but I'm sorry it has to be under these circumstances."

"I'm sorry as well, Town," A.J. responded. "I was told you wanted to see me, and that you have a picture of the gunman?"

"It's Rick, A.J. I'm sorry to say this, but it's Rick Simon."

A.J. had made a decision on his way to the police station. He put it into action at that point. "Town, Rick is dead."

"Well, maybe you thought so, maybe I thought so, but when you see this picture, you won't think so. It's him, A.J. And he had a gun in his hand when it was taken. Your brother is alive, or, at least he was last night. He's alive and he's the one who shot your little boy."

Town was going to be persistent, A.J. thought. Well, that could be expected. Lt. Brown was a great cop. Not much of anything got past him. But he couldn't be allowed to pursue Rick. He had to be stopped. A.J. would do the pursuing. "I'll look at the picture, but I know it's not him. Rick wouldn't shoot at me or my child, no matter how angry he might be at me. And Rick couldn't have alluded the search for him for so long---if he was alive, we would have found him, or, at least a clue about his whereabouts, long ago."

While A.J. was making his recitation, Town was retrieving the picture in question from his desk drawer. "Here, look at this."

A.J. looked, but, of course, he knew what the man in the picture looked like. He'd taken his own picture with his mind's eye. He glanced at it, and then decided Town would be suspicious if he didn't look at it carefully. So, he did. And then he said, "That's not him, Town. I'm sorry. It's not. It looks like him, yes, but there is something about that man that proves he's not Rick."

"What?" Town inquired, obviously taken aback that A.J. did not believe it was his brother in the photograph.

"The scar on his face."

Town studied the picture. "There is no scar that can be seen."

"Rick had a rather prominent one. Remember?"

"But A.J., he could have had plastic surgery, the picture may not be good enough to show it. That's Rick Simon!"

"No, it isn't, Town!"

Lt. Brown was perplexed. "Well, okay, if you insist, it isn't. But it is the man who shot your son. Now, I'm gonna go after that man, and if it turns out to be Rick, then it does. Now, Senator Simon, maybe you'd better get out of here and let me get started!"

After his encounter with Town at the station, A.J. went to his home. Anita was still at the hospital, and he would be returning there shortly, after paying a visit to his young daughter who was still staying with a neighbor. No doubt Krista was traumatized and they, he and Anita, mustn't forget about her.

After changing clothes and contemplating where he should begin his own search for Rick, he was about to leave the house when the telephone rang. Thinking at first that he would allow the answering machine to get it, he then stopped to consider that it might be Anita with news about their son. He picked up the receiver. "Senator Simon here."

"Hi, I'm calling with great news, Mr. Simon."

It was him! It was Rick! "I'm sure you are," A.J. said. And I have news----"

"Wait, now, Mr. Simon," said the voice on the other end. "In case someone has put a bug in your ear about salesman, how about if I hang up and you call me back. I've got great news you can't afford to miss. Call me back at 1-555-263-4422. Do it within the next thirty minutes, and a prize will be yours. I'll be waitin', Mr. Simon."

The phone went dead. A.J. slowly replaced the receiver. It was Rick, and, of course, the message he had conveyed was that, in case the Simon phone was bugged, he wanted A.J. to call him from somewhere else.

Rick folded his cell phone and got out of the car. He could take the phone in the motel room with him, but he didn't want Skeeter to hear his conversation with A.J. should the other man do as he'd been asked and return the call. His brother had recognized his voice, Rick felt certain, although he'd disguised it somewhat. And, A.J. Simon was savvy enough to understand the message hidden in the mumble jumble of what had been said to him.

"I'll just have to wait," Rick said aloud, as he wandered around the motel parking lot.

And so he waited. The light in their room, he noticed, had gone out. Skeeter must have decided he wouldn't be back in anytime soon. Well, maybe he wouldn't. He was prepared to wait a long time for his younger brother out there in California to use the brain God gave him and do as he was told.

It had been good to hear A.J.'s voice. Sometimes over the course of the ten years since he'd seen the guy, Rick had been tempted to call just to hear that voice. Of course, he would like to hear Mom's voice as well, but usually, it was A.J. he missed the most. And it was A.J. who had been the cause of his leaving. It was nothing the fellow had done. It wasn't his fault about the drug dealer determined to take out on the younger Simon brother what the older brother had instigated.

Thinking back to the last case he and A.J. had worked together as Simon and Simon, private investigators, Rick was startled when his cell phone rang. He quickly unfolded it and answered. "Hello."

"Yes, I'm returning your call," said the caller. It was definitely A.J.

"Hi, A.J."

"Don't hi me, Rick Simon! Just tell me where we can meet."

Rick was surprised. He supposed it would be difficult to convince his brother to meet him. Wait a minute! he thought. No doubt A.J. would bring the law along with him. "That's what I had in mind, Kid, but I don't want the heat there. I need a chance to talk to you alone."

"Don't worry, I want that as well."

He sounded very angry, did A.J. Angry enough to kill? Yes, Rick thought, he does. "You gonna shoot me yourself, not wait for the law, huh, Kid?"

There was a pause. "How soon can we meet, Rick?"

"Not until some time late tomorrow," Rick replied. "I won't be in San Diego 'till then."

"You're in San Diego now!" A.J. yelled into the phone. "Who do you think you're kidding? This is A.J., someone who knows you well."

Rick chuckled that short laugh so familiar to those who knew him. "You don't know me too well these days, A.J. And as for where I am, I'm in Las Cruces, New Mexico. I can't make San Diego until tomorrow."

Another pause. "Well, you were here yesterday. And I don't blame you for leaving town. If I'd shot a little boy-----"

"It wasn't me!" Rick interrupted sharply. "Now, listen to me. I've been livin' in New Orleans for several years. I'm married and have an eight year old. They are with me now. I'll have to send them back home, since I can't have them gettin' hurt, and since I'm a wanted man now, they just might."

"Rick, cut the crap, will you! You don't have a wife and child, but I do. Two children, as a matter of fact, and one of them is in danger of dy----"

A.J.'s voice broke and Rick was attacked by a feeling he'd had many times in his life, A feeling of wanting to comfort his little brother. "A.J., I'm sorry about your son. I had nothing to do with it. You know I wouldn't do that. And I do have a wife and daughter."

He could hear his sibling fighting for control, hear him taking deep breaths. "I don't believe you, Rick, but let's forget that for now. Where do you want to meet me?"

"Well, you're a famous fellow now, and I'm a much wanted man, so we need to be careful. I have thought of a place where no one will see us, that is if you're careful not to be followed."

"I'll be very careful. Where is it?" A.J. asked, in perfect control of his voice again.

"Dad's grave. Or, where we thought we buried him and then moved him later. You know, in the cemetery."

"What?"

"Meet me at Dad's grave at eleven in the morning," Rick said.

"Fine, Rick. I'll be there."

"Okay, I'll see you then. I hope your little boy will be okay, Kid. Bye."

Stunned, A.J. stood outside of the telephone booth where he'd gone to make the call for a very long time. He had no idea how long, but when he finally looked at his watch, he saw that it was nearly eleven o'clock at night. My God! Anita didn't know where to reach him! He should have been at the hospital hours ago! Hastily, he returned to his automobile and fired the engine. Once under way, he picked up the car phone and dialed the number of his wife's cell phone. She answered immediately.

"Anita, how----?"

"A.J., where are you? Jackie is in surgery! He began to bleed internally."

"What?"

"He's worse. They don't----"

"Anita!"

"Where are you?" his wife said again, crying now. "Jackie might die, A.J., and you're not here."

"I'm coming," he said. "I'm on my way. Just hold on. He won't die, Anita. We won't let him."

He hung up and gunned the engine. Damn you, Rick! he thought, you're not fooling me. And if you show up at Dad's grave I'm going to kill you!

The hospital parking lot was as full at this late hour as it was earlier in the day when he had pulled out to leave. People experienced illness and injury night and day. A.J. knew that, of course. He had been especially aware of it during his years as a P.I. He and Rick----The thought of his brother once again plunged him into despair. "I wish you were dead, like we thought," he said aloud. "Just wait until tomorrow."

Leaving his car, he hurried through the hospital door, through the lobby, up the elevator and into the waiting room of the I.C.U. unit. He found Anita, and his mother, sitting there "How is he?" he asked, rushing up to them.

"He's in surgery, A.J.," Anita said, focusing on him with a caged animal expression on her face. "We don't know anything."

Cecelia stood up. "A.J., where have you been, Honey? We've been worried."

He couldn't tell Mom, of course, but it was hard not to. She had worried herself sick about Rick for several years before she finally accepted that her eldest child wasn't coming home and probably was no longer alive. "I went home and fell asleep," he half lied.

"You're exhausted," his mother said. "Honey, this business about it being Rick, surely you don't believe it."

He'd forgotten about the picture, about Town's announcement. Mom and Anita, and everyone, knew that much at least. "I don't think it was Rick, Mom. I told Town that today."

Anita now stood. "Well, I do. I saw that picture on the set here in the waiting room. It certainly looked like Rick Simon to me. And you, A.J., you said the person was shooting at you and not Jackie. You seemed so sure. What do you know that I don't? Did Rick come back to shoot you and shoot our son by mistake?"

As far as A.J. was concerned, his wife had made a direct hit on the nail head. But he couldn't say so. "I believe I was the target, but it wasn't Rick. The guy in the picture doesn't have a scar on his face. It's just an impersonator."

Mom wasn't buying it. "Honey, Rick could have had the scar removed. It's been ten years. If he's still alive, he's had time to do all kinds of things."

"Mom, do you really think Rick's alive?"

The older woman began to cry. "A.J., I don't know what to think. I hope he is, but if he did this shooting, then I'd rather he be dead."

Known for his compassion, A.J. could barely look at his mother. She was suffering, and he could alleviate some of that suffering by revealing to her that her oldest son was, indeed, still alive and that he claimed to be married with a daughter. But he couldn't do that. Not and carry out his intentions. He had to continue putting up a strong pretense that he didn't think it was Rick who had done the shooting, because only that way could he be certain to be the one to finish the fellow off. He said to his mother," It wasn't Rick, Mom. He's dead. I'm sure of it."

Before Cecelia could react, a nurse approached the Simon family. "The doctor will see you in the conference room now," she said.

Since there was no way to read the nurse's face, and A.J. knew from experience she would not tell him anything if he asked, he fought the panicky feeling which had overtaken him down, and took his wife by the arm on one side and did the same with his mother on the other. The three of them followed the nurse. Anita cried softly, Cecelia was silent, and A.J. clamped his mouth shut to keep from screaming.

For a time after hanging up from talking to A.J., Rick wandered around in the motel parking lot some more. He went over everything that had been said by himself and his brother. Would A.J. show up? He sounded willing to do so, but he also sounded as though he didn't believe a word said to him on the phone. "Well, Kid," Rick said aloud. "I gotta make you believe me."

That said, the older Simon brother returned to the room he was sharing with Skeeter and Lisa. He entered in the dark and did not switch on the light. If Skeeter was sleeping, he did not want to wake her. She would surely have more questions and he wasn't up to answering them. He would leave a note explaining----

"Rick?"

She wasn't sleeping. "Yea?"

"Are you okay?"

"Sure, Sweetie. I'm okay, but I gotta leave for a while."

On came the light. Rick then could see the woman he loved in all of the loveliness that had attracted him to her. "Rick, are you plannin' to leave Lisa and me here?"

He remembered that he'd told A.J. he would have to send his wife and daughter home.

"Uh, no, I'm not gonna leave you here. But I do want you to go back home."

"Go home? How? Why?"

"I'm trying to figure out how in my mind, and I think you already know why."

She stood up and moved close to him. "I don't want to go home, Rick. Everyone there will have seen your picture on TV. They'll recognize you and Lisa will hear things. We can't go home."

She was correct, of course. "No, well, then you'll have to go somewhere else, but you can't go with me. I'll be in danger while I'm in San Diego."

"And what if you get yourself killed?" she shot out at him. "What kind of a mess have you made for us? It seems like you're puttin' a stranger ahead of your family."

"A.J.'s no stranger, Skeeter, he's my brother."

She digested the statement. "Well, maybe so, but you've never mentioned him in nine years. Whatever has happened out there can't be of much concern to you."

"Sweetie, they think I shot my brother's child!"

"I know you didn't. I can testify to that if you'll only let me go along. Then, we can go home and put it all behind us, we----"

To say Rick felt torn would be putting it mildly. He had made a life, a good life, really, with this woman. He'd met her when he was on the very bottom of the well, about to drown in despair, and she had pulled him up, given him something to live for, and given him a beautiful daughter. On the other hand, there was A.J. from his earlier life, a brother he adored, and that brother needed him now, whether he knew it or not. "It could be you'll have to do that, to testify, but I need to check things out there first."

"Well, where are me and Lisa supposed to go in the meantime? And how are we supposed to get there?"

He said the first thing that came to his mind. "Why don't you take a bus somewhere, Sweetie? You used to travel by bus. You know how it's done. Just don't go back to New Orleans. How about just goin' up to Albuquerque? That's not very far from here. You've done gigs there, haven't you? Sure you have. I've heard you say so."

By gigs, Rick meant performances, for Skeeter had at one time been an up and coming country singer. In fact, it was during one of her shows that he had met her. He'd been working as a stagehand in a theater in downtown New Orleans. Depending on who was performing, he sometimes watched a show from backstage, especially when there wasn't much for him to do. Once the stage was set up for a country band and singer, that was about it until the set was taken down after the show. One Saturday night a singer whose name was Skeeter Albright was booked.

Rick had never heard of Skeeter Albright, but he was a country music fan. The picture of her the theatre used for publicity purposes attracted his attention. Now there was a good-looking dame! And so he stood backstage and watched and listened. When the show was over, he boldly walked up to her and introduced himself as Rick Donahue, the name he was using at the time.

"I've been to Albuquerque, yes, but what am I gonna tell Lisa? She won't understand, Rick."

"No," he nodded. "She won't, but there's nothin' I can do about that for now. Skeeter, you are a strong woman. You used to handle your own affairs pretty damn well. Now, for a few days, you can again. I'd let you have the car, but I need it. Someone on a bus might recognize me from the picture they showed on TV. I've got to get to San Diego without being stopped."

"Tell me about it, Rick," she requested. "Tell me why you use another name, and why you haven't mentioned that you have a brother in all these years. Tell me before you go. You owe it to me."

Restless now to be away, Rick struggled to keep calm. She was correct, of course. He did owe it to her. After all, on that night he introduced himself to Skeeter Albright, she began immediately to lift him up. He could almost feel himself come alive. He thought she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen, and he'd seen some pretty women. He told her so, but expected her to be the show business type, the type who wouldn't use a man like him to wipe her feet on. Oh, she wasn't famous, he knew that, but she had a famous air about her. They had talked and then he had watched and listened to her performance.

"I suppose I do," he finally responded. "I owe you my life, Skeeter."

"What?"

"I owe you my life," he repeated. "You see, Sweetie, you never knew the worst of it, never knew the mess my life was when we met. I told you very little, and most of that was a pack of lies."

"Rick! What are you sayin'! First, you say your name isn't Donahue, and now you're sayin'---Rick, were you a wanted man back then?"

He desperately wanted to keep the conversation short. If he was to make it to to his Dad's gravesite at the appointed time to meet his brother, he needed to be on his way. "In a way," he finally said.

"In a way, what does----?"

"Look, my brother and I were P.I.'s. A case we were involved in turned nasty. I was workin' undercover. They found out who I was and threatened to kill A.J. if I didn't do as they said. They made me join them, do some of their dirty work. I couldn't get to my brother to warn him. I was afraid he'd be harmed. I feared for my brother's life, for my mother's-----"

"Your mother!" Skeeter exclaimed, interrupting. "Rick, I thought you had no family all of these years, and now you say you have a mother, a brother----"

"I know, Sweetie, and I'm sorry to have misled you, but can't you see why it was necessary? I had to make a whole new life for myself, and you made that possible."

She scowled. "Rick, I gave up a career for you. You said you didn't want a wife in show business. This is why, isn't it? You didn't want the publicity which might come your way, you---"

She had it all figured out. No use to deny it. "You got it, Sweetie. I'm sorry."

"Go on to San Diego," she whispered. "I'll take care of Lisa----and myself."

"I'll take the cell," he said. "Give me a call on it when you're wherever you go."

She didn't say anymore or even nod. Rick gathered the essentials he needed, threw them in one of their pieces of luggage, put the bag in the car and was off.

In the conference room, the Simons, A.J., Anita, and Cecelia awaited the arrival of the surgeon who had worked on Jackie. None of the three said anything, but they held tight to each other. When the doctor entered the room, they all studied his face to see what they could read there. A.J. drew a deep breath and stood up. "Doctor, how is our little boy?"

The Doctor allowed himself a tiny smile and watched the three people he'd come to talk to relax a bit. "He survived the surgery, Senator Simon. I'm cautiously optimistic that he'll be all right, but it will take some time."

A.J. wanted to cry, but fought back the tears with extreme effort. Both Anita and Mom broke into tears immediately, and he gathered them into an embrace to comfort them. The doctor waited until they were in control enough to listen to him again. Anita had a typical mother's question. "When can we see him?"

"He's in recovery, Mrs. Simon. I imagine it will be another forty five minutes to an hour."

"Doctor, is there anything else you need to tell us now?" A.J. asked.

"Yes, Senator, there is. It's very important. I've already told Lt. Brown."

"What is it?" A.J. asked, surprised that the surgeon had talked to Town before he talked to them.

"Your son mumbled something just before we put him under."

"What?" Anita reacted in a shocked manner. "I was right there! Doctor, I didn't hear him say anything!"

"Anita, take it easy," A.J. soothed. "He means in the operating room."

"Yes, that's right," said the surgeon.

"What did he say?" Senator Simon wanted to know.

"He said, 'I saw him. I saw him. I saw the gun.'"

"Oh my, the poor child," Cecelia murmured.

"Is that all?" A.J. asked.

"No, he seemed to be trying to say a name, but we couldn't catch it. It was like Harry, or Harold, or something on that order."

"He doesn't know anyone by that name," Anita said quickly.

A.J. fought to keep his relief from showing. Jackie didn't know Rick at all, but he had seen pictures of him. If the boy had indicated the uncle he didn't know, then it would make it that much more difficult to maintain that Rick wasn't the shooter until he could take care of the man himself. "I don't think it means anything, Doctor. As my wife said, he doesn't know anyone by that name, that is, that we know of."

"Well, I'm sure the police will want to question him about it when he's able. Maybe it was only the painkillers talking. That happens."

A.J. smiled. "Thank you for telling us anyway, Doctor."

Shortly after the surgeon left the room, A.J. suggested to his mother that she should go home and get some rest. She agreed to do that if he would promise to call her with updates on Jackie. He promised and she left.

"Mom's exhausted," he said to Anita after the older woman was gone and he and his wife were back in the waiting room.

"We all are, A.J., but at least our son will recover."

"It sounds good at this point," he said.

When Anita said nothing, he looked at her. She was staring at him. "Anita? What is it?"

"A.J., why are you protecting Rick?"

"What?"

"Why are you insisting it wasn't him with the gun, insisting it wasn't him who shot our son? That picture showed him very clearly, A.J. I know Rick Simon when I see him. And so do you."

What could he say? "Anita, I'll admit it looks like Rick, but my gut tells me it isn't. Rick, if he is alive, and I'm sure he's not, would have no reason whatsoever to shoot either me or my son, he---"

"A.J., he was working undercover when he disappeared. He may have gone over to the enemy. You've said that yourself many times."

She was correct. "Yes, but he still would have no reason to shoot at me."

"I don't think you can know that for sure, A.J." Anita said. "I just hope Town is thinking more clearly than you are. I hope they catch him and soon."

He could not tell his wife so, but A.J. not only hoped, but also prayed, they would not. Tonight, Rick Simon would be taken care of for good, and A.J. planned to do the job himself. "Let's concentrate on Jackie," he said. "If it's Rick, he'll be taken care of."

Rick attempted to stay somewhere around the speed limit. He did not want to be stopped by the law. That would be a disaster at this point. He needed to get to A.J., to have the meeting with his brother. He needed to tell the fellow why he'd left, and he needed to convince him the wounding of young Jackie had been done by someone other than it looked like.

Who is the impersonator? Rick wondered. If he had to guess, he would say it was someone from the gang he'd infiltrated ten years ago, the gang who'd threatened to kill A.J. From the sound of his brother's voice on the phone, he knew the fellow who was now a California State Senator would not be easily sold on the impersonator theory. He was convinced, was A.J., that the gunman was his long lost brother.

As hard as it was to think about what he might be facing when he got to San Diego, Rick was glad to have that to concentrate on. Otherwise, he would be thinking about Skeeter and Lisa and what he was leaving behind. He'd become two different men, two men with separate identities. The old Rick, the man who had lost his father as a teenager and gone a bit wild, the man who had served two tours of duty in Viet Nam, the man who had come home and teamed up with his brother to form the firm of Simon and Simon. The man who often visited his mother. The man who was just getting his feet on the ground when he had been forced to leave his home, his mother and brother.

The other man was Rick Donahue. This man was a husband and father, a man who loved his wife and child dearly. Yes, he lived under an assumed identity, and the marriage might not be valid, but he'd nearly forgotten that over the years. This Rick had sought and found a decent job upon convincing Skeeter to marry him. For nine years, he'd worked as a boat repairman on the docks in New Orleans. It was a far cry from detective work, but that had come to not matter so much to him. He'd been able to support his family, buy a home, to settle down, to do, for that matter, all of the things he'd not seemed to be able to accomplish as Rick Simon.

Now, though, the life of Rick Donahue might be kaput. Skeeter was angry and hurt. She was confused. He had wanted to take her and Lisa to the bus station in Las Cruces. He had wanted to see that they were safely on their way somewhere. But she wouldn't have it. She could take care of herself, she said. And he didn't argue with her. For one thing, he didn't have time. The other man, Rick Simon, was taking over, and Rick Simon was needed in San Diego.

The best of all worlds would be that he could settle the matter in his old home town, see to it that A.J. and his child were safe, clear his own name, and then reconcile the lives of Rick Simon and Rick Donahue. As he drove west on interstate 10, he wasn't at all sure such an outcome was possible. He wanted to remarry Barbara "Skeeter" Albright, wanted her to share the name Simon with him, wanted Lisa to have the name and be proud of it, and he wanted them to meet his Mom and A.J. and his family.

"If wishes were horses all beggars would ride," he said aloud. "Think I need some music."

He switched on the car radio, hoping to find some good country music. The first thing he picked up was a news report. "This out of San Diego tonight. The son of California State Senator, A.J. Simon, is reported to be improving tonight after surgery to stop internal bleeding. Doctors are optimistic that the boy will recover fully. There is no word from the San Diego police department on whether they have any leads as to the whereabouts of Senator Simon's brother, Richard, the one suspect they are pursuing in the case."

Switching stations until he found the music he wanted, Rick felt tears in his eyes. The boy was going to be okay! That would be a big help when he and A.J. met. He drove on, wondering if his little girl would be all right, wondering, really, if he'd ever see her again. The music made him melancholy, made him remember his life just as if it were playing on a big screen in front of him. The first scene was two young boys, himself and his brother, playing pitch and catch in the front yard of the home where they were raised.

"I'm comin', A.J. And when we get things settled, you and me are gonna play some pitch. Just you wait and see, Kid."

"Your son is remarkably improved this morning, Senator Simon."

Those were the first words A.J. heard when he got off of the elevator on the Intensive Care floor at the hospital and approached the nurse's station. The surgeon who had operated on Jackie was there and gave him the good news. "That's wonderful to hear. Is my wife in the room with him?"

"Yes, she is," the doctor said. "And if I were you, I'd see that she gets some rest. She's not doing as well as the boy, I'd say."

A.J. nodded, knowing it was true. Anita was terribly distraught. She could not understand why he wouldn't admit it was Rick in the picture, admit it was Rick who had shot at him, missed, and wounded their son instead. "I know," he told the doctor. "I'll send her home immediately. Our daughter is there with my mother now. I'll be staying here for a while. How long will Jackie be in intensive care?"

"Oh, at least another day or two."

"I see, well, I'll go on to his room."

In the room, A.J. found Anita sitting beside the young boy's bed, holding his hand. Jackie was sleeping. He walked up softly and touched her on the arm. Startled, she turned to him with a rather wild look in her eye. He motioned for her to accompany him. She got up immediately and they walked to the hallway.

"I'll stay now, Anita. Go on home. The doctor says he's doing fine."

"He talked to me, A.J."

"He did?"

"Yes. He told me he saw the man with the gun."

"Oh? Did he say the name that he supposedly tried to say in the operating room? Harry, or something similar?"

"No."

"Did he say any name?"

"Yes, A.J., he did."

She was about to tell him the little boy in the bed, a boy who had never met his Uncle, had told her it was Rick who had shot him. She was about to tell him that, but, suddenly, A.J. suspected something was very wrong, much more than he'd even imagined. "Who did he say the man was, Anita?"

"He said it was Rick."

Not wanting to argue with her, and not understanding why she was doing this, A.J. said, "All right. Go on home now. Krista is there with Mom. She needs you."

"A.J., did you hear me?"

"Yes, Anita, I heard you. You said Jackie told you Rick shot him."

"Well, do you believe it now?" She questioned, glaring at him.

He had been many years away from working as a private investigator. Still, he had the instincts of a detective. Those instincts were screaming at him now and they were telling him something very troubling was afoot. He thought it best not to let on to his wife. "I'll look at the picture again. I'm going to stay here for a while, and then I'm going down to talk to Town again. Go on home, Anita."

He needed to sleep, but Rick willed himself to stay awake. If he didn't, he might not make it on time. Out in the lonely desert, he occasionally pushed his speed beyond the posted limit, believing it was safe to do so. He crossed the California line at five minutes until eight in the morning. He had three hours yet and he was only a little over an hour from Dad's gravesite. There would be time for a nap, if he were lucky.

Rick listened to news reports periodically. Now able to bring in a San Diego station, he was constantly reassured that young Jackie Simon was on the mend. He was also given the report that the effort to find Richard Simon had been stepped up considerably. This bit of news came straight from the mouth of Lt. Brown of the San Diego police department. The report also said that State Senator A.J. Simon had been seen entering the police department building, apparently on his way to a conference with Lt. Brown.

"You'd better show up at Dad's grave alone, A.J." Rick said aloud. "If you don't, we're both gonna be in big trouble."

"I'm telling you, A.J., that I'm putting all of this department's efforts into locating the man who shot your son, and, by the way, intended to shoot you," Downtown Brown informed Senator Simon. "You can deny it to yourself all you want, but I can't do that. I'm sorry that it is Rick, almost as sorry as you must be. I thought the world of the guy, but I can't let that cloud my thinking."

"Town," A.J. began, then decided to save his breath. "I understand that you have to do your job."

"Good," said Lt. Brown. "Did you know your wife called me earlier today?"

A.J. fought to keep his emotions from showing. "No, I didn't."

"She says your boy told her he saw the gunman."

"Yes, she told me that."

"And you don't believe it?" Town questioned.

A.J. nodded in such a way, the man with him could not tell if it was a yes or no he meant to convey. He then said, "Town, I have to go. I have a meeting."

"Official business, Senator?"

This time the nod clearly meant yes. And then A.J. left the police station.

Rick stopped at a McDonald's on the outskirts of the city. He was taking a chance, but he was hungry. He got a Big Mac, fries, and coke, took them to his car and ate them. No one gave him more than a passing glance. Of course, he had on dark glasses and a cap, making him look much different than the guy in the picture, who'd been without a hat and wore no glasses. When he finished eating, he drove to the cemetery. It was as good a place as he knew to take a nap without being bothered. If A.J. intended to have him picked up by the law here, they would do it whether he was asleep or not. Somehow, he didn't believe his brother would do that. He slept for an hour and a half.

When he came out of a peaceful sleep, he looked at his watch. There were only ten minutes left until eleven o'clock. Would A.J. show up? Would he come alone? Would it look like he was alone, and then a posse led by Town come out of the trees? Rick smiled. Don't get over dramatic, he told himself; this was going to be bad enough without thinking up trouble.

To take his nap, he had parked some distance from the specified meeting place, from his father's grave. He fired the engine of his car and drove closer. He then shut the engine down and got out of the car. He could see Dad's marker. He walked to the grave as if nothing else was happening in his life but to pay a visit to Jack Simon's grave.

"Dad, it's been a long time," he said, taking off his hat. He then knelt beside the grave.

"I'm supposed to meet the golden boy here, Dad. You know who that is? I hope he shows up, but 'till he does, I'll just stay here with you."

It had been a long time since his father's death. Rick had only been fourteen. In a way, he seemed like yesterday, but in another way, it seemed like forever. So many things had happened. Some of them good, many of them, really, but some not so good. "I haven't liked bein' separated from Mom and A.J.," he said aloud. "But it couldn't be helped."

A.J. drove carefully to the cemetery. He hadn't visited here in a year or so. It occurred to him he should be sorry about that. At the moment, he couldn't think about being lax at paying his respects to his long dead father. He'd only been nine when Dad died. It had been a traumatic experience for him, one which took years for him to come to grips with, if, indeed, he ever had. Over those years, he had counted heavily on his mother to help him over his bad times, but he had also counted heavily on Rick. And, to his credit, Rick had come through for him most of the time.

"Why are you doing this to me, Rick Simon! I'm going to have to kill you! I don't want to, don't want it to be this way, but you leave me no choice!"

Entering the cemetery, A.J. knew it wasn't true what he'd just said. He had a choice, of course. Town would take care of Rick in due time. Hunt him down, capture him. So there was a choice. It was too late to worry about it now. "There's a choice, and I've made it."

Driving through the winding, narrow paths, which would take him to where he was to meet his brother, A.J. was surprised that he wasn't more apprehensive. It could be that Rick, if he showed up, would bring others with him. Perhaps his brother was involved still with the gang he had infiltrated at the time of his disappearance. It just could be, thought A.J., that I'll be surrounded when I get there. But he didn't think so. Oddly, even under the circumstances, he trusted Rick to keep his word, trusted that the other man would be there alone. And then he reached Jack Simon's grave.

There was an automobile sitting in the roadway. Rick? A.J. studied it carefully. Funny how his P.I. training could come back in certain situations. There was no one in it or around it that he could see. He glanced over at his father's grave. No one there, either. He stopped behind the other vehicle and got out of his car.

Walking slowly and constantly looking around as he did so, he approached his Dad's marker. All right, Rick, he thought, where are you? Cemeteries could make a person feel eerie, but A.J. believed the feeling he had went deeper. He wasn't alone, he was sure of it. He wasn't going to call out, though. No. If Rick wanted to talk to him, he would have to show himself.

Rick watched from behind a tree. He watched as his brother pulled up, parked, got out and headed for the specified meeting place. He looked A.J. over carefully. The fellow was being cautious not to get ambushed, was acting like a P.I. Otherwise, he looked great. Still a nice looking man, was A.J. Simon. Well, Rick intended to keep the guy that way. He stepped out. "Over here, Kid."

A.J. pulled a pistol from beneath his light jacket and whirled around. Rick stood in plain view, no gun in hand. The younger man pointed the weapon at his brother. "Come toward me, Rick. Easy and slow. Don't try anything."

This was going to be tedious, Rick realized. "Okay, A.J. I'm comin'. Stay calm. I'm not armed."

A strange expression crossed A.J.'s face. "I don't buy that."

"You can search me, just as soon as I get close," Rick said. "Just take it easy. Did anyone follow you?"

"That's none of your business," A.J. proclaimed. "Keep walkin', Rick. We've got lots to talk about."

"Yea, we do." Rick agreed, as he reached his brother. "Lots to talk about, Kid."

They stood face to face, A.J. with the gun pointed at Rick still. The older brother spoke again. "You might as well put that thing away. I don't have one and you surely wouldn't shoot an unarmed man."

A.J. knew he was off balance. He had expected something totally different than what he seemed to be facing. What had he expected? For one thing, he had certainly believed Rick would have a weapon on him. He still wasn't convinced he didn't. And then there was the feeling----what was it? This was Rick. His brother. A man he loved dearly, or had, at least. Fighting off the urge to let down his guard, he said. "Stand still. I'm going to search you."

Rick shrugged, indicating that he should go ahead. Carefully, A.J. reached out with his left hand, keeping the gun steadied in the other. He began to pat his brother down. While he did so, he held eye contact with the fellow. With his hands in the air, Rick allowed himself to be patted and punched. He remained silent during the search.

Coming up with nothing, A.J. lowered his right hand and stuck his gun back in its holster. He noticed that Rick was grinning. "There's nothing funny, Rick!"

"Just that you're still as stubborn as ever," Rick said. "I told you I wasn't armed. You could have saved---"

"Cut it out!" A.J. roared. Puzzled and perplexed, the Senator was at a loss, but he didn't want his brother to know it. "I'll give you five minutes to tell me whatever it is you have to say. If you want to surrender to me, then fine. I'll see to it you get to Town without anyone trying to take you in custody. After that, you're on your own."

"If you do that, Kid, it's you who will be on his own," Rick said roughly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that somebody wants you dead! They took a shot at you, but hit your son, instead."

"That was you, Rick! Dammit! Stop denying it!"

"I'll deny it to the minute I die! It's the truth, A.J.! I was in New Orleans when the boy was shot. At home with my wife and daughter. Skeeter will be glad to testify to it. Lisa can too, even if she's only eight."

Don't let him hood wink you, A.J. told himself. This is just typical Rick stuff. "I don't believe you for a minute," he said aloud. "You came to shoot me, you missed and hit Jackie."

"If that's so, then why don't I have a gun with me now?" Rick asked.

Good question, A.J. thought. "I don't know what you're up to. I don't know where you've been for ten years, or why you left. I do know I saw you in that crowd. I saw you, Rick! Saw you with the gun, I---"

"You saw someone impersonating me," Rick cut in. "And they did a good job, I'll say that. If I didn't know it wasn't me in that picture they've been showin', I'd swear it was. But it isn't me, it isn't."

Rick believed his brother was wavering. Oh, it was nothing he'd said, but the older man knew the younger fellow well. Of course, he hadn't been around him for several years, but it didn't seem like there had been much change. A part of A.J. would very much like to pull the trigger. Rick realized that is what the guy had come here to do. He wanted, did A.J., to kill his brother, to not allow Town and the San Diego police force to do it. He wanted to do it himself. But now---well, if Rick was any judge, now Senator Simon wasn't sure of his own wishes. "I'm sorry, Kid, about what's happened, but I didn't have anything to do with it. I thought I had you out of danger. If it's the same people, and I think it is, then they still want you dead."

"What people!" A.J. exclaimed. "I don't know anyone who wants me dead except you."

"The people in the drug gang, A.J. They threatened your life years ago. That's why I had to leave. They promised me they wouldn't kill you, if I'd disappear, so I did. But they must have changed their minds."

"That's bull, Rick! That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard. Did you know, I'm a practicing lawyer now?"

"I assumed," Rick said. "They haven't said that on TV, just that you're a State Senator."

"Yes, well, I spend a lot of my time at that job now, but I practiced law full time for years, and still have a few cases."

Rick shrugged. "Good for you, but why bring that up now?"

"I've heard every excuse in the book, that's why. Yours is no different than the average Joe would try to give the authorities."

"Well, I don't know about the average Joe, Kid. I know what you mean by excuses, though. We heard a few when we were P.I.'s, but this aint no excuse, this is the truth."

"You didn't leave here not to be heard from for ten years, not calling Mom, or me, to keep me from getting killed, Rick. That's not true."

"Yes, I did, A.J. And yes it is true. Remember, I was underground? They found me out. I couldn't let you know. They told me you were a dead man if I didn't disappear. Why they didn't kill me, I don't know. I guess they thought it was worse punishment the way they had it planned. For me, it was."

A.J. wondered how long he could listen to Rick talk without screaming. It couldn't be true what the fellow was saying, of course. Nevertheless, it was getting to him big time----and Rick knew it. "You're trying to play on my sympathy. It won't work."

Rick grinned. "Are you sure, A.J.? I think you're startin' to believe me. Well, you should, because I'm tellin' you how it was, how it is. I gave up my life as I knew it for you. I've been usin' an alias, lived on the run for quite a while, slept any place I could find to lay down for a long time----"

"Shut up, Rick! You wouldn't do that! You didn't have to do that! I don't believe you!"

"I met a good woman in New Orleans. Oh, you'd probably think she's crude. She don't use perfect English and she's not into books and highbrow music like you, but she is into music. She's a country singer, or she was 'till I talked her into bein' my wife. Then, we had Lisa. She's a cute little girl, A.J. She looks like you. Aint that somethin'?"

The revelations made A.J. think of his son. "Yea, well I have a little boy who looks like you, Rick. And he's in the hospital, his head all wrapped up after having a bullet removed and then surgery to stop the bleeding."

"I know, Kid," Rick said.

"Don't call me that! Dammit, you did this! I don't know where you've been or why, but you shot my son, Rick! I came here to kill you."

Rick nodded. "I don't doubt that, but-----"

The older of the brothers stopped speaking abruptly and looked around. "Someone's comin'."

A.J. had heard the sound as well. "It's a cemetery. People come."

Rick felt uneasy. He wasn't getting his brother to believe him as soon as he thought he might. And now, an automobile was approaching. Like A.J. said, people do come to visit their loved ones graves. All he had to do was act natural. But would A.J. be recognized? And then, would whoever it was know about the hunted brother and recognize Rick as him. "I think I'll get in my car, A.J. Want to join me?"

"I don't think so. I think we should just stand here. The car will probably pass on by."

"Yea, well, I can't take a chance on bein' seen right now." Rick said, and started to walk away.

The car came closer. Then, it stopped. Rick could see the driver now, knew who it was. A.J. had lied. He had asked for backup, had asked for Lt. Brown to come and he had. Well, he was sorry, but Town wasn't going to get him just yet, no one was. "You told Town I was comin'."

"No, I didn't," A.J. denied. "I wanted to take care of you myself."

"Well, he's here, so I'll see ya later," Rick said and then began to run toward his car.

"Freeze!"

Lt. Brown yelled the word known universally as the one meant to put a halt to any movement by someone trying to escape the law. He had left his car and was standing with his gun pointed at Rick. "Throw down your weapon, Rick. Don't try anything."

"I haven't got a gun, Town, and, by the way, it's nice to see you again, too," Rick said, then chuckled that short way he had of doing it. He did, though, abide by Town's order.

"Come on, Rick, throw it down!"

A.J. spoke up. "He doesn't have one, Town. He's telling the truth. I patted him down."

Town's expression clearly showed he still doubted Rick was unarmed, but he said, "Okay, stay right there. Don't move or I'll shoot."

Rick watched as his old friend drew nearer to him. He'd aged some, had Town, but hadn't they all? For instance, A.J. had a moustache now, making him look more mature. Actually, both men were holding up well for their age. Lt. Brown stood in front of him now. "Town," he greeted.

"Rick," Town acknowledged, nodding. "I wish it were under different circumstances."

"You got your circumstances all wrong, Town. I didn't shoot A.J.'s boy. I was just tellin' him that."

Town was not to be easily dissuaded. "We have a picture of you, Rick. It's you as clear as day. I'm taking you in. You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent-----"

A.J. listened as Lt. Brown read Rick his rights. He felt numb, felt unable to move or speak. And, most of all, he felt confused. What if his brother was telling the truth? What if it had been someone else who did the shooting? But then he presented himself with the other side of the argument. He'd been certain it was Rick, had seen the guy well enough to be sure. The picture showed it to be Rick to everyone's satisfaction, Anita's, Town's, even Mom thought it might be. So, why should I argue? A.J. asked himself.

Walking over to where Town was now handcuffing Rick, he said. "Thanks for coming, Town. I don't know how you found me, but thanks."

"I had you followed," Town said. "I just had a feeling you were up to something."

"I was going to kill him myself, but I'm glad it worked out this way," A.J. explained, not daring to look at his brother. "What will happen now?"

"I'll book him, you know, the usual procedure."

A.J. nodded. "All right. I'll be going then. I need to check on Jackie. I'll call you later."

He then started to walk toward his car. Rick had said nothing since surrendering to Town. It would be best to go on to the car, to leave, to not even so much as give the fellow another glance. But he couldn't do it. He stopped walking and focused on his brother. Rick had evidently been waiting for just that very thing to happen.

"Kid, I want you to do me a favor."

"You're in the hands of the law now, Rick. There's nothing I can do, nothing I want to do. If you can prove you're innocent, then you'll have the opportunity."

Rick glared at his brother. "A.J., all I'm askin' now is that you take my cell phone with you. Skeeter will be callin' me. I want you to tell her what's happened. She can come and tell you crazy people I was with her in New Orleans when the shooting took place."

"Rick, I'll be staying out of this," A.J. responded, but feeling the heat of the pressure being put on him. He could give him that much of the benefit of the doubt, couldn't he?

Rick sighed. "Fine. Fine. She'll hear it all on the news and find some way to get here. Come on, Town, let's get this over with."

"Let's go, then," said Lt. Brown, beginning to lead Rick toward the unmarked police car.

A.J. didn't want to watch, but he couldn't seem to turn away. Just as his brother was about to get in Town's car, he yelled, "Wait!"

Town stopped his forward progress, causing Rick to do the same. A.J. then walked over to them. "I'll take your phone," he said.

Rick grinned slightly. "Thanks, Kid. I sent her and the girl to Albuquerque. She's supposed to call me. She should have by now. If she does, just tell her what's happened. The phone is in the car on the front seat."

A.J. nodded. "What about his car, Town?"

"We'll be coming back for that," Brown said.

Again, A.J. nodded. His gaze lingered on his brother and then he turned and walked away. He went to Rick's car, retrieved the cell phone, and then departed the cemetery in his own vehicle.

Rick had forgotten how involved the process of booking someone could be. He was fingerprinted, mug shots were taken, and then he was led to a cell. He was told he could make a telephone call, but since he didn't know where Skeeter was, he couldn't call the person who would be most able to help him.

"You need a lawyer, Rick," Lt. Brown suggested, as he opened the door to the jail cell. "Do you have one, either here in San Diego, or anywhere else?"

"No, Town, I don't have a lawyer. Haven't needed one. I guess you'll have to appoint someone; I'm not exactly flush. Been workin' the boat docks in New Orleans, makin' house payments, sendin' a kid to school. You know, the ordinary stuff? But I'm not well off by any means."

"I'll send an attorney in to talk to you later, then," Town said.

And then he was in the cell, the door locked. He was alone. "Skeeter, wherever you are, call. Dammit! Call! Get me out of here!"

A.J. drove home in a daze. He wished he had asked Town not to put the news of Rick's capture out to the media immediately, but it was too late. He switched on the car radio and that was the first thing he heard. The announcer was speaking in a very dramatic voice. "The prime suspect in the shooting of State Senator A.J. Simon's young son has been taken into custody in the last hour. Richard Simon was apprehended in a local cemetery. It is said, but not known for sure, that Senator Simon was also there at the time of the capture. Details are being withheld by the San Diego Police Department at this time. More on this later."

No doubt, the television stations were also broadcasting the latest chapter in the Simon story. A.J. turned on to his street and saw a mob in front of his house. Automobiles jammed the street and media trucks were parked in his yard. There was no way he could even reach his own home. Angry, he parked as close as possible and got out, Rick's cell phone in his hand. If Mom was here, she was going to be distraught. He hoped she was here, though, because at least here, he could protect her from the mad scene which had engulfed his doorstep. He wouldn't be able to reach her anywhere else at the moment.

"Let me through," he said to the crowd. "Let me through, please."

The press began firing questions at him. "Did you see your brother, Senator Simon?" "Did you know he was coming to the cemetery? If so, how did you know?" "Will you be visiting him in jail?" Are you going to tell your son his uncle shot him?"

Ignoring them as best he could, A.J. answered no questions. "Please, get back," he said to those closest to his front door. "I need to get in there to my family. Thank you."

At last, he stepped inside and shut the door on the chaos. His mother, his wife, and his daughter were waiting for him. Kristi spoke first. His daughter ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. "Daddy, I was scared! I'm glad you got in!"

Bending down to soothe the child, A.J. stroked her hair and face. "It's all right, Krista. I'm here and everything is going to be fine."

"Is it?"

The question came from Cecelia Simon. A.J. glanced up and met her hard gaze. She'd heard about Rick's arrest. He owed her an explanation and quickly. "Yes, Mom. Everything will be fine now."

"A.J.-------?"

He stood up. "Kristi, why don't you go upstairs and watch TV before dinner?"

"I don't want to, Daddy," the little girl replied.

Anita spoke for the first time. "Come on, Honey," she said to her daughter. "I'll go with you. Daddy and Grandma need to talk."

He gave his wife a grateful look. What he got in return was a puzzled, hurt, and almost hateful glare, and then she led their daughter toward the stairs. A.J. then remembered the cell phone in his hand. He laid it on the coffee table. "Sit down, Mom."

"A.J., have you seen your brother? They said on TV that you were there when he was arrested. Is that true?"

He nodded. "Yes, Ma'am, it is. I, uh, I didn't know he was going to be arrested. I didn't know Town was coming."

Cecelia did not sit down as requested. Instead, she positioned herself directly in front of her youngest son. She was short, but very formidable at that moment. "You knew, then, that Rick was alive?"

"Not until yesterday, Mom. He called me yesterday."

A pained expression crossed her face. "And you didn't tell me?"

"No, I didn't tell you. I couldn't."

"You couldn't! A.J., your brother has been missing for ten years. You know how I've worried and grieved------"

"He meant to kill me, Mom! He shot Jackie! I was going to kill him! That's why I didn't tell you or anyone else I was meeting him."

She recoiled as if shot with an arrow through the heart. "That's hard to believe."

"Mom, you saw the picture. And there's something else I didn't tell you. I saw him when he was pointing the gun. I knew it was him even before the picture was taken."

Cecelia turned away. "And Anita says Jackie saw him, that he recognized him from the pictures he's seen of Rick."

A.J. shrugged. "Well, I'm not sure I believe that, but it doesn't matter. Rick's been apprehended."

She faced him again. "Did he tell you he did it?"

"No," A.J. began, "he claims he was in New Orleans at the time. Mom, he claims he's married with a daughter. He says his wife will be calling to give him an alibi. That's his cell phone I brought home."

The woman drew herself up as tall as she could. "Well, then we must give him the benefit of the doubt. And if this woman calls, then he'll have to be set free."

"Mom! We're talking about the man who shot my son! Your grandson!"

"Maybe, but we're also talking about my first born and your brother, a brother you love dearly."

"Loved dearly, Mom. Past tense. He's not the same Rick. There's no telling what he's been doing all of these years, no matter what he says."

"Well, I'm going to visit him, just the same."

"Mom!"

"I want to hear his story from his own mouth," Cecelia went on. "I want to hear him deny what he's accused of, then I'll know if he's telling the truth. I always did know."

In his heart, A.J. really did not want to stop his mother from seeing Rick. "All right. I'll get you there somehow. Those people outside, they'll overwhelm you."

"They're like vultures," she said bitterly.

"We'll say we're going to the hospital to see Jackie, then we'll make a detour."

"That might not be such a bad idea, you know?" Anita said, reentering the room.

"What?" A.J. wanted to know.

"That you go see your son, A.J."

She sounded bitter. "I am going to do that, Anita. I'll just drop Mom off at the jail, let her visit with Rick."

Anita turned to Cecelia. "Why would you want to? I don't understand."

"Anita," Cecelia began. "I don't blame you for your feelings, but Rick is my son. I've thought he was dead for years. I want to see him, to talk to him."

"I'm going back upstairs to be with Krista," Anita said and quickly departed.

"Let's go, Mom," A.J. said, feeling somehow split in two directions, and not quite understanding how it happened.

Rick felt like a caged animal must feel. Oh, he'd been in jail cells before. He and A.J. had been tossed in the pokey several times while they worked together. Usually, Mom bailed them out. She wouldn't be able to bail him out this time, probably wouldn't want to. It was all up to Skeeter, the way Rick saw it. Had the woman called yet? Was A.J. keeping the cell with him at all times? What if he just tossed it somewhere? Skeeter wouldn't be able to make contact.

He wondered if his wife and child were in Albuquerque. She may have decided to take the girl and go somewhere else, maybe even home to New Orleans. He longed to see her, to see Lisa. He should have stayed with them, not come out here to help a brother who believed him capable of shooting a child. Well, he couldn't really blame A.J. either.

Lost in thought, he didn't realize until she was standing before him, that he had a visitor. "Mom."

His beloved mother stood looking through the bars at him. "Rick, Honey," she murmured, tears running down her cheeks.

He moved quickly to where he could touch her. "Mom, you shouldn't have come here."

"Of course I should have," she said, her voice trembling. "I thought you were dead, Honey. It's such a shock to know you're still here. I had to see you."

Tenderly, Rick reached through the bars and rubbed his hand across his mother's face. He smiled at her. "You're still one pretty lady, you know that?"

Cecelia smiled in return, but the tears continued to flow. "You always knew how to flatter me. How are you, Honey?"

He shrugged and grinned slightly. "I'm in kind of a jam right now, Mom."

"Yes, you are."

"Other than that, I've been fine. Did you talk to A.J.? Did he tell you what I told him?"

"Only that you denied shooting at him and hitting his son. And, he did say you claim to be married with a child."

"What about the cell phone, Mom?" Rick asked desperately. "Did he have it with him?"

"Yes. He said you told him your wife would be calling. Is that true, Rick? Do you have a wife and child?"

"Yea, well, I've been usin' a name, Donahue, Rick Donahue. We married usin' that name, so I don't know if it's legal. Skeeter didn't know who I really am until I told her just before I left her in Las Cruces."

"Las Cruces?"

"I was bringin' her and Lisa with me out here, but when we heard I was wanted for the shooting, I wouldn't let them come. She was supposed to take the bus on to Albuquerque and call me. I figured when she heard I was in jail----"

"Rick, why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why did you leave?" Cecelia asked. "Why has all of this happened? We searched and searched."

"I know, Mom, I know."

"Then, why?"

"Didn't A.J. tell you what I told him this afternoon?"

"No, he didn't."

Rick supposed he could take that as an omen for things to come. His brother evidently didn't believe him. "I left to protect him, to protect your golden boy."

"A.J.?"

"Yes, A.J."

"Tell me, Rick. Tell me about it."

A.J. had escorted his mother in to where she would be taken to Rick. He had then returned to his automobile and began the drive to the hospital. The events of the day had given him a headache. More than anything, he wanted to take an aspirin and lay down. It seemed like an eternity since he had been reelected as a California State Senator, seemed like an eon since that was all important to him, a lifetime since things had been normal. Mom wanted to see Rick. That was natural. What if she believed him? What if she put on the pressure to help him? The guy could make you wonder if he might be telling the truth, even when common sense said he wasn't. A.J. wished it all over with. And then, just as he reached the hospital parking lot, he heard the cell phone ring. Rick's cell phone.

The phone was on the seat beside of him. It rang twice before he even reached for it. Searching for a place to park, he also struggled to prepare the phone for answering. It rang four times before he said into it, "Hello."

"I want to talk to my husband!" a woman's voice said.

"Who is this?" A.J. responded automatically. He knew who it was, or believed he did.

"This is Skeeter Donahue, or, uh, I guess I should say Simon. I want to talk to Rick. Can I do that?"

A.J. sighed and rubbed his temples. His headache was going full blast now. "No, you can't. He's in jail."

"So I heard on TV. Who is this?"

She had a distinct southern accent, A.J. noticed. "This is A.J. Simon," he told her.

"Oh yea, the brother," she responded. "Why did you let them take him to jail? He didn't shoot your kid."

He wanted to argue with her, tell her, indeed, Rick had shot Jackie. Instead, he said, "We have evidence to the contrary."

"Well, your evidence is wrong. He was at home in New Orleans with Lisa and me at the time. He only started out there after he saw it on TV."

His head throbbed. "I don't believe you. You and Rick have set this up as an alibi in case he got caught. Well, he did. It won't do you any good to help him, uh, Skeeter, or whatever your name is. It will only get you in trouble. Of course, you probably already are, probably you were in on the planning of the shooting. I don't know where you're calling from, but----"

She cut in. "Listen, Mister A.J. Simon, Rick never mentioned he had a brother in nine years, but after the shootin', he seemed gung ho to help y'all out there. Now, he's in jail. He says he left San Diego to protect you."

"No, no, I won't believe that," A.J. said, but he was beginning to waver. Well, actually he'd begun to waver when he was with Rick. He didn't know now if he could ever have killed the man as he'd planned to do.

"I don't know much about it," the woman was saying. "All I know is he didn't do what he's in jail for."

"Can you prove it?" A.J. surprised himself by asking.

"With my word, I can. And Lisa's."

"That's not good enough for me," A.J. said.

"Look, this is crazy," the woman said, sounding like she was about to cry. "We have a home, he has a job. There are all kinds of people we know in New Orleans. Talk to them."

"Can any of them verify he was there when the shooting occurred?" A.J. asked, daring not to allow himself to be hopeful either way.

"I--I can't think right now," she said. "He didn't work that day, I know. And, of course, we started out to California the next. I don't know if he talked to the neighbors that day or not."

"Why didn't he work that day?"

"It was a Tuesday, right?"

"Yes," A.J. said. "Election day."

"Rick's off on Tuesdays. He works on Saturdays instead. Always has."

A.J. was struck by the final two words of her statement. 'Always has,' she said, as if she'd known Rick Simon all of his life. He wanted to tell her that, no, Rick hadn't always worked on Saturdays and had Tuesdays off. That would be useless conversation, of course, and would be a waste of time. "So, other than your word, and a child's, you can't prove he was in New Orleans?"

"He was!" she blasted. "Listen, Mister, he's not gonna take the rap for this. I'm on my way out there. Tell him I called."

The dial tone could be heard before A.J. could think of anything more to say to her. He sat quietly for several minutes, reflecting on the conversation. She sounded sincere, but he couldn't allow a stranger to cloud his vision of things. He'd seen the shooter himself. It was Rick. So why worry about it? Well, for one thing, when he had wanted to keep his meeting with his brother at the cemetery a secret, he'd pointed out to Town that the man in the picture didn't have a scar on his face. Town had said Rick could have had it surgically removed. That was true, but one of the first things A.J. noticed about his brother was that he did, indeed, still have the scar.

"Could everyone be wrong?" he spoke aloud. "Could I be wrong? Could it have been someone impersonating Rick?"

Vowing to talk to his brother again when he returned to pick up their mother at the jail, A.J. departed his car and entered the hospital to pay a visit to the little boy who, no matter who it was who shot him, had suffered the most.

Cecelia had asked to be told the story and Rick had told her. She now stood outside of his cell, gazing at him, her hand stuck through the bars so that she could touch his face. "Rick, if only you would have tried to contact us. At least, you could have contacted me, if you didn't want to take the chance to call A.J."

"They were a tough group of cookies, Mom," Rick responded. He felt better now that he'd spent time with his mother, told her about the last ten years of his life. "They would have killed A.J., I have no doubt. It was the only way I could be sure he'd be safe."

"But it makes no sense, Honey. I mean, why did they agree to let him live, just because you would go away. Why didn't they kill you both, or kill you, or kill him anyway?"

He shook his head. He'd wondered the same thing many times. "I don't know. I suppose they thought he, uh, cared enough for me, my disappearance would hurt him----I don't know."

"Well, they were right, it did hurt him," she said. "Do you think they knew where you were all along?"

"I wouldn't be surprised. They wanted me back here now, I think. That's why they set me up with this rap that's got me in jail."

"Do you think they meant to kill A.J. at the victory celebration?"

"Yes, I do, but he's safe as long as I'm in here."

Cecelia looked hard at her oldest son. "Well, I think, if you're telling the truth, you've sacrificed enough for your little brother. I'll talk to him."

This was his Mom. Rick felt the need to weep like a little boy. He suppressed it and grinned instead. "How have you been, Mom?"

Less than two hours after he left his mother at the jail, A.J. returned there. Jackie had been sleeping peacefully and so he had set with his son for a time, holding his hand, then kissed the youngster on the forehead and departed. He entered the jail and asked if he could visit with Rick when their mother came out. They told him he could. He knew they were stretching the rules because of his position in the state, stretching them for both he and Mom. Well, ordinarily, he wouldn't want that, but in this case, he did.

His wait for Cecelia was a short one. She came through the door in a matter of minutes after his arrival. When she saw him, she took purposeful strides to reach him. "A.J., we have to talk, Honey," she said.

"We can later, Mom. First, I'm going in to see Rick."

She smiled. "I'm glad. I believe him, A.J. He didn't do this. He's innocent. He was only protecting you, Honey. All of this time he's been forced to stay away from us to protect you."

"Maybe," A.J. conceded. "His, uh, a woman who claims to be his wife called."

"Skeeter, her name is," Cecelia said.

"Yes, Skeeter," he sighed. "Don't worry, Mom. Just wait here. I'll be back."

"Tell him you'll help him, Honey. Tell him that, please."

Talking to his mother had made Rick melancholy. He longed to see his wife and child and at the same time, the old feelings for his family here in San Diego were welling up inside of him. Again, because of being lost in deep thought, he did not realize he had a visitor until he heard his name spoken.

"Rick?"

He glanced up. "A.J., wasn't expectin' you? Didn't Mom find you out there?"

"Yes, she did. I asked her to wait. I want to talk to you."

Surprised, not only by the visit, but also by his brother's soft tone, Rick walked over to the bars. "All right. Did Skeeter call?"

A.J. nodded. "Yes, she called."

Hope springs eternal and Rick felt a bit of his gloom lift. Skeeter still cared. He hadn't turned her off completely. "Where is she?"

"She didn't say," A.J. replied.

"Didn't say? Well, didn't you ask her?"

"No, Rick. I only asked her if she could prove you were in New Orleans when the shooting took place."

"She can! She was with me."

"Yes, so she says, but you know as well as I do, what with the other evidence Town has, your wife's word, or your little girl's, might not be enough. And she said you didn't work that day, that Tuesdays are your day off."

Rick sighed. "That's true. I'm off on Tuesdays, work on Saturdays."

"Where?"

"Where?"

"Where do you work?"

"At the boat docks. I'm a repairman."

"You repair boats?" A.J. asked, not trying to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Yea, it's an honorable profession."

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry, I mean, I didn't mean to imply it wasn't."

"It pays for the house. Puts the kid through school. Buys Christmas presents, you know, that kind of stuff."

"Yes, I know about that kind of stuff," A.J. smiled. "Rick-----"

"Yea?"

The younger man seemed to be having trouble speaking. Rick saw that his kid brother was fighting to hold back tears. He waited. Finally, A.J. tried again. "Rick, I'm sorry, I mean, if you went away because of me, I'm sorry, I wish I'd known."

"That's water over the bridge, or under it, or whatever, now, Kid. Now, we have to get me out of this mess."

A.J. nodded. "Rick, the guy in the picture didn't have a scar."

"Huh?"

"He didn't have the scar you have on your face."

"Oh? Well, then that should exonerate me, shouldn't it?"

"No, I don't think so," A.J. said. "When I, uh, knew I was going to meet you at Dad's grave, I didn't want anyone else to know. So, when the picture came into being, I told Town it wasn't you, told him about the scar. I mean I really believed it was you, but I didn't want him to know that."

"So you could take care of me yourself."

"Right," A.J. nodded, not meeting his brother's eye. "But, anyway, Town said you could have had surgery or something, and that didn't prove anything."

"Yea, but when he sees I still have the scar----"

"I'm not sure you can convince him, or the D.A., Rick. But----"

"But?"

"But I believe you, and I'll help all I can."

Rick didn't know if he could trust his own voice at that point, but he gave it a try. "Thanks."

This was difficult. A.J. knew he would have a hard time explaining it to Anita. She would be livid. In fact, he might have a difficult time explaining it to his constituents. Why would he believe the man being accused of trying to kill him, the man who had, instead, nearly killed his beloved little boy? "Uh, I'll try to get you out on bail----"

"No!"

"No?"

"A.J., you'll be safer with me here. If they think you don't believe I did it, they're liable to try for you again. As long as I'm in here, they won't hurt you."

It made sense, A.J. supposed. "Maybe you're right, but I don't like seeing you in here. And---"

"And?"

"And how can you help me catch these people if you're in jail? I need you out."

Rick grinned. "What in the hell do you have goin' on in that head of yours, Kid?"

A.J. grinned in return. "Oh, just thought we might do a little P.I. work for old time's sake."

"If I'm out on bail, I won't be able to do much," Rick speculated. "The law will be watchin' me pretty close."

"We'll manage, even if you have to disappear again. And me along with you."

"A.J., no! No! Do you hear me? You'll be in trouble!"

"All's well that ends well, Rick. If we can make it end well----but first, we have to wait for your wife and daughter, see that they're safe somewhere, maybe with Mom, then we'll talk about it."

Rick reached through the bars to touch his brother's face. "It's really good to see you, Kid."

Tears running down his cheeks now, A.J. said. "I'll see you later, Rick. Bye."

"Bye, A.J."

Taking his time going back to where his mother waited, A.J. tried to regain his composure. His emotions were running on high after the meeting with his brother. He'd meant what he said to Rick. No way could the man have done what he was being accused of. I should have known that all along, A.J. thought to himself. He'd also told Rick he would get him out and they might have to do a disappearing act. Was that really feasible? Before they resorted to that, he would try talking to Lt. Brown again.

In the waiting room, he found his Mom. She jumped up and came to him. "A.J., what happened?"

"I, uh, I told him I'd help him, Mom. We think it's best he stays here, though, until his wife gets here and we know she and the little girl are safe. In the meantime, I'll talk to Town again. Rick didn't do this, Mom. I'm certain of it."

Cecelia smiled. "Oh Honey, of course he didn't. I'm so glad you see it that way. You can help him, then? Maybe represent him, if they won't drop the charges?"

A.J. stared. She'd come up with something he hadn't thought of. "Well, uh, I don't know about that, Mom. I hadn't thought of it, to be honest."

"Then how did you intend to help him, Honey?"

He shook his head. "I really haven't come up with anything much. I'm going to talk to Town again before we leave. There's the scar."

"The scar?"

"Didn't you notice? He still has it. The guy in the picture didn't. I know Town doesn't believe that's a good enough reason to believe Rick's innocent, but I've got to try to convince him. You wait here a while, Mom."

Cecelia looked troubled. "Yes, of course. I'll wait."

As A.J. made his way to Lt. Brown's office, his mind buzzed with the suggestion his mother had made. Could he represent Rick if need be? Lawyers did represent their relatives, but not often when the relative was accused of attempting to murder the lawyer. First, he would try to talk Town into releasing Rick. It wouldn't hurt to try, although he didn't have much confidence that he would succeed.

Town's door was open. A.J. walked right in as if these were the old days, the old days when he and Rick gave Lt. Brown fits about almost every case they worked on. "Hi Town. I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

Town, startled, glanced up. "Don't you ever learn? I don't like people just walking in on me!"

"The door was opened," A.J. said, obviously teasing. "And I thought my position in life would make you more willing to accept my visits."

"What is you want, Senator Simon?" Town shot back, grinning slightly.

"I want you to let Rick out on bail."

"A.J., what is wrong with you, Man! He's guilty!"

"No, Town, I don't think so. Neither does Mom."

Town got up from his chair. "Well, now, aint that a surprise! A man's mother doesn't think he's guilty. That's unique."

"Okay, okay, I see your point," A.J. conceded. "But I'm the one who was the target, my son got shot, and I don't think he's guilty."

"And what, might I ask, makes you so sure?"

Good question, A.J. thought. "Well, for one thing, the scar."

"Not that again!" Town said. "I told you he could have had it removed surgically."

"And then had it put back on?"

"What?"

"Didn't you notice, Town? Rick still has the scar. The guy in the picture didn't."

Obviously somewhat taken aback, Lt. Brown hesitated before he spoke. "No, I didn't notice, but that doesn't prove anything, A.J. I mean, it just may not have shown up in the picture."

"I knew you would say that," A.J. sighed.

"And you know I'm right, too," said Town.

"It's possible, but you don't know everything yet."

"Like what don't I know?"

"His wife called me on his cell phone. She and their daughter are on their way here. She says he was in New Orleans at the time of the shooting."

It was Town's turn to sigh, and he did so deeply. "Listen, Senator, I hope Rick didn't do it, hope that for your sake, his sake, everyone's sake, but I can't just let him out. In the first place, he needs a lawyer to handle that."

"I'm a lawyer."

Warily, Lt. Brown studied A.J. "You? A.J., you're not seriously considering taking his case, are you?"

"Consider it taken," A.J. said. "Now, I want his bail set. Notify me at home."

Rick couldn't shake the emotional feeling that had engulfed him during his brother's visit. He had actually set down on the hard bed in the cell and cried. No one saw him, for which he was extremely grateful. He was in trouble. Deep trouble. Would A.J. really help, or would someone convince him he'd been taken in by old feelings for a long lost brother?

When he heard someone coming, Rick wiped his hand across his eyes to dry them as best he could. He soon saw Downtown Brown approaching his cell. "Town," he nodded.

Town gazed at his prisoner curiously. The wiping away of the tears had evidently not been completely successful. "Rick, I've come to tell you bail has been set."

"Bail! I told A.J. to leave me in here. I thought he was going to! Besides, I don't even have a lawyer."

"Your brother has decided to assume that job," Town advised.

"What!"

"I said----"

"I heard you, Town!" Rick blasted. "He can't do that!"

"You should have told him that. It's too late now. He's set on it."

"He never mentioned having any such notion," Rick went on. "He said he would try to bail me out and then we----"

"Yes?"

Rick caught himself. He couldn't tell Town about the suggestion that he and A.J. might disappear for a while to try to solve the case. "Nothin'. He just said he would try to bail me out."

"Well, he's takin' your case."

"He can't, Town. People will think he's crazy. His political career will be hurt."

"Yes, it will. And if I'm not mistaken, so will his marriage."

"Then he can't do it."

"That's something you'll have to take up with him, Rick. I just came to tell you bail is set."

Rick nodded, but said nothing more.

On the way home, A.J. revealed to his mother that he had decided to take her suggestion seriously. "I'm going to represent him, Mom."

Cecelia smiled broadly. "Oh, Honey, I'm so glad. Will you get him out on bail then? I can help with it."

A.J. smiled back at her, smiled that gorgeous way of his that could warm the heart of the coldest human being. "I think I can manage without taking your money, Mom. We'll see how much it is. And when his family gets here, I hope it will be all right if they stay with------"

"With me!" Cecelia cut in. "Of course they'll stay with me. I want to get acquainted with them."

He reached over and patted her hand. "I hope she, uh, Skeeter, I guess her name is, I hope she won't be long in getting here. Rick and I think it's best for all of us to have her here before he leaves the jail. That way, we can protect them all."

Cecelia frowned. "You're going to be in more danger because of this, aren't you, A.J.?"

He sighed. "I suppose. Anita is going to be very unhappy with me. I'm not looking forward to explaining this to her."

"I'll try to help."

"No, no, this is one I'll have to handle alone, Mom. Thanks anyway."

The swarm of press people was still there on Senator Simon's property. Appalled, A.J. said to Cecelia, "Mom, we'll make a beeline for the front door, just hang on to me. And don't answer any questions."

"All right, Honey."

A.J. parked along the curb, assisted his mother out of the car, and they made a run for the front door. When the media people saw them, they began pushing and shoving among themselves to get their microphones in the faces of the Simons. "Please, stay back, please," A.J. told them. "We have nothing to say. Stay back please."

And then they were inside the house. Waiting for them was an obviously angry Anita and a tearful Krista. "You don't care anything about us at all, do you?" Anita blasted her husband.

"Anita, what-----?"

"All you care about is the man who almost killed your own son!" she went on. "A.J., what is the matter with you?"

"Anita, if you would only listen----" Cecelia began.

"I won't listen to you!" Anita cried. "I want to talk to my husband alone!"

"Yes, of course," Cecelia said, then took the arm of her granddaughter and led the young girl out of the room.

"That was uncalled for!" A.J. vented his anger once his mother and daughter were out of earshot.

Anita sank into a chair. "A.J., your brother is guilty. I can understand your mother not wanting to believe it, but you-----what about Jackie?"

"I went to see him. He was sleeping, but the doctors told me he is doing very well, Anita."

"Well, I should be with him now," she said.

"If you want to go, you can. I'll go with you just as soon as I hear from Lt. Brown."

"About what?"

"Anita, I've asked that bail be set for Rick. And then, well, you might as well know, I intend to represent him in this case."

"What!"

"I intend to be his lawyer."

"No! No, you will not do that! If you do, I'll------"

A.J. moved quickly to gather his wife in his arms. She had paused in mid-sentence and looked about to faint. "Anita, everything will be all right, I promise. Someone was impersonating Rick. I'm positive of it. He has witnesses that says he was far away from here that night."

She pushed back from his embrace, her body stiff. "Your own son saw the man who shot him, A.J. He says it was Rick."

"Not to me, he didn't," A.J. responded.

She drew back. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Was he? "No, no, Darling, not at all. I, well, I just don't believe Jackie would recognize Rick. He's never seen him in person, only a picture."

"All I know is what he said," Anita stated, turning her back on A.J.

"Did he say it, Anita? Did he really say that, or was it just wishful thinking on your part?"

Her eyes grew large. If it were a lie, it wouldn't be the first time she had told one to A.J. He wondered if she was going to admit to it. She did not. "How dare you!" she said and started to leave the room. The doorbell chimed as she reached the stairway. She turned back. "Don't allow any of those reporters in this house!" she said, and then ran up the steps.

Wondering who would have taken the chance to come to the front door if not an out of control press person, A.J. peered through the peep hole which allowed him to see the caller. It was a woman. He didn't recognize her, but she had a young girl with her. Skeeter? He opened the door.

"Yes?" he said.

The woman stared back at him. Fortunately, there weren't so many press people there now, but enough that, if this was Rick's wife and child, he didn't want the media folks to know. "I'm lookin' for Senator A.J. Simon," the woman said in a heavy southern accent. A.J. recognized it as the voice he'd heard over the phone. "I'm Sen---I mean, I'm A.J. Simon. Might you be Skeeter?"

She squared her shoulders. She was younger than he expected, young and very pretty in a big boned sort of way. Dark and sort of mysterious looking. "Yea, I'm Skeeter. I've come to get my husband out of jail."

A.J. could not help but smile. "Come in, won't you? It won't be necessary for you to get him out. I'm going to get him out on bail just as soon as I get you settled and safe."

"On bail?" Skeeter questioned, stepping inside, pushing her daughter ahead of her.

"Yes, on bail. I'm going to be representing him in the case," A.J. told her, his eyes going to the girl. Rick had told him the child looked like her uncle, and A.J. had to concede that she looked more like him than his own children. "This is Lisa, I presume?"

The child eyed him somewhat suspiciously at first. She looked as all children do when they've been in the clutches of a harried parent dragging them from one place to another, instead of allowing them to rest properly. "Where's my Daddy?"

A.J.'s heart flip-flopped. "Uh, well, your Daddy, if all goes well, will be with you very soon."

"I miss him," said the child, blue eyes studying her uncle intently.

"I know," he told her, then glanced back at her mother. "I know. I've missed him, too."

"Will I be able to see him?" Skeeter inquired.

"Yes, of course. But first I'd like you to meet my, er, Rick's mother. She's upstairs. She can look after Lisa while we're gone."

"No, Mom!" Lisa yelled. "I don't want to stay here with a strange woman!"

"It's all right, Honey," Skeeter drawled. "You don't have to." She then said to A.J. "She don't understand any of it."

He nodded. "I know, but, well, maybe Mom could go along with us then, watch her while you're with Rick. She can't go back to see him, and I'll have business to attend to."

Skeeter nodded, obviously reluctant to be told what she must do by this man she'd never heard of until recently. "Okay."

A.J. went to the stairway and called up, "Mom! Could you come down here a minute, please?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, he knew he was likely to enjoy Mom's meeting with Lisa. And he wasn't to be disappointed. He was only sorry Rick couldn't be here to see it. Cecelia came to the top of the stairs and looked down. She opened her mouth to speak, but when she saw Skeeter and Lisa in the foyer, she said not a word. Instead, she flew down the steps.

Her eyes only on the little girl, she said, "You must be Lisa. Your Daddy told me all about you today."

The child studied the older woman, studied her as if trying to make a decision. Finally, she said, "You're pretty."

A.J. saw tears come quickly to his mother's eyes. "Well, thank you, Honey. You're beautiful. I'm your grandmother, you know?"

Lisa quickly looked to Skeeter for confirmation. The dark eyed woman who was a stranger to this family, said, "She is, Lisa. She's Daddy's mother."

"I look like you," said Lisa.

"Well, yes you do a little bit," Cecelia agreed, then to Skeeter, "Welcome to the family, Skeeter."

Obviously embarrassed, Skeeter said, "Uh, thanks. Could I see Rick now?"

"Yes, well, Mom," A.J. began. "Would you come along with us to look after Lisa?"

Cecelia said. "Oh, I will, but I have a better idea. Why don't I introduce Lisa to Krista and then take them both to my house? That will give Anita a chance to go visit Jackie and Skeeter a chance to visit Rick."

"Who's Krista?" Lisa wanted to know.

"Your cousin, Honey," Cecelia said. "She's just about your age. You'll like her."

"She won't get the chance to know if she likes her or not!"

A.J., along with the two women and child with him, looked toward the sound of the angry voice. It was Anita, standing at the top of the stairs. "I won't have it!"

"Anita, Honey,-----" Cecelia began, but A.J. cut her off.

"It's okay, for now, Mom. We'll take you and Lisa to your house on our way to see Rick. Come on, let's go."

Rick fidgeted in the jail cell. He tried to imagine what it would be like to spend the rest of his life, or most of it, in a cell. He quickly decided that Nam wouldn't even compare with it. Then, he attempted to settle down. A.J. would get him out of here. Skeeter would come, and all would eventually be well. And then he laughed at himself. It would be a long time before all would be well this time.

"Rick?"

He glanced up quickly. He had another visitor. "Sweetie!" he said, and got up and rushed to get as close to his wife as he possibly could. "I'm glad you're here, Skeeter. I was worried."

"Worried I wouldn't come?"

"No, no, just worried about you finding a way to get here."

"We took a bus."

He nodded. "Where's Lisa?"

"With your mother."

Rick grinned slightly. "So, you've met Mom, huh?"

"It's all right for Lisa to stay with her, isn't it, Rick? I mean, these people are strangers to me, you know?"

"Yea, Sweetie, it's all right. How did you get here, to the jail, I mean?"

"Senator---uh, I mean, your brother brought me after we dropped your Mom and Lisa at her house."

"Okay. Did A.J. say anything about getting me out of here?"

"That's why he came, to check on it," Skeeter replied. "He said somebody named Town? Is that Right? Somebody named Town was supposed to be workin' on settin' your bail."

"It's been set," Rick said. Town will tell A.J. I could leave with you in a while. We'll stay at Mom's."

"We will?"

"Yea, I want you safe. You'll be safe there."

"And you?"

He met her gaze. "I'll be safe, too, Skeeter. Until-----well, until I'm cleared."

"Your brother is gonna be your lawyer, he said."

"He didn't tell me that, but I heard. I wish he wouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because, that puts him and his family in danger."

"Well, that wife of his ought to be in danger!" Skeeter declared.

Rick laughed aloud. He knew he shouldn't, but, somehow, his wife's southern take on things here in San Diego struck him as funny. "Oh? Anita? You've met her, I take it?"

"She wouldn't let Lisa meet their little girl and A.J. went along with her to keep peace. He told me on the way here she's distraught, but she sure don't drip with charm."

"No, well, I haven't seen Anita in many years. I was surprised A.J. married her. She had her problems in the old days, but seemed to be fairly well straightened up the last time I saw her. She did tell A.J. a whopper of a lie then, though."

"Rick, let's don't talk about them."

"Sure, I---- Here comes A.J."

Skeeter turned and, with her husband, observed as the younger Simon brother approached. "Well, can my husband go now? Do they understand that he didn't do this?"

A.J. looked to Rick who in turn appeared embarrassed. It was Rick who spoke. "Sweetie, they're not gonna be convinced that easy. I'm just gettin' out on bail. That is, if-----"

"Yes, you are getting out on bail," A.J. said. "It's high but I can manage it."

"No!"

"It's all right, Rick."

"No, Kid, I won't let you do that for me. You'll probably have to mortgage your house or somethin'."

"Re mortgage it, you mean," A.J. laughed. "Look, Rick, you wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't wanted to help me. After all these years, I can pay you back a little bit. It's a done deal, anyway."

"Let him do it, Rick!" Skeeter implored. "I want you out of here!"

"Then it's settled," said A.J. "Now, Skeeter, you come with me. The authorities will get Rick released and signed out and then we can leave."

Rick watched his wife and his brother walk away. Tears came again to his eyes. Damn! A.J. had put himself on the line now for sure and it wouldn't do his political career or his marriage a bit of good. At least, the lie was over. Skeeter knew everything about him now, his name, and his family. That couldn't be bad, even if there was still a lot on the line before it was over.

Quickly wiping the tears away, he waited at the bars of his cell. In only a few minutes, Lt. Brown came ambling up. "You're free on bail, Rick. You know the rules. Stay in town."

"Yea, Town, I'll stay in town," said Rick.

Town grinned slightly as he opened the cell. "Very funny. Come on out of there."

A.J. stood with Skeeter at the desk where Rick would be brought to sign the papers that would release him on bail. People milled around everywhere, some with cameras. Senator Simon's insides began to churn. No doubt there would be photographs of this process printed in the newspaper for all of San Diego, indeed, for all of the state of California. No, make that for the entire world to see.

"I wish they'd hurry," Skeeter drawled. "I don't like seein'-----oh, here he comes."

Before A.J. could detain her, the woman rushed across the room and threw her arms around Rick. In a way, it was amusing to see his brother gushed over by this outgoing person, but this was too serious a situation for A.J. to get much enjoyment out of it. He did notice that Rick pushed her back quickly.

Lt. Brown then took over. "Do you mind, Ma'am?"

"Mind what?" Skeeter inquired.

"Just stand over there with the Senator until this process is over, will ya?" Town requested.

"Go on, Sweetie," Rick told his wife. "It won't take long."

Rick stepped up to the desk for the processing, and then the lights began to flash. The lights of the cameras in the room, that is. "What the hell, Town! Can't you keep them out of here!"

"Nope," Town said, "I'm afraid I can't."

"A.J. is gonna hear it from the people," Rick growled.

"You should have thought of that."

"Look, Town----"

"Let's just get you out of here for now."

Rick studied the face of his old friend. "You really think I did this, don't ya, Town?"

"We'll see," said Lt. Brown. "Sign here for your personal effects."

Skeeter returned to AJ.'s side, but just as she did, the reporters in the city building began to fire questions at the Senator. "Did you bail your brother out, Senator Simon?" "Word is you're going to represent him, is that true?" Will he be staying with you, Senator Simon?" Is this his wife?" "What is your name, Ma'am?"

Seeing that Skeeter was unnerved by the proceedings, A.J. made an attempt to get rid of the press. "Please, there's really nothing to tell you now. My brother is out on bail. That's all I have to say. Please leave us alone."

Rick turned away from the desk and walked toward his family. At that point, the flashbulbs began going off in earnest. He recalled another time, years ago, when he and A.J. were jailed and their mother came to bail them out. On that occasion, he'd decked a couple of people who had interfered with their leaving. He realized he couldn't do that now. "Out of the way!" he said. "I can't talk to you."

"Did you do the shooting, Mr. Simon?" one man yelled. "Did you shoot your brother's child?"

A.J. came bounding over. "My brother can not talk to you now. I will make a statement later. Now, let us through."

The people of the press seemed to understand Senator Simon meant business. They quieted and moved aside. But then they observed something that made them pick up their pencils and paper and their cameras once again. First, the accused, Rick Simon, hugged the woman who was rumored to be his wife. Cameras went off en masse.

"There, Sweetie, you'll have your picture in the paper and on TV," Rick teased Skeeter, when he turned her loose.

"I don't care," she said. "I'm just so glad to be able to touch you, and not through those awful bars."

"Yea, makes me happy, too." Rick said.

A.J. moved in close. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

Rick turned to his brother. "You aint hugged me yet, either, Kid."

A.J. grinned. "No."

Rick grabbed the younger man and squeezed him in a tight embrace. Senator Simon returned the favor. The embrace went on for several seconds. The room lit up with flashing lights. The press folks were gleeful. They had quite a story in the works.

A.J. experienced relief at being away from the questioning and the cameras. Once in his automobile with Rick and Skeeter, he hurriedly drove away toward his mother's house, the home he and Rick were raised in. The couple with him was mostly quiet on the drive, other than the times Rick pointed something of interest out to his wife. All three of them were thinking of what had just occurred, but absolutely nothing was said about it. Until they stepped inside Cecelia Simon's front door.

"Hi, Mom!" Rick greeted. "I've brought Skeeter to stay awhile."

"Where is Lisa?" Skeeter asked immediately.

"She's upstairs," Cecelia said. "She and Krista are playing."

"Krista!" A.J. said, surprised. "Anita must have changed her mind, huh?"

"Not like you think, A.J."

"What do you mean, not like I think?"

Cecelia glanced from A.J. to Rick, quickly at Skeeter, and then back to A.J. "She just left, A.J. She saw you on TV, saw that you had bailed out your brother, saw you hug------she was very upset. She said she didn't know when she'd be back."

"What!"

Rick looked pained. "I'm sorry, Kid. I'm really sorry."

"For what, Rick?" Skeeter wanted to know. "You didn't do anything."

A.J. rubbed his temples. "I'd better go look for her. She probably went to see Jackie. Is Krista all right, Mom?"

"Yes, she is now, but she was upset when she got here. Having Lisa to meet and play with has helped."

"Maybe I'd better say hello to her before I leave," said a harried A.J.

Walking over to the bottom of the enclosed stairway he had gone up and down many times in his life, A.J. raised his voice. "Krista, it's Daddy. Would you come down a minute? I want you to meet someone."

Two little girls came downstairs. Krista went into the arms of A.J. and Lisa ran to Rick. "Daddy!" the youngster from New Orleans cried. "Daddy, were you in jail?"

"Lisa!" Skeeter admonished. "Where did you hear that?"

"Krista told me."

Rick broke the tension of the moment. Holding his daughter tight in his arms, he said. "I was, but I'm not now, sweetheart. Everything is okay." And then he moved to the niece he was seeing for the first time. "Hi Krista. I'm your uncle Rick."

"My Momma don't like you," Krista announced. "She says you shot Jackie."

A.J. wanted to speak up, but he allowed Rick to handle it. The older Simon brother bent over to be eye level with his niece. "Your Momma is wrong, Sweetheart. I didn't shoot anyone. Your Daddy and me are gonna prove that to the world soon."

Krista smiled. Her smile was much like her father's. "Okay. I like you."

Rick felt tears sting his eyes. "I like you, too."

A.J. said to his daughter then, "Krista, I'm going to find Momma now. You stay here with Grandma and Uncle Rick----and Aunt Skeeter and Lisa. All right?"

"All right, Daddy."

"Let's go back up and play, Krista," Lisa suggested.

"Yea, let's go!" said Krista and off they went.

"Well, thanks for looking after her, Mom, I'd better go. See you all later."

Rick was having none of it. "Listen, A.J., I think you'd better let me go with you."

"Rick!" Skeeter exclaimed.

"Honey, that wouldn't be wise, would it?" Cecelia asked.

A.J. also took exception to the suggestion. "Rick, I'm sure Anita's at the hospital. She wouldn't want to see you, I'm afraid, and besides which, the press would be there. You just stay----"

"I think you'll be safer with me along, Kid. I'm goin'."

"Rick Simon, you belong with your family!" Skeeter said vehemently.

Rick faced his wife. "Sweetie, A.J. is part of my family. I know this is hard for you, and I know you don't understand how I feel now, because you didn't know Mom and A.J. existed, but they were my life until I---until I had to leave. Now, whoever is out to get us, and I do mean us, will take the opportunity to go after A.J. if he's alone, and then say I did it."

"Well, that don't make sense," Skeeter countered. "If you're with him, they'll surely say you did it."

"She's right, Rick," Cecelia agreed.

"No, no, she's not." This from A.J. "If we travel around in the public eye, the hospital, my house, or wherever I need to go, if we do that together, no one would dare say he tried to hurt me. I mean, he wouldn't want to make an attempt on my life then, it would be too obvious. And since whoever does want to hurt me would surely want Rick accused, they won't bother me if he's with me all of the time."

"Huh?" Skeeter said.

Rick laughed and A.J. laughed with him. "He's a lawyer, Sweetie, and he always did have a way of talkin' in riddles."

"It's you who talked in riddles!"

"Was not."

"Was too."

Rick's wife could only stare. Cecelia, despite the anxiety of the moment, grinned slightly. "Don't worry, Skeeter, this is normal behavior for these two."

"Well, it don't sound normal to me," said the woman who'd been suddenly dropped among strangers. "But----"

"But what, Sweetie?" Rick wanted to know.

Skeeter focused on him. "You, you seem different, so, it's unbelievable, but you seem happy."

Rick grinned. "Yea, I guess I am in a way, but there's lots to do before I can really be happy, so I'm goin' with A.J. right now. You'll be okay here."

Cecelia moved to Rick. "I'll look after them, all of them. You take care of your brother like you always have, Honey. And give your mother a hug and a kiss before you go."

Rick, fighting tears again, leaned down and gathered his beloved Mom in an embrace. "Love ya, Mom. Sorry for all the trouble."

"It's not your fault, Honey, yours or your brother's. Just take care."

"We will, Mom," A.J. said, taking his turn to kiss Cecelia. "We'll be back. Bye."

And then the Simon brothers departed the house they had both always called home no matter where they lived.

"Where we goin', Kid?" Rick asked after they had been rolling along in A.J.'s late model van for a few minutes.

"I wish I knew," A.J. answered.

"You think Anita's in on this, don't ya?"

"No!" the younger man denied vehemently, then immediately pulled over and parked next to a curb. He drew several deep breaths before speaking again. "I'm troubled by something. I don't know how you guessed. Or did you guess?"

Rick smiled slightly. "How else would I know? Look, A.J., I insisted on comin' with you 'cause I sensed somethin'. Could be just old P.I. instincts. I know you're troubled, I don't know about what or why exactly. I just figured it had somethin' to do with your wife."

A.J. turned toward his passenger. "Rick, Anita told me Jackie told her it was you who shot him. Now, all he's ever seen is your picture. I don't think he could have recognized you or someone impersonating you."

"So, you think Anita was tryin' hard to convince you it was me?"

"Yes. But that's not all."

"What else?"

"The doctor said Jackie did say something just before he went into surgery."

"About me?"

"No," A.J. said. "The doctor couldn't make it out. Said it sounded like Harry or something similar. Anita had a fit when we were told that."

"What do you mean, she had a fit?" Rick asked.

"She blasted the doctor. She claimed Jackie didn't say anything, that she was right there. But when we made it clear to her it was after he went into the operating room, she had to be quiet about it. It was shortly after that she told me the boy said it was you."

Rick turned away from his brother. "Sounds to me like she was tryin' to cover some tracks."

"Yes, that's the way it sounds to me, too." A.J. confessed.

They were both quiet for a full minute before Rick broke the silence. "Listen, A.J., I need to ask you somethin' you maybe aint gonna like."

A.J. kept his gaze straight ahead. "Fine. Ask."

"How was it and when was it you and Anita got back together?"

"We, uh, she came back to San Diego shortly after you disappeared," A.J. began to explain. "She came to see me at the office, I was still trying to maintain Simon and Simon, I hoped----well, anyway, she came to see me. We dated a few times casually, but then things turned serious. I realized I'd always loved Anita-----"

"You had?"

Rick's tone caused his brother to glance at him. "Yes, I had always loved her, Rick. That surprises you so much?"

Rick shrugged. "Yea, in a way. If you'd said you had always loved Janet, I maybe could see it, but Anita? Especially after that fiasco we went through about her brother's death and that whopper she told you about her abortion."

A.J. averted his eyes from the other man and stared out over into the San Diego street they were parked on. "She only did that because she loved me, Rick. She saw it as a chance to get me back."

"When you use lies to control people-----" Rick began, and then paused. A terribly pained expression had come over A.J.'s face. "What is it, Kid?"

"I think she's still using lies to control me. Rick, I think Anita is up to her ears in this mess, maybe from the time you had to leave."

"You're sayin' you think she was, or is, involved in the group I infiltrated?"

"I hate to think it."

"But you do."

"I think I need to question Jackie, see if he remembers that name he tried to tell the doctor. I need to make the connection, if there is one."

"There are a lot of holes yet."

"Yes, so let's get busy and fill them."

"If your wife---I mean----look, A.J., I hope it isn't so, I really do."

A.J. shot a glance across the seat. "Thanks------Rick?"

"Yea?"

"It's good to see you."

Rick grinned. "The feelin' is mutual. Now, let's get goin'."

They drove on to the hospital, both quiet again. A.J. parked. "Look, Rick, there are going to be press people here, no doubt. They'll-------"

'I'll let you do the talkin', Senator," Rick cut in. "Or, should I say, counselor? You've made quite a life for yourself, Kid."

"I'm beginning to think it hasn't been all that I thought it was."

Rick kept his eyes peeled on both sides, in front, and behind himself and his brother as they walked toward the hospital entrance. His old P.I. instincts were in bloom. To say he was pleased A.J. had gone against public opinion, against Lt. Brown's opinion, and, most certainly, Anita's opinion, and accepted the truth, would be a gross understatement. Rick only hoped the woman A.J. had married wasn't as involved as his brother seemed to now think.

"You want me to wait somewhere while you talk to your boy?"

"I want you to go in the room with me," A.J. answered.

"You sure that's wise?"

"Not sure of anything right now."

Rick nodded and on they walked. As the entrance loomed ahead, a crowd began to gather. The press and the just curious were waiting. "Got anything in mind, Kid?"

"Yes, I do."

"Lay it on me. We aint got much time."

"Just follow me," A.J. said, grinning slightly at the prospect of working with his sibling to pull one of their old tricks.

"I'm at your mercy," said Rick.

When Senator Simon was close enough to the media people to be heard without raising his voice, he stopped walking. Rick stopped beside of him. "You folks have met my brother, haven't you?"

There was general shouting, some questions to A.J., some to Rick. When it subsided, A.J. went on. "This is Rick Simon. He's accused of a horrible crime. He's accused of coming to a public event with the idea in his head of shooting me, and then of shooting my young son instead. Now, you folks don't want to mess with him, do you? He looks mean, wouldn't you say?"

"But, if he is, Senator, why are you with him?"

"Just crazy, I guess," A.J. smiled.

Rick joined in the fun. "He always was a little off. Guess that's what makes him a good politician. Lawyer, too."

A.J. grinned broadly. "Course, if you folks aren't sure, maybe you'd better back off. Could be he'll blow up like a roman candle any minute now."

The press people and media folks began to do what had been suggested to them. They cleared a path quickly, which allowed the Simon brothers to walk through the entrance. From there, they took the elevator to the critical care floor. "You aint lost your touch, Kid," Rick remarked, as they were lifted up through the floors of the hospital.

"No, well, we've got a ways to go yet, before I can comment on that."

Rick nodded. The door opened on the intensive care unit. Leaving the elevator, A.J. led the way to Jackie's room. He took note of the horrified expressions on the nurses' faces at the desk, but he kept walking. He did not, however, find it so easy to get past his son's doctor.

"Senator Simon," the man said, stepping in front of A.J. to halt his progress just outside Jackie's door. "Surely you're not thinking of taking this man in there. I'm going to have to object, Sir."

"My brother didn't do the shooting, doctor. You must take my word for that now. Please, stand aside. I'll take responsibility for anything that might happen."

The doctor frowned deeply. Clearly, he didn't want to allow Rick in his patient's room. It was also clear that he felt A.J., being a state senator, had too much pull to buck him. He stepped aside.

Rick stood just inside the door of the room, while his brother approached the small figure in the bed. Forcing himself to watch when he would much rather have turned away, he saw that the boy's head was bandaged and that there were any number of tubes running to his body. Looking away from the boy, he observed as A.J. moved to the bed and leaned over. He then heard his sibling say, "Jackie, its Daddy. Are you awake?"

The child moved a bit and opened his eyes. Tears clouded Rick's vision. "Daddy?" the boy said.

"Yes, it's me." A.J. acknowledged and took his son's hand in his own. "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy," Jackie replied.

"I'll bet," said A.J. "Jackie, I've brought someone I want you to meet."

"Who is it?"

Rick braced himself. If this youngster had seen the person who did the shooting, he just might believe it to be his uncle. The sight of that person in the room might be traumatic for him. A.J. answered. "It's your Uncle Rick. He's come for a visit."

Jackie looked puzzled. "I thought he was dead, Daddy."

A.J. smiled that beautiful way of his which could warm Alaska in the winter. "We were afraid he was, but he's not. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Where is he?"

A.J. swung around and motioned for Rick to join him. A bit reluctantly, the older man approached the bed and looked down on his nephew. He started to speak, but when Jackie recoiled and clamped down on his father's hand, he did not. "That's the man, Daddy!"

Rick stepped quickly back. A.J. struggled to quiet his son. "Jackie, the man who fired the gun looked like Uncle Rick, but it wasn't."

The boy said something then that surprised both his father and his uncle. "Does he have a mask on?"

Pieces of the puzzle began to fall in place in A.J. Simon's mind. Oh, he didn't like the picture they were forming, and he knew he should hold off even thinking such thoughts, but he couldn't help himself. "Why would you think he has a mask on, Jackie?"

"Because," the boy began, "He put it on that night."

A.J. could almost feel Rick tense behind him. They were learning more from this injured child than either of them had supposed they could. "Who put on a mask?"

Jackie frowned. "I can't remember his name, Daddy. Harold, or Harry, or something like that, I think."

Senator Simon leaned over his son. "Jackie, where did you see him putting on the mask? At the arena before we went out to the podium?"

"No, at home."

Rick knew he should breathe normally, but he could not. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, but he had not expected to learn much here. Poor A.J.! Something inside of Rick wanted to tell his kid brother to let it go for now, to put a stop to the agony he knew the guy must be going through, but hey, the man was a noted politician in this state, a lawyer, a prominent, respected citizen. He could handle it. He didn't need coddling from a big brother. "A.J., maybe another time---"

A.J. swung his head around. "No. Now's the time." He then turned back to the bedridden youngster. "You saw a man put a mask on in our home?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the man, Jackie? I mean, is he a friend of ours, of mine or Momma's?"

"Momma knew him. She saw him put the mask on. I think Momma knew him. I-----"

"What?"

"I wasn't supposed to see him," the boy said. "Daddy, where is Momma? It's been a long time since she's been here."

Again, A.J. turned to meet the gaze of his brother. Then, to his son, "You've been sleeping a lot, Jackie. Maybe you just missed her being here."

"I wish she would come now."

"I know. Listen, did you hear Momma and this man with the mask talking when he put it on?"

"A little."

"What did they say? What did Momma say, Son? Do you remember?"

Rick reached out to touch A.J. on the shoulder. They both waited for the little boy, who was obviously very sleepy to form a response. "She said, uh, she said she was glad it looked so much like Rick. I guess she meant Uncle Rick."

A.J. leaned over and kissed his offspring. "I guess she did. You go on back to sleep, Son. I'll see you later."

"Daddy, can I shake hands with Uncle Rick? I'm not afraid of him, if he's the real Uncle Rick."

Almost afraid to look at his brother, A.J. quickly wiped his own tears away. "Sure, you can do that. You ready to meet your nephew, Rick?"

"You bet I am," came the response. The voice sounded strong, so A.J. turned around. Rick's eyes were wet, but he was in control.

"Well, then Rick Simon, meet your nephew, Jackie. Jackie Simon, meet your uncle Rick."

Rick moved up close and smiled down at the youngster. The resemblance to himself was striking. "Hi, Jackie. How you doin'? You say you wanta shake hands with me?"

"Yes," said Jackie, extending his hand.

Rick took it and gently shook. "Nice to meet you, Jackie."

"Nice to meet you, too. Are you really ornery?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, both A.J. and Rick laughed. "Who told you that?" Rick finally asked.

"My Daddy," Jackie grinned.

"Oh yea? Well, I'll just have to have a little talk with your daddy, won't I?"

The boy continued to grin. "Yea. He said you were nice, too, though."

"He did, huh? I guess I can forgive him, then."

"He said, and Grandma said, I look like you. Do I look like him, Daddy?"

A.J., who was having quite a struggle maintaining his composure, tried for an even tone, "Yes, you do look alike, you and your Uncle Rick. And Uncle Rick has a little girl whose name is Lisa who looks like me. What do you think of that?"

"How old is she?" Jackie wanted to know.

"Eight," Rick supplied the answer.

"Oh no, she and Krista will gang up on me!"

Again, both Simon brothers laughed. Then, A.J. turned serious. "You go to sleep, young man. You've talked enough. When you get home, you can meet your cousin, talk more to Uncle Rick and Aunt Skeeter. Now, though, I want you to rest. Okay?"

"Okay, Daddy. Will you stay until I go to sleep?"

"Sure," A.J. smiled. "Sure I will."

Rick stepped back and watched the scene. His brother held the hand of the brave youngster and stroked the boy's forehead until he drifted off. Then, A.J. surprised him with the forceful way he got up and left the room, motioning for Rick to follow. Outside in the hallway, the doctor was summoned. A.J. issued a stern order. "I want a guard kept on my son's room at all times. I will be calling Lt. Brown to have someone from the police department sent here, but until then, I want one of your hospital guards there continually. And I don't want my wife allowed in there, should she show up here! Is that understood?"

The doctor looked abashed. "Senator Simon, I don't understand! Surely, you don't mean----"

"Yes, I do mean," A.J. interrupted. "I mean exactly what I said. If my wife should come, and I don't think she will, I don't want her in that room. If I hear it was otherwise, I'll have you fired, Doctor!"

Rick reeled from his brother's harshness almost as much as the poor doctor. He'd seen A.J. as a tough guy before, of course, but this was somehow different. It was almost as though he was throwing his weight as a famous person around. Well, why shouldn't he? Rick said nothing and soon he was following his brother out of the hospital and walking across the lot to the car.

Reporters milled around, still yelling out questions. They seemed to realize they weren't going to get answers, so weren't very persistent. The Simons reached A.J.'s automobile without problems.

"Now what?" Rick asked as his sibling angrily fired the engine.

"We find Anita, that's what!" A.J. barked.

"I think we'd best do somethin' else first, Kid."

"Will you stop callin' me that, Rick?!"

"Sure! Sure, I will! You're a big, important man now, huh? Threatenin' to fire doctors, pushin' folks around. No one like that wants to be called Kid by his big brother."

A.J. hit the brakes and shut down the motor. The fire seemed to go out of him and he slumped against the wheel. "I'm sorry. I'm just-----"

"You're upset, and I don't blame ya," Rick cut in. "But you've got to get yourself under control. You won't be able to think things through if you don't."

"I know. I know," A.J. murmured. "How could this have happened?"

"Well, I think that's the first thing we have to work on, ki---er, I mean, A.J. We have to find out not only how, but also why, this happened. And you've got to get back in your P.I. suit. Forget about being a lawyer and a Senator. I gotta work with the A.J. who uses his head to figure things out."

"And doesn't throw his weight around, huh? A guy who won't even let his big brother call him by his favorite nickname?"

There were tears now, tears flowing from the eyes of A.J. Simon. Rick quickly made a suggestion. "Better let me drive."

"Sure," the other man said. "Let's switch sides."

Both men got out and walked around the car to the other side. Rick got in under the wheel and his brother took the passenger seat. "Where to, A.J.?" the older man asked. "Do you have any idea where Anita could be, who this masked man could be, any ideas at all? Personally, I still think it all ties in with the bunch I was with when I had to leave."

Breathing deeply, A.J. said, "I've been trying to come up with someone named Harold or Harry ever since I heard about Jackie saying what he did to the doctor in the operating room. I can't. If Anita is involved, has been all these years, our marriage is a sham, our life----"

"Why don't you wait until you learn more about it?" Rick suggested. "It could be she's a victim, just like me, and now, just like you. Maybe she's afraid, A.J."

Glancing across the seat, A.J. said, "You'll never change, Rick Simon."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if you live to be one hundred and I'm ninety five, you'll still be tryin' to make me feel better."

Rick turned away for a moment, then back. "Okay, okay, so I don't like you to feel bad, is that so terrible?"

"No."

"Where do we go, Kid?"

"Drive a while," A.J. shrugged. "Maybe I'll think of something."

Rick nodded. "Fine. I want to see some of the old places anyway. Your old house on the canal, for instance."

"Yea?" A.J. smiled. "I haven't been by there in a while, either. Time gets away."

"Sure. I thought maybe I'd see my old boat sittin' out there in the yard, ya know? Or, maybe see Marlowe runnin' 'round the yard."

"Rick-----"

"I'm all right," said the older man as he put his brother's car in gear and pulled out into traffic. "What did you do with my houseboat? I wondered over the years."

"Well, at first, we just took everything out of it, took it to Mom's, then after a while, I, uh, done some maneuvering and sold it."

"Maneuvering?"

"Well, it was yours, and we never had you declared dead, so, legally, I couldn't sell it."

"But you bein' a lawyer by then, you found some way to get around the legal business, huh?"

"Yes, but I put the money in an account where it wouldn't be touched. It's yours, Rick, and I'll see to it that you get it."

Touched, Rick said, "Well, I guess I can use it. Lisa's gonna be needin' braces soon."

A.J. chuckled. "Yes, we've started down that road. Anita----"

"What?"

Without warning, A.J.'s anger erupted. He pounded on the dashboard. "Damn! Things haven't been right from the get go and I was too, dumb to know it!"

Rick reached over and touched the other man on the arm. "A.J., don't beat up on yourself. There isn't time. Did Anita just contact you all of a sudden? Was it so soon after I left that you might be suspicious when you think back on it?"

"Yes. Yes, indeed. She came to my door not a week after you disappeared."

"That is soon."

"Yes it is. And she was so concerned, so sympathetic, I, I should have been suspicious, but I was, well, I was upset."

"Why should you have been suspicious?" Rick asked. "Anita and I never had any differences."

A.J. agreed. "No, but, the timing, and then she really pushed for giving up. Of course, I only thought she was trying to help then."

"Giving up?"

"Yes. She thought we should stop looking for you long before we did. I thought it was because she wanted to save Mom and me the heartache."

"We have to figure this out, Kid. We need to put the puzzle together. We've probably got all the pieces, we just need to put them in place."

"Right. Here's your turn to my old canal house."

"I know that, A.J.! Would I ever forget how to get to that place?"

A.J. grinned broadly. "No, I suppose not. I wonder who's living there now?"

"I'm just gonna pretend you are, we are----Hey, it's for sale!"

"So it is,' A.J. said. "You don't suppose it's empty, do you?"

"Looks empty," Rick said. "Let's go look in the windows."

"Oh boy," A.J. said. "I can just see the headlines. State Senator A.J. Simon caught window peeking with his out on bail for suspicion of attempted murder brother."

Rick laughed. "Goin' a little heavy on the drama, aint ya, Kid?"

Laughing along with his sibling, the younger man said, "Let's do give the place a look see."

The Simon brothers parked in the driveway and walked across the walk that would take them to the kitchen door. When they reached the window over the sink, they both peered through it. "Nothin' there, no dirty dishes, cups or anything," Rick observed.

"Let's go look through the patio door," A.J. suggested.

They made their way on around to the patio. The sliding glass door had no curtain on it. They could see into the dining room and living room easily. "A.J., I gotta get in there," said Rick.

"What! Why?"

"Because I'm sufferin' from a bad case of nostalgia blues."

"Well, that's just too bad. I'm afraid I no longer have a key to this house."

"Who needs a key?"

"Rick!"

Rick grinned and took out a credit card. "Let's see if I still have the touch."

"Same old Rick," A.J. muttered nervously. "The more trouble you get in, the more you invite."

"Yep, that's me," Rick agreed, working to open the kitchen door. "Ah, here we go."

And, indeed, they did go. The two of them walked inside of the house which held so many memories. Both men wandered around for a minute, lost in his own thoughts. There was no furniture, and there were no pictures on the walls. There was nothing to impede the memories of how it had once been. "I think this house brings back the past more than Mom's did," Rick finally said.

"Well, I've been to Mom's all along, but haven't given much thought to this place. It was really my first home, I mean on my own."

"How long did you live here after I left?" Rick asked.

"Oh, a year or so, I guess. I lived here until Anita and I bought our home where we are now."

"Didn't consider stayin' on here?"

A.J. shrugged. "This wasn't, according to Anita, the kind of home a-----"

"What, Kid?" Rick applied pressure. "What just came to you? You thought of somethin', what was it?"

He had thought of something and there was no point in trying to deny it to Rick, or, for that matter, to himself. "Anita wanted to be in real estate."

Rick stared for a moment. "So? I mean, it seems like you're changin' the subject, but my guess is, it all ties in. How does Anita's wantin' to be in real estate help us now?"

"We got married and bought our home, well, we bought it first, and moved right in when we married. She took her test to become a real estate agent and she wanted this to be the first house she sold. So, I held it until she had a job with an agency. She----"

"And she sold it?"

"But did she?" A.J. questioned, more of himself than his brother.

"I don't know, Kid. Are you thinkin' maybe she didn't?"

A.J. shook his head as if to clear cobwebs. "Of course she sold it. I'm getting too mysterious here."

"Maybe, maybe not," Rick theorized. "Just maybe you're on to somethin' and should expand on it."

"Well, the thing is, she said she sold it. She celebrated the sale, but I---"

"You what?" Rick pressed.

"I really don't know. I never came by here again. There was no need."

"So, you're sayin' this house might have set empty all these years?"

"Yes, it might have."

"But for what purpose, Kid, for what purpose?"

"Who knows? It could be the place where they meet," A.J. ventured.

"Who?"

"Come on, Rick! You're deliberately making me do all the work here!"

"You're the one who knows what your wife is like, how she acts, where she goes----"

"You would think so, wouldn't you? But I don't think I know the real Anita."

"This is spooky, A.J. And it just could be we're off on the wrong track."

"It could be, but I don't think so. My P.I. instincts are on the prowl. Yours are as well."

Rick could not help but laugh out loud. "That so?"

"Yes, that's so. Now, let's look around the house."

"Okay. What are we lookin' for?"

A.J. gave the man he had once worked with in a partnership which put them in danger almost constantly, and, in which they relied on each other to stay alive, an exasperated glance. "You know the answer to that, Rick. We're looking for anything which gives us a clue to whether anyone, Anita, or anyone, is using this house as a base to cause trouble in the world."

"Ah," Rick nodded. "Nice speech, Senator. Let's look."

Motioning that he would go upstairs, A.J. climbed the steps immediately, leaving Rick to wander around downstairs. He did so, looking closely in all the closets of the seemingly empty house. He returned to the kitchen to open every drawer and cabinet. He found nothing. Deciding to look in the garage, he crossed the living room and dining area to do so. It was then that he heard A.J. calling to him from upstairs.

"Rick, come up here!"

"I'm comin'!" the older man yelled back and headed up the steps. He found his brother in what was the spare bedroom when A.J. lived in the house. "What is it? Have you found somethin'?"

Something had been found. A.J. at first had gone into the master bedroom, the one he had used while living here. It was a room that held many memories for him, memories of nights reading good books, memories of young women he had brought here, Amanda, for one, and Liz, and even Anita on occasion before they were married. The room was empty of anything now, and so he had ambled into the spare bedroom. Rick was speaking to him. Asking a question. "Yes, I've found something."

"What? A.J.?"

Moving out of the way, the younger Simon allowed his brother to look for himself at the find. "Boxes of documents, it looks like."

"Yea, that's what it looks like," Rick agreed. "Whose documents, though?"

"Anita's." A.J. murmured.

"Anita's?" Rick repeated the name, stunned by the revelation, even though he and A.J. had just been talking downstairs about the possibility she was using the house for some sinister purpose.

"Look at this," said A.J., taking from one of the many boxes an envelope. "It's addressed to an A. Jones and sent here to this house."

Rick looked, but didn't take the envelope from his brother. "And you're makin' the stretch that A. Jones is Anita? That's spooky, Kid."

A.J. chuckled in a non-humorous way. "Yea, spooky, but I feel it in my gut. Should I open it?"

"Well, maybe you should, just to get an idea, you know, of what has been goin' on."

Starting to lift the flap from the envelope, A.J. decided he couldn't do it, so he handed it to his brother. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"All right," Rick said, taking it. "I'll do it. Could be it's nothin'. Could be it's just---"

"Open it, Rick! Stop stammering!"

"Sure."

Rick fumbled with the envelope. He saw that the contents of it were fairly bulky, probably more than one sheet of paper. He smoothly removed them. Unfolding them, he saw that, indeed, there was more than one sheet. Three pieces of paper came into view as he took the contents of the envelope apart. "Let's see, what have we got here?" he said, more to himself than to his brother.

A.J. had his head turned away, as though he didn't want to know what they had found. Rick realized that wasn't true, realized that his brother was suffering terrible anxiety. He hurriedly looked over one of the papers. "A.J., this must be a receipt for merchandise."

"What kind of merchandise?" the other man asked, still not looking at the paper.

"Let's see," Rick murmured, shuffling that paper underneath the others so that he could study the next one. "Oh boy," he said.

"Oh boy? Rick----"

"You're gonna have to look at these, Kid."

Slowly moving his body so that he was facing Rick, A.J. repeated himself. "What kind of merchandise?"

"Toys on the face of it, but common names for drug paraphernalia. It looks like An-or it looks like somebody has been runnin' a drug ring from this house."

"No."

"A.J.-----"

Placing his right hand on his forehead, the younger Simon gave himself a brief massage, and then said, "I'm all right. Give it to me."

Rick handed him the evidence. A.J. studied the paper for a very long time, and then handed it back to Rick. "How could I not have known this?"

"Looks like Anita lived a separate life from bein' a wife and mother," Rick said.

"Why is the evidence of a drug ring being displayed so openly, though?" A.J. wondered.

"I don't suppose she and whoever she works with thinks it is open," Rick replied. "It says toys on there, anyway."

"Yes, but it also mentions Coke and Heroin. We'd better look at the rest of it. See if there are names."

"Right. We could be jumpin' to a conclusion, you know? Maybe it's not Anita."

"You don't believe that anymore than I do," said the younger man, dipping his hand in the box and pulling out more envelopes. "None of these have return addresses on them."

"Not surprising."

"No, but how are we going to find out who's involved?"

"Talk to your wife?"

"I don't know where she is, Rick!"

"We need to find her."

A.J. shrugged. "I'm not sure I want to find her. Maybe we should just take all of this to Town."

"It doesn't prove anything, A.J., not a thing. A. Jones could be anybody. I think we should find Anita on our own----before she has a chance to set up the showdown."

"Showdown?"

"You don't think she's gonna try to have us both killed? Especially if she finds out we've been here?"

"Why, Rick? Why on earth would she marry me, have children? I just can't figure it out."

"Let's get out of this house," Rick suggested. "We can talk in the car. Maybe if I tell you more about what I encountered before I took off, it will somehow connect to somethin' you know."

A.J. nodded, and they quickly went downstairs and out the door.

Rick again took the wheel. His brother was in no condition to drive and they both knew it. "Where can we go to talk, A.J.?"

"I don't know, but I'm kind of worried now about Krista. Anita might come back for her."

"I doubt that, Kid."

"Probably, she won't. Well, why don't we drive up to that lover's lookout where we used to take the girls?"

"Say what!" Rick exclaimed.

"No one is there this early, Rick. We'll be alone."

Rick nodded and drove on. The city of his birth and his home for many years began to come back to him as if he'd never been away. "Odd how you don't forget things," he said.

"Like?"

"Like the streets of San Diego."

"Oh. How do you like New Orleans?"

"I love it," Rick admitted. "I really do."

"You're happy, aren't you? I mean, mostly?"

"Well, right now, of course----"

A.J. laughed at the face his brother was making. "Right now, your happiness is somewhat tempered."

"Yea, somewhat. I am happy with Skeeter and Lisa, though, and I do like New Orleans. Bein' here, though------"

"Yes?"

"Bein' here has brought back memories," Rick finished. "If I get out of this alive, I'll be visitin' often, Kid."

"I hope so," A.J. said. "I may go with you back to New Orleans. Move the kids."

"Huh?"

"I don't know if I can stay here after this."

"A.J., you hold a political position in this state. You can't very well leave, can you?"

"It's all been a farce, Rick," A.J. said. "I feel like Anita's been using my position, using me, to do something awful. I think I, if that turns out to be the case, I think I'll resign."

Rick kept his eyes on the road. "Later will be the time to make that decision."

"Yes, later."

"Right now, we have to put the puzzle together the best we can, then----"

"Then?"

"Well," Rick went on, "I'm afraid we may have to move against your wife, the mother of your children. Can you do that?"

A.J. did not reply until his brother had parked the van at a spot where they could look out over the city of San Diego. "I don't know. I used to bring Anita here, you know? When we first went together, years ago, we came here to---well, you know what we came here for."

Rick grinned and waved his hand for his brother to proceed, "And?"

"And once, when she came that time to have us look into what happened to her brother, I brought her here for old time's sake, not to, well, not for that, but just to talk."

"And?"

A.J. grinned. "And nothing. Well, she did say that night up here she thought she was falling in love with me again."

"And then she told you that whopper of a lie."

"Yes, about the baby she aborted being mine when it wasn't. I think she thought she could never have me then."

"So, what changed your mind?" Rick wondered. "I mean, when she came back again after I disappeared, what made you see her in a different light?"

A.J. rubbed his temples. "I don't think I'd ever seen Anita in a bad light, Rick. I was disappointed about the lie, but it didn't really turn me against her. She just took off, that's all. There wasn't a chance to make a relationship that time."

"But you fell into one as soon as she came back the last time?"

"She said she'd just come back," A.J. replied. "I don't really know when she did, exactly. She just showed up on my doorstep one day."

"And you fell in love with her all over again."

"I did, but I see now it had a lot to do with your disappearance."

"Well, let's skip that part and move on to bigger things."

"What?"

"How much has she pushed you, Kid? How much has Anita guided you in your career choices?"

"It's hard to say. You think you're making decisions together, but----"

"But now it looks like some of them might have been her decisions?"

"Rick, tell me about your last days in San Diego. Let's try to hook this up. Yes, Anita wanted me to take up law, and yes, she wanted me to go into politics. I wanted those things for myself, too, but she played a big part. Now, tell me exactly what happened to you. If I hear a name, a place, that I can connect to Anita, I'll speak out."

Rick nodded, and heaved a huge sigh. "Okay, Kid. I've tried to forget some of this, you know? Because for a long time, I was pretty bitter."

"At me?"

Rick shot a glance across the seat. "Yea, I guess it was at you, but I knew it wasn't your fault. If you'd been undercover, you would have done the same for me."

A.J. spoke without hesitation. "I believe I would have. I hope I would have."

"I know you would have. And I never forgot it, even though I was bitter because I couldn't come home."

"I tried to find those people," A.J. said.

"What people?"

"The people in charge of that gang you infiltrated. They disappeared without a trace."

"Not surprisin'. They were about finished here, or so I thought."

"What were they up to, exactly? Anything we didn't suspect when you went in there?"

"They were up to the same thing the folks are up to who put those papers in your old house."

"Running drugs?"

"Yes, and I was forced to do some of it for them," Rick went on. "To keep you safe, they said, and I believed them. Then, they told me if I would disappear----"

"I know," A.J. interrupted. "But what about names of people? Can you name some of the contacts? Maybe Anita has let something slip over the years, and I didn't realize it."

Rick nodded. "I know what you mean. I've been tryin' to think ever since we talked to your little boy. There's somethin' keeps tryin' to come to mind, but I haven't been able to tune it in completely."

"Like what? Like someone by the name Jackie mentioned?"

"Right. Maybe I knew that guy who wore a mask and did the shooting."

"Harold or Harry, that's what Jackie said. I wish we could have asked him more questions, but----"

"No, that little boy needed his rest," Rick broke in. "He's a dandy, I bet."

A.J. grinned. "He's just like you, Rick. He has reminded me of you so many times."

"Poor kid."

"No, being like you isn't so bad."

"Let's get back to Harry or Harold," Rick suggested, barely trusting his voice.

"Do you remember anyone there by that name when you were with them?"

"There weren't that many of 'em that I met. I would guess maybe ten or so. Of course, there were only the two main guys."

"And they're names? Do you remember?"

Rick favored his brother with that high-pitched chuckle of his. "Those guys are just like some I met in Nam. I'm not likely to forget 'em. They were Chuck and Bamboo."

"Ah, yes, Bamboo," A.J. said. "How could I have forgotten---but that surely wasn't his real name, Rick."

"His real name was the devil," the older brother said. "Bamboo was the devil himself. I never met a colder person."

A.J. nodded his understanding. "But you don't know if he could be Harry or Harold? Was he about your size?"

Rick knitted his brow. "Well, let me think. Yea, I guess he was about my size. A.J., you don't think it could be Bamboo, do you?"

"It's a possibility. Do you remember anything at all which might give us a clue to which way to turn? Do you know if he was married? Anything at all that you heard?"

"You sound like a P.I. turned lawyer." Rick suggested.

"That's because I am a P.I. turned lawyer, turned politician, turned concerned citizen about my family."

"And yourself, Kid. You should be concerned about yourself."

"I thought-----I thought Anita was concerned-----Do you remember anything?"

Rick hated to see the pain on A.J.'s face. He willed himself to forget it and concentrate on what his brother was asking him. Was there anything he recalled that would help them? "Well, Bamboo never brought a woman to the meetings. Some of the others did. I'm tryin' to think if I ever heard of a girl friend."

"Where was he from? Was he from San Diego? Surely not."

"No, he was-----"

"Rick! What is it? You've thought of something, what is it?"

He had thought of something, had Rick, and when he did, he wondered why he hadn't made the connection sooner. "Anita went where, Kid?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, after she left here years ago, where did she go to live?"

"She went to San Francisco to be a part of the sixties revolution."

"To be a hippie."

"Yes. Why?"

"That's where Bamboo was from."

"San Francisco's a large city, Rick," A.J. said, fighting the turmoil in his gut. If Anita had been hooked up with this Bamboo character all along-----"Anything else you remember?"

"I remember him talkin' about bein' a part of things up there, war protests. Of course, I had a hard time with that one."

"Sure."

"Anita has never mentioned any friends she had up there?"

"I'm trying to think," A.J. replied. "She has said names, but none of her friends from those days has been a part of her life since we married."

"That you know of," Rick said.

"Yes, that I know of."

Rick sighed. "Well, Kid, looks like we're gonna have to hang out at your old place and see who turns up. Even if it turns out Bamboo is Harry or Harold, we don't know where to find him and we don't know where to find Anita, so----"

"Wait!" A.J. suddenly exclaimed.

"Wait for what?" Rick wanted to know.

A.J. grinned slightly. Rick was still Rick, witty even under pressure. "I think I might know where Anita is."

"Where?"

"Let me drive," A.J. suggested, "It's quicker than giving directions."

"Okay," the older man agreed, getting out to exchange places with his brother.

Once they had taken their new positions, A.J. fired the engine of his van. "I'm surprised I didn't think of this sooner."

"You gonna keep it to yourself 'till we get there, or are you gonna give me a clue?"

"Anita belongs to a club," A.J. said.

"So?"

"So, I think she may have used it as a cover all these years. It's a secret club."

"Ah," Rick said. "But if it's secret, how will you know where to find it, and by it, are we talkin' about a meeting place of some kind?"

"I don't know for sure, but I have always assumed they met at the club."

"The country club!"

A.J. laughed out loud. "I know it's a long shot that my wife may have been a part of something sinister, using the country club we belong to as a cover."

"Long shot!" Rick roared. "I should say it is! It's about as likely as a donkey winnin' the Kentucky Derby."

"Yea, well, I have something to go by."

"I thought you might."

"I've asked around, you know, while playing tennis and swimming and golf games, and whatever. I've tried to find out if any other men have wives who belong to this secret club."

"And?"

"No one ever confessed to knowing their wives were a part of such a thing. Of course, I didn't phrase it openly---"

"Sure, sure, I understand, but you put it so, if they knew anything, they probably would have confessed."

"Right. And no one did. I always wondered who was in it with Anita."

"But how does that tell you it was at the country club? Seems to me it would tell you the opposite."

"Because I know she goes out there when there is nothing else scheduled. I've asked questions about the time, too. No man has ever said his wife goes at that time."

"I think you're grabbin' at straws, A.J."

"Maybe."

"Maybe she just said she was going to the country club, just told you that, then went somewhere else."

"No. I've, uh---followed her."

"You've been suspicious of her all along, Kid?"

"No, not of anything to do with you, or past drug deals. Only of the secret club."

"So, you followed her. Did you ever learn anything?"

"I thought not, but now I think maybe I did."

"Huh?" Rick reacted. "Make sense, A.J."

"I followed her and she went in the main building at the club. I waited around for a time, hoping to see some other women go in, you know, women I knew to be her friends."

"And did you see any of her friends?"

"Not a one," A.J. sighed. "And since I didn't want to go in and tip her or anyone else off that I was checking up on her, I started to leave, even though I was more puzzled than ever about what was happening."

"So, how does that teach you anything?"

"I'm coming to it, Rick."

"Well, you don't have to lead me like you would a jury. Get to the point."

Despite the situation, A.J. grinned broadly and turned toward his passenger. "The point is, Rick, that I then saw a man drive up and go in the building."

Rick frowned. "Well, hoop de do and hoop de da. A.J., I'm sure men go in there all of the time."

"Yes, and I didn't connect it with anything until now."

"And how does it connect?"

"I thought it was you."

"Say what?"

"I had glanced away from the entrance, actually, I had already started my car to leave, and when I looked up I thought I saw you entering the building. I was so taken aback, I almost yelled out, but then I saw it wasn't you."

Rick didn't say anything for a moment, then, "Harry? Harold?"

"Now, I think it probably was."

Rick heaved a sigh. "I think it probably was, too. But how do we find out now? You think they still meet at the club? Is there anyone there you have confidence in, a bartender, anyone who could tell you anything?"

A.J. chuckled. "Well, I've told a certain bartender there some of my troubles. I don't think he's repeated anything. If he did, I'd be in big trouble politically."

Rick grinned. "Why don't we talk to him?"

"Yes, why don't we?"

In silence, the Simon brothers proceeded on to the country club. Being at such an establishment brought to Rick's mind how different the last ten years had been for him and his brother. Whereas he had become more of a working class person than he'd ever been, although he'd never been the elite type, A.J. had lead an entirely different lifestyle. No doubt, the country club was a comfortable place for a state Senator and an attorney. "You come out here a lot, Kid?"

A.J. caught that little something in Rick's voice, that something that said country clubs didn't impress him. "I have to socialize. You can't be in any kind of business today, unless you do. And if you don't appear in public occasionally, you can forget getting elected to anything."

"Nobody I know back in Orleans belongs to a club. Of course, I don't know any politicians, or--"

"Cut it out, Rick!" A.J. blasted. "I'm sorry you had to leave! I'm sorry as hell, believe me, but you wouldn't be spending much time in a country club if you'd stayed."

"No, I wouldn't," Rick admitted as his brother parked in front of a beautiful stucco building. "This is the place where you saw the guy who looks like me?"

"Yes, this is the place," A.J. muttered. "And you can go in as my guest, that is, if you want to."

Rick realized he had angered his already agitated brother. "I want to. We need to get this straightened out, and then we can get reacquainted. I'm sorry, didn't mean to hassle you. I'm proud of ya, A.J. Really."

A.J. relaxed visibly. "I'm not the country club type myself all that much. It's just necessary, is all."

"I understand."

Smiling, the younger man said. "We're going to have people in there staring at us, you know?"

"No problem. Are you ready?"

"Ready," said A.J.

Side by side, the brothers entered the main building of the fancy country club to which A.J. belonged. Like at the hospital earlier, the people milling around inside took notice of Senator Simon and the man with him. Although it was a setting where folks were supposed to have more class than to stare at someone, stare they did.

"I believe we've been noticed," Rick observed with a chuckle.

"I believe you're correct," A.J. agreed. "Let's head to the bar. My man should be on duty this time of day."

"I'll follow you, since I don't know my way around."

A.J. grinned and lead the way. They walked quickly down a corridor and then turned a corner. Almost immediately, they stepped into the country club bar. There were two people at the bar, and several others, some women, at various tables around the darkened room. "Good, Charlie's here," A.J. told his brother.

"Be careful what you say, Kid," Rick warned. "Unless you know all of these people and all of their friends and relatives well enough to feel like it's safe."

"I'll be careful. Come on."

At the bar, both Simons slid onto a stool. The bartender gave Rick a couple of sidelong glances, but did not look at him directly. Instead, he focused on A.J. and said, "Senator, what can I get you?"

"The usual, Charlie," A.J. said, knowing the man would bring him a margarita.

"Right," said Charlie and started to turn to his work.

"Hey!" A.J. called out. "Aren't you going to take my brother's order?"

Charlie whirled around and faced his famous customer. "I'm sorry, Senator Simon, but I don't believe I should be serving--------"

"I say you will serve him, Charlie!" A.J. admonished. "What are you having, Rick?"

"A draft," Rick muttered.

"He wants a draft," A.J. said to the bartender. "And after you get it for him, I'd like to ask you a few questions, Charlie."

"I don't know what questions you'd have for me," Charlie growled. He was of medium height and not particular muscular, but his unshaven face and fairly long hair made him look rather sinister.

"Just get the drinks, Charlie, then we'll talk," A.J. suggested.

"He don't seem too comfortable with you," Rick said to his brother while Charlie was busy fixing their order.

"I've never seen him so uncomfortable."

"You think it's just because he thinks he's in the company of a child shooter?"

"No, I think there may be more to it," A.J. said.

"You think he knows----?"

"Keep quiet, Rick. I'll ask the questions."

"Sure," Rick said, as his beer was set before him. He picked it up and took a long drag on it. He noticed that A.J. was taking a while with his first sip of the margarita. Finally, his brother spoke again to the bartender.

"Charlie," A.J. began, "is my wife here?"

Surprised by the directness of the question, Rick hurriedly focused on the bartender's face. If his P.I. instincts weren't mistaken, the face betrayed a certain amount of surprise, and yes, uneasiness. "Your wife don't come in here much, Senator."

"That's not what I asked you, Charlie," A.J. said, stern. "I asked if she was here."

Rick took another sip of his beer. The room had become brittle with tension. They were on the right track, but where was it going to lead them? He waited for the bartender to reply.

"See for yourself, Senator, she's not in here," said Charlie.

In one motion, A.J. stood up, reached over the bar, and then grabbed the man who fixed the drinks at the fancy club by the lapels of his jacket. "Charlie, I'm not here to play word games! If my wife is here in this building, and I have the feeling you would know it if she was, I want you to say so!"

"A.J., maybe you better take it easy," Rick quietly warned.

"I don't think so, Rick. I feel like being a little rough with my friend Charlie here."

"Your wife's comings and goings are no concern of mine!" Charlie hissed.

A.J. released the man with a slight shove that sent him backwards into a shelf with clean, empty glasses on it. The glasses tumbled off and hit the floor with a clatter. Voices could be heard from the tables behind them. No one paid any attention. "I need a better answer than that, Charlie. Is Anita here?"

Rick slid off of his stool. "Buddy," he said to the bartender. "My brother here can get a little nasty when he gets mad. Maybe you'd better tell him if you've seen his wife today."

Charlie shook himself. "Alright, I'll tell you. She's in the back room."

Both Simons glanced in the direction in which Charlie nodded when he informed them of Anita's whereabouts. "Is she in a meeting?" A.J. asked.

"We could just go through the door there and see," Rick suggested.

"I told you I would ask the questions, Rick!" the younger Simon said.

"Sure," said Rick, and then sighed deeply.

"Now, Charlie, I'm asking you, is my wife in a meeting? And if you know with whom she's meeting and for what purpose, and I think you do, you'd better tell me now."

"Look, Senator, I don't ask questions of the members, you know that. Who your wife is with is none of----"

Again, A.J. grabbed the man behind the bar. "Stop the double talk, Charlie! Who is she with back there?"

"I can't tell you that," Charlie said, shaking loose from A.J.'s grip. "I can't tell you, because I don't know their names. It's, uh, it's a secret meeting."

"You bein' paid to keep quiet, Charlie?" Rick asked. "You been paid for a long time now to not mention who attends these meetings?"

Charlie the bartender looked scared. A.J. took note of the fact. "I think you're on to something there, Rick. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights."

"Yea, but I don't think he's gonna tell us, Kid. We'll just have to go on in there and see for ourselves."

"No!"

It had been such a quick movement, neither Simon was prepared. Charlie yelled the negative word and at the same time reached for a gun from under the counter. He brought it up and pointed it at A.J. "I'll shoot to kill anyone who tries to stop me, Senator."

"Stop you from what, Charlie?" A.J. asked calmly.

"From leavin' the premises, that's what," Charlie said. "Now you stand still. Your brother goes with me."

Those in the bar who had only been spectators so far now had the various reactions common in such situations. Some gasped, one screamed, and the others froze in place. Then, the bar grew quiet as a church. A.J. Simon broke the silence. "No one leaves with you, Charlie. As a matter of fact, you won't be leaving yourself. Now, hand me the gun."

"No way, Senator. No way." Charlie then spoke to Rick. "Stand still until I get around to where you are. Then, walk out of here ahead of me. No funny stuff."

"Don't move, Rick!" A.J. ordered.

Rick's mind reeled with possibilities. He could, of course, do as Charlie ordered and walk ahead of the man. I probably won't live long if I do that, he thought. Another possibility was to just refuse to move, just stand still and see what the bartender would do. And, he could signal A.J. that they should try to overpower the fellow, take his gun from him. Someone, either one of the innocents in the bar, or A.J., or, himself, might get hurt if that was the choice.

Charlie was moving out from behind the bar. Rick caught his brother's eye. Something could be read there. He knew A.J. well, and the handsome fellow was conveying a message through those blue eyes of his. Rick received the message and went into action. "Charlie, I got a better idea. How about if we talk it over some more?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Simon!" Charlie said, vehement. "Now, let's go."

"Oh, come on," Rick said casually, as if whatever was wrong was no big deal. "It can't hurt to talk."

The man who tended bar at the country club waved the gun in front of Rick's face. "I said for you to move! Now, start walkin'!"

Charlie was obviously not a professional at the task he was now working to accomplish. Rick kept his eyes on the man with the gun, but side vision told him his brother was making a move poor Charlie wasn't seeing. If only the other people in the bar would not tip the man off, they might get out of this. "I don't really feel like walkin', Charlie," Rick stalled. "See, I got a callous on my right foot. Man, it's-----"

"Move!" ordered Charlie, shoving the gun in Rick's stomach.

A.J. had quietly walked across the floor and now stood in front of the door behind which the bartender had suggested Anita could be found. Rick needed to stall another few seconds and the door could be opened and whatever was going on in there exposed. But would that be wise? Would Charlie shoot Rick when he realized what was happening? A.J. was willing to take the chance to keep his brother from being taken away to where it would be difficult to find him.

Slowly, Senator Simon's hand moved to the doorknob. He turned it gently. Rick was not obeying Charlie. He still had not budged. A.J. opened the door and looked in. Then, someone screamed.

The inexperienced gunman that Charlie was made Rick feel confident enough to knock the bartender's hand aside and, hopefully, the gun would be jarred loose. This action was taken at the sound of a woman's scream. Rick did not know who was screaming or why, he only knew he wanted that pistol out of his gut. His action was successful. Once the gun was knocked away, Charlie went for it and so did Rick. The latter was successful in retrieving it because Charlie was a clumsy man. It was only after having the gun in his own hand that the older Simon brother took stock of what had and was occurring around him.

Unlike Rick, A.J. knew very well who had screamed. Anita. His wife. Anita had screamed when she saw who it was at the door. He had only caught a brief glimpse of her in the room before the screaming began. She wasn't alone in there. He had not expected to find her alone, of course, but the number of people with her greatly surprised him. There must be a least ten others. A.J. saw that the group was mixed. Men and women both stared at him. Black faces, white faces, Asian faces. It was odd how he could take note of all of this so quickly. It had to be quickly, because all hell broke loose shortly.

It seemed to A.J. as though the group made only one movement, as though they were synchronized. Together, they rose from their chairs around a table. Anita was the one he focused on. The poor woman just kept screaming. He wondered if her screams were a warning to him or to the others with her, or if she was so distraught, she didn't realize what she was doing. While she screamed, however, she kept in perfect time with her companions in the room. As one, they came toward A.J. He noticed they were all, including Anita, armed.

Rick also noticed all of the advancing people were armed. In a matter of moments, Anita wasn't the only one screaming. Those who had been in the bar and witnessed the fracas between Charlie and the Simons were now joining her, some of them at least. Rick did not care who screamed. He had other things on his mind. First, he needed to do what he had done so many times in his life, and that was to protect his brother. It had rapidly become clear A.J. was the group's target, and he wasn't armed. I am, thought Rick, but does it matter? The odds were against them. Without further consideration, he rushed to his brother's side.

"No, Rick!" A.J. yelled. "Stay back! They're----"

The hospital was quiet at such a late hour. The intensive care unit was especially quiet now that the powers that be had made the media to understand they couldn't enter, not even the waiting room. The waiting room was where the Simon family could be found. Everyone was there except Cecelia, who had volunteered to stay home and watch after the children. One of those children was in danger of losing a parent.

"I hope Lisa is okay," Skeeter said.

"I'm sure she is, Sweetie," answered Rick. "But just the same, you might as well be with her. I'll take you down and put you in a cab and you can go back to Mom's. There's nothin' you can do here."

"Now you listen to me, Rick Donahue!" Skeeter declared, frowned and then amended, "Er, I mean, Rick Simon, You're not gettin' rid of me again. Look what happened when I wasn't with you today!"

Rick smiled tenderly. "It's nothin', Sweetie. Just a graze," he said, glancing at his bandaged forearm. "I was lucky."

"Lucky!"

"Yea, lucky! Look at A.J. in there!"

Skeeter glanced through the glass window at which her husband pointed. "He's not hurt," she said.

"He's not shot, no! But you can't think he's not hurt! His little boy is in here, and now his wife!"

"Rick, she deserved to be shot! She was gonna have you and your brother killed. I can't believe he's sittin' there with her now."

"She's his wife, Sweetie," Rick murmured. "His wife, the mother of his children. And that's just how A.J. is."

Skeeter focused on him. "You really care about him, don't ya?"

"Of course I care about him. He's my brother. We've been through a lot together. We lost Dad when we were young. We were partners for a long time. And now, he saved my life today, Skeeter. He chose me over his wife."

"Well, why not!" the woman exclaimed. "He knew she was out to get y'all!"

"Yes, by then he knew, but still-----"

"You wanta talk about it, Rick? Tell me again how it happened?"

A.J. did not know his brother was about to retell the story to his wife for the third time in two hours. He was barely aware Rick and Skeeter were out there in the waiting room. He was barely aware of anything at the moment. Everything had happened so quickly. In just a matter of days, his world had fallen totally apart, and nothing was as it seemed. It was good to just sit here and turn his mind off. Except, that was difficult to do when his wife was lying there in the bed, probably dying.

The doctor, the same fellow who was working to save Jackie, was making every effort to save Anita, but she was in a very poor condition. She'd been shot in the abdomen, and it had happened right before AJ.'s eyes. She had screamed and continued screaming as she advanced on him with the others in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, A.J. had caught sight of Rick approaching, gun in hand. At that point, the scene became a jumble of activity.

Rick had run up, shoved A.J. out of the line of fire temporarily. The man who so resembled Rick in stature and who had worn the mask to the acceptance rally and shot a four year old boy instead of A.J. got off a shot which grazed Rick's arm. Senator Simon recalled that he then got up from the floor. Anita was still screaming. At that point, she fell into his arms and her words became coherent for the first time.

"I'm sorry, A.J. I had to do it all. I didn't want to. I love you. I love the children. Please believe me, A.J."

He had not had time to answer, to react to her confession. The gun that Rick had for a while had in his hand, the one he had taken away from Charlie the bartender, now lay on the floor. A.J. spied it and gave thought to going for it. Two other people, Rick for one, and the fellow who had already wounded the older Simon brother, had the same thought. The man from the meeting reached it first and pointed it at Rick. A.J. flung Anita aside and, not because he planned to, threw her in the line of fire. Her body turned so that she was facing the gun when it went off. At that point, ten policeman joined them, one of them being Downtown Brown.

Lost in reflection about the day's events, A.J. did not at first feel the feeble hand squeeze. When he did, he looked quickly down to where he had been for hours holding Anita's hand lightly. "Anita," he said to the heretofore unresponsive woman. "It felt like you squeezed my hand. Anita?"

She opened her eyes. "A.J. I----"

"Don't try to talk yet, Anita. The doctor is----"

"No, no, listen to me," she pleaded. "Please, listen."

A.J. nodded, his chest tight. There was no need, he felt, to try to keep her from talking. Maybe she could clear up some of the confusion that remained.

She struggled to speak. "A.J., I, I, I wanted out, but I couldn't get out. We, uh, they wanted to, to-----"

In spite of what she had done, despite the deception, his heart was heavy for her. "Maybe you shouldn't talk-----"

"No, I, I'm sorry, A.J.," she went on. "They thought Rick----we thought he would come back sooner----and we-----"

"Could accuse him of killing me," A.J. said, believing that was what she was trying to say.

She nodded. "Yes. That was their plan. But he didn't come back, so------"

"So you had someone impersonate him."

Again, she nodded. "I, I came to love you so much, A.J., loved our children, but the cause-----"

Anger welled up in him. "Anita, you had my children, and all the time you were using me, using my career. How can you say you loved me? And how can you call a drug ring a cause?"

"A.J.--- I left the box at Canal---I'm---I was----an ag------tell the----children-----tell them good-bye."

Rick, finished telling Skeeter how everything had unfolded at the country club, had fallen into silence, and so, for a change, had his wife. Their silence was interrupted by the arrival of his old friend, Lt. Brown. "Town," Rick greeted when the man was standing before him.

"Rick," Town nodded. "Mrs. Simon."

Rick grinned. "She's not used to that, Town. We go by the name of Donahue."

Again, Town nodded, but didn't pursue the subject. "How's A.J.'s wife doin'?"

"She's in bad shape," said Rick. "He hasn't been out of that room in hours."

"Well, I've got some things to tell him, to tell you all."

"What?" Rick inquired.

"This was all deeper than you thought," Town began.

"Meaning?" Rick asked, meeting the gaze of his old friend.

"I'll just come to the point."

"Do that."

"Anita was an agent," Town disclosed.

"An agent?"

"A double agent, Rick. Her superior in the C.I.A. called me about an hour ago."

"Oh my!" Skeeter exclaimed.

Rick whistled softly. Out of his seat in an instant, he stared intently at Lt. Brown. "Town, that can't be."

"But it is, Rick. She was tryin' to work both ends of the stick for years. She'd infiltrated years ago. She talked them into sendin' you away, so the guy told me, because she didn't want you killed. She married A.J. and convinced the gang they could use him that way, that he meant more to 'em alive. In the meantime, she---well---she came to love him, they had kids, but she still wanted to be an agent. She was getting somewhere with it, almost ready to shut them down, when they told her A.J. had to be wasted."

"So she suggested the guy impersonate me, that he pretend to shoot A.J.," Rick speculated. "But somethin' went wrong."

"It sure did," said Town. " It was another double agent in there, a guy named Bamboo. He looks like you some. The poor guy got his arm bumped and the boy was shot. The bullet was supposed to go astray."

"My God!" Skeeter reacted to the story she was hearing.

"Poor Anita," Rick mumbled.

"Right," Town agreed. "And now, today, she had hoped to come up with somethin' to stall the process, to somehow get you and A.J. out of harms way, but you two had to show up there."

"And A.J. threw her into the line of fire to save me," said Rick sadly.

"This is so terrible," Skeeter said.

"I'd like to tell him now, Rick," Town said. "Could you ask him to come out here for a minute?"

Rick glanced toward Anita's hospital door. "I'll try, Town, but he may not want to----wait, here he comes."

A.J. walked slowly toward the small group waiting for him. He was in no mood to talk, but knew he had to tell them. When he opened his mouth, though, nothing came out. He then nodded to Town.

"A.J., Town has something to tell you," Rick said.

"What?" the younger Simon asked.

"Your wife has been acting as a double agent for years," Town said without preamble.

"The drug gang has used you to do their dirty work and so has the C.I.A. She didn't want you to die, though. Unfortunately, the gang did. I haven't told you this yet, Rick, but they weren't just a drug ring. They were rooted in South America. They had plans to take over this entire area, then, if that worked, the country----"

"Anita knew all of that!" A.J. interrupted. "And still----but why did they want to kill me?"

Town glanced away and then back at his old friend. "A.J., when you and Rick were after them years ago, you were doing so on behalf of a prominent citizen in San Diego, am I correct?"

A.J. tried to concentrate, tried to think. Too distraught to do so, he looked to Rick. "Do you remember who it was?"

"Sure, Kid. Don't you? It was Sean Dunn, the guy who served as State Senator-----"

"Damn!" A.J. cut in. "Damn, what a fool I've been!"

"Maybe you can fill in the blanks now," Town said. "But I'll do it and save you the energy. Dunn got you two involved. He couldn't run for office anymore, and wanted someone who could be used by the drug ring. He was a member in good standing. Anita knew that. She suggested he hire you two. Of course, she really didn't want you in there long, but when Rick went undercover, well, things began to go down hill and she couldn't stop them without blowing her own cover."

"Oh boy," Rick muttered.

"What a mess," Skeeter added her opinion.

A.J. sighed. "So, she influenced my thinking all along about how to vote in the legislature, influenced me on who to take for clients---but, Town, I've got to say, she didn't always get her way, and she was very subtle."

"And she had to have been influencin' you in favor of the bad boys part of the time and the good guys part of the time, just so she wouldn't get caught." This from Rick.

"She must have been very good at it," Town offered. "I hope I can talk to her soon. How is she, A.J?"

"You can't talk to her, Town. She's dead."

The flat statement left Rick and his wife and Lt. Brown speechless. They could only stare after A.J. as he walked away.

Rick stood outside the door of little Jackie's room and watched his brother. A.J. was nearly motionless sitting there holding the hand of a sleeping child. Since revealing Anita's death, this is where the younger Simon brother had been. Three hours had passed. Town had departed, Anita's body had been removed from the hospital, and still A.J. remained at his son's side. Rick decided it was time to say something.

Stepping inside the room, the going bald older sibling said, "A.J., I want to talk to you a minute. You wanta step outside?"

A.J. appeared startled by the intrusion. He looked around quickly, seemed to orientate himself, nodded, and got up. He followed his brother out into the same room where Town had given him the news of Anita's activities. "What?" he said to Rick.

"What?"

"What do you want to talk to me about?!"

"About what has happened, Kid!" Rick roared back. "You need to talk about it! You need to get out of here, go home----"

"Leave me alone, Rick," the younger man muttered irritably. "You know everything about it. My wife wasn't who I thought she was. She nearly got us both killed, she took the chance she would be leaving me with children to raise, and she lost."

"So, she did just what Dad did. We don't hold it against him, do we?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Dad worked for the government, took chances, he lost. We grew up without him. People do that. We lived in a dangerous world ourselves for a long time, Kid. I'm sure Anita thought she'd always come out alive."

"But she didn't," said A.J., and then sighed. "She did mention the box before she died."

"The box?"

"Yes, the one at my old place. I think she planted it there on purpose, knowing we'd probably go there and find it. I think she wanted us to find her and that damned gang."

"Then, you have to give her credit, A.J.," Rick said. "She loved you."

"But now I have to raise our children. The doctor told me Jackie will be moved out of intensive care tomorrow."

Rick smiled. "That's great news."

"He's got a long road ahead of him, though. And I don't know, Rick. I mean, alone----"

"You won't be alone, A.J.," Rick reminded. "You've got Mom. You've got your little girl. You've got me, you've----"

"Wait, Rick! You live in New Orleans."

"Not for long. Skeeter and I talked it over before I sent her back to Mom's in a cab. She's never had much of a family. She wants to be a part of mine now that she knows I have one. We'll move out here, Kid. We'll be a family again. It will take a while, be hard on Skeeter and Lisa, but we'll be here. You can't get rid of me, A.J., so don't try."

A.J. smiled warmly and laid his head on his brother's shoulder as they embraced. "What are you going to do here, I mean, to make a living?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rick said, pushing the other man back, but still holding on to him. "I might just go back into the business of private investigation. That's what I'm best at."

"Your wife will put up with the danger part, after what she's witnessed here?"

"Like I said, it won't be easy, Kid. Life's not easy as you well know."

A.J. nodded. "Well, you'll need help, so let's be Simon and Simon again."

"Hey! You're a State Senator!"

"Until tomorrow, Rick, until tomorrow. Then, I'm going to resign. You'll need a partner. You can't take care of yourself. You're getting old. You'll need me."

Rick grinned. "We need each other, A.J. We'll always need each other. That's a fact or my name aint Rick Simon."

A.J. smiled. "Let's go tell Mom we're okay."

"Let's do that."