It had been just over a year since he had heard from Mark. Three years with a letter every week, and then nothing. Needless to say, he was concerned. But his situation didn't allow him to do any investigating, and he got very little news of the outside world.

Today was his day of release; four years served, no problems, model inmate. He would have been foolish to think the world waiting for him outside would welcome him with open arms. Sure, he'd changed in those four years, that he did know. But the world is a dangerous place, full of dangerous people, he reminded himself. And people can be deceiving. That he also knew, from personal experience.

He sat in his cell, minutes before his scheduled release, and pored over the letters Mark had written him. What he did know of Mark was this: He had arrived in Sunset Beach four years ago. A runaway, with a clouded past, offered a once in a lifetime deal: a fresh start. He'd done well for himself, making an incredible friend in Ben Evans, who seemed to own half the town. Mark and Ben became quick friends; Ben offered Mark a place to stay and a job, which was certainly more than Mark had come to expect. In a matter of weeks, Mark had become Ben's most trusted friend and confidant. He would never let Ben down - after all, he owed him.

"But even the best of friends have their secrets," he wrote in an early letter. "Nobody can be completely trusted, particularly after the kind of life I had, but then you know that don't you? Still, as amazing as Ben has been to me, and as guilty as it makes me feel, I can't tell him the truth. In other words, don't worry. Our secret is safe."

Things had gone well for Mark after a while. He'd forgotten his past, as much as he could anyhow, and focused on his new life. Mark opened himself up to new people, beyond Ben. He became close with Casey Mitchum, a young and handsome lifeguard, and his friend Michael Bourne. Tiffany Thorne, a young fellow runaway, entered his life for a short time, then disappeared. A new arrival at the Beach, Meg Cummings, grew particularly fond of Mark, but, despite any feelings he may have had, Meg fell in love with Ben, and he soon cast off any feelings he may have felt for her. Certainly he owed that much to Ben. He also became close with Gabriela Martinez, who also had quite a difficult upbringing, one he could relate to on many levels.

"There's someone I've grown very close to," he wrote in his last letter. "Her name is Gabriela Martinez, and she is so beautiful. I'm not sure what love really is, but this is the closest I think I've ever come. I trust her, and I want to tell her how I feel. I want to tell her everything. I even came close to telling her about you, but don't worry; my lips are still sealed.

"I'm going away this weekend," the letter continued. "We're going away to celebrate New Year's Eve. Ben bought Meg an island - can you believe that? - and we're all going there for a party. It's going to be incredible! And I have a few tricks up my sleeve, to make the weekend a little more entertaining. You'd be proud, I'm sure!"

The mysterious figure sat in his cell, reading the last letter he'd received from Mark, telling of the excitement he found in his new relationship with Gabi, and of the excitement he felt in preparation for his weekend getaway. He said it would be the time of his life. "So why haven't you written since?" the voice asked of no one in particular.

As the guards came to escort him from his cell, and therefore, back into the world, he crumpled the letter in frustration. "I'll find you, Mark. I don't know what happened, but I'll find you. And if anyone has hurt you, by God, they'll more than pay the price." He reached his hand into his pocket, where his fingers touched a business card for The Deep, a club where Mark worked, and several thin gold pieces. "These will pay for any challenges I find along the way," he thought to himself. "Hold on Mark, I'm coming."

A pair of headphones over his ears, young Jimmy Harrison sat on his bed, a pile of CDs pouring from his lap and over the immaculately made bed.

"Hey, Jimmy! What are you doing?" The question went unanswered. "Ha. Kid's got that music up pretty loud. Maybe we should leave him alone."

"No, we really should bring him back to reality. I think he'd want to be a part of this," a second voice said.

Jimmy jumped, CDs falling out of his lap and onto the floor, as a hand came down on his shoulder. He spun around to see Casey and Vanessa standing in his room.

"Sorry, Jimmy!" Vanessa exclaimed, as she crouched down to help him pick up the discs.

"Yeah, sorry Jim-man! Didn't mean to scare you there, pal," Casey remarked. "What were you listening to?"

"Nothin'," Jimmy said in monotone. "Just some music Mark gave to me." He hung his head and started gathering the CDs with Vanessa.

"Hey, I'd forgotten Mark gave you all this stuff," Casey said, taking a seat next to Jimmy on the bed. "That was nice of him, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it sure was. Too bad he can't be here to listen with me. Man, he was the best." He grabbed a pile of discs from Vanessa, and walked across the room to place them on a shelf.

"He sure was," Vanessa sighed, as she helped Jimmy with the CDs. "I miss him a lot too, Jimmy. We all do."

"Hey, Jimmy, what do you say you come downstairs with us! We're going to have a little celebration.

"I don't feel like celebrating! Mark's died a year ago today, and nobody even cares!" he blurted out angrily.

"Jimmy, of course we care. In fact, that's why we're going to celebrate. We're going downstairs," Vanessa explained, "to watch some old home movies Mark made, and we're going to celebrate his memory. What do you say, partner? Sound like a plan?"

"Come on, Jimmy. What do you say?" Casey encouraged.

Jimmy looked at the faces of the adults, and smiled slightly. "Sure, I guess. That might be kinda good, actually."

"That's the spirit! Come on, let's go!" Casey exclaimed, as he ushered Jimmy out the door and down the stairs.

"Poor kid," Vanessa sighed. "He worshipped Mark. In all the confusion, I think we forgot Mark and Jimmy were becoming pretty good friends. I'm glad we asked him to join us. He deserves to enjoy some of those memories too."

"Yeah," Casey said at the top of the stairs. "But we might need to save a couple of those videos for after Jimmy goes to bed. Specifically, the one where he surprised Meg in the shower!"

"I thought she was going to kill him!" Vanessa squealed with laughter.

"No kidding! Come on; let's go downstairs. Maybe we can help Virginia in the kitchen."

"Trust me, Casey, when it comes to baking up goodies in the oven, Virginia would much rather work alone."

"But that doesn't mean we can't beg her for some free samples!"

"You are such a brat!" She slapped him playfully on the arm, then ran down the stairs.

***

"I'm gonna miss the hell outta you," Mark said, and wrapped his arms around Antonio, enfolding him in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you too, friend," the handsome young priest replied, enjoying the comfort he felt in his good friend's embrace. He enjoyed the closeness for a few long moments, then stepped back. "You've been great to know. And you have been such a blessing for the parish. I hope you'll continue your work here, even though I'm gone. Those kids really need you."

"You don't even have to ask, Antonio. I know what it's like to come from a bad home, and to pull up stakes and run. Believe me, I'll do everything I can to make sure these kids stay off the streets."

"You're a good man, Mark. And a wonderful friend."

"Why are you talking like I'll never see you again? I mean, I know you're moving to Rosario, but we'll see each other. Right?"

"There will be a lot of work for me to do down there, Mark. I can't promise I'll be back to visit any time soon," Antonio said with a contemplative sigh.

"But you can promise to write to me. And I'll write to you. You've done so much for me, Antonio. And you've done so much to allow me to help other people. I owe you a lot, man."

"And I owe you. I promise, I'll write whenever I can. And I'll look forward to hearing from you. You can write me every day if you want to!"

"Whoa, I can't promise I'll write every day!" Mark chuckled. "Antonio, I'll tell you what I will do every day. I'll stop by here and light a candle for Maria."

Antonio smiled broadly, and placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. "I think that's a great idea. Please do that."

"I will," Mark replied with his brilliant smile. He looked at his watch and exclaimed, "Hey! You'd better get on out of here! Your brother's outside waiting for you. Wouldn't want to miss your flight!"

"No, I wouldn't!" Antonio grabbed a picture frame from his desk, and slid it into one of his bags. "Walk me out?"

Mark grabbed one of Antonio's bags, and followed him outside, where Ricardo was waiting with his patrol car. "Hey, Mark!" Ricardo smiled, as he took the bag from Mark's hands.

"Ricardo. Make sure you get your bro to the airport on time! Even if you have to flip your blues on to get people to clear the road!" Mark smiled at Officer Torres.

"That'd get me in a heap o' trouble! Nah, I'm keeping my nose clean. Hoping to make Detective one of these days!" Ricardo threw the bag in the trunk, and helped his brother with the rest of his luggage.

Mark smiled at Antonio one last time. "Take care, T," he said, and hugged him again.

"I hope you realize you're the only person other than my brother that I'll let call me that."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Be good in Rosario. I'll write to you soon," Mark said as he let Antonio go.

"Mark," Antonio said softly. "Thanks again, for everything. And I will see you!"

"Hey, not if I see you first!" Mark replied, flashing his smile.

***

That was two years ago. And Antonio never did see Mark again.

Antonio smiled with fond memories of Mark as he lit a candle in his memory. "God, thank you for caring for Mark. I'm sure he's become one of your favorite angels up there." The flame of the candle illuminated his face, and he felt serene, knowing that Mark had found eternal peace.

After a few moments, he stepped back from the candles, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a picture of himself and Mark, which was taken before Antonio had joined the priesthood, before Maria had disappeared. "I miss you, friend," he whispered to it softly, then placed the picture next to the candles.

***

With hesitation, Gabi approached the door, and slowly reached for the handle. "Oh my God, what am I doing?" she asked herself, one side of her face glowing from the blinking colored lights which hung in the window of Madame Carmen's shop. She quickly removed her hand from the door handle, and took a step beck, leaning against the brick wall, which ran perpendicular to the doorway, pausing to collect herself. "Get a hold of yourself, Gabi. Carmen doesn't hate you, it's your imagination."

She took a quick breath, shook her hands out, and once again moved toward the door. A small gasp escaped Gabi as the door opened of its own volition, revealing Carmen herself, standing in the opening, a slight smirk on her face. "Ah, Gobbie," the enigmatic woman leered. "I knew you would be coming. Enter, por favor." She took a step back from the door, and motioned with her arm for Gabi to come inside.

Gabi smiled uncomfortably, and stepped inside. I knew she was going to say that stuff about 'knowing I'd be coming', she thought to herself. The crazy woman probably just saw me through the window. She composed herself quickly, not wanting Carmen to sense her disbelief, just in case she really was a psychic. "So, Madame Carmen," she began, "I suppose you know why I came to see you, right?"

"Si, Gobbie. I do," she intoned knowingly, as she pushed aside the beads that dangled in the next doorway. "Madame Carmen sees all." Carmen bit her lip lightly, hoping her last statement didn't sound too hokey.

Carmen held the beads aside for Gabi, who stepped into the room, and gazed uneasily at the table. This was the first time she had been to see Carmen for a reading in just over a year. The last time, she had her friends Meg and Vanessa to keep her company, but this time she was alone, and she was frightened. As Carmen released the beads from her grasp, Gabi jumped slightly at the eerie jingling sound they made.

"You have nothing to fear from me, my dear," Carmen said with a bit too much saccharine sweetness. She stepped by Gabi, and took a seat at the table, motioning for Gabi to sit opposite her. A bit perplexed at Gabi's hesitation, Carmen asked, "You did come for a reading, si?"

"Yes I did, Señora Carmen. I mean . . . si." She cleared her throat nervously, and took a seat.

"You are haunted by ghosts, Gobbie. I can see them around you. I see them reflected upon your face."

"Ghosts?"

"Si. Ghosts. And not just the spiritual kind."

"Don't you . . . need to use your cards?" Gabi asked, startled by the truth in Carmen's words.

"Oh, no, dear. What I sense in you is much more easily read than you may think. I do not need cards. I can read your face. You feel tortured. Abandoned. Lost. And alone." Carmen punctuated each word, not cruelly, but rather for dramatic emphasis. "And you are filled with a deep, powerful feeling of regret."

"I . . . I'm sorry, I . . . I think this was a mistake. I should really go," she said, her voice shaking. She pushed her chair back and stood, turning for the doorway.

"It's Mark, isn't it?" Carmen's voice stopped Gabi dead in her tracks. "Mark Wolper, the young man who was killed just last year."

Gabi turned to face Carmen, and nodded, a lone tear running down her cheek. She stared at Carmen through the silence, then nodded her head sadly. "I've forgotten him," she said, softly. "Today is the anniversary of his death, and Meg had to remind me. I totally . . . forgot."

"He has not forgotten you. If he could speak to you, he would tell you that he is safe and happy now. I don't need cards or a crystal ball to tell you that."

A small smile crept across Gabi's lips, Carmen's words serving to comfort her in no small way. "Gracias, Señora, for saying that, it's just what I needed to hear." She wiped the tear from her face, as another one spilled out from the other side. "But I really should go, I . . ."

"No!" Carmen exclaimed forcefully, Gabi jumping at the sound. "You must not go! There is something you need to know, Gobbie. Something which has gone unsaid for far too long. And I can promise you, it won't be easy for you to hear."

***

"I promised Mark I'd never show my face in Sunset Beach," the man muttered to himself as he sped past the sign which read: Welcome to Sunset Beach: The Land That Romance Built! "And a promise is a promise, so I'd better develop a plan."

A quarter of a mile down the road, he pulled his rental car into the parking lot of a small motel, called, frighteningly enough: Sunset Bungalows. After turning off the engine, he reached into the back seat and removed a baseball cap from one of his bags. He placed the hat on his head, pulling the brow down over his brow, and stepped from the car. A nervous sigh escaped his lips as he walked to the rear of the car, opened the trunk, and pulled out a large plastic case marked: MAKE-UP.

One of his previous cellmates was an eccentric, wealthy, and unfortunately insane old man who had worked as a make-up artist for the movie industry. The old man, Norman Bassey, had showed him a lot of tricks - tricks that would come in handy for him now. "I can't have Mark recognizing me," he said aloud, "or anyone else for that matter. Once again, I must say: Thank you, Crazy Norm!"

He carried the case into the motel entrance, and with little ado, rented a room. After settling in, he ambled into his tiny motel bathroom, and prepared to give himself a brand new face. "You're not gonna see me coming, Mark! And even if you do, you won't even know who I am!" He let out an amused laugh, and went to work.

He left from the Sunset Bungalows about an hour before the sun dipped out of sight. "They do call this place Sunset Beach," he mused. "I really ought to get in on the tackiness and watch one for myself. It's been a long time since I've been able to do that."

He unlocked the door to his rental car and got in the driver's seat. "Just to be sure," he mumbled as he turned the rear view mirror toward his face. "Perfect!" he exclaimed as he inspected his reflection, and drove off toward the pier.

***

Ben was finally finished with his work at the office when Gregory popped his head around the corner. "Ben, I'm heading home," he said in exhaustion, the stress of the day evident on his face. "And if you're smart, you would too!"

"I believe I will, Gregory. You take care, and tell your family I said hullo."

"I'll do that, Ben. Happy New Year," he said, and left.

"Yeah, very happy," he thought to himself. "My best friend died exactly a year ago. Not much to be happy about." He grabbed his briefcase, and was startled by a knock at his already opened door.

"Mr. Evans," the man said with a smile.

"Jack! It's been a long time, do come in," Ben exclaimed, his hands on his hips. He smiled and gestured to the chair opposite him. "Have a seat." He was a kind-looking fellow, in his mid-forties, his round face, small nose and receding hairline giving him a bright, trustworthy appearance. He entered the office and took a seat across from Ben. "I've got that news you've been lookin' for."

"Then you've found him?"

"Welp, yes and no," he sighed as he got comfortable in his chair, then placed his briefcase on his lap and opened it.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"Of course," Jack replied with a smirk as he withdrew some papers, handed them to Ben, and then closed his briefcase. "Welp, as you can see, he's been in prison for the past four years. Not quite the news you were hopin' for, I'm sure." He paused so that Ben could look over the pages.

"Jack, I don't mean to be rude, but why did it take you a complete year to gather this information?"

"Things weren't exactly easy," he sighed. He reached across the desk and pointed to a piece of blue paper on the bottom of the pile. "This is what held us up. Before he was in prison, he was in a juvenile facility for two years. Juvenile cases involving sealed files are tough nuts to crack. So then he turned eighteen. That's when the system spit him out and shipped him off to a facility for adults."

"Huh. Lovely system," Ben muttered sarcastically. He flipped through the papers, then asked, "What precisely did he do?"

"Welp, that we . . . don't know. Since he committed the offense - or possibly offenses - as a juvenile, all the records are sealed. Believe me, Ben, I had a hard enough time just comin' up with what little information I do have on the time he spent in the juvenile facility. I talked to a number of people there, and they finally had to escort me out."

Ben chuckled and looked at Jack with a raised eyebrow. "Why did they escort you out?"

"Everything's real hush-hush in those juvie places, 'specially in the psych wards."

"Wait, are you telling me he was in the psychiatric ward at this . . . juvenile facility?"

"That's exactly what I'm tellin' you. Guess he musta been pretty messed up."

Ben shook his head in dismay, then continued to peruse the papers. After a few moments of silence, he asked, "Did you obtain any information from anyone at the prison?"

"Yeah, talked to a few guards and a couple parolees, one or two inmates. They all said the same thing: he was very quiet, introverted. Pretty much kept to himself. And none of 'em knew what he was in for, and he never told a soul. He did have a cellmate, guy by the name of Norman Massey or Bassey or somethin'. Crazy old guy. From what I'm told, the two of 'em were pretty tight."

"Then you talked to this Norman character?"

"No can do. Woulda been too much of a risk to talk to him while your friend was still in there. I went to talk to him today, but turns out he died yesterday, day after your buddy got released."

"Wait, you're telling me he's been released?" Ben, perplexed.

"Yep. Yesterday. Not a trace of him since. But based on what you told me, you're probably not too surprised, huh?"

"No, not surprised at all, just . . . concerned." Ben looked at his watch and realized he was running late to meet Meg. "Look, Jack, this information will be very helpful. Just please get in touch with me if you find anything else out. Right now, I've got to run, though."

"Hey, not a problem," he said as he stood from the chair. "Ben, I'll be in touch. You have a nice night."

"You too, Jack," Ben muttered as he stood from the chair. "And call me the second you find him."

"Will do," Jack responded as he grabbed his briefcase and went out the door.

Ben grabbed his coat and took another brief look at the papers. "Yes, Jack, you were right. This is not at all the news I was looking for." He folded the papers and slid them into his jacket pocket, then turned out the light, shut his office door, and left.

"Sorry I'm late, Meg," he mumbled to himself. "Don't worry, I'm coming."

***

He parked his car along the beach, and took a quick look at the sunbathers. "Sheesh, don't they know too much sun'll kill ya?" He stepped out of the car and turned toward the strip that ran parallel to the coast. "Okay, now to find The Deep."

He saw two young Sunset Beach residents talking nearby. The girl had golden blonde hair, and the boy was wearing an outrageous Hawaiian shirt. "They look like the club-going type," he thought as he approached them. "Pardon me," he said, trying to get their attention.

The girl looked at him and raised an arrogant eyebrow. "Did you just say 'pardon me'? Whoa, how proper. Are you going to ask me if I have any Grey Poupon?"

The young gentleman she was with elbowed her gently in the side. "You have to forgive Amy. She thinks she's better than everyone else just 'cause she was born with a silver spoon up her butt." He snickered at his joke and Amy slapped him on the arm.

"Gah, shut up, Brad! Sometimes you can be so immature!"

The man smiled uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "Heh-HEM. Listen, I just have one question. Can you direct me to The Deep?"

Amy looked the man up and down, as if she was deciding whether or not he was 'cool' enough to go to The Deep. Finally, she answered. "Yeah, it's about two blocks that way. I think it's closed tonight though."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"You ask way too many questions! Go find out for yourself! Come on, let's go, Brad. This guy is making us look so not cool." She grabbed Brad and the two of them walked away together.

After walking a half a block, Amy turned back, but there was no sign of the man. "Gah, that guy was so creepy. Did you see his chin?"

"Yeah, it was like one size smaller than Jay Leno's."

"Yeah, and talk about big noses!" The two of them laughed at each other. "Okay, I'll see you later. I'm going over to Surf Central for that party."

"It's not that kind of party, Brad. It's like a memorial thing for Mark Wolper. Now get a life and go home! And do the world a favor. Burn that shirt!"

***

Caitlin sat on the couch of the Richards mansion, staring across the room at the liquor cart. She marveled at the way the rays of light from the setting sun permeated the bottles and the liquid within, creating shining, glittering, dancing patterns on the wall. She'd had a rough day, to say the least, and all she wanted to do was cry. She couldn't clear her mind, no matter how hard she tried.

"I'm sorry, Cole," she thought, "I love you but I hate the fact that every time you leave the house, I instantly assume you're with Francesca. God I wish someone would just get rid of her." She frowned slightly and moved that thought out of her mind. "That's not right. I can't think that way. Nobody deserves to die, not even her."

As the shifting patterns continued to sparkle on the wall, and as Caitlin continued to become more and more hypnotized by them, her mind wandered. "I can't believe it's been a year," she thought. "The time's gone by so quickly."

She remembered a magical night, almost two years ago, "God, I was a totally different person then," she thought. It was the night she danced with Mark at The Deep. It was after Cole had left her. They were just dating at the time, and of course Caitlin had no idea until later that her father had engineered their breakup. She was angry, and she wanted attention, and to make Cole jealous, so she danced with Mark. And it was magical. She found herself wondering how different her life might have been if she'd never gotten back together with Cole, and instead, made a life with Mark, who had always, without exception, treated her with nothing but respect and kindness. Surely her father would have accepted him.

"Caitlin, you're wrong," she reminded herself. "He would have hated Mark. He was a runaway, what kind of life could he have built for me? Daddy would have run him out of town in two minutes flat. I've got to stop thinking this way. Mark is gone. And I love Cole, nobody else. But still, I just can't help but wonder how things might have been different."

"Ground control to Caitlin!" Annie's voice splintered through Caitlin's thoughts and snapped her back to reality. "Did your lone brain cell finally kick out?"

"What do you want, Annie?" Caitlin inquired angrily.

"Well I only said your name like eight times."

"I was thinking, is that okay?"

"You were staring at the liquor cart, I saw you," Annie retorted. "Thinking of taking a dive into the good old vodka decanter, just like your dear old Mom?"

Caitlin growled in frustration and jumped up from the couch, glaring at Annie. "Do me a favor. Insult me or my family one more time, so I can have an excuse to strangle you to death."

Annie placed her hands on her hips and laughed. "Wow, ya know, I take it back. You're nothing at all like your Mom. No. In fact your murderous instincts make you a dead ringer for your darling Daddy." She chuckled at herself in amusement. "You'd never hurt me, Caitlin, let alone kill me!"

"Don't count on it, Annie," Caitlin uttered spitefully.

"Are you kidding me Caitlin? If you ever killed me, well, you just know I'd come back from the beyond and haunt you for the rest of your days! Besides, I can't exactly see you in an orange prison jumpsuit. If you killed me, you'd be in jail for the rest of your life. And you'd never be able to see that little brat of yours again. Or Cole."

"You see, Annie, that's where you're wrong. I'd love to kill you. And I wouldn't have to worry about ever going to jail. In fact, if I killed you, I think they just might throw a parade in my honor! They'd probably give me a key to the city just for being a Good Samaritan!"

"Bravo!" Annie exclaimed, clapping sarcastically. "I stand corrected again. You don't take after Gregory either. In fact, I think your darling stepmother is starting to rub off on you! You take after me!"

"In your dreams, Annie! Why don't you just go somewhere and have a conversation with yourself?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Deschanel and . . . Mrs. Richards," a timid voice said. It was Rose, the Richards' maid.

Annie sighed and looked at Rose. "What is it Lilly?"

"Rose," said Rose.

"Whatever," Annie smirked with a dismissive sigh.

Rose turned her attention to Caitlin. "I found these papers," Rose explained, lifting the documents she held in her hands so that Caitlin could inspect them. "They were all over the hall, right outside your father's study. It looks like Spike may have been chewing on them. I would have put them back myself, but you know how much Mr. Richards hates me going into his private study . . ."

"Let me see those!" Annie exclaimed, ripping several pages out of Rose's hands.

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "Annie, those are private! Now give them to me so I can put them away for Daddy!"

"Oh, come on, Caitlin, aren't you at least the teeniest bit curious to see what they are?" She began examining one of the chewed documents as Caitlin took the rest of the papers from Rose. "Ooh! A bank statement!"

"Thank you, Rose," Caitlin said politely. Rose nodded and departed as Caitlin turned her attention back to Annie.

"Damn, it's like over a year old. This thing won't do me any good," Annie grumbled.

Caitlin grabbed the papers from Annie. "I'm putting these back!" she insisted. "And if you're smart, you'll let me!"

"Or what?" Annie asked defiantly.

"Or I'll tell Daddy you were snooping!"

"I'll tell Daddy you were snooping!" Annie mimicked, as she plopped down on the couch and began filing her nails. Caitlin shook her head and started toward the study as Annie hollered, "Come on, Caitlin, you know you're curious too!"

"Believe it or not, Annie, some people actually respect the privacy of others!" She disappeared down the hall.

"Yeah," Annie said to herself, "Boring morons like you." She focused on her fingernails, then said, "Wow, Caitlin is right. I do talk to myself." She shrugged and went back to her filing.

With the pages in her hand, Caitlin entered the study, turned on the light, and walked toward the desk. One of the papers slipped out of the pile and drifted down to the floor. She placed the documents in a pile on the desk and turned to leave when the paper on the floor caught her attention. She sighed and bent down, picking the page up and giving it a cursory glance.

"See, I told you that you were curious," Annie said from the doorway, nail file in hand.

***

He let out a nervous sigh as he approached the door to The Deep. "You can do this," he reminded himself. "You have to do this." As he came closer to the door, he noticed a sign hanging behind the glass.

In shock, he stared at the sign. "No, this can't be right. It can't be." He stood there in stunned silence, and glared at the notice, unable to comprehend the words. Then a single tear fell from his eye. "My God, Mark. Who did this to you? WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!?" He threw his fist through the window and ran off toward the row of houses that ran along the beach.

"What's bothering you?" Emily asked, knowing what the answer would be. It was New Year's Day, and that meant it was the anniversary of Mark's death. She knew it was preying on Sean's mind.

He kicked a small rock as he continued his walk with Emily down the beach. "Nothing," he sighed. He dug his hands into his pockets and looked out at the horizon, the sun slowly fading from view.

They walked for a while in silence. Emily wished she could comfort Sean somehow. Tell him it was okay to grieve. But she didn’t think it would do any good. She and Sean had grown very close, but she still didn’t know how to break down his walls once he put them up.

"I used to hate him," Sean said finally. "I think he hated me too. And I don't blame him."

"You mean Mark?" Emily asked. She had never met him, but she'd heard a lot about him, mostly from Amy. Sean was reluctant to talk about him.

"Yeah. We were at each other's throats for a while. All over a girl, too."

Emily smiled. "People will do some pretty stupid things when love's involved. What was her name?"

"You sure you wanna hear this?" he asked, looking at her for the first time since they began their trek down the beach.

"Yes, Sean. And you need to talk about it, so let's hear it." She reached over and grabbed his arm.

"Her name was Tiffany Thorne. She was a runaway, just like Mark. The two of them were pretty tight," he reminisced. "He was so good to her. He was constantly looking for ways to help her out, and she . . . God, she was so stubborn sometimes. I don’t know why Mark even bothered. She just didn’t know how to say thank you. He even found a place for her to stay, at this abandoned day care center."

"He sounds like a terrific guy."

"He was, Em. He really was. I just wish I hadn't been so mean to him."

"What happened?"

"Tiff and I started dating, and I think Mark was jealous. He never admitted to it, but I think he had real strong feelings for her. He kept trying to say Tiff was using me 'cause my family's loaded, and that totally ticked me off. I moved her into one of the guestrooms, right under my Dad's nose, and she stayed there for a while. Dad finally found out. 'Cause of Spike. Spike was actually Tiffany's dog."

"Wow, I had no idea," Emily said as they walked closer to the pier.

"Yeah," he said. "But Tiff ran away again. She left me a note telling me she was using me all along, that she was really in love with Mark. It killed me. Totally killed me."

Emily squeezes Sean's arm. "I'm sorry, Sean. That must have been really hard for you."

"Yeah, it was. And I hated Mark for it. Then I found out later that Tiffany was forced to leave town. My mom blackmailed her. Wrote her a check and told her to get out of Dodge. Even after finding out it wasn't true that Tiff loved Mark, it still took me a long time to give him any kind of credit. In fact, by the time we were all on the island, I had just started trusting him again. And then he died."

"It's not your fault, Sean."

"I know that. I just feel bad that I let something so petty get in the way of my friendship with him. Em, he was an amazing guy. I just wouldn’t let myself get close to him. I never let myself get close to anybody."

"What about Tiffany? It sounds like the two of you were pretty close."

"Yeah, we were. But when I found out about the check, I was so mad. The fact of the matter is, she chose that money over me."

"Is it possible your father threatened her in some way? I mean, was there anything Tiffany had to hide? Anything she was afraid of?"

"It's definitely possible," Sean surmised. "God, so much time has gone by, so much has changed. But thinking about Mark, and about Tiffany makes me wonder. Em, I'm starting to think maybe I messed up. Maybe I should have looked for Tiffany. What if she's in some kind of trouble?"

They stopped walking just as they passed the pier, and Emily turned to look in Sean's eyes. "Sean, if you want to look, I'll help you. I can tell how much these ghosts are upsetting you. We need to find her. Just let me help you, okay?"

"Okay," he said, and smiled at her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. After a moment, he spoke. "You know about the legend, right?"

"What legend is that?"

"The legend of Sunset Beach. Elaine Stevens used to talk about it all the time."

"I kinda remember her. She was friends with my Mom, right?"

"Yeah, she was. God, it's been a while since I've heard her say it, but here's my version." He looked into her eyes and said, softly, "When the sun starts disappearing beneath the horizon, and the Santa Anna winds kick up out of nowhere, the first person you see, on the far side of the pier, just as the sun disappears from view . . . that's the person you're destined to be with."

Just as he finished, the sun dropped out of sight, and a breeze began to blow. Emily smiled at him, closed her eyes, and kissed him. After a moment, she broke the kiss off and looked at Sean. "I love you, Sean Richards."

"And I love you, Emily Davis. Come on, let's hurry over to the celebration. Everyone's probably waiting for us to get there."

Hand in hand, they walked further down the beach, toward the Surf Central, not at all aware that they were being followed.

***

"Annie, if I throw a stick, will you leave?"

"Ha, ha. So what is it?"

Caitlin looked at the paper. "Nothing exciting, Annie. Another bank statement with . . . checking transactions it looks like. Thrilling stuff, huh?"

"Give it to me," Annie said, snatching the document from Caitlin.

"It's not even Daddy's, so I don’t know why you're bothering."

"Oh, so it's Olivia's!" She examined the paper, her eyes searching for a date. "This is like way old."

"So give it back, Annie," Caitlin sighed futilely.

"Not a chance." She scanned the page, then turned it over to examine the reverse side. "Whoa!"

"What is it?" Caitlin asked in exasperation.

"Score ten points for Olivia! What a sneaky bitch! I don’t give her nearly enough credit."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, blondie, according to this, about . . . fifteen months ago, your angelic mother wrote out a nice little check to our old friend Tiffany Thorne.

"That's old news, Annie."

"You mean you know about this and you didn’t say anything? This is too much! Don't tell me she blackmailed her."

"Yes, Annie, she did, okay? She didn’t like Tiffany, neither did Daddy."

"Well neither did I. She was such a brat."

"She was a good person."

"Caitlin, she was a grimy little street bum. I'm sorry, I mean, I didn’t have a great childhood either, but it takes a real loser to run away from home."

Caitlin pulled her arm back and slapped Annie.

Placing her hand on the side of her face, Annie whimpered. "Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"How dare you say something like that?"

"Don’t you think you're being a bit of a drama queen?"

"No, I . . . Annie I'm sorry. I shouldn’t have done that."

"Damn right you shouldn’t have. That's gonna leave a welt."

"It's just . . . today's the anniversary of Mark's murder, and . . ."

"And he was a runaway too," Annie said softly. "Cait, I'm sorry, I know you and Mark were close. I shouldn’t have said that about runaways. It didn’t even cross my mind."

Caitlin grabbed the paper out of Annie's hand and placed it on the desk. "Come on, Annie, let's get out of here."

"Wait a second," Annie said. She walked behind the desk and looked through the papers quickly. "My God, Caitlin. The checks didn’t stop there."

"What do you mean?"

Annie laughed. "These papers, they're all part of a file. Every single one of them has something to do with Tiffany Thorne. God, Gregory's been sending her a check every month. Is the little brat blackmailing him?"

"How could she?"

"Well why would Gregory be sending her a check for ten grand every month? Something is up here, Caitlin." She shuffled through the papers, and pulled one out. "Caitlin, this is a letter to Gregory. And you're never going to believe who it's from!"

"What? Let me see that!" Caitlin hurried to Annie's side to look at the letter. They both became so engrossed in it that they didn’t even hear the footsteps of the person entering the study.

***

Gabi was sobbing uncontrollably as she drove her tiny red Geo Metro to Surf Central. "Madame Carmen has got to be wrong, she's got to be!" she exclaimed as she pounded her fist against the steering wheel, causing the car's horn to blast. Gabi jumped at the sound, and the car swerved.

She gritted her teeth and clamped her hands to the wheel, trying to once again take control of the automobile. "Get a hold of yourself, Gabi!" she sighed nervously. "No need to give your friends two people to mourn today." She took a deep breath and eased up on the gas.

Her mind was stuck on what Carmen had told her about Mark. "Your Mark was not at all what he seemed," she had said. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. How could that be? How could the man she grew to call friend, the man she had begun to fall in love with, the man who died on the island trying to save his friends, be a liar?

"It's not possible," she said aloud. "Mark wouldn't do that. He would have told me." Rain began to fall from the sky, and almost instantly, a lightning bolt illuminated the sky. "Great. Just what I need." She flicked her headlights on and turned the knob to begin operating the windshield wipers.

As she neared Surf Central, she saw a familiar person walking alongside the road, becoming drenched by the rain. "Amy," she realized. "Poor kid. She must be soaked." She pulled the Metro to the side of the road and reached over to the passenger side door, opening it for Amy. "Come on, get in!" she called.

Amy hopped into the car, sending a spray of water at Gabi as she plopped into the seat. "Oh my God, it's like Noah's Ark out there! Where did all this come from?"

Gabi smirked. "You're welcome, Amy," she thought to herself.

Amy shivered as she shut the door, and Gabi continued driving. "You're crying," Amy said as she looked at Gabi. "What's wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just got some bad news is all. That and . . ."

"The anniversary."

"Yeah, the anniversary. Amy, could you open my glove box and see if there are any tissues in there?"

"Yeah, sure." She did as she was asked. "What kind of car is this, anyway? It's like super-tiny."

"It's a Geo Metro."

"Ugh. Never heard of it. God, I hate small things."

Gabi raised an eyebrow and looked briefly at Amy, who was using the tissues to dry herself off. "Gee, thanks," she sighed.

"What? No! I didn't mean you! I hate tiny things but I love tiny people!"

Gabi rolled her eyes. "I meant the tissues, Amy."

"What about 'em?"

"I asked you to get them for me so I could dry my eyes."

"Oh, sorry. My bad. I thought . . ."

"Never mind." She pulled the car over to the side of the road and put it in park. "Well, this is the end of the line!"

"Well you don't have to kick me out, Gabi! I didn't mean anything by it, and besides, it's like, raining Nurse Staceys outside."

Gabi looked Amy dead in the eyes. "Amy, I pulled over because we're at Surf Central.

"Oh. Wow, where is my head tonight? Don't answer that."

She and Gabi got out of the car, and shut the doors simultaneously. As they approached the house, Gabi gasped. "Amy," she whispered. "Who on earth is that?"

Standing by one of the windows at Surf Central, peering in, was a figure, dressed completely in black.

***

After testing the temperature of the water, Meg stepped into the shower, eager to wash away the stress of her workday. Even though it was New Year's Day, things were very hectic at the Liberty Corporation, and Gregory called her into work.

As the hot water cascaded down her back, she turned slowly around to allow the soothing spray moisten her face and hair. She reached for the shampoo and knocked it over. "Darn." She reached down to retrieve the toppled bottle.

A centimeter away from the bottle, she froze, then quickly snapped her head toward the bathroom door. "What was that sound?" she thought. She was alone in the house, that much she did know. Ben was still at work, and had agreed to meet her at Surf Central for the party in celebration of Mark's memory. She remained still for a few more moments, then grabbed the shampoo bottle. "Just my imagination," she mumbled, and moved back underneath the stream of water. She opened the cap and squeezed some greenish liquid onto her hand.

"Okay, that I did hear," she thought, as she froze once again.

Her heart began racing as the shampoo in her trembling hand began to foam under the pressure of the shower, and lather ran down her wrist, along her arm, to her elbow, then dripped to the shower floor.

Frightened beyond belief, Meg began to turn her head toward the steam-covered glass door of the shower. She almost screamed as she recognized the shape of a man, dressed in dark clothing, standing right outside the shower door.

"Clam down, Meg, it’s just Ben," she thought, trying to convince herself that was the truth. "I have got to get him to start wearing some brighter colors!" She was about to open the door to greet Ben when she saw the figure's hand slowly rise toward the glass.

The hand knocked on the glass, three times, in very slow succession. With each tap, Meg became more convinced that she was going to die. She shook her head quickly. "God, come on, Meg, get a hold of yourself. There's no psycho on the other side of the shower door. The anniversary of Mark's death is getting to you, that's all."

"heh-HEM!" the voice intoned.

Meg smiled as she heard Ben clear his throat from the other side of the glass. "Ben, I am going to kill you!" she exclaimed, as she opened the glass door.

It wasn't Ben.

Standing before her, dressed in black from head to toe, was a living nightmare. Meg felt herself growing faint as she looked with fearful recognition at the white, skeletal mask, which covered the man's face. Things moved from bad to worse as he slowly raised his arm. Meg moaned weakly when she recognized the fisherman's gaff he held in his grasp.

She tried to scream, but when she opened her mouth, she was only able to form one word: "Derek!"

The figure lowered the gaff, and slowly shook his head at Meg. Then she noticed the man wasn't tall enough to be Derek. He was a few inches shorter, with slightly more sloped shoulders, and a narrower waist.

"Who are you then?"

The man slowly moved his free hand upward, toward the mask.

"No, no, no, I don’t want to know, because if I find out who you are, you'll kill me!"

He grabbed the bottom of the mask and ripped it from his face.

Meg screamed in horror.

As Ben left the Richards Communications building he glanced again at his watch. "Hold on, Meg, I'll be there." He unlocked his car, hopped in and started the engine.

As he drove, a shop awning caught his eye: Surf'n'Stuff - Grand opening - TONIGHT! He chuckled. "What a bloody awful name for a store." As he pulled out of the parking lot, he was flooded with memories.

Ben stood on the stepladder and nearly lost his balance due to the unwieldy plastic sign he had flung over his shoulder.

"Whoa! You okay?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Ben stepped back down the ladder and onto stable ground. He turned and looked at the stranger, and was taken aback by what he immediately recognized as a warm, kind aura. His eyes were a deep brown, his medium chestnut hair piled loosely atop his head. But it was the brilliant smile that really impressed Ben.

"Yes, I'm all right," Ben said with a frustrated smile. "Bloody sign's too big." He wiped a few beads of perspiration from his forehead and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Well, could you use a hand? I'm more than happy to help."

Ben looked at the stranger and shook his head in surprise. "Not many people in these parts willing to lend a hand," he remarked. "Particularly not to me."

The young man smiled. "People can be pretty self-serving. Not me. Come on, let me give you a hand."

Ben looked the stranger up and down quickly. His clothes were slightly soiled, as were his face and hands, and his shoes looked like they were ready to disintegrate. No doubt at all that he was a runaway. "I'll tell you what," Ben began. "If you give me a hand with this blasted sign, I'll buy you some lunch. Deal?"

A smile grew across the youngster's face. He hated to take handouts, but he was certainly hungry. And it was not as if he was just accepting a gift, he was earning it. He scratched his head briefly, then responded. "Okay. Deal."

Half an hour later, Ben and the young runaway crossed the street, where they could get a better view of the sign. They turned around to take a look at their work.

"Job well done," Ben exclaimed, and offered his hand to the young man.

"Yeah, job well done," he echoed, and shook Ben's hand, a bright smile lighting up his face.

"You really were a great help," Ben added. "Couldn't have done it without you. My name is Ben Evans, by the way."

"I know who you are," the disheveled youth responded with a shy smile. "You're famous around here."

"I wouldn't go that far," Ben chuckled. "Infamous is more like it. Tell me. What's your name?"

The young man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then looked at the ground. After a long moment, he looked back up. "My name is Mark. Mark Wolper."

"Well it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mark Wolper." Ben extended his hand once more, and Mark shook it fervently.

"So, this is your new place, huh?" Mark asked after releasing his grip on Ben's hand. "What is it, some kind of dance club?"

"That it is. Come on, let's go inside, I'll give you a look around."

They crossed the street, and Ben pulled the door open, holding it for his new friend.

"Wow!" Mark exclaimed as he entered the club. He stepped down the stairs and swiveled his head to admire the decor. "This place is great!"

"Why, thank you!" a pleasant voice responded. A young woman approached him and smiled. "Hi there. I'm Maria."

"Mark, this is my wife, Maria," Ben explained. "She designed this place."

"And you did a great job! This place is gonna be huge!" He walked a little further into the club, a dazzled grin on his face. He stepped closer to a glowing contraption. It was curved, filled with water, and was separated into several wave-shaped compartments, each section in line with the others. Bubbles floated quickly to the top of each compartment, all perfectly in sync with the others. He watched in awe for a few moments, then turned back to Ben. "I feel like a kid in a candy shop!"

"And you look like one!" Maria responded. She stepped closer to Ben and grabbed his hand as Mark continued his self-guided tour of The Deep.

"I've never met anyone like him," Ben confided to his wife. "He's a rare soul, indeed. Too bad he's living on the streets."

"Yes, it is," Maria agreed. She turned to look him in the eyes as a thought struck her. "English, maybe we can help him out."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Ben smiled and kissed Maria on the forehead. "But first off, I think we need to put some food in his stomach."

"Let me whip up some enchiladas," Maria offered. "I've been eager to test out the kitchen anyway." She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him.

"You're too good to me," he beamed.

"You deserve it!" she exclaimed and pinched his nose before heading off to the kitchen. "Miss me!" she hollered.

"Of course," Ben replied and turned his attention to Mark, who was examining a few intricate sculptures that were placed on the bar.

"Did she really design all this?" Mark inquired with awe.

"That she did. She's a pretty amazing woman. In fact, she's in the kitchen this very moment whipping up some food for you."

"Aww, she doesn't have to do that!"

"Listen, Mark, it's the least we can do." Ben sat on one of the barstools, and gestured to the chair next to him. "Mark, take a seat."

Mark looked at Ben with hesitation, then sat next to him.

"Look, I can tell you've been through a lot. I can see it in your face."

"I don't want to talk about that," Mark said firmly.

"That's fine, you don't have to. But Mark, you can't go on living on the streets. It's not safe, even here in Sunset Beach."

Mark sat in silence, and nodded. He tried to look him in the eyes, but couldn't. "Ben, if you're trying to help me, I appreciate it, but please . . . don't."

Ben considered Mark's words, then responded. "Too late. I've already made up my mind. After you get some food in your stomach, Maria and I are going to take you back to our house, and you're going to get cleaned up. You've got a big night ahead of you."

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked, perplexed.

"Tonight's the grand opening, and as my newest employee, I fully expect you to be here."

Mark lifted his head and looked at Ben. His mouth hung open, and he couldn't form any words. He just stared at him.

"So, what do you say? Are we in business, or aren't we?"

A tear formed in Mark's eye, and ran down his dirtied cheek. He wiped it quickly away and sighed. "Nobody's ever been this nice to me. I keep waiting for a catch."

"No catch, Mark. Maria and I are good people; we'd never do anything to hurt you. And believe me when I say when I was your age I had my share of problems too. In fact when I first came to Sunset Beach, if it hadn't been for my good friend Gregory, I'd probably be living on the streets myself."

Maria entered from the kitchen and walked over to the bar. "The food is going to be a little while longer," she explained, "but here, let's see if this doesn't tide you over." She placed a bowl of tortilla chips on the counter in front of Mark, then grabbed a glass, scooped some ice into it, and filled it with Coke.

Mark took the glass from Maria and smiled nervously. "Thank you," he said, and took a sip.

"You're very welcome!" She flashed a radiant smile and returned to the kitchen.

Mark looked at the chips with hesitation, then grabbed one. He didn't like accepting handouts, but he couldn't deny his hunger either. He finally grabbed a chip and took a small bite, then another sip of his soda.

"This is so good," he mumbled and devoured the rest of his chip.

The chips didn't last very long, and neither did the soda. Ben found himself walking behind the bar to refill Mark's drink as Maria entered from the kitchen with a hot plate of enchiladas. "For our first customer!" she exclaimed as she placed the hot plate in front of Mark. His eyes widened and it only took him a moment to grab a fork and begin devouring the meal. Ben and Maria exchanged smiles as Mark inhaled the food.

"This is," Mark mumbled through a mouthful of enchilada, "the best food . . . I have ever had!"

Ben and Maria laughed in appreciation.

A few minutes later, Mark looked up from his plate, which he had completely cleaned. "Ben, you're right. You are good people. Thank you so much for doing this for me."

"It was our pleasure," Ben responded. "Now about my offer. What do you say? Can I consider you my newest employee?"

"We really could use another waiter," Maria added. "And this being opening night, I'm sure you'd make a killing."

"Really?" Mark asked in wonder. "How much do you think I'd make?"

"Well," Maria began, "with those beautiful brown eyes, and that gorgeous smile . . . I dunno, what do you think, Ben?"

"I'd say seventy-five dollars, easy."

"Seventy-five dollars?" Mark repeated in amazement. "Just for taking orders and bringing people food?"

Maria nodded. "Yep. And that's just in tips. Don't forget to add on another three dollars an hour for what we pay you."

Mark was excited, but still doubtful. Taking a job would require a huge change in his life. But it would be a change for the better. This was his chance to make something of himself, turn his life around, and get off the streets.

"Count me in," he finally said, and Ben and Maria both cheered.

Ben smiled with fondness at these memories. As he turned the corner onto Ocean Drive, rain began to fall.

***

Michael was on the couch at Surf Central, watching in amazement as Jimmy scoffed down potato chips. "Easy there, Jimmy. If you don't stop inhaling those things, you're gonna choke!"

Jimmy grumbled and made a comment, but Michael had started to daydream about the first time he met Mark Wolper.

Elaine Stevens grinned wickedly across the counter at Michael and Casey. "Come on, you two! I won't make you pay for them! I just want you to try them!"

Michael laughed. "Elaine, I know this is officially a waffle shop, but there ain't no way I'm ever trying your waffles!"

Elaine frowned playfully. "But, Michael, I have a brand new recipe! Guaranteed to please!"

"Guaranteed to make you sick is more like it!" He laughed and turned to Casey. "Give 'em to Casey, he'll eat anything!"

"How about it, Casey? Will you let me whip up a batch for you?"

Casey grimaced. "Elaine, you know I adore you, but after all the rumors I've heard about your waffles, I think I'd be better off sticking to a plain old hamburger."

"You're no fun!" Elaine exclaimed in resignation. "Fine, two burgers coming right up!" She scribbled on an order sheet and hung it on the grill wheel. "I'll tell ya, one of these days, someone will come in here and order my waffles!"

"I'll try 'em!"

Every head in the restaurant turned to the source of the voice. It was Mark.

Casey shook his head in amazement. "I don't think you know what you're getting into, buddy!"

"Casey, shush!" Elaine scolded playfully. "I've got myself a customer!"

"A victim is more like it," Michael responded with a chuckle.

Elaine looked at Michael with dismay. "You're evil!"

Mark approached the counter and took a seat next to Casey. Elaine greeted him with a warm smile and a handshake. "Welcome to Sunset Beach, the land that romance built," she announced. "I'm Elaine Stevens."

"Mark Wolper," he responded, taking her hand. He looked into her deep, caring eyes and instantly missed his mother.

Elaine sensed his sorrow, and instantly ran around the counter and embraced him. "You're a good kid, Mark. I can tell. And not just because you ordered my waffles!" She ruffled his hair impishly and went into the kitchen.

"Hey, you're the guy from The Deep, aren't you?" Casey asked.

"Yeah, that's me," Mark answered.

"Hey, yeah! And I've seen you down on the beach!" Michael exclaimed in recognition. "I'm Michael Bourne, and this here is Casey Mitchum. You're talking to the two newest lifeguards in Sunset Beach."

Mark shook each of their hands in turn. "Great to meet you both."

"How long you been in town?" Michael inquired.

"Two weeks."

"Well, welcome to town," Casey smiled as he placed a hospitable hand on Mark's shoulder.

"Where you staying?" Michael asked.

"Ben Evans' place."

Casey and Michael looked at each other in amazement, then turned their attention back to Mark. "You an old friend of his?" Casey asked.

Mark thought for a moment, then told them the story of how he had come to meet Ben.

When he had finished, Elaine appeared with a large plate. "One golden, delicious, crispy Elaine Stevens-style waffle for Mr. Mark Wolper!" She beamed with pride and set the plate down on the counter.

Everyone in the waffle shop turned his or her attention to Mark. He grabbed a fork and bravely tore a piece of the waffle off. The crowd watched in silence as Mark speared the waffle piece with his fork and slowly lifted it toward his mouth.

"Don't do it man!" Michael warned from his spot at the counter. Several customers giggled, and then the restaurant went silent once more.

He opened his mouth as he lifted the waffle upward. He froze for a moment, and looked at Elaine. She nodded in encouragement.

He popped the waffle piece into his mouth, and the restaurant was filled with gasps of awe.

Michael covered his eyes. "Let me know when it's over, I can't watch!"

Mark slowly crunched into the waffle as everyone watched with anticipation. He chewed slowly, closed his eyes for a moment, then swallowed.

"Is it over yet?" Michael asked.

Elaine looked at Mark and asked, eagerly, "Well, what did you think?"

He opened his mouth to speak, and then his face began to turn red. He tried to speak, but was unable. He clutched at his throat, and stood from his stool at the counter, his eyes bugging out of his head.

"My God!" Casey exclaimed in horror.

Michael uncovered his eyes and jumped up from his seat. "Casey!" he exclaimed, pointing at Mark, "Heimlich! Heimlich!"

Casey looked at Michael fearfully, then back at Mark, whose face was now purple. Not for the first time in his life, and certainly not the last, Casey took control of the situation. He walked behind Mark and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Michael watched in fear. "In and up!" he exclaimed. "In and up!"

Casey took a quick breath, then performed the Heimlich maneuver on Mark. Everyone watched, liked spectators at an automobile accident unable to turn their heads, as the chewed piece of Elaine's waffle flew from Mark's mouth, sailed through the air, and landed with a dull plop in Michael's soda.

Mark drew a few quick breaths and his face slowly returned to a normal color. Michael exclaimed, "Way to go Case!" and started a round of applause.

Casey's face flushed as people began clapping. He smiled briefly, then turned his attention back to Mark. "You okay, man?"

Mark looked up at Casey and smiled. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks."

Elaine came around the counter and hugged Mark again. "Mark, I'm so sorry!"

He chuckled politely. "It's okay. Just keep your waffles away from me!" he exclaimed with a giggle.

"You're lucky, bro," Michael said. "Not many people have eaten one of Elaine's waffles and lived to tell the tale!"

Mark grinned. "After everything I've been through, I'm not gonna let a waffle be the end of me! Elaine, how about a nice, harmless hamburger?"

Elaine smiled pleasantly and took the waffle out of Mark's sight. "One more burger, on its way!"

Casey returned to his seat and looked at Mark. "I have to say, despite your near-death waffle experience, it's a real pleasure to meet you. You seem like a hell of a nice guy."

"Thanks," Mark responded. "You seem like a great guy too. That, and I owe you my life!"

"Case and I start work tomorrow down on the beach," Michael began, "but if you're not up to anything tonight, what say you come celebrate with us?"

"I'd love to!" Mark answered gleefully. "What exactly are we celebrating?"

"Well, first of all, our new jobs," Casey explained. "But now we have something else to celebrate. You surviving Elaine's waffles!"

They all chuckled, and Michael added, "And . . . our newfound friendship!"

"Yeah!" Casey agreed.

"I just need you to know," Mark stated seriously, "I do not take the idea of 'friendship' very lightly. But I like you. I like you guys a lot. And when I decide I like someone, it's a lifelong commitment."

"Well, then you're our kind of friend!" Casey exclaimed.

"Here, here!" Michael chimed in.

Mark raised his glass and Casey and Michael followed. "To new friends!" Mark toasted.

"To new friends!" Michael and Casey echoed. They each lifted their glasses to their mouths and drank. Mark and Casey put their glasses down, and realized Michael was now choking.

"Oh, God!" Mark exclaimed. "That piece of waffle. It landed in Michael's glass."

Michael coughed and spit the soggy chunk of waffle into a napkin.

Elaine turned and asked, "Are you okay?"

Michael shook his head. "You and your damn waffles," he said with a grimace, and they all laughed.

"You okay in there?" Vanessa asked.

Michael snapped back to reality. "Yeah, Scoop," he said. "Actually, I'm doing great." He laughed at the memory of that fateful day at Elaine's Waffle Shop then helped himself to some chips.

***

Ben continued down Ocean Drive as the rain continued to pour.

"Ben, I know something's wrong. You can tell me." Ben stood on the verandah, watching the sunset. He hadn't spoken for hours. Mark walked through the French doors and joined his good friend, standing directly next to him. He turned and looked at his face. Ben was crying. In the six months they had known each other, Mark had never seen Ben cry. He put a consoling arm around Ben's shoulder. "Is it Maria?"

Ben threw Mark's arm off roughly. "Damn it, Mark, I don't want to talk about it!" He stalked into the house.

Mark gritted his teeth and followed Ben inside. "I'm not going to let you do this, Ben. I mean, come on! How many times have you been there for me? Would you for once let me be a friend to you? Is that so much to ask?"

Ben dropped down onto the couch and cupped his face in his hands. He was silent.

"At least let me get you some tea." Mark didn't wait for a response, but simply walked into the kitchen and began heating some water.

"What's she done to him?" he thought as he looked through the cabinets for the tea bags. "What on earth could have happened to have upset him like this?" He found the tea bags and hoisted himself up on the counter, where he sat and waited for the water to boil.

A couple minutes later, the door to the kitchen flew open. It was Annie.

"Mark, what's up with Ben? He won't even talk."

"I know," he answered and stared at the wall.

"Well, you're his best friend, go in there and talk to him." She opened the refrigerator and began what Mark knew was Annie's kitchen ritual. She'd look through the refrigerator, then the cabinets, then the refrigerator again, and finally settle for gnawing on a carrot.

"I'll take care of him, Annie. Don't worry."

"Well I do worry. Maria's been in a nasty mood all day. She won't talk either. I want to know what Ben did to her." She shut the refrigerator door and began searching through the cabinets.

"Why is it that Ben had to do something to her?" Mark asked defensively. "Why couldn't it be the other way around?"

"Because, Mark, if Maria had done something she would have told me. We're best friends, that's the way it works." She closed the cabinet doors and returned her attention to the refrigerator.

"News flash, Annie. Ben's my best friend. And he will talk to me. Don't you worry about that." He watched her rummage through the crisper drawer and emerge with one lone carrot.

"I bumped into Ricardo a little while ago. He's convinced Ben is up to something. And he's sick of Maria running to him with tears in her eyes. He wants this to stop and so do I." She walked to the sink and began rinsing the carrot.

"Annie, why are you here?"

She snapped her head toward Mark. "Maria's my best friend! I'm worried about her!" She placed the carrot in her mouth and bit a piece off angrily.

"So why aren't you with her?"

"God, Mark, what's with Twenty Questions? She's with Ricardo."

The teakettle began to whistle and Mark hopped down from the cabinet.

"Aww, making tea for your boyfriend," Annie quipped bitterly.

Mark turned on Annie and lashed out with rare anger. "Annie, just get the hell out of here! I'll take care of Ben my way, and you take care of Maria yours." He scowled and poured the hot water into a mug.

"Fine," Annie moaned and tossed her half-eaten carrot into the trash. She followed Mark back into the living area.

"Ben, here. Have some tea," Mark said calmly as he took a seat next to Ben on the couch.

Annie rolled her eyes and couldn't resist the urge to get in one last word. "You two make me sick. Ben, if you hurt Maria, I'll kill you." She turned and went out the door in a huff.

Mark let out a sigh and looked at Ben. "Come on, take it," he said, offering Ben the mug.

Ben looked up and grabbed the tea. "Mark, thank you," he said quietly and took a sip.

They sat on the couch in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally Ben spoke. "I think I'm losing her," he said softly.

"Not in a million years. She loves you. She'll love you forever. What makes you think she'd ever stop?"

"Sometimes love isn't enough, Mark. Something's happened. I'm not sure what it is, but it's something big. I can't help but feel that my world is getting ready to crash down around me."

"That's never going to happen, Ben. Maria loves you, and she'll stick by you no matter what." It was disconcerting to him that Ben was hurting so badly; he wished he knew what to say to make it better. "What exactly is going on, Ben?"

"That's the problem, Mark. I don't know. One moment she's blissful, the next scornful. I've been going through these past few weeks in my mind, over and over, trying to figure out what I might have done, might have said. Nothing. Nothing sticks out at all. If I knew, or even had the faintest idea what has upset her, I'd move heaven and earth to fix it."

"I'm sure she knows that. And I'm sure she will tell you what's wrong. Maybe she just needs time. Whatever it is that's made her feel this way, it'll pass. I promise. Ben, you don't have it in you to do hurtful things. Everything you do is good in some way. Look at everything you've done for me. You're my good luck charm."

Ben contemplated Mark's words. "Hold that thought," he said after a pause and jumped up from the couch.

Mark couldn't help but chuckle. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'll be right back," he said and ran up the stairs.

Mark stood and walked out on the verandah. The sun was just disappearing beneath the horizon. He looked at the sky and noticed how dark it was becoming. Little did he know the churning clouds would soon cause one of the heaviest storms in recent memory.

"I've got something for you," Ben explained as he stepped onto the verandah and stood beside Mark. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an old coin. He held it in his palm for a moment then gave it to Mark.

"Wow, Ben, this thing is really old. Where'd you get it?" He examined the coin closely.

"I've had it for a while now. Figured it was time I passed it on. You were talking about how you thought I was your good luck charm. Well, that coin is my good luck charm."

"And you're giving it to me?"

"Yes, Mark, I am."

"I don't know what to say."

"It's an old English coin. It hasn't been made in over two hundred years. It's actually brought me a great deal of fortune, and I'm sure it will for you."

"Ben, I can't accept this. It means too much to you."

"It means too much for me not to give it to you. Consider it a token of appreciation for everything you've done for me. A symbol of things that last forever, like true friendship."

Mark looked at the coin and then at Ben. "Ben, thank you. This . . . this is the most meaningful thing anybody's done for me in . . . in a long time."

"Don't mention it, Mark. You've earned it."

Mark beamed a brilliant smile and threw his arms around Ben. "Everything will work out for you and Maria. You're meant to be with her. Forever. And that's a hell of a long time."

"It sure is," Ben replied and stepped back from Mark. From inside, they heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, then footsteps running up the stairs.

"Ben, that's got to be Maria. You should really go to her."

"I will, Mark. But I need to give her some time first." He looked at his watch. "And speaking of time, you've got to get out of here. Just because your best friend is your boss doesn't mean you can be late for work!"

"Oh, crap!" Mark mumbled. "Okay, I'll get out of here. Thanks again, Ben, for the coin. I'll cherish it. And thanks for everything you've done for me." He smiled and ran into the house, then out the front door.

Later that night, as the storm raged and Ben searched frantically for Maria in the tumultuous ocean water, he couldn't help but wish he'd held onto that lucky coin.

Ben pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car, running quickly up the walkway to his doorway. He fumbled with his keys, then stiffened as he heard Meg screaming from inside.

As Gabi whispered, Amy stopped dead in her tracks. She squinted and attempted to make out the identity of the person who was peering through the window outside Surf Central. It was no use; the rain was too heavy and the sky had quickly grown very dark.

"Don't move, Amy. I'm going to my car to get my cell phone." She turned to leave and Amy grabbed her arm.

"What's the big deal? It's probably just some homeless guy or something."

"I'm not taking any chances," Gabi said with levity. "I'm calling Ricardo."

"What? Don't leave me here! What if that's some nut-case psycho murderer or something?"

"Amy, relax. I'll be right back. Now keep an eye on that guy." She turned quietly on her heels and walked back to the tiny car.

Amy rolled her eyes as Gabi departed. "Gah, I am so getting drenched," she muttered and silently cursed Gabi. She watched for several moments in scared silence as the figure took a step closer to the window and peered intently inside. "At least he hasn't noticed us yet," she reminded herself. Then, almost as if reading Amy's mind, the head of the figure slowly turned and looked directly at Amy. "My God," she thought, "Is that a mask? Is that . . . oh no! This is like the opposite of good."

The figure cocked its head to one side and took a slow, deliberate step closer to Amy. She clenched her fists tightly and took a quick breath. "Hurry up, Gabi," she thought. "If I die here I am so going to kill you." She made a swift calculation in her mind. Gabi was at least thirty yards behind her. The front door of Surf Central was twenty yards away, across the street and diagonally to her left. And the masked figure was fifteen yards in front of her, directly between Surf Central and the neighboring home. "If I run . . ." she began thinking. "No, I'd never make it on time. And even if I did, what would happen to Gabi?" She snapped back to reality as she realized the stranger had taken another step toward her. She looked at the person's hand and suddenly noticed what she firmly believed was a knife.

"I am so outta here!" she mumbled, and made a mad dash for the front door.

***

"Why on Earth would Tiffany be writing a letter to Daddy?" Caitlin asked as she peered at the paper Annie was examining.

A voice spoke from behind them. "I'd like to know the answer to that myself."

Caitlin and Annie spun around in unison, Annie doing her best to hide the paper behind her back. "Oh, Sean, hi!" Annie exclaimed, putting on her best, albeit unconvincing, innocent face. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Sean replied as he stepped into the study.

"God, I hate it when people say that," Annie grumbled. "Can't you think of anything more original to say? I mean that's so . . . daytime TV of you."

"Annie, is it wrong to wish permanent laryngitis on someone?" Sean smirked. "Now do me a favor. Shut up and give me the damn letter."

Annie's jaw dropped open. "Sean, I am mortified! How dare you talk to your doting stepmother like that? I should send you to your room."

Sean rolled his eyes. "I don't even live here anymore, remember? No, wait - you probably don't. You're too busy taking care of yourself to notice what anyone else is doing. Now give me the letter."

She raised her eyebrow and sighed. "Fine," she griped and handed him the paper.

Caitlin approached her brother and grabbed his hand. "Sean, do you really think it's a good idea to read that?"

"Yeah," he said, "I do." He walked across the room, took a seat at his father's desk and began reading.

After a moment Annie broke the silence. "If your father catches you in here, he'll string you up," she said as she sat down on the desk and once again began filing her nails.

"Annie, something tells me you'd be first on his list," Caitlin responded with a wry grin. "Sean, I'll go wait in the living room. If Daddy comes home, I'll distract him."

"Thanks, Cait," Sean mumbled as Caitlin left the room.

Annie swiveled around to face Sean. "Well, what's it say?" she asked with eager curiosity.

"None of your damn business!" he replied in irritation.

"Well come on, it's kind of obvious. She's blackmailing Gregory. Gotta give her some credit, though it still doesn't change the fact that she's a whiny brat."

"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" Sean retorted. "And what makes you think she'd be blackmailing him?"

"Oh, nothing. Just the dozen and a half canceled checks he's written to her. Or would you have figured that out on your own?" she asked sarcastically.

"Canceled checks? What are you talking about?" he asked.

Annie rolled her eyes. "Here," she said, handing him the stack of bank documents.

Sean shuffled through them quickly, a pained expression on his face. "I can't believe it," he stated.

"Oh, you'd better start believing it real soon, Sean. Your daddy's in it deep."

"Good. He deserves it."

"You ain't just whistlin' Dixie," Annie muttered.

Sean looked at the last of the pages. "The checks stopped in October," he thought aloud. "And this letter was written in mid-December."

"Two weeks ago," Annie surmised.

"Thanks for the exposition, Annie. The letter is a warning. Tiff is demanding more money." He picked the letter up and read from it. "It says, 'That twenty thousand dollars better be here by Christmas or I'll be showing up on your doorstep with a super-sized attitude problem. I won't be reminding you again.'"

"Wow, she's turned into one tough cookie. And one rich cookie. He's given her over a hundred thousand dollars. God, with money like that, she could . . ."

"She could do a lot of damage," Sean finished. "Look, Annie, I don't like this one bit. I mean, I'm sorry Tiffany had to go through all this, but why didn't she ever write to me to let me know she was okay? She can write a threatening letter to my dad, but she can't even send me a postcard?"

"I'm sure she has her reasons. Now come on, Sean; let's get out of here. If your father needs to use the study, Caitlin won't be able to stop him for long."

Sean nodded. "You're actually right for once."

"And we should get on over to Surf Central."

"Yeah, Emily's probably already there. I hate to keep her waiting." Sean stood up from the desk. "Hey, where'd you find the papers? And why are they all chewed up?"

Annie chuckled. "I didn't find them; Spike did."

Sean cracked a smile. "Remind me to reward that dog with a T-bone."

Annie neatened the papers as Sean headed out of the study. A thought struck him and he spun around. "Wait, where's the envelope the letter came in?"

"It wasn't in an envelope."

"Damn, I wanted to see the postmark, find out where she mailed it from."

"Well, with all the money she's got? My guess would be Bermuda."

"I dunno, Annie. Something tells me she's a lot closer than that." His brow was creased with concern and they left the study.

***

Ben cursed his luck as he dropped his keys. "Bloody hell!" he muttered. He turned the handle and discovered to his dismay that the door was already unlocked. "Meg!" he hollered as he opened the door and stepped into the house, leaving his keys behind on the wet walkway. "Meg, where are you?" Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the room. Ben saw movement out of the corner of his eye and realized the French doors were swinging in the wind. "I'll take care of that later," he murmured and rushed up the stairs.

"Meg, it's me!" he shouted as he reached the top of the stairs. "Where the devil are you?" He immediately thought the worst. The front door was unlocked, the French doors were wide open . . . someone had managed to get inside, managed to get to Meg. "But who?" he wondered.

"Meg, answer me, dammit. Where are you?" He burst into the bedroom. There was no sign of her, just the curtains flapping in the wind of the storm. "Someone's taken her," he muttered. "Dammit, WHO DID THIS?" He pounded his fist roughly against the bedroom door.

"Ben . . ." a voice said softly. It was coming from the bathroom.

He cocked his head and ran across the bedroom toward the attached bathroom. The door was wide open. "Meg, are you in there?" he asked as he turned the corner.

"Ben . . ." the voice said again.

He entered the bathroom and found Meg lying on the floor, half in and half out of the shower.

"Ben . . ." she repeated.

"Meg!" He rushed to her side and helped her to sit up.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, placing her hand on top of her head.

"Meg, are you all right? I heard you screaming. What happened?" He kissed her gently on the cheek and helped her to put her robe on.

She rubbed her head slowly, a pained look on her face. "I . . . I fell. Hit my head."

"Is that all? Meg, you look as if you've seen a ghost." And he was right; the color had drained completely out of her face.

She blinked hard and looked at Ben, trying to focus. "I was so tired, Ben. After working so long today. I must have fallen asleep in the shower. That's got to be how I hit my head."

Ben swallowed hard. If she'd fallen, why was the shower door open? Or the bathroom door? And the downstairs doors as well. "Meg, I realize you're disoriented, but you've got to try to remember. Was there someone else in here?"

She looked at him in confusion, then at the floor. Suddenly she remembered. The person clad in black, the skeleton mask, the fisherman's gaff. Her jaw dropped and a tear spilled from her eye. "Ben, he was here."

"Who, Meg? Who was here?" He grabbed her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"It was Derek. It . . . no, it couldn't have been him."

"Of course it couldn't have. Derek is dead."

"Well it was someone. He was wearing that horrible mask." Meg choked to get the words out. "And he had a gaff. Oh, Ben, I thought it was Derek, and then he shook his head, and he . . . he lifted his hand up to his face and . . . took the mask off."

Ben was startled at the horrible experience Meg had to endure. He lifted her chin up and looked again into her eyes. "Meg, tell me who it was."

"Ben, it was . . . it was a dream."

"What?"

"I was exhausted, I fell asleep, hit my head . . . it was a dream."

Ben sighed and let go of Meg's chin. "It is the anniversary of Mark's death," he stated. "I guess now's as good a time as any to have a nightmare of that sort."

Meg nodded weakly and rubbed her injured head once again. "I'm sorry I scared you, Ben. It just . . . it seemed so real."

"I can see that," Ben said as he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly, placing a protective, loving hand on the back of her head. "It's all over now Meg," he said soothingly as he ran his fingers through her hair.

She enjoyed the comfort of Ben's arms for a moment and then pulled away. "Ben, what time is it?"

"Time to get you dressed," he said after glancing at his watch. "We should have been there five minutes ago. But first I think we should get you to the hospital."

"Ben, I'm fine. It's just a bump. You worry too much."

"That's because I love you," he sighed as he helped Meg to her feet and followed her into the bedroom. He searched the room quickly with his eyes to be sure she would be safe. "We'd better get these windows shut. The storm's getting a bit nasty." He shut the windows and locked them, just to be safe. Then he remembered the fact that the doors were open downstairs. "Meg, I'm going downstairs for a moment. Just shout if you need me."

"Ben, I think I can get dressed on my own," she said with a smile.

He grinned at her. "Yes, I suppose you can."

"I'll be down in a minute."

As Meg opened the closet door, Ben's heart was in his throat. He was prepared for Meg to scream, for a masked figure to jump out and attack her. But it didn't happen. "Need to stop thinking like this," he thought as he turned to go downstairs.

The French doors were swaying in and out with the wind. Ben hurried across the room and pulled the doors shut, turning the lock with a dull click. He failed to notice the slightly muddy footprint outside the door, just as Meg had neglected to see the muddy black shoes which jutted out from the back of her closet, surrounded by a small puddle of water.

***

Once she was out of sight, Gabi ran to her car and unlocked the door in a fury. "I've got to call Ricardo," she mumbled as she sat in the driver's seat. She looked to the right and reached over to open the glove compartment. As she did so, the phone fell out and landed on the passenger side floor mat with a muted cracking sound. "Shoot," she said and reached for the phone. The battery attachment had snapped off.

She grabbed the phone and did her best to re-attach the battery, but it was no use. "Damn cheap phone," she cursed and tossed it back on the floor. "Okay, Gabi, get a grip here. Time for plan B. Just hurry back to Amy, go inside, and call Ricardo from there." She took a deep breath, crossed her fingers, and leapt out of the car.

She screamed as her face bumped into something solid - solid and black. A man, to be precise. As he grabbed her shoulders, she cowered, looking down at the ground, petrified to look up. She opened her eyes and saw his black shoes, black pants, black shirt. She swallowed with fear, blinked her eyes then slowly looked up at his face.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed.

"Get out of here, Michael Bourne!" Virginia scolded as Michael stuck his finger in the mixing bowl.

"Aww, come on, Virginia! You know how much I love your cookies! Just give me a little taste!"

Virginia slapped Michael on the hand and dropped her mixing spoon into the bowl. "All right, mister. You asked for it!" She grabbed the spray nozzle from the sink, pulled it out, and aimed it at Michael's face. A smirk appeared across her mouth as Casey and Vanessa entered the kitchen.

"Uh-oh, Michael, you are in big trouble!" Casey exclaimed jovially as he realized what was about to happen.

"Casey, talk some sense into your friend here. You guys know I like to have my privacy when I'm cooking! Now go on, shoo! Don't make me pull the trigger on this thing!"

Michael threw his hands up in the air. "Okay, okay, I give! I'll leave you in peace! Let me go check on Jimmy. Come on, Scoop," he smiled as he grabbed Vanessa's hand.

"I'll be right in, Michael. Let me just see if I can offer Virginia a hand in here. I think she'd much rather have another lady poking around in here than one of you two guys!"

Virginia bit her tongue. "Of course, Vanessa! You're much better company than these two oafs!"

"Oafs?" Casey asked. "Hey, I resemble that remark!" Virginia aimed the spray nozzle at Casey and grinned.

"I think that's our cue, Case!" Michael laughed and the two of them went back into the living room.

As the door swung shut Vanessa approached Virginia. "So, how you holding up in here?"

Virginia returned the spray nozzle to its place on the faucet. "Oh, you know how it is; I'm just slaving away in here!"

"Actually I don't know how it is. I'm a lot of things, Virginia, but I'm definitely no cook."

Virginia caught herself smirking. Yeah, Vanessa, you're a lot o' things all right . . . Virginia cleared her throat. "Well cooking's a lot easier than you think it is. You oughtta go buy yourself a cookbook! I mean I personally just follow directions very well, I'm not actually that great a cook at all."

"You are an excellent cook, Virginia! I can't wait to see what you've whipped up for us!"

Virginia smiled uncomfortably. "You'll just have to wait and see!" She turned around and resumed working in her mixing bowl. After a moment she turned back toward Vanessa. "Vanessa, I don't mean to be rude but . . . why are you still in here?"

Vanessa snapped back to reality. "Oh, I'm sorry Virginia. I was just thinking."

"What about?"

"Well, a lot of things. Mark primarily. But I was also thinking about the other things that happened when we were on the island. You have to admit that was a real turning point for you and me. I'm really glad we've been getting along so well, Virginia. I mean, God! It's been a year! And a year is a long time!"

"Has it really been a year?" Virginia asked with false amazement. She looked down at her mixing spoon and wondered if it would be heavy enough to bludgeon Vanessa with. "Wow, time flies when everything is perfect!" she replied with a saccharine-sweet smile.

"Ain't that the truth!" She put her hand on Virginia's arm and beamed at her. "Honestly, Virginia, thank you so much. It means a lot to me."

"Don't even mention it, Vanessa," Virginia replied. "I haven't done a thing." But that doesn't mean I'm not going to.

"Well, I'll get back to the gang. I have a sudden craving for some chips!"

I hope you choke on 'em! "Okay! I'll have some fresh-baked goodies out there in no time!" Virginia cocked her head to one side, smiled prettily and waved. As Vanessa left and the door swung shut once again, Virginia's face instantly went serious. "You're right, Vanessa. A year is a long time. A long time to plot and plan. Unfortunately, Ms. Thang, about this time next year, we'll be remembering your death. Your accidental death. And hot damn will that be one swingin' party!"

Virginia began humming the Jefferson's Theme to herself as she dumped the contents of the mixing bowl into the garbage disposal. She opened a cabinet, pulled out a large paper shopping bag and placed it on the counter. She removed a few bakery items: some cookies, a tray of brownies and an apple pie. She quickly arranged the items on a cookie tray and popped them into the oven to warm them up.

"Betty Crocker, eat your heart out!" she exclaimed as she sprayed the kitchen with bakery-scent air freshener.

***

Antonio became entranced by the raindrops splattering against his windshield. So many of them, he thought, and no possible way to count them all. He frowned as each droplet collided with the glass. I guess there's some symbolism in there somewhere. And I'm sure it's got something to do with futility.

He thought of all the people whose confessions he had heard. He laughed at how simple it was to hand out Hail Marys and Our Fathers. "Just words," he mumbled, "words to appease the masses. If they only knew of my sins."

And sinned he had. He was in love. With his brother's girlfriend no less.

He gritted his teeth as he continued to drive through the pouring rain. "Why is this happening, God?" he asked. "Why is it that I, one of your beloved servants, should be challenged so?" More raindrops exploded against the glass in front of him, the remnants wiped away quickly by the swishing of the windshield blades. "You're challenging me, aren't you? Testing my strength, my conviction. Trying to determine whether or not I am worthy to serve you. I will pass this test, Lord. I will pass this test and prove to you that I can fulfill my duties - to the letter."

But it was no good. His thoughts were of Gabi and nothing else. Even on this night, the anniversary of his dear friend Mark's death, all of his thoughts returned to Gabi. He forced his eyes shut for a moment, then opened them. "Why are you doing this to me, God? Why?" It occurred to him that God was simply not a part of this equation, that his thoughts of Gabi were of his own creation, that he was too weak to resist these temptations. Then he pushed those thoughts aside. "I would never willingly distract myself like this. I'm being tempted. And I have got to be strong. This is not under my control."

He turned the corner onto Ocean Drive and was startled by several flashes of lightning. He took a few quick, shallow breaths. Antonio hated storms. That was something nobody knew. Nobody but Mark.

"Antionio!" Mark exclaimed in amusement. "How can you be afraid of a thunder storm? Earthquakes don't phase you in the least, but a thunderstorm? Stop the world! Antonio Torres is afraid of lightning!"

Antonio chuckled in embarrassment as Mark pulled onto the freeway. "Okay, you caught me!" he said. "I'd rather be dropped in a tank full of sharks than have to face a thunderstorm. Call me irrational, but I can't help but think one of those lightning bolts is meant for me."

Mark turned serious. "What the hell are you talking about? You're Antonio Torres! You've never done a thing wrong! Why do you think God would suddenly decide to strike you down?"

Antonio pondered for a moment. "We're all sinners, Mark. Every last one of us. And I'm certainly no exception."

Mark raised a confused eyebrow. "T, I know you're ultra-pious and everything, but don't you think you're being a little bit hard on yourself? I mean . . . have you ever even been with a woman?"

Antonio blushed. "Why does that matter?" he asked.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Mark explained, "I was just curious."

Antonio was silent for a few moments. "No," he finally responded. "Okay? No. I've never been with a woman."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Why do you sound embarrassed? You should be proud!"

Antonio chuckled uncomfortably. "Proud? Because I'm a loser?"

"T, you are no loser. You're the best-looking guy in Sunset Beach. And don't even try to say you don't have any women after you, 'cause you and I both know that's bull. Your brother would kill to have the options you have."

"Options? As in people I could conceivably sleep with? Mark, I'm not like that."

"I know you're not. But you know what I'm talking about. You could conceivably have anyone you wanted."

"Conceivably," Antonio repeated incredulously as Mark switched lanes.

"Yeah, conceivably." Mark sighed and took his focus off of the road for a moment to look at Antonio. "You know it's okay to have a libido."

Antonio giggled. "A what?"

A grin crept across Mark's face. "A libido! You know, it's like . . . your sex drive." He reached over and ruffled Antonio's hair playfully. A grin crept across his face.

Antonio's cheeks burned a bright red. "Mark, I don't think I have one of those."

Mark cackled in amusement. "Antonio! Of course you do! Everyone does!"

Trying to remain serious, Antonio stated, "Mark, I think I'm special."

Silence permeated the car for several moments. Mark considered Antonio's words carefully, then burst out into laughter.

"What?" Antonio asked in confusion.

"Yeah," Mark grinned, "you're special all right!"

Antonio punched Mark's arm. "And you're a pain in the ass!" he proclaimed.

Mark's jaw dropped open. "My, my, Mister Piety! Isn't foul language a sin?"

"Not if it's well-deserved!" Antonio replied.

"Ouch!" Mark responded. "Well color me deserving!"

They shared a laugh and proceeded to entertain silence for several more miles. It was Antonio who finally spoke.

"Are you?" he asked with hesitation.

Mark turned to look at Antonio. "Am I what?"

Antonio watched the road nervously and gulped as another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky. "Are you a virgin?"

"Yep," he replied. "Me and Mary share the same distinction."

Antonio smiled. "You're incorrigible, Mark Wolper!" He chuckled as Mark turned off the freeway. "But you're good company," he added.

"Oh, so there's nobody you'd rather be a virgin with?" Mark asked in jest.

"No one in the world," Antonio replied.

Mark smiled appreciatively. "It'll be our secret."

Antonio felt comforted as he remembered that night so many years ago. As the lightning flashed and the storm continued its assault on Sunset Beach, he pulled his car over to the side of the road. He turned the ignition off, got out of the car, and headed toward Surf Central.

***

Are they finally gone? He wondered from his uncomfortable hiding spot in the back of Meg's closet. He fidgeted restlessly and decided he was indeed alone in the house. Moving some of Meg's garments to the side, he stepped over a row of shoes and emerged from the closet.

The bedroom was dark, illuminated only by sparse flashes of lightning. He stepped slowly across the floor, being very careful not to make a sound. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he froze. As thunder rumbled in the distance, he turned his head slowly to the right, afraid of what he might see. Lightning once again filled the dark bedroom, and he jumped as he realized what it was that he had seen. Standing on the opposite side of the room was a young man of slight frame, his wet, golden hair dangling in front of his eyes, a large black backpack thrown over his shoulder. His heart stopped for a moment, and then he smiled. "Leave it to me to jump at my own reflection," he said with a nervous giggle.

He walked toward the mirror and pushed the hair out of his eyes. "The wet look just doesn't work for me," he sighed. He flashed a smile at himself and inspected his teeth. "Perfect," he exclaimed and winked at his reflection. "Now it's time to check this place out!"

Poking his head out of the bedroom, he surveyed the hallway. The only sign of movement was his own, the only sounds were the ones he made, along with the rumbling of thunder and the mesmerizing music made by the rainfall as it pummeled the rooftop above. He walked down the hallway and descended the stairs into the living area.

"Alone at last!" he exclaimed and hopped onto the comfortable-looking couch. He unzipped one of the compartments of his backpack and pulled out an old photo of Meg. He smiled and asked the picture, "Miss me?"

He had been lurking outside the house at 1303 Ocean Drive when Meg had gotten home earlier that night. In fact, he was on the verandah peering in when she walked through the front door. She must have been distracted because she didn't even notice him; she simply dropped her briefcase by the couch and ran up the stairs. He had even tapped on the glass to get her attention, but it was no use. He knew the verandah doors were unlocked because he had tried them earlier, but he hated the idea of just letting himself into the house. Instead he ran through the rain to the front door.

He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes, rang the doorbell, and waited. Nothing. He rang again a few times but still received no response. He was getting very wet, and incredibly annoyed. He ran back around the house to the verandah, where he could at least stay out of the rain. After waiting another ten minutes, he finally gave up on having manners. He opened the French doors and entered the house.

As he approached the stairway an idea occurred to him. Why don't I surprise her? He grinned mischievously and walked up the stairs. A loud thud sounded from downstairs. Damn, I left the doors open, he realized. Ah well, I'll get them later. He heard the sound of running water and realized Meg must be in the shower. Perfect!

Entering the bedroom, he began to have second thoughts. If I do this, she's going to kill me. But on the other hand it'll be funny as hell! As he argued with himself, he heard Meg scream. What the hell is going on? He wondered.

As he ran toward the bathroom to check on Meg, a voice sounded from downstairs. "Meg! Meg, where are you?" the voice hollered.

That's gotta be Ben, he determined. He pondered greeting Ben but then thought better of it. Guy's never met me before. He'd probably totally flip out on me for letting myself into his house. He considered his options quickly then, for lack of a better choice, ran into the closet as Ben bounded up the stairs.

He listened carefully to Ben and Meg's conversation. He couldn't hear them very clearly, but he gathered that Meg had fallen asleep in the shower. And something about an intruder. God, I hope that's not in reference to me, he thought. He decided surprising Meg might be a bad idea. She'd had quite a scare, and if he were to leap out of the closet and startle her, she was liable to either drop dead or kill him. So he stayed in there, trying to be as still as possible, and waited for Meg and Ben to leave.

He smiled at the picture of Meg then returned it to his backpack as his stomach began rumbling. "Food would be prudent at this juncture," he mumbled. He dropped his backpack on the floor and tried to determine where the kitchen was located, as the phone rang.

"Maybe that's Meg," he muttered as the phone rang a second time. He looked around the room in an attempt to locate the phone. It rang a third time. Across the room, sitting on a small desk, was the phone. He walked across the room as the phone rang yet again. As he was about to answer it, the machine clicked on.

"Hullo, you've reached Meg and Ben. We're unable to answer your call at the moment so please leave a message."

"Hey you two! It's Sara!"

"Sara!" he exclaimed with a smile and reached for the portable phone.

"I'm over at Surf Central, and we're all wondering where the heck you two are! Hopefully you're on your way. Bye!"

He picked up the phone and frowned as he heard the dial tone. Sighing, he returned the phone to the cradle. Surf Central? he thought. Isn't that the place Meg used to live? He walked back over toward the couch and grabbed his bag. Now where the hell is my address book? He began searching through the backpack as the phone rang again.

"That's gotta be Sara again," he mumbled as he ran across the room to the phone and answered it. "Sara!" he exclaimed.

A calm male voice replied. "Nope."

He was startled. "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"Well you were right, I am someone else."

The voice bothered him. It had a taunting quality. "Who is this?" he asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" the voice teased. "I think a better question might be 'Who are you?'"

He swallowed hard as lightning once again filled the sky. "Um, there's a storm going on, and I probably shouldn't be on the phone." He was suddenly filled with fear. Yes, he had seen Scream. He walked slowly across the room toward the front door, to make sure it was locked. "So, um, I think I'm gonna hang up now."

The voice ignored what he was saying. "Of course another good question might be 'What are you doing in Ben and Meg's house?'"

He reached out and tried the door handle to be sure that it was locked. It was. "I'm a friend of theirs, now who are you?"

"Oh, I'm a friend of theirs too."

"Really. Then what's your name?"

"Mark." There was another flash of lightning, this one much closer. A loud crash of thunder sounded.

"Okay, so your name is Mark. Do you have a last name? Maybe I've heard Meg mention you before."

"My name is Mark Wolper."

Emily sighed as she peered out the window in the living room of Surf Central. Sean, where are you? she wondered, failing to notice the masked face peering through the lower portion of the window. She walked across the room and took a seat next to Jimmy on the couch.

"Emily, you okay?" Sara asked after nibbling on a celery stick.

"Yeah, I just wish I knew where Sean was," she said with a worried frown. "He stopped by his father's place to get Caitlin, but they should have been here like half an hour ago. This isn't at all like him."

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Michael said reassuringly from his seat on the opposite side of Jimmy.

"Ya know, now that you mention it, Meg and Ben are running late too," Sara sighed. "Maybe I'll give them a call. Casey, mind if I use the phone?"

"No, of course not, beautiful." Casey smiled and kissed Sara on the lips.

"God, what did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?" she asked.

"Nothing. You're just the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful woman in Sunset Beach," he replied.

"Casey Mitchum, you're going to spoil me!"

"You deserve to be spoiled!" He pulled her close and kissed her again.

Michael covered Jimmy's eyes. "Hey, you two! Do ya mind? There's an underage child in the room!"

Sara and Casey blushed. "Sorry!" Sara exclaimed in embarrassment as she grabbed the portable phone and went into the next room for some privacy.

"Nah, it's okay, Michael!" Jimmy said. "It's not like they're doing anything I haven't already seen on Cinemax!"

"Jimmy, you shouldn't watch that stuff! Your mom doesn't let you, does she?" Vanessa asked as she walked over and sat next to Michael on the armrest of the couch.

"Oh, sure! She lets me!" Jimmy explained. "I just have to close my eyes if they start doing real nasty stuff, like-"

"Like, we get the idea!" Michael rolled his eyes in amusement. "Speaking of Virginia, I oughtta take a peek in there and see what kind of goodies she's whipping up for us," Michael said.

"Be careful, Michael!" Casey cautioned. "Last time you bothered her while she was cooking she almost beat you to death with the meat tenderizer, remember?"

Michael laughed. "Oh, believe me. I remember!" He kissed Vanessa on the nose. "Be back in a flash, Scoop." He stood up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen door. "If I'm not back in two minutes, send back-up!" He chuckled and disappeared into the kitchen.

"They aren't home," Sara exclaimed in frustration as she re-entered the room. She offered Emily the phone. "Did you want to try Sean?"

"Oh, no. I'll just give him some more time. I'm sure he'll be here soon, and I'm sure your sister will too."

"I hope you're right," Sara sighed as she placed the phone back down on the cradle.

"I'm sure she's right," Vanessa said reassuringly. "Besides, there are quite a few people who haven't arrived yet. In addition to Sean, Meg and Ben, we're still waiting for Maria, Caitlin, Cole, Tim, Amy, Antonio and Gabi. I think Ricardo had to work, but he said he'd try to swing by later. Oh and let's not forget Annie."

"How can you forget Annie?" Emily quipped.

"Hey, Vanessa, why don't we go check on Michael?" Casey asked. "Make sure he's still in one piece."

Vanessa chuckled. "Good idea, Casey. We can't have Virginia abusing him with random kitchen utensils, now can we? I mean she could do some damage with a rolling pin!"

"Or an egg beater!" Casey offered.

Jimmy chimed in from the couch. "How about a turkey baster!"

"Oh God, Jimmy! I don't wanna know what she'd do with that!" Vanessa laughed.

"I just got a really bad visual!" Casey said with a disgusted smirk. "Come on, let's go. Time to save the day!" He and Vanessa disappeared into the kitchen.

"Emily, you seem kinda distracted," Sara stated. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, thanks. Everything's fine," Emily explained through a forced smile. "I just . . . well, I feel kinda out of place here, you know?"

"Actually I do, Emily. I'm in the same boat, ya know. I didn't know Mark either. But from everything I've heard about him, I'm sure we would have both absolutely loved him."

"Yeah, that's the impression that I get," Emily smiled. "Sean speaks so highly of him."

"Mark was the bomb," Jimmy piped in. "He was the nicest guy I've ever met in my life."

Emily and Sara both smiled at Jimmy, not knowing what to say. A moment later, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Sara exclaimed as she headed for the door. "Hopefully it'll be Meg or Sean." She opened the door.

"Hey, hey!" Tim exclaimed as he entered through the open door. "Where is everyone? I thought I was running late myself!"

"Ugh. Hi Tim," Sara mumbled as she rolled her eyes and shut the door.

"Looks like I made it just in time. It's starting to rain out there."

"It figures. You usually do bring bad weather with you everywhere you go," Sara smirked.

Tim ignored Sara. "Hey, Em! What's up, Jimmy? So where is everyone else?"

"I'm sure they're on their way," Emily said cordially. "At least I hope so. It's getting late."

Emily returned to the window and looked outside. The rain began to pelt off the glass. She was about to turn away when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. "Hey, guys, I think someone's out there." She tried to get a better line of sight, but the person was gone from her view. "Or maybe I'm just seeing things." She paced across the room as Michael and Casey returned from the kitchen.

"Hey, guys!" Tim exclaimed from his spot next to the door. "How's it going?" He crossed the room and offered his hand to Michael.

"Hey, what up, bro?" Michael responded.

Casey raised his eyebrow, mumbled something under his breath and grabbed Sara's hand as she approached him.

"I know, I know," she whispered. "I don't particularly want him here either."

"Tell me about it," Casey grumbled. He looked up and saw that Tim was looking directly at them.

"Look, guys, I don't wanna cause any trouble," Tim began, "but first of all Vanessa and Michael invited me here tonight. And secondly, I think you're all forgetting something. Mark and I may not have been all that close, but in case you forgot, he died in my arms on that island. If anything I think that gives me the right to be here."

Casey and Sara squirmed uncomfortably. Casey shook his head humbly and walked over to Tim. "Tim, look - I'm sorry. I know how hard that must have been for you. Why don't we call a truce for tonight?" He offered his hand.

Tim smiled slightly and shook hands with Casey. "Sounds good to me. Truce."

An awkward silence filled the room. Jimmy fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch, as did Emily. Sara paced around the room for a few moments and was finally stopped by Casey. Michael gave Tim a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder then sat on the couch. After a few more painfully quiet moments, Vanessa entered from the kitchen.

"Well, it looks like Virginia's got some . . ." She stopped talking as the front door flew open. Amy jumped inside, soaking wet, slammed the door shut, and began fumbling furiously with the locks. A look of utter fear was painted on her face.

"My God, Amy, what is it!" Emily exclaimed as she stood up from the couch.

Amy couldn't speak. She simply clutched her throat, gasped, and nodded toward the door.

"Amy, what's going on? What happened?" Casey asked.

"Outside . . ." she muttered in excitement. "He . . . HE!" She tried to catch her breath.

"'He' who?" Casey inquired as he walked toward her.

She continued to pant and tried to form the word. "Duh . . . duh . . .duh-duh-duh . . ."

I see Amy's reverted to her natural state, Emily caught herself thinking.

"Duh . . . duh!"

Sara rolled her eyes at Amy. She pulled on her ear and quipped sarcastically, "Ok, sounds like . . . ?"

Amy growled at Sara. "Duh . . .Derek! It's Derek! That's what I'm trying to tell you! I saw him! He's wearing that mask and everything!"

"Whoa, wait just one second. Derek's dead, Amy." Casey reminded her.

"No he's not! I saw him with my own two eyes! He's out there right now! Me and Gabi both saw him!"

"Wait, Gabi saw him too?" Sara asked.

"Yeah, she . . . my God, she's still out there with him."

***

Gabi opened her eyes and saw his black shoes, black pants, black shirt. She swallowed with fear, blinked her eyes then slowly looked up at his face.

"Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "Antonio! You scared the absolute hell out of me!" She pounded her fists against his chest.

Antonio couldn't help but laugh as the rain poured down on them. He grabbed her arms and looked at her petrified face. "Gabi, what's going on? You jumped about eight feet when you bumped into me!"

She sighed in nervous frustration. "Antonio, there's someone outside the window at Surf Central. Wearing all black. That's why I jumped when I saw you, I thought you . . ."

"You thought I was Derek," he finished. "Well, I'm not, Gabi. Look, the anniversary is getting to you. Simple as that. Come on, let's go inside."

Gabi groaned. "Antonio, I'm telling you the truth! I saw him! And Amy did too! There was someone prowling outside Surf Central!" She placed her hands lightly on his chest and looked up into his eyes as the rain continued to soak them.

God help me, I'm going to kiss her, aren't I? he thought as his eyes locked on hers. "Gabi, I . . ."

"Antonio . . ." she bit her lip and stepped back from him. "Come on, we need to find out who that is. And we need to make sure Amy is okay!"

Antonio snapped back to reality. "Okay, I . . . yeah, you're right."

"Let's go," she said, grabbing his hand and walking with him cautiously toward Surf Central. They stepped in and out of puddles as they worked their way past the row of cars parked alongside the road. As they neared the house, Gabi squeezed Antonio's hand. "Look, there!" she whispered and pointed at the man sneaking around the side of the house.

Antonio squinted and attempted to make out the figure through the rain. He looked at Gabi and shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine," he muttered. He took a couple steps closer and Gabi grabbed his hand.

"Antonio, don't! What if he's armed?"

"Well what should we do, just let him terrorize everyone? We've got the element of surprise. And his back is turned to us."

"But what happened to Amy? She was standing right here!"

Antonio let go of Gabi's hand and strode forward. Gabi sighed silently and watched, unable to move.

As Antonio approached the man, he took a deep breath. I suppose I've got something to prove by doing this. I need to look like a hero for Gabi. Good move, Antonio. Now why don't you see if you can go ahead and get yourself killed while you're at it? That would REALLY impress her! He slowed his approach and stood firm, a mere three feet behind the black-clad figure.

Antonio began to speak. "All right, now, don't mo-"

But that was all he got out. The man spun around and threw a quick punch at him, connecting with his nose. Gabi screamed and ran forward. "No, Antonio!"

The front door of the house flew open and Casey, Michael and Tim ran outside into the rain.

"Oh, no, Antonio! Oh, man, I am so sorry!" The man exclaimed. He knelt down next to Antonio, who was clutching his nose, and repeated, "I am so, so sorry!"

Gabi gasped and Michael, Casey and Tim all stopped dead in their tracks as they realized who it was. "Cole!" they all exclaimed in unison.

***

The telephone conversation continued.

"Okay, so your name is Mark. Do you have a last name? Maybe I've heard Meg mention you before."

"My name is Mark Wolper."

His heart stopped. Mark Wolper? That's the name of Meg's friend - the guy who got killed last year. "Um, I know who Mark Wolper is, and you're not him. Listen, whoever you are, I just got into town and I am not in the mood for this. Now do us both a favor and get a hobby, you unoriginal piece of crap." He hung up the phone. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.

He walked across the room, dropped the portable phone on the couch, and continued looking through his bag for his address book. "I've got to find Meg's old address. Maybe I can call over there, at least to let Sara know I'm in town." He finally found the book. He flipped through the pages and located Meg's old address at Surf Central. "Bingo!" he exclaimed as he reached for the phone.

It rang.

He rolled his eyes and answered the phone. "Meg and Ben residence, helpless victim speaking."

"Hello, helpless victim."

"Great, it's you again. I suppose you're gonna ask me what my favorite scary movie is."

"No, I was actually thinking more along the lines of 'What's your favorite 80's song?'"

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Okay, there's a new twist. So you'll kill me if you don't like my taste in 80's music, right? What are you, the Bananarama killer?"

"Very funny. Actually, I'm your ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill masked murderer."

"Ah, gotcha. So you have a big scary butcher knife and a ghost-face mask, right?"

"Close. Actually I prefer a fisherman's gaff."

"Oh, okay. Borrowing a page from I Know What You Did Last Summer. Ya know, ya really shouldn't mix movie references. If your weapon of choice is the gaff, then you'd be better off wearing a big old floppy Gorton's Fisherman hat. See, the gaff causes the ghost-face mask to look out of place. Kevin Williamson would be very upset."

"But I don't have a ghost mask. It's more like a skeleton mask."

He nodded. "Okay, I'll go with you on this. It's kinda derivative, but at least a little unique. Oh and the 80's thing makes the whole package a bit more original too."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You're welcome. But ya see, about the phone thing. I hate to tell you, but it's been done. Maybe you should use a fax machine instead, that would be kinda creepy. Ya know, pick a victim, fax 'em and then slash 'em. Instead of an ax murderer, you can be the Fax Murderer!"

The line went silent.

"You still there Señor Spooky?"

He heard a muted thumping sound from upstairs. He jumped from the couch quickly and looked toward the top of the stairs. That's the wind . . . knocked something over. Or maybe Meg has a cat?

He cleared his throat. "Okay so anyway, my favorite 80's song is Walk Like an Egyptian."

The voice finally spoke. "The Bangles. Not a bad choice."

"Thank you for your approval, Mister Skull-face man." He threw his backpack over his shoulder and backed slowly toward the French doors, watching the stairway as he did so. As much as I'm enjoying antagonizing this guy, I am not taking the chance that he's standing at the top of the stairs with a fisherman's gaff. "So, um, what's your favorite 80's song?"

"Total Eclipse of the Heart."

"Wow, that's funny. I saw you more as a Wang Chung kinda guy."

He heard laughter on the other end of the line.

"So, Total Eclipse, huh? You have to admit the remix sucked." He backed a few more steps toward the doors.

"No, I like the remix."

"Okay then. So what is it about Bonnie Tyler that turns your crank?" He stepped back and felt behind him for the handle to the French doors, not for a moment taking his eyes from the top of the stairway.

"I like the part where they say 'Turn around, bright eyes'."

He laughed nervously. "Okay, why?"

"Turn around and find out." Lighting creased the sky outside the French doors, which were now directly against his back. There was some brief static on the line and then soft laughter.

He froze solid. Turn around and find out, the voice had said. Almost on cue, he heard a scratching noise behind him, like sharp metal cutting into glass. He clutched the phone in his hand, pressing it against his ear, and slowly turned around.

Standing directly in front of him, with only the glass of the French doors as a barrier, was a man dressed completely in black, holding a cellular phone to his ear with one hand and brandishing a fisherman's gaff with the other. He wore a skeleton mask. "Hello there, bright eyes," the voice said tauntingly through the phone.

"Oh, flaming shits!" the youngster exclaimed. He dropped the phone from his ear, spun quickly around and made a run for the front door, dropping his backpack as he did so.

The man stood and watched in amusement as the boy fumbled with the locks. He rapped on the glass with the gaff.

He turned to look over his shoulder as he continued his fight with the locks. The man slowly turned the handle on the French door and pushed it open.

"Come on, come on, COME ON!" the boy frantically exclaimed as he finally released the last of the locks. He grasped the knob and turned it, throwing the door open hastily. He took one last look behind him then ran like hell.

The man slowly walked across the room toward the backpack. He bent down and picked up a small book, which had fallen onto the floor. An address book. He opened to the front page and read the name inside.

"'Property of . . .'" he read aloud, then chuckled as he read the name. "Perfect!" he muttered. He snapped the book shut, slid it into his pocket and smiled behind the mask.

"Cole! What the hell are you up to out here?" Casey asked in utter confusion. "And why in God's name did you punch Antonio?"

"I certainly hop it wasn't in God's name," Antonio commented.

Cole shook out his hand painfully. Apparently Antonio's nose wasn't the only thing injured when Cole's fist connected with it. "Antonio, I am so incredibly sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"Well I'd hate to be whoever you thought he was," Michael smirked. "Who'd ya think he was anyway?"

"I don't know," Cole answered.

"Gee, that makes a heap of sense," Tim chimed in. "Cole, care to explain yourself?"

Cole sighed and looked at the group. "I just got here," he began, "and as I approached the house I saw Amy run in. She was scared out of her mind. I called out to her but she didn't hear me. Then I noticed someone sneaking around the house. It looked like they were wearing some kind of mask. And they were dressed in black."

"Well so are you!" Tim observed. "Why should we believe it wasn't you that Amy saw lurking out here?"

"Does it look to you like I'm wearing a mask?" Cole asked.

Tim glowered at Cole. "No, but maybe you took it off! Or maybe Amy imagined it."

"Never mind that," Casey said. "I trust Cole. Tim, come with me. I want to see if we can't locate this alleged lurker. Michael, see if you can't help Antonio with his nose."

"No prob, bro," Michael responded as Casey and Tim disappeared around the side of the house.

"Oh my God, Antonio, are you okay?" Gabi asked with concern as she stroked Antonio's hair. She sat with him on the ground, paying no attention to the fact that her dress would be ruined by the combination of the rain and the dirt.

"Nyeah," Antonio said nasally as he continued to clutch his nose. He pulled his hands away for a moment and swooned as he noticed the blood. "I forgot to mention. I hate blood." His eyes rolled up into his head and he fainted.

"My God, Michael, help him!" Gabi urged as she held Antonio in her arms. Blood continued to run from his nose, streaming down his chin and becoming diluted by the falling rain.

Michael ran to Antonio and grabbed him under one shoulder, as Cole grabbed him under the other. "Come on, Cole, let's get him inside." They lifted the unconscious priest from the ground and carried him toward the house.

"He's going to be okay, isn't he?" Gabi asked desperately as she ran to the door and opened it for Michael and Cole.

"Yah, Gab. He'll be fine," Michael reassured her.

"Gah! Antonio!? What happened to him?" Amy asked as Michael and Cole entered with Antonio.

"Come on, clear off the couch!" Gabi ordered as she pushed the wet hair out of her eyes. Jimmy and Vanessa jumped off the couch as they were told as Michael and Cole laid Antonio down. Michael and Gabi knelt on the floor next to the couch, Gabi stroking Antonio's hair, and Michael slapping him lightly on the cheek.

"I can't believe this," Cole mumbled in disbelief.

"Please, Antonio, be okay!" Gabi exclaimed as Antonio's eyes fluttered briefly.

"Isn't anyone gonna tell us what happened out there?" Amy asked impatiently. "I mean don't tell me it was Antonio I saw creeping around the house."

"Amy, make yourself useful for once and go grab a towel, would you?" Cole quipped as Michael examined Antonio's nose. "And get some ice as well."

"Who am I, Molly Pitcher?" Amy asked, annoyed. She rolled her eyes and walked across the room. She paused for a moment and looked Gabi up and down. "Gabi, that dress is so ruined."

Gabi snapped her head toward Amy. "Just get some ice! Now!" she barked furiously.

"Fine!" Amy responded and walked toward the kitchen in a huff. "It's not my fault your dress got wrecked. Not that there was really much material there to begin with. I've seen Ace bandages that would cover more than that thing."

Gabi growled. "Amy, go! Now! Before I break your nose!"

"Whoa! Big temper for such a tiny person." She tossed her hair over her shoulder and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Would it be terribly evil of me to knock that girl out?" Sara asked with a chuckle.

"I wish you would," Emily replied. "She's got the common sense of a two month-old."

"Yeah. A two month-old goldfish maybe," Sara added.

"Michael, should I call an ambulance?" Vanessa asked.

"Nah. No need. It's not broken."

"What happened?" Antonio asked dazedly as he opened his eyes and attempted to sit up.

Gabi pushed him gently back down. "Well, it's a bit confusing," she said.

"Antonio, I punched you in the nose," Cole explained.

"Uh . . . okay," Antonio said. "Are you mad that I gave him too many Hail Mary's after your last confession?" Everyone chuckled.

"I'm gonna go see where the heck Amy is with the ice," Cole stated.

"Don't worry, Cole. I'll go," Vanessa said as she went into the kitchen.

"Wow, my head is spinning," Antonio mumbled dazedly.

"You'll be fine, Antonio. Just relax," Gabi said.

"And it's hot as blazes in here," he sighed as he tried to regain focus.

Gabi reached over and gently pulled out Antonio's collar. "There's some ice on its way, sweetie. Just relax." She smiled as she unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt.

He looked up at her and smiled through his delirium. She is so beautiful, he thought. I could definitely get used to letting her take care of me. He sighed happily as Gabi returned the smile. "Thank you for taking such good care of me," he said.

She grinned suggestively and continued unbuttoning his shirt. "I've been waiting so long to . . . take care of you Antonio."

"Gabi, no, there's . . . there's other people in the room," he whispered uncomfortably.

She continued unbuttoning his shirt down to his waist. "I don't care!" she exclaimed as she pulled Antonio's shirt open roughly. She rubbed her hands over his chest then reached down and began to unfasten his belt.

Antonio was in shock. He tried to swat away Gabi's hands, but he was too weak. As she leaned down to kiss him he closed his eyes and surrendered to her advances. They kissed passionately, oblivious to the observers in the room. This is wrong, he thought. I can't do this. Not here. Not now. Not ever! My brother belongs with Gabi, not me! He tried to push her away, but she was too determined. She continued to kiss him as he wriggled uncomfortably. Summoning all his strength, he grabbed Gabi by the shoulders. "Damn it, Gabi, stop this!" he exclaimed as he pushed her off forcefully.

The jaws of everyone in the room fell open as Antonio pushed Gabi away roughly. She fell backwards from her kneeling position, hitting her head on the coffee table, and landing in an unconscious heap on the floor.

***

Carmen Torres was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of unease. "Something is wrong," she muttered, "Very, very wrong." She sprang out of her recliner and hurried into the adjacent room. A worried sigh slipped from her mouth as she grabbed her tarot cards and sat at the table.

Since Gobbie left, she thought, I have had the gnawing feeling that something terrible will happen tonight. And that which will occur will be only the beginning. I must learn of the forces that are brewing. She grasped the cards firmly and closed her eyes in concentration. "What is it that is making me so uneasy?" As she opened her eyes a chilling gust of wind swept through the room. The room darkened as every candle in the room was blown out. Carmen became rigid with fear.

"Dios mio! I have not felt the presence of such power in quite some time. This is a sign!" she exclaimed with conviction. "There is most certainly something at work here. Or someone." As she stood to re-light the candles, her jaw dropped open as three of the candles ignited themselves and once again began to glow.

"Madre de Dios!" she exclaimed in awe as the three candle flames flickered. "Another sign! This storm that is brewing . . . is undoubtedly the work of three individual forces. Tell me who they are!"

She returned to her chair, laid three cards down on the table, and took a nervous breath. As she turned the first card over she grinned with knowledge. "Ah, The Fool. This person is on the beginning of a long journey. A new journey. A new beginning. But his lack of knowledge will cloud his vision. He will make many mistakes on this new road of his, for he is clouded by fear and mistrust. He does not intend to cause harm, but he will."

***

He snapped the address book shut, slid it into his pocket and smiled behind the skeleton mask. "This is too perfect!" he exclaimed as he pulled the mask off and plopped down onto the couch. "Blondie-boy will go running to the others and tell them all about seeing me here. Chaos will ensue. I am totally loving this!" He kicked his legs up onto the coffee table and leaned back into the couch as he heard the sound of keys in the front door.

That's way too soon to be Blondie with backup, he thought as he sprung up from the couch and headed for the French doors.

Maria slid the key into the door and turned it. "It . . . it's already unlocked," she realized. "That's not at all like Ben." She shrugged and opened the door.

"Hello?" she called, knowing already that Ben and Meg would have already left for Surf Central, as she herself already should have. She had had an evening appointment with Dr. Estrada, which had run late. She shut and locked the door then turned toward the stairs. Her heart stopped as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned and realized the French doors had swung open. She walked quickly across the room and shut and locked the French doors. "What is going on here?" she asked herself. "Maybe I should call the police. It isn't like Meg or Ben to leave the doors open like this."

Her foot connected with something on the floor: the phone. She reached down and picked it up, then turned it on. Placing it to her ear she frowned as she realized there was no dial tone. "Storm must have knocked down a line somewhere," she surmised. "I'll just head over to Surf Central and call from there."

As she walked across the room once again, she noticed something on the coffee table. She gasped. "A . . . a mask?" She picked it up and turned it over. "This . . . is not good." She tucked the mask under her arm and left through the front door.

He ran down the beach, cursing himself for leaving the mask at Ben's house. Probably just as well, he thought. It'll just give them a little more proof that I mean business. He reached up toward his face and realized that his makeup needed some serious attention. Time to head back to the motel.

He stopped for a moment and reached into his pocket to be sure he still had his room key. He looked down and saw that he had withdrawn three sets of keys: his room key, the key for the rental car, and a set of keys he had found on the walkway outside Ben's house. "These came in handy once," he mumbled, "when I let myself in through the verandah doors to scare the crap out of my young phone buddy. And I'm sure they'll come in handy again." He returned the keys to his pocket and continued running down the shore.

Comfortable that he had put enough distance between himself and Ben's house, he left the beach and emerged onto the road. He spotted his car, jumped in, and sped off for Sunset Bungalows.

***

Revealing the second card, Carmen remarked, "Justice. A woman who has come seeking retribution for actions taken against her in the past. There is no convincing her that she is wrong and she will not rest until her justice is served. But she must remember to weigh her choices very carefully. The sword of justice has two edges."

***

Casey and Tim rounded the corner of the house and found no one. Casey grabbed Tim by the shoulder. "We've got to find this guy," he said with determination. "I'll keep going this way, you go around the other side. Maybe we can corner this guy."

"You got it," Tim nodded and disappeared back around the corner of the house.

Casey moved slowly along the side of Surf Central that faced the ocean. As he crept closer to the corner an idea occurred to him. He turned toward the beach, scanning for any sign of movement. He swiveled his head back and forth a few times, convinced that the person must have fled. He saw nothing and continued his patrol around the house.

As he turned the corner, he froze. Directly in front of him was the black-clad, masked figure, whose back was to Casey. "I gotcha!" he exclaimed as he reached his arm out to turn the person around.

The intruder spun around and threw a gloved fist toward Casey's face, stopping about two inches in front of his eyes. The next thing Casey knew, he was blind, a painful sensation filling his quickly tearing eyes. It was pepper spray.

"Oh, man!" Casey exclaimed as he threw his arms around wildly in front of him, hoping to connect with the stranger. The stinging pain in his eyes was overwhelming, but he at least had to try.

"Case!" Tim exclaimed as he rounded the corner at the other end of the house. He realized Casey was more or less out of commission, but the two of them still had the person trapped between them. "Stop right there!" Tim exclaimed. The figure turned toward Tim, who recoiled at the sight of the familiar skeleton mask. Overwhelmed with anger, Tim rushed forward and lunged at the man, knocking him over. "Casey, I got him!" Tim exclaimed. He leapt on top of the man and ripped his mask off. "Holy crap!" he exclaimed in shock. It wasn't a man at all.

The element of surprise on her side, the woman quickly and forcibly brought her knee upward, connecting with Tim's groin. She pushed him off and leapt to her feet as he howled in pain. Casey was blindly stumbling toward her.

"Color me gone," she mumbled, cursing herself for having allowed Tim to see her. She ran away from Casey and toward the side of the house that faced the road. As she rounded the corner she stopped dead in her tracks. "Oh, great," she sighed. Standing ten feet in front of her were Sean, Caitlin and Annie. She reached up to her face and realized she had left her mask behind.

"Oh my God, it can't be!" Sean exclaimed as he spotted her.

She spun on her heals and ran back down the alley that ran between Surf Central and the neighboring house. She hurdled over Tim, who was still moaning on the ground, pushed the stumbling Casey out of her way, and took off down the beach.

"Wait, come back!" Sean exclaimed as he appeared in the alley. He paused in surprise as he saw Tim and Casey, each in a state of dazed stupor: Tim on the ground clutching his crotch, and Casey bumping against the side of the house, clutching at his eyes. "Um . . . 'scuse me, pardon me," Sean muttered as he moved past both Tim and Casey. He emerged onto the beach and quickly looked both ways.

"Tiffany!" he hollered.

***

Carmen flipped over the third card and began to lose hope. "This card represents all the faults of humanity. He is bound by the chains of ignorance and these bonds make him very dangerous indeed. He sees no distinction between right and wrong, good and evil. Indeed, he is The Devil himself."

***

He stepped off of the rented motorboat and onto the shore of the island. Fog rolled gently down the path which led to the old, abandoned house. His weathered black boots stepped over the rocks and weeds that cluttered his way. Small obstacles for a man of his making.

A few minutes later he stopped and smiled as the house came into view. "Home, sweet home," he chuckled as he walked around the side of the house. He opened the fuse box and with some effort reconnected the wires that he had cut just over a year earlier.

He closed the fuse box then rounded the corner back toward the front of the house. He grinned as he realized the porch lights were once again glowing. "Thank you, brother dear, for keeping up to date on the electricity bill," he smirked as he opened the doors and once again entered the house where he had done so many horrifying things a year earlier.

As the doors flew open he did his best Ricardo Montalban impersonation. "Welcome . . . to Fantasy Island. I am your host Mister Roark. I'd introduce you to Tattoo, but he got on my nerves, so I slit his throat with a straight razor." He laughed at his own joke as he shut the doors behind him.

Outside, the island began to come alive. The fog took on a personality of its own as it billowed through the overgrowth. Snakes hissed, owls hooted, and insects chirped, almost as if welcoming their master home.

He spotted himself in a mirror on the opposite side of the room. Walking closer to it he exclaimed to his reflection, "Welcome home, Derek!"

***

Carmen looked at the three cards before her and pondered the possibilities. "The Fool, Justice, The Devil. Alone, each of these three can be harnessed. But acting in concert there is absolutely no telling what may occur. I fear for the safety of those who would become victims of this storm."

She looked across the room at the candles and was once again shocked as a fourth candle ignited itself and began to burn. "Dios mio! A fourth! But this flame . . . this flame burns blue. Perhaps this fourth force is a force for good. Let us see what the cards would say."

She dealt a new card onto the table, took a deep breath, and turned it over. "The Hanged Man. This person is at a crossroads. When he thinks he should act, he instead lays in wait. When he makes his mind up to wait, he instead takes action. He is a contradiction, a paradox. But the question is: when the time comes for him to take action, will he? For if he does not, many people may perish. And if he does sacrifice himself for greater good, what price will he have paid?"

***

Despite Surf Central's relative closeness, Ben and Meg had decided to drive rather than walk. They were running late, and the rain was growing continually heavier. They drove in silence; Ben was preoccupied with his earlier conversation with Jack, the private investigator he had hired.

"Wait, you're telling me he's been released?" Ben had asked.

"Yep. Yesterday. Not a trace of him since," Jack had replied. "But based on what you told me, you're probably not too surprised, huh?"

"No, not surprised at all," he had answered, "just . . . concerned."

Ben looked at Meg and realized she was also lost in thought.

It was a dream, it had to have been, she thought. But why did it feel so real? The mask, the gaff, the face . . . God, why can't I remember the face?

"Meg, is everything okay?" Ben asked, breaking the silence for the first time since they left the house.

"What? Yeah. I was just thinking."

"About your . . . dream?"

"Yeah. My dream," she replied. If it really was a dream.

They continued on in silence for a moment, then Ben remarked, "It's a good thing you have your set of keys. I can't for the life of me figure out where I might have dropped mine. I obviously had them when I got out of the car earlier."

"And you didn't use them to get in the house since you said the door was unlocked."

"I must have dropped them someplace between the car and the house. Ah well, I'm sure they'll turn up."

She looked out the window and into the rain. She smiled as they passed by a young man running frantically down the side of the road and couldn't help but chuckle.

"What's so amusing?" Ben asked.

"Nothing. That kid who was running down the street. He reminded me of someone."

"Who?" Ben asked as he parked the car on the side of the road.

"Someone I haven't seen in far too long," she answered. She reached into the back seat and grabbed her umbrella as Ben got out of the car and walked around to open Meg's door.

Ben grabbed the umbrella from Meg, opened it, then helped her from the car. Once she was out he handed her the umbrella, spun around, and shut her door. He turned back to Meg. A young man, completely out of breath from running, and soaking wet from the rain, was standing before them. Meg's jaw dropped open.

"I don't believe this!" she exclaimed, running forward and throwing her arms around the blonde-haired young man.

"I never thought . . . I'd be so happy . . . to see you in my life!" he said, trying to catch his breath.

"Ah, so it really was someone you know," Ben smiled as he held his hand out. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Ben Evans."

The young man took Ben's hand. "Wil Cummings."

"Welcome to Sunset Beach, little brother!" Meg exclaimed happily.

After placing the warm cookies and brownies on the countertop, Virginia removed her oven mitt and tossed it over her shoulder. "All in a day's work," she mumbled. "I know one of these days my luck is gonna run out. But until then, nobody needs to know about my little . . . baking secrets." She lifted the plastic lid from the trash container and made certain the bakery boxes were well covered. "I gotta hand it to you Virginia. Nothin' beats lovin' like reheated treats from the oven."

She returned to the stove and checked on the apple pie. "Hurry up and cook, would you? God, you'd think I had all night to slave away in here." She paced around the kitchen. "I can't believe Vanessa came snoopin' around in here earlier. Ha. That Brenda Starr wanna-be is obviously not the ace reporter she thinks she is . . . if she hasn't figured out what I'm up to. And I'm not just talking about my deeds in the kitchen. Yes, Little Miss Bubble Wrap, I'm past magic potions. Granted, makin' you ugly . . . . well, uglier . . . certainly counted as fun in my book. But I'm beyond petty dermatology experiments now. I've grown out of that little phase. My plans for you this time are a bit more . . . permanent."

She pulled a large chef's knife out of its holder and admired herself in the reflection. "Oh, honey . . . even in the kitchen you are too fine. Why Michael hasn't snatched me up is beyond me." She inspected her teeth in the reflection. "Ooh-wee, look at those pearly whites! That new mouthwash sure does work wonders!" She grinned as she slid the knife back into its slot. "I just wish I didn't have to plot and plan all by my lonesome. I wish there was someone in this town as desperate as me. Someone devious and crafty enough to go into business with me . . . so to speak."

The kitchen door swung open behind her. "All hell's breaking loose in there," Amy grumbled as she walked across the room to the freezer.

Virginia grinned. "You'll do just fine," she said.

Amy spun around. "I'll do just fine for what?"

"What? Oh, nothing!" She smiled sweetly at the confused Amy. Yes indeed, she'll be the perfect partner! She's been drooling after Sean for a year now. "I just need some help bringin' the goodies into the other room."

"Goodies? There's no time for goodies. I need ice! Cole Deschanel like totally busted Father Antonio's nose."

"You have got to be kidding me," a voice said from the door that led into the kitchen from outside. Amy and Virginia turned to see Francesca Vargas standing in the doorway. "What has the world come to?"

"Could this be any more perfect?" Virginia asked. "Two for the price of one!"

"Virginia, what are you talking about?" Amy asked, frustrated. "Aren't you the least bit disturbed that Francesca just walked into your house?" She turned to Francesca and looked at her with distaste. "I thought vampires needed to be invited in first."

Francesca scowled at Amy. "Vampire? Ha! Well at least you got the first syllable right. Now shoo, you mutant Barbie wanna-be. I came here to talk to my old friend Virginia."

"You came here to talk to me?" Virginia asked. "But I don't even know you."

"Where do you keep the garlic?" Amy asked. "I hear vampires hate garlic."

Francesca raised her eyebrow at Amy. "Listen, toots. The vampire thing was almost half-funny the first time ya used it. Now don't you have a Gap to go work at or something?"

"Gah, like I'd even wear Gap, let alone work there," Amy protested.

"Ladies, ladies, break it up. We're all friends here!" Virginia exclaimed. This is too good. Amy and Francesca would make the perfect partners in crime. But can I trust 'em? I mean I considered going in cahoots with that Annie chick, but I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw a paper plate. "Now Amy, you get your ice, and Francesca, you go ahead and explain to me what you're doing here. Last I checked you didn't have a clue who Mark Wolper was. So why you dropping in on our little shindig?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Amy muttered as she opened the freezer door and pulled out a bag of ice."

Ignoring Amy, Francesca looked at Virginia. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Virginia was perplexed. "Francesca, I don't know you from a hole in the wall."

"Or do you?" Francesca asked sarcastically.

"Okay, you two are creeping me out," Amy commented as she dropped the ice bag on the counter with a thud.

Cole entered from the living room. "Come on, Amy, let's go with that ice!" He stopped in his tracks as he noticed Francesca. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"Don't worry, she'll be leaving soon," Virginia said. "She came to talk to me."

"I dunno, Ginnie. I might just stick around for a while," Francesca grinned. "Now that I know everybody who's anybody is here tonight."

"Do us all a favor, Francesca. Finish up whatever it is you're doing here, then get out." He glared at her, then grabbed the ice and left.

"I think he likes you," Amy commented with mock enthusiasm.

"Well I don't think I like you," Francesca growled.

"Break it up, you two! Amy, get back into the other room. Francesca and I need to have a little talk."

"Fine. But remember, they hate garlic," Amy said as she sneered at Francesca. "Tramp."

"Thank you!" Francesca replied as Amy disappeared into the living room. She turned her attention back to Virginia. "Ginnie, I can't believe you don't remember!"

Virginia searched her mind for any memory of Francesca. "I'm sorry, Francesca, but I don't. Care to give me a hint?"

"I'm really disappointed. I thought you and I were pals. But, if ya really don't remember, then I guess there's no point in sticking around." She sighed sarcastically and turned to leave.

***

"Welcome to Sunset Beach, little brother!" Meg exclaimed happily.

"Little brother?" Ben repeated in confusion.

"Yes, Ben. This is my baby brother. Wil, this is my fiancé, Ben."

Wil pushed his hair out of his eyes and offered a soaking wet hand to Ben. "It's really nice to meet you," he said awkwardly, turning his head to look down the street in the direction he had run from. There was no sign of anyone.

"Pleasure to meet you as well," Ben replied.

"Wil, what on earth are you doing in Sunset Beach? Aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Wil fidgeted nervously. His experiences in New York City were a story for another time. "Well, it's the holidays and all, so I figured I'd surprise you."

"But you said you were staying in New York for the holidays."

"That was the plan. Especially since money's so tight for Mom and Dad."

Ben interrupted. "Meg, if I'd known money was keeping you and your family from seeing Wil, I certainly would have helped out."

Meg smiled. "Ben, thank you. But you know how proud my parents are. They don't like to take handouts from anyone."

"Yeah, I kinda don't either," Wil added. "Thanks for the offer though."

Ben nodded.

"When did you get here?" Meg asked.

"Earlier today," Wil replied. "I took a cab from the airport." He looked up at the darkened sky and enjoyed the sensation of warm rain falling on his face. After a moment he looked at his sister. "I thought it never rained in California."

Meg laughed. "Well, it usually doesn't. In fact the weather's been perfect lately."

"Maybe this is California's way of welcoming me," he chuckled.

Meg looked at her brother and raised an eyebrow. "Wil, what's going on? You seem about a million miles away. Did something happen in New York?"

I am not getting into what happened in New York, he thought. Nobody would believe me anyway. He put on his best poker face and smiled. "Nah, New York is great," he responded. "I mean it's dirty as hell, and nobody gives a rat's ass about anyone else, but it definitely has a certain apocalyptic charm."

"Well I'm glad you're here. And you're going to love Sunset Beach! You'll probably never want to go back to New York once you've been here for a while!"

"Meg," Ben said. "It's getting late. Shall we bring your brother with us to Surf Central?"

"Sounds good to me!" Wil exclaimed. "Besides, I am dying to see Sara!"

Meg grinned then something occurred to her. "Wil, how did you know Sara was at Surf Central?"

He shifted his weight nervously and ran his fingers through his wet blonde hair. "Intuition?" he said weakly.

Ben looked at Wil suspiciously. "And why were you running down the street in the pouring rain?" he asked. "You looked as if somebody was after you."

Wil weighed his options. I could tell them the truth, but I'm sure this Ben guy won't like the idea that I was sneaking around his house. And if I tell them about the guy on the phone there's no way in hell that they'll believe me. But what if that guy was calling to harass Meg? What if he wants to kill her? Wil reached up to his shoulder and realized he no longer had his backpack. Crap, I left it at Ben's pad.

Meg looked at Ben with a crooked smile. "He's up to something," she chuckled.

"I am not!" he replied. "I just . . . look, it's been a long day and I'm jet-lagged to hell."

"Do you want us to drop you off at Mom and Dad's place?" Meg asked.

"Sure, that wouldn't be a problem," Ben added.

"No!" Wil exclaimed forcefully.

Meg stepped back, a look of confusion painted across her face. "Wil, what is going on here? I've never seen you like this."

"Look, I just don't want to see Mom and Dad, that's all. I know they'll have a million questions to ask me about school, and I just don't feel like answering them. I don't want to talk about school, or New York. In fact, if I never see New York again it will be too soon."

"Wil, what happened in New York?"

"Nothing," he replied sullenly. "Nothing I care to talk about anyway."

"You flunked out, didn't you?" she asked.

"Meg, I . . ." he began. What I did in New York is a hell of a lot worse than flunking out.

"Well, did you?"

Wil hung his head. "Yeah, I did. I flunked out."

Meg put her hand on her brother's shoulder. "It's okay, Wil. You tried. And that's all that matters. I mean New York is a tough city."

"Meg, I don't want to talk about it!" he snapped. "I want to see Sara."

"Fine, we'll go see Sara," Meg replied. "But you can't hide from Mom and Dad forever. Sunset Beach isn't all that big, ya know."

"Okay, okay. But I need a little time."

"Then you got it. Come on, let's go." Meg grabbed Ben's hand and they walked down the street toward Surf Central, Wil following behind.

I'm eighteen years old. How much crap do I have to go through? he thought. I thought coming to Sunset Beach would be my escape from everything, and I walk into a scene from a horror flick? Who the hell was that guy anyway? He said he was Mark Wolper, but that's the name of Meg's friend, the one who died last year. Last New Year's. My God, a year ago today! There is definitely something insane going on here. I need to tell Meg. But not tonight. Tonight I just want to take my mind off of everything. New York, the phone call, everything. And I need to see Sara.

As he continued following them, Meg and Ben stopped suddenly. "Ben, did you hear that?" Meg asked. "That sounded like Casey!"

***

"Sean, wait!" Caitlin exclaimed as her brother ran off after Tiffany Thorne.

"Caitlin, forget about him!" Annie griped. "It's pouring out here and this dress is worth more than the gross national product of most third world countries. I'm going inside." Annie ran to the door of Surf Central, cursing as her heels splashed through puddles.

Rolling her eyes at Annie, Caitlin walked to the corner of Surf Central. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed as she found Tim in a heap on the ground. "Tim? What happened?" She knelt on the ground next to him.

"Tiffany," he moaned. "Tiffany Thorne."

"What about her?"

"She's back and she's pissed," he exclaimed as he forced himself up from the ground.

Caitlin looked past Tim and noticed Casey was standing up against the side of the house. His face was turned up to the sky. "Casey, what happened?" she asked as she approached him.

"Pepper spray," he explained as he allowed the rainwater to fall into his eyes. "There was someone sneaking around the house, and Tim and I came out to investigate."

"And it was Tiffany?" Caitlin inquired.

"Tiffany Thorne?" Casey asked, incredulously. "Nah, it couldn't have been. Why on earth would she be creeping around Sunset Beach in that mask?"

"Casey, it was Tiffany," Tim insisted as he approached them, the pain in his groin having worn off some.

"Wait a second. What mask?" Caitlin asked.

"She was wearing a mask," Casey explained as he blinked his eyes, hoping the raindrops would help restore his vision. "It was a mask just like Derek Evans wore on that island."

"Oh my God," Caitlin mumbled. "So Tiffany is back."

"You don't sound surprised, Cait," Tim realized. "You know something you're not telling us?"

She considered telling them the truth, but didn't want to make her father look bad. How can you put a positive spin on the fact that your father's been writing blackmail checks for the past year? "I found a letter she'd written. And I got the distinct impression that a return to Sunset Beach was in her near future. I just didn't think she'd come back with this much of a chip on her shoulder. I mean running around behind a mask like the one Derek wore? That's insane. What could she possibly be hoping to prove?"

"I don't know, Caitlin," Casey said. "But I'd sure as hell like to find out."

"I just hope Sean is okay," Caitlin sighed. "And I wish I knew where Cole is."

"He's inside, Cait. He and Antonio had a bit of an altercation," Tim explained.

Caitlin's jaw dropped open. "An altercation? Tim, what are you talking about?"

"Let's get inside. I'll explain the whole thing to you. You coming Case?"

"Yeah, but I could use a hand. My eyes aren't exactly cooperating with me."

"Pepper spray'll do that to ya," Tim remarked as he put his arm around Casey. "Come on, I'll help you inside."

"Thanks, Tim."

"Not a problem."

Caitlin couldn't help but giggle to herself as the two of them hobbled into the house, Tim walking with a great degree of discomfort, and Casey stumbling blindly. "I'll be right in, guys. I just want to see if Sean's still nearby." She turned and walked down the alley toward the beach.

As she emerged onto the wet sand she came face to face with a skeleton mask.

***

"Francesca, wait! I do wanna talk to you. I've actually been thinking a lot, and I could use your help with something. It's kind of a project I've been working on."

"A project?" Francesca asked as she turned back. "Talk to me."

"Well, it's tough for a girl to make it on her own. And sometimes a little sisterly help can go a long way."

"You're scheming aren't you?" Francesca asked with a curious glint in her eye.

"Hell, you bet I am."

"You haven't changed a bit."

"Are you gonna tell me why it is you think you know me?"

"Oh, girl, I know I know you. Take a look at me. A long look."

Virginia blinked her eyes and looked long and hard at Francesca's face.

"Now focus!" Francesca grinned as she walked closer to Virginia. "Of course you didn't have much time for me after you and Jackson hooked up."

"Wait a minute . . ." Virginia said softly as she began to remember.

"Twelve years is a long time . . . keep looking at me. The hair was a lot shorter, without highlights of course."

"Yeah . . ."

"And of course I got my nose done, lost about forty pounds . . ."

"And you lost those God-awful glasses."

"Yeah, they were pretty bad. But that person is long gone," Francesca said with a smile.

"And so is the name."

"Patty Johnson."

"Patty Johnson!" Virginia repeated as she threw her arms around Francesca. "Girl, why didn't you speak up sooner?"

"When I was Patty Johnson I was a different person, Virginia. I'd really like to forget she ever existed. Once I found out you were here in town I did my best to steer clear of you. I hope you don't take it personally."

"I can't believe this. Last time I saw you was . . ."

"Jimmy's third birthday party," Francesca answered. "My Godson."

"Then you pulled up stakes. I heard you went to one of those fat farms!"

Francesca laughs. I did. All those years we waitressed together, I saved and saved. I knew no man would ever want me looking like I did."

"You look great!" Virginia exclaimed as she looked her old friend up and down.

"I do now, but you remember how I used to look."

"I always thought you had the prettiest face."

"We were a good team, Virginia."

"We were. I mean if it hadn't been for you, I never woulda gotten Jackson."

"He loved you, Virginia. You woulda gotten him even without my help."

"Well you certainly played your part in it."

"I didn't do too badly for myself. Phillip was a good man, until his jealousy turned him into a monster."

"My God, that's right. You were married to Phillip Vargas."

"Yep. But I'm glad he died on that ship," Francesca said icily.

The two old friends stood in silence for a few moments. "We're both widows," Virginia said softly.

Francesca chuckled. "Yeah. Who'd'a thunk it. Patty Johnson and Virginia Collin, a.k.a. Francesca Vargas and Virginia Harrison. Married and widowed, all in the same decade."

"Listen, Patty. Francesca," she corrected herself. "I've been thinking."

"I have too. That's why I'm here."

Virginia grinned mischievously. "We deserve to be happy."

"Of course we do!"

"We're both smart, sexy women!"

"Of course we are!"

"And we'll get what we want."

"Of course we will!"

"I assume you want Cole," Virginia said.

"That I do," Francesca beamed. "And I know you want Michael."

"And by God I'll get him."

"You will, Virginia." Francesca laughed. "Girlfriend, we are back in business!"

"You know it, girl!" Virginia and Francesca high-fived each other. "Watch out, Sunset Beach. There's a new dynamic duo in town!"

***

As Ben and Meg approached the house, with Wil lagging behind, Casey and Tim rounded the corner.

"My God! Casey! What happened?" Meg asked as she rushed to his side.

"Meg, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Casey sighed as he rubbed his eyes.

"What's wrong? Your eyes, are they okay?"

"Far from it. I had a little run-in with some pepper spray," he explained.

"You're kidding! Who on earth would do that to you?"

"Tiffany Thorne," Tim stated.

"Tiffany?" God, I haven't heard that name in ages.

"Nor have I," Ben added. "Tim, are you all right? You seem a bit . . . uncomfortable."

"I'm okay," Tim said. "My crotch had a little run-in with Tiffany's knee."

"Sounds wonderful," Ben commented with a chuckle. "Come on, let's get you both inside. Casey, we should probably get you some medical attention." Meg and Ben helped Casey toward the house as Tim let out a weak sigh.

"It's about time someone kicked you in the balls, you son of a bitch," Wil exclaimed with a wicked grin.

Tim looked up and squinted in an attempt to see who was speaking to him. "No way!" he exclaimed. "Do my eyes deceive me, or do I see Wilbur Cummings!"

"Do you want a foot to the crotch twice in one night, Timbo?"

"Not particularly."

"Then do us both a favor and don't call me Wilbur again." He walked forward and offered his hand to Tim.

"You expect me to give you a handshake?" Tim asked incredulously.

"It would be a nice gesture," Wil replied. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

Tim smirked. "You aren't worth a handshake. Now get over here and give me a hug!" Tim threw his arms around Wil and hugged him tightly.

Wil laughed. "You're a son of a bitch, you know that? But I'm glad as hell to see you."

Tim smiled happily as he released Wil from his embrace. "Me too, old friend." He put his arm around Wil's shoulder and the two of them walked toward the house.

Sara bit her finger and paced around the living room. "Casey should have been back by now," she mumbled. "What on earth is going on out there?"
"I'm sure it's nothing," Emily assured her. "Maybe some of the other guests arrived and they're all outside talking"

"In the pouring rain? Sorry, Em, but I can't help but feel something crazy is going on."

"Well, no offense, but I hope you're wrong," Emily sighed. "Sean's out there somewhere too. He should have been here by now."

Vanessa walked toward Sara and Emily. "A lot of people should have. But why don't we all just sit tight? I'm sure everything is perfectly fine." She smiled nervously and looked to Michael for support.

"Scoop's right," he said reassuringly. "Casey can take care of himself, but luckily he doesn't have to; he's out there with Tim."

"He's out there with Tim?" Sara repeated incredulously. "And that's supposed to make us feel better?"

"All I mean is at least Casey's not out there alone. He's fine, Sara, I promise."

"I hope you're right," she replied. "I really do."

Vanessa grabbed Sara by the shoulder and gave her a firm look. "Sara, relax! Casey is perfectly safe. He's right outside the door."

Sara pushed one of the curtains aside and swiveled her neck in an attempt to locate Casey. "Oh really?" she asked. "Then why don't I see him?"

Emily joined Vanessa in reassuring Sara, despite the fact that she had her own doubts about Sean's safety. "It's okay, Sara. Everyone will be here soon."

"Fine!" Sara grumbled uneasily. "I get the hint. I'll stop my worrying. But I'm telling you right now, if he's not back in here within five minutes, I'm going outside to check on him."

"And I'll go with you," Emily added.

An awkward silence fell over the group as they all shifted their focus to Gabi, who was attending to the injured Antonio.

"Um, isn't that a bit weird?" Sara whispered to Emily as Gabi removed Antonio's collar and began to unbutton his shirt.

"What's weird?" Emily responded.

Sara couldn't take her eyes off of Gabi and Antonio. "Well, look at that. I mean I know Gabi and Antonio are just friends and all but should she really be undoing his shirt like that? I'm having total Thorn Birds flashbacks. With a little Boogie Nights thrown in for good measure."

Emily gasped. "You're sick!" she remarked quietly and elbowed Sara lightly in the arm.

Antonio mumbled something unintelligible as Gabi stopped unbuttoning his shirt. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you Antonio," she said softly. She placed her hand on his chest then turned her head toward Vanessa. "He's totally out of it. And he's breathing really hard."

"Maybe we should get him to the hospital after all," Michael said.

The unconscious Antonio thrashed his arms outward, catching Gabi off-guard. She fell backward slightly from her kneeling position then regained her balance. "Maybe you're right Michael. Come on, let's get him to the emergency room," she said as she placed her hand on his neck to check his pulse.

Cole entered from the kitchen. "Good thing I checked in on Amy or we'd never have seen this," he sighed, referring to the bag of ice which he handed to Michael. "She's in the kitchen gossiping, I'm sure, with the newest Sunset Beach sewing circle."

"What do you mean? Who's in there other than Virginia?" Vanessa asked.

Cole raised his eyebrow with distaste. "Francesca. But don't worry, she'll be leaving soon. Trust me."

Without warning Antonio shouted, "Damn it, Gabi, stop this!" He threw his arms outward once again, and this time Gabi was unable to maintain her balance. She toppled backward, her head colliding with the corner of the coffee table. Everyone in the room gasped as she fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Gabi, are you okay?" Michael asked as he rushed to her. The bag of ice slipped from his grasp, smashing on the floor and bursting open with a shattering sound, stray ice cubes skidding and sliding across the shiny surface.

Antonio opened his eyes and sat up slowly. He blinked in confusion as everyone in the room huddled around the coffee table. "What . . . what the hell is going on?" he asked dazedly.

"Gabi, come on, girl, open your eyes." Michael lifted her head slowly and carefully from the floor, grabbed a stray pillow from the couch, and set her head down on it.

"What's going on?" Antonio asked again as he looked toward the commotion.

"Michael, tell me she's okay," Vanessa muttered quickly as she clutched at his shirt.

Michael sighed as he hastily examined Gabi. "I dunno. I mean, she's out cold. And her breathing is real shallow." He placed his hands on his legs and sighed.

A flustered Amy entered from the kitchen. She opened her mouth to gripe about Francesca, but stopped when she realized the mood in the room had turned serious.

"We should definitely call for an ambulance," Vanessa said, her voice shaking. "God, what else could possibly happen tonight?"

"I dunno, Scoop. But we've got to get these two to the hospital." He stood up and Vanessa screamed.

"Michael! There's blood on your pants! Where on earth did that come from?!"

Michael looked down at his pants and realized there was indeed blood on his thighs. "Oh, no . . ."

"What the hell is going on?!" Antonio repeated angrily. "Where's Gabi?" He struggled to sit up and finally succeeded.

"Michael looked down at his hands and realized there was blood on them as well. "What the - ?!"

Vanessa began sobbing uncontrollably. "Michael! It's Gabi! She's bleeding from where her head hit the table! Oh, God! You don't think she's . . ."

"Oh my God! Gabi, no!" Antonio exclaimed as he saw her lying on the floor. He leaned forward and was immediately overcome with dizziness yet again. He fell back into the couch. "Who did this to her?"

Vanessa turned to Antonio, tears spilling from her eyes. As softly as possible she said, "You, Antonio. You did."

"I . . . I did?" was all he could say.

Sara stood motionless, her jaw hanging open with shock and amazement. The she blinked her eyes quickly and took control of the situation, running across the room for the phone. "I'm calling 911," she said. Her foot slid on an ice cube, and she flew forward, her ribs colliding with the end table where the phone sat. "Son of a bitch!" she muttered in pain as she fell off the table and onto the floor.

Emily gasped and moved carefully toward Sara, trying her best to avoid the ice cubes that littered the floor. Just as she was about to crouch down to check on her new friend, Michael spun around carelessly, his elbow connecting with Emily's mouth. She threw her hands to her mouth and staggered to the side as an expression of regret covered Michael's face.

Amy snickered quietly as she watched the action unfolding. Gah, this is like watching The Three Stooges. Except there's like . . . eight stooges. She moved slowly along the wall in an attempt to get a better view of Emily.

"Aww, man. Emily, are you okay?" Michael asked with concern.

"I think so," she replied as she removed her hands from her mouth. "Sara, are you okay?" she asked, glancing quickly at the blood which had seeped from her lip onto her hand.

"Ow, ow, ow, OW!" Sara grumbled, clutching at her side. "I hope there's room on that ambulance for me, 'cause I think I broke my ribs."

"This is just great!" Michael shouted in frustration.

Vanessa leaned over Gabi's motionless body and peered under her head. "Michael," she stammered. "There's blood all over the pillow! We need to get her some help!"

"I got it covered," Cole replied. He removed the portable phone from the base and began dialing.

This is too funny, Amy thought. I mean everyone in this room deserves a good thwap, especially Emily. She did her best to put a look of concern on her face, but it wasn't working. Feeling the sudden urge to burst out laughing, she turned away from the group and walked toward the door.

"Damn it!" Cole grumbled as he removed the phone from his ear. "Phone's dead. Must be the storm."

"No! Cole, try again!" Vanessa exclaimed.

Cole turned the phone back on and listened for a dial tone. "Nothing. Let me try my cell phone." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a compact black cellular phone.

Amy took a deep breath. I wish I had a video camera. I haven't wanted to laugh so hard since I walked in on Brad watching Steel Magnolias, crying his eyes out like a baby. She took another breath, closed her eyes, and finally collected herself. As she opened her eyes, she looked at the door in front of her and wondered where Tim and Casey were. But that was her last thought of the evening, as the door flew open, struck her in the head, and sent her falling to the floor, unconscious.

Annie appeared in the doorway, shaking the rain from her hands. "Ugh, what a mess! Remind me to bring an umbrella next time Mother Nature decides to throw a hissy fit on us." She closed the door behind her and looked around the room. Michael, Antonio, Cole, Vanessa and Emily were all staring at her, dumbfounded. "What is the problem? I mean you'd think you'd never seen a dress like this before!" She rolled her eyes and stepped forward. Her foot brushed against something. Turning her gaze downward, she saw Amy's inanimate form decorating the floor. She turned her head to the side in an attempt to figure out what was going on. As she looked back up to the others she laughed. "What kind of party is this? I mean isn't she a little too young to be drinking?" She stepped over Amy, walked toward the couch, pushed Antonio's legs over and sat down, oblivious to the fact that Gabi and Sara were both injured on the floor and Emily's lip was bleeding.

"Annie, where's Caitlin?" Cole asked as he waited for a 911 operator to respond.

"She's outside allowing her last brain cell to get water-logged in the rain. If I were you, Cole, I'd go after her. I mean you've seen how frizzy her hair gets when it's wet."

"Why is she outside? Is she with Tim and Casey?" Cole asked as he impatiently tapped his foot on the floor. The phone continued to ring.

"Tim and Casey are outside? In this weather? Okay, I'm confused. I thought this was a memorial for Mark Wolper. But Tim and Casey are off frolicking in the rain, Amy's passed out on the floor, and Antonio's draped on the couch like Olivia after a four-day drinking spree. What is going on here?" She intended to cross her legs, but realized something was on her foot. She bent forward and peered down at the floor. "Um, guys? Why is Gabi laying on my feet?"

With nobody responding, Annie turned to Antonio. "Okay, Padre, what gives? It looks to me like this little shindig has turned into a regular Bacchanal. I didn't realize you men of the cloth were allowed to party like rock stars." She grinned at him then noticed the dried blood on his nose. "What happened to your nose?"

"Cole punched him," Emily mumbled as she helped Sara to sit up.

"Ha, ha. Good one, cousin," Annie quipped sarcastically. She cocked her head to the side again as the disheveled Sara poked her head up from the other side of the coffee table. "Okay, what is so exciting about the floor in this place? And why is everyone on it?"

Michael growled. "We don't have time for this, Annie."

"Well excuse me, David Hasselhoff. But you have to admit this whole thing is a wee bit odd. I guess seeing Tiffany Thorne's scrunched up little face outside was just the tip of the weirdness iceberg."

"You saw who?" Emily asked, remembering her earlier conversation with Sean.

"Annie flipped her hair over her shoulder. "If nobody's going to answer my questions, why should I answer yours?"

"Damn it! Nobody's answering. Phone lines must be down all over the place," Cole grumbled as he hung up the phone.

"Keep trying, man!" Michael said as he checked on Sara.

"What are you guys all so anxious about?" Annie asked quizzically. "Michael, I haven't seen you this agitated since Vogue magazine officially declared that beaded necklaces were 'out'."

Michael glared at Annie. "Count yourself lucky that I have more important matters to attend to right now."

"Like what? Figuring out how to program the VCR so you can tape Baywatch while you watch Pacific Blue?" Annie rolled her eyes as Michael growled at her. "Excuse me, Mr. Sensitive! Maybe if someone would clue me in here . . ."

Emily looked at Annie. "First tell me what's going on with Tiffany. And where is Sean?"

"Sean ran off after her," she said tauntingly. "Seems he still has a thing for his ex. Now it's your turn. Tell me what's going on in here."

Emily took a deep breath. "Okay. Amy saw someone creeping around outside, so Tim, Casey, and Michael went to check it out. Cole punched Antonio in the nose, Antonio blacked out, then he pushed Gabi into the coffee table. Sara slipped on the ice that Michael spilled and smashed her ribs into the end table. Then you opened the door, which hit Amy, and you knocked her on her butt."

"Thanks for that by the way, she was getting on everyone's nerves," Sara said as she winced in pain.

Annie blinked in amazement. "Wow. Too bad Aunt Bette isn't here. This is enough gossip to fill her column for a week and a half."

"What just happened?" a groggy Amy asked as she sat up.

"You're a little late, Amy," Annie said. "You just missed the recap."

Vanessa shook Gabi gently. "Come on, wake up."

Michael began to grow more nervous. "Cole, any luck yet?"

"Nothing," he sighed. He handed the cell phone to Emily. "Keep trying, will you? I'm going to go look for Caitlin." As he started across the room, the door opened once again, and Tim, Casey, Meg and Ben filed in. They were all soaking wet from the rain.

Annie looked at the new arrivals and laughed. "Wow, Meg, the drowned dog look really works for you."

"Lay off, Annie," Ben said firmly. "I realize you were invited here tonight, but don't you think for one second that I won't personally throw you over my shoulder and take you home."

"Promises, promises," she laughed.

"Meg, thank God you're okay," Sara exclaimed from across the room.

Meg smiled at Sara. "Sis, have I got a surprise for you." She stepped aside and revealed Wil, who was standing in the doorway.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Sara exclaimed in disbelief.

Wil's face lit up as he saw Sara. "Hey, stranger," he said with a smile.

"Are you ever a sight for sore eyes!" Sara remarked. "Get over here and give your sister a hug!" Sara stood up with the help of Emily as Wil walked across the room.

Amy looked Wil up and down. Hubba hubba! Who's the major hottie?

Sara lifted her arms. "Just be careful, okay? I think I might just have broken my ribs."

"Sara, how the heck did you manage to do that?" Meg asked from across the room.

"Long story," she answered. "I'll fill you in later."

Wil gingerly wrapped his arms around Sara. "I've missed you, sis."

"Wait a second," Annie groaned. "This kid's your brother? Well yee-haw! I swear, every time I blink a new Cummings rolls into town. You guys multiply like Osmonds."

"Who invited that?" Wil asked as he looked at Annie with disgust.

"Congratulations, Wil," Sara said. "You figured Annie out in exactly three seconds flat. Annie, is that a record?"

"Gee three seconds . . ." Annie pondered. "It's a tie actually. Isn't that about how long it took Congressman Blythe to get into your pants?"

Sara scowled and made a move toward Annie, then grabbed at her ribs in pain. "You're lucky I'm injured."

"You're lucky you're braindead," Annie replied.

"Enough!" Ben shouted. "Annie, this is your final warning. Either shut up or we throw you out."

Annie smirked. "Fine. But only because I didn't drive and I don't want to ruin my dress."

"Have any of you seen Caitlin?" Cole asked with mounting concern.

"Sure, she was outside," Tim explained as he hobbled across the room. "She went looking for Sean."

"You let her go by herself? With someone possibly sneaking around the house? Tim, what the hell were you thinking?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Tim said. "We know who it was Amy saw outside."

"You do?" Amy asked. "Who was it?"

"Tiffany Thorne," Casey said softly. "And she's got a hell of a grudge."

"Sean took off after her," Tim explained.

"And Cait went after Sean?" Cole asked.

"It's okay, Cole," Caitlin said from the doorway. "I'm fine. Although Maria here almost scared the life out of me outside."

Maria appeared next to Caitlin. "Folks, we may have a bit of a problem on our hands," Maria stated with gravity.

Ben raised his eyebrow. "Maria, what are you talking about?"

"Caitlin, show them what you found outside," Maria said.

Caitlin nodded and lifted the skeleton mask from her side.

The room filled with gasps and Wil recoiled at the sight of the familiar mask.

"Sweetheart, where'd you find that?" Cole asked.

"This is old news," Tim interjected. "That's the mask Tiffany was wearing when she went nuts on Casey and me."

"So how do you explain this?" Maria asked as she revealed the identical mask she was holding behind her back. "Ben, I found this in our . . . in your house."

"Oh my God," Meg moaned. "Ben, that means my dream . . . it wasn't a dream at all, was it? I really did see someone . . . with that horrible mask. Why on earth would Tiffany be after me?"

Wil fidgeted nervously.

"So Tiffany somehow managed to get into the house, then came here to Surf Central," Ben mumbled.

"Wow, she's really lost it," Casey sighed.

"So how long ago did this Tiffany person show up here?" Wil asked, trying to piece everything together.

"I saw her outside like twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes ago," Amy explained as she continued to check Wil out. Sean? Sean who? This Wil guy is Grade A certified cuteness. Who knew they grew guys like him in Kansas?

"Twenty-five minutes? That would make sense then," Meg nodded. "I saw, at least I think I did, someone wearing a mask at the house about half an hour ago. That would have given her enough time to get here. God, I can't believe this."

"Emily, how's it going with the phone?" Michael asked.

"No luck," she answered.

"Cole, come on, give me a hand with Gabi. We'll put her in the truck and I'll drive her to South Bay. She needs some medical attention, and fast."

"What happened to Gabi?" Meg asked.

"Long story," Michael mumbled. "Cole, come on, let's do this." The two of them lifted Gabi gently from the floor.

"I'm going with you," Antonio said as he slowly stood from the couch.

Michael nodded. "Good idea, man. You could use a doctor too."

"What about Sara?" Emily asked.

"I am definitely going," Sara said. "I learned enough in my pre-med days to know that I have at least one broken rib."

Wil stifled a giggle.

"And what exactly is so funny?" Sara asked.

"Sorry, I was just remembering the time you broke your rib when you fell out of the hayloft."

"Yeah, that was real funny," Sara said sarcastically as she tapped her brother on the arm. "And it would have been a lot worse if Duchess hadn't broken my fall."

"Who's Duchess?" Annie asked with mock interest.

"Duchess was our prize-winning Holstein," Wil replied.

Annie laughed. "Let me get this straight. You fell out of a hayloft and landed on top of a blue-ribbon cow? Sounds like an episode of Hee Haw."

"Annie . . ." Ben cautioned as Annie threw her arms innocently up into the air.

"Okay, I'm off to the hospital," Sara groaned as she walked slowly across the room.

"I'm going with you," Casey added. "But I can't exactly see too well, thanks to Tiffany. Cole, care to drive?"

"Sounds good to me," he answered.

"Tim, you wanna get checked out?" Casey asked.

"Nah," Tim laughed uncomfortably. "I'm fine. Just a bit of a bruised ego."

"Like that's new," Sara commented.

"Damn, Sara, you beat me to it," Annie laughed.

"My head is killing me," Amy sobbed. "Cole, can you take me too?"

"Fine, Amy."

Amy looked across the room at Wil. "On second thought, I think it's just a bruise. Maybe I'll stick around here."

"Suit yourself," Cole muttered. "Emily, that lip of yours is still bleeding. You might need a couple stitches. You coming."

"I'd like to wait for Sean, but maybe you're right."

"Well, this memorial thing obviously isn't going to happen," Vanessa sighed.

"Not to worry, Vanessa," Ben said. "Why don't we all gather tomorrow night, say, at The Deep?"

"Count me in, Evans," Michael said as he and Cole disappeared through the door with Gabi.

Hasty good-byes were said, then the group was broken up. Michael drove Gabi and Antonio to South Bay, while Cole followed with Sara, Casey and Emily.

"I wonder what ever happened to Virginia and her goodies," Vanessa wondered. I'll be back in a minute, everyone." She disappeared into the kitchen.

Awkward silence permeated the room. Meg marveled at the strange combination of people with her. She scanned the faces.

Ben Evans, the love of her life.

Maria Torres Evans, her new friend, who just happened to be Ben's wife, back from the dead.

Annie Douglas Richards, Meg's one-time rival for Ben's affections, and Maria's old friend.

Amy Nielsen, the spoiled teenage girl who'd recently lost her father.

Tim Truman, Meg's ex-fiancé.

And Wil Cummings, her little brother, who had just re-appeared in her life minutes before.

Something about the expression on Wil's face bothered her. She was about to speak up when Wil broke the silence himself.

"There are two masks," he stated.

"What?" Meg asked.

"Two masks," he repeated.

"Right," Maria said. "One outside, and one at Ben's house."

"So Tiffany must have had two masks," Amy said.

"No way," Wil insisted. "We're dealing with two different people here. Whoever this Tiffany is, she's working with someone else."

"Come on, baby bro," Meg sighed. "Everything makes sense. Let's not bring conspiracy theories into this."

"Meg is right, Wil," Ben said. "That must have been Tiffany at the house. It adds up."

Wil bit his tongue. He knew he could clear this whole mess up by simply explaining what had happened to him earlier. But he was afraid to tell Meg and Ben that he'd sneaked into their house, that he'd hidden in their closet. And if he told them about the phone call now, after remaining silent, he'd look like a fool. He considered the possibility that it really was Tiffany he'd spoken to. After all, it was entirely possible that she'd used a voice-changing device. Why not? They did it in the Scream movies. But then how could Tiffany have been in two places at once?

"I'm worried about Sean." Meg said. "Where do you think he is?"

"I'm sure he's with Tiffany or something," Tim suggested.

"Maybe he's talking some sense into that microscopic brain of hers," Annie said with a yawn.

"I hope so," Meg answered.

***

Sean ran down the beach. "Tiffany!" he shouted as he caught a glimpse of her, a flash of lighting outlining her form mere yards ahead of him. He pushed himself to run faster as Tiffany darted between two houses. He followed her, weaving around a shrub and jumping over a short fence.

"Tiff, come on, this is stupid!" Sean huffed. "Just talk to me, will you?"

She slipped between two parked cars and ran across the street, Sean close behind her. It wasn't until he felt himself flying through the air that he realized he'd run directly into the path of a speeding car. A moment later, he felt nothing at all.

Vanessa appeared in the doorway of the Surf Central living room, carrying two trays with Virginia's (not-so) fresh-baked goodies. "All right, gang. I know this isn't exactly the most stellar evening we've all had, but I think we could all use some food?"

"Sounds good to me," Caitlin agreed.

"Yes, indeed," Ben said. "But first I think we might be wise to try the telephone again. We may want to call South Bay General and inquire about the condition of our friends."

"Here, Ben, I'll get it," Vanessa said as she set the trays down on the coffee table. She picked up the phone and dialed. "It's working again."

Maria met Caitlin at the coffee table. "How are you holding up?" she asked with concern.

"I'm okay," Caitlin replied. "I just hope Sean is too."

"I'm sure he is. He's got a good head on his shoulders. And so do you." Maria smiled and gave Caitlin a reassuring hug.

"Thanks, Maria," Caitlin said and bit into a brownie.

"You're welcome, hon." Maria looked across the room, where Tim and Wil were sitting on the couch, talking. "The two of them seem very close," she said as she sat next to Meg.

"Yeah, they sure are," Meg answered. "They were constantly getting in trouble together growing up. But Tim's always been a good friend to Wil. Even with the age difference. They're like brothers."

"You don't have any other brothers then, Meg?" Maria inquired.

"Nope. Just Wil."

"Quite a responsibility," Ben interjected, "being the only one to carry on the family name."

"I never really thought about that, but yeah, I guess that must be tough on him," Meg said.

Ben's cellular phone rang. "Excuse me," he said as he answered his call and walked across the room to have some privacy.

"Okay, thanks," Vanessa said, then hung up her phone. "That's weird. I just talked to one of the admitting nurses at South Bay, and there's no sign of anyone yet." As she moved to set the phone down on its base, Amy grabbed it from her.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Vanessa," Meg said.

"I know, it's raining, so maybe they had to take it slowly," Vanessa hypothesized. "I'm just glad Michael's a safe driver."

"Too bad Cole isn't," Annie groaned. "Put him behind the wheel and he thinks he's Racer X."

Michael shook his head as he watched Cole's brake lights grow smaller and smaller on the road in front of him. "Damn it, man, you got precious cargo. You could slow down a little bit." The front tires of his truck hit a large puddle in the street, and they began to hydroplane slightly.

"It's okay, you're doing fine," Antonio said in an attempt to allay Michael's mounting frustration. "Slow and steady wins the race, right?"

"That might be right under some circumstances, Father Aesop, but if we don't get Gabi to the hospital soon . . ." he trailed off, afraid that if he were to speak his fear aloud, it may actually become true.

"She'll be fine," Antonio said, but he didn't sound convinced. Sitting on her left, he used his right hand to cradle her head, and had his left arm wrapped around the front of her waist. He marveled to himself that Michael's truck negotiated the bumps and grooves of Ocean Drive remarkably well.

"Oh man, we're such idiots!" Michael exclaimed, reaching across Antonio's legs in an attempt to open the glove box. The steering wheel slipped from his grasp and the truck glided through another large puddle.

"Michael! Your hands? On the wheel? Please?" Antonio urged. "We may be in God's hands, but staying on the road would certainly be classified as helping him to help us."

"Sorry, bro."

"It's okay. Now why are we idiots?"

"Reach over and pull my cell phone out of the glove box."

Antonio obliged. "Who do you need to call?"

"Well considering everything that's gone on tonight, who do you think?"

A look of confusion passed over the priest's face. "Who?" he asked, at a loss.

"Hell-oo-oo? Remember your brother, the cop? Gabi's fiancé?"

"My God, you're right. We are idiots." Keeping his right hand behind Gabi's head, he did his best to dial. After the first two numbers, he dropped the phone into the darkness of the floor.

"I guess they didn't teach you coordination in the monastery, huh?" Michael grinned.

Antonio smiled despite the grim evening, and carefully reached into the darkness to find the phone.

***

"Sorry, gang, this car wasn't really designed for four people," Cole said as he watched his speedometer climb higher.

"Uh, Cole? I also don't think it was designed to travel at light speed," Sara cautioned from the back seat. "None of us here are that injured, but if you don't slow down, we might be."

"Point taken," Cole nodded and reduced his speed slightly. He turned his head to the right and smiled at Casey. "How's the vision?"

"Chunky," Casey responded.

Emily and Sara laughed from the back seat. "Chunky?" they both asked.

"Yeah, chunky. Everything looks like big chunky . . . chunks. Colorful, chunky . . . chunks."

"You sure some of that pepper spray didn't leak into your brain?" Sara teased.

"Sorry, metaphors were never really my strong point."

"Wasn't that a simile?" Sara asked.

"I rest my case," Casey chuckled.

Emily smiled at this, then her thoughts turned once again to Sean, who had run after Tiffany. "Do you think I'm doing okay?"

"With what?" Sara asked.

"I mean, do you think I'm holding up okay considering my boyfriend is out in the rain running after his ex-girlfriend who just happens to be dressed like the guy who killed half the town about a year ago?"

As if on cue, a figure, clad in black, her wet, blond hair dangling limply from her head, darted across the street, mere feet in front of Cole's car. He slammed on the brakes, and the car immediately began skidding out of control, lubricated by the wetness of the road.

"Sean!" Emily screamed as he appeared in front of them, chasing after Tiffany. He froze in the street and quickly turned his head, moving his focus from Tiffany to the car that was skidding out of control toward him. He had just enough time to recognize the screaming face of his girlfriend in the back seat of the car before it struck him, sending him through the air and into the blackness.

***

"I can't believe Amy told me to burn this shirt," Brad's mind wandered as commercials flickered across his television screen. "And I can't believe she didn't invite me to that party." He focused on the television as his favorite show resumed. "Give it up, Joey! If you can't have Dawson, what makes you think you can have this guy?" he griped at the screen. "Oh, sure, now she's acting all surprised that the photographer guy is gay. Gee, shocker."

His telephone rang. "Better not be Amy," he grumbled as he picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Bradley. You are not going to believe what is going on," Amy blurted out.

Brad sighed. "Amy, what time is it?"

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"It's a simple question, Amy. What time is it?"

"I dunno. Like quarter of nine?"

"Right. And what night is it?"

"Wednesday?"

"Exactly. And when are you not ever supposed to call me?"

Amy scowled. "Give me a break, Brad! I promise you, this is more important than Dawson's Creek."

Brad laughed in disbelief. "Nothing is more important than Dawson's Creek. Now call back in fifteen minutes."

"Brad, wait!" she protested, as Brad hung up the phone.

"Such a nuisance," he grumbled as he turned the ringer off and once again got lost in the drama unfolding on his television. "I wish life in Sunset Beach was this interesting."

***

"Jack," Ben said, "I'm surprised you could get through. There seem to be a lot of downed lines tonight."

"I've got to make this quick, Ben," the private investigator said from the other end of the phone line. "I think I've found him."

"Oh, have you? Where is he?"

"Well, that's the interesting part. We thought he might be headed to Sunset Beach, but it looks like our friend has made a little pitstop. I'm on a Coast Guard Cutter as we speak."

"Jack, where are you going?" Ben asked, already knowing the answer.

"Your island. You know, the one you bought for your fiancé?"

"The island I told you to keep an eye on."

"Right. Well, a boat docked there a few hours ago. I'm going to check it out."

"Jack, be careful, please. He's got a checkered psychological profile, we don't know what he's capable of."

"Ben, from everything you've told me, Mark was an angel. What makes you think his brother is really that different?"

Ben shook his head in dismay. "Jack, you forget just how much experience I have with brothers."

"You're right. I'll keep my guard up."

"Call me the second you have anything. And Jack, if it really is him, you be sure to let him know that his brother was very much loved by a lot of people here. There's no reason he couldn't have the same kind of love his brother did."

"Will do, boss," Jack replied.

And that was the last time Ben would ever hear Jack's voice.

***

Francesca strutted to the cupboard. "As much as I'd love to ring in the new year with a slice of that Ginny Crocker original, this occasion calls for a blender, babe."

"You said it, girl! I'm thinkin' somethin' chilled...to show that as cold as we are, we're still HOT as ever!"

"You think we should go out there and offer those Grape Fanta-chugging wallflowers some frozen margaritas?" Francesca smiled slyly.

"Why not? Doesn't sound like anything too interesting's going on out there! I did hear a couple o' loud thuds though. Hmph. Must be rearranging the furniture for a good old game of Twister!" Virginia unraveled the blender cord and snickered.

"Hmmm....I know someone I'd like to get tangled up in," Franny boosted herself up on the counter like a cat.

"Left foot red, honey!" Virginia grinned as her hand met Francesca's in a high-five. "I'd have Michael wrapped around my finger!"

"Oh, once we get through with Michael and Cole, we'll have them wrapped around a lot more than that!"

"Which is exactly why we should put a plan into action tonight!"

"Of course! We'll strike at a moment of weakness, when they're having a Wolper-Whimper-Fest!"

"Hey, now, hon! That boy was special to me. He was one of the few people around this beach shack that didn't let my leftovers go to waste! But that doesn't mean we can't use this little coalition shindig to our advantage...and besides...there's someone here tonight we need."

"Besides our prospective men?"

"Oh yeah. Amy Dryer. Oh, I mean, Nielson! Man, I've done so many loads today, I got laundry on the brain!"

"Oh, I know how that is." Francesca chuckled.

"Oh, sure you do, Ms. Rags to Riches!"

"Now what's all this about Amy? You've got to be kidding!"

"Frannie, I've seen that kid in action. She's got her eye on that Richards boy, Sean? She'd slash and burn anything or anybody in her way to get to Vanilla Ice. She's just what we need. A gorgeous duo might attract suspicion. Three good ol' friends? Well...there'll be no sly looks but ours."

"Oh, don't worry, Fran, we're gonna make it after all....."

"Alright. We'll summon the brat. But later. First things first. Phase one of Operation Divas...we baste Cole and Mike into a corner...and the only way out will be us. And I know just the man to help us make it happen."

"The good Lord himself? Oh, I tell you, I believe in the power of prayer, girl!"

"Then you'll like my suggestion...Antonio."

"Antonio? Damn! How's a priest with a broken nose gonna help us snag Michael and Cole?"

"Just by being him. Thoughtful...kind...trusting...able to lock the men of our dreams in the Mission in a single bound...."

"The Mission? Of course! Once the party breaks up, we'll just make up some half- baked story that Caitlin and Vanessa are at the ol' church lighting candles for Mark...enter Michael and Cole. Antonio's so naive and stupid, we can probably get him to tie them up for us!"

"Oh...now don't go sparking my fantasies, Ginny."

"And that's where little Miss Nielson comes in. We can--"

"Tie her to the top of the TV and rack up huge ratings for our Reunion Special?" Francesca beamed.

"No....we can tell her that Sean's gonna be at the Mission too. She'll be there with bells on...and she can keep Cole and Michael annoyed long enough for us to make our move!"

"I love it!"

"Guess we'd better peek through the door and see what's goin' on...."

But when Virginia swung open the door, the living room looked like it had been struck by nerve gas...with guests flopped all over the furniture. She slipped back in the kitchen.

"What was in that Grape Fanta, girl?"

***

Brad growled as he heard a pounding sound at his door. "Amy, you're going to make me miss the scenes for next week's episode!" He aimed the remote at the television and turned up the volume. As the car mechanic on the television hit his head on the hood of the car he was attempting to fix, the handle to Brad's door slowly turned. "What does this have to do with shampoo?" Brad asked aloud.

"Kevin Williamson is a god," a voice said from behind him, drowned out by the loudness of the angst-filled coming attractions for next week's life-changing episode of Dawson's Creek. "I Know What You Did Last Summer, Dawson's Creek, and I've seen Scream like a hundred times," the voice intoned. "Masterpiece." He took a few more steps forward then stood still directly behind the oblivious Brad. A smile appeared on the face that hovered behind Brad's couch, and the person that was definitely not Amy looked down at his own gloved hand, a hand which held a shiny silver object, a sharp, pointy object which reflected a brief flash of light from the television screen.

Brad clicked off the TV and a silence that was a little too unnerving suddenly filled the room. Brad's eyes were on the darkened TV screen as lightning flashed outside. He gasped as he saw a momentary reflection on the screen. If he didn't know any better, he'd say someone was standing right behind him. Holding something that looked an awful lot like a knife.

But Brad did know better. Why would someone be standing behind him with a knife? Things like that didn't happen in quiet little beach towns on the California coast. Things like that happened on deserted islands, in creepy old houses, and usually on Halloween.

Or New Years Day.

Brad shook these thoughts out of his head and was about to stand up when a hand fell heavily onto his shoulder.

"Tell me, Brad," the voice asked. "What's your favorite scary movie?"

Brad emitted a scream that would make Jamie Lee Curtis proud.

"Can we watch a movie or something?" Amy asked as she crossed the room and sat next to Wil Cummings. He is so officially the cutest boy in town, she thought as she looked at him with suggestive eyes. "I've always liked scary movies . . . ya know, the ones that make you so scared you have to kinda cling to the person next to you?"

Wil inhaled sharply as Amy placed her hand on his knee. Looking across the room at Meg, his eyes shot her a look of desperate pleading. Meg returned the look and winked at him. Let's see you get out of this one, is what the look said.

"What kinda movies do you like?" Amy asked as she slid her other hand into the crook of Wil's arm.

He cleared his throat and looked at her. "Tragedies," he stated, deadpan.

Tim, from his spot on the other side of Wil, stifled a chuckle.

"Like The Poseidon Adventure? Stuff like that?"

"No, I mean tragedies. Like where the girl spends the entire movie pursuing the guy, but the guy has absolutely no interest in the girl, so the girl winds up trying to kill herself while her stereo system is blasting Madame Butterfly." He smiled sweetly at her.

Amy blinked. "But she lives, right?"

"Unfortunately."

"Good. So then the girl winds up getting the guy, right?" Amy asked, at a loss.

"No. She wrecks his car, boils his bunny, then gets shot and does a bellyflop into a blood-filled bathtub. Real romantic stuff."

Amy scowled slightly but still didn't get the hint. "Eww. That is so not romantic."

"Yep. It's a tragedy." Wil grinned.

"So I guess this means you don't like romantic movies?" she asked, stroking his arm slowly with her hand.

"Actually this bit of verbal intercourse we just shared was my attempt to subtly inform you of the fact that I have absolutely no interest in you whatsoever."

Tim doubled over with laughter.

Amy pouted and pulled her hands away from Wil. "Well why didn't you just say so?"

Wil blinked.

"I'm going to the kitchen," she grumbled.

"Don't go boiling any bunnies, now!" Annie called as Amy left the room.

"How much of that did you hear?" Wil asked as Annie shot him a conspiratorial smile.

"Enough to know you've got a lot on the ball. Too bad we have to be enemies," Annie sighed as she sat down in the space Amy had left open.

"Why do we have to be enemies?"

"Well, your sister Meg and I aren't exactly Mary and Rhoda." She glanced across the room, where Ben, Meg, Vanessa, Caitlin and Maria seemed to be involved in an engrossing conversation.

"So that means we have to be enemies too?" Wil asked.

"That's how Annie operates," Tim explained. "Anyone who can't do something for her in some way automatically becomes a foe."

"Not everyone," Annie smirked. "I don't count you as an enemy, Tim, and you and I both know you didn't exactly . . . do anything for me."

"Baby, I did plenty for you," Tim boasted. "And you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Wil followed the double-entendres as if he were at a tennis match.

"No, Tim. You did plenty near me, not for me," Annie laughed. "There's a big difference."

"I didn't hear any complaints."

"You clearly weren't listening. Either that or you were so busy praising yourself with your 'I'm so hot. Aren't I hot?' diatribe that you drowned out my . . . constructive criticism of your . . . performance."

"You, Annie, have a selective memory."

"I believe the word I used was 'mediocre?'"

Wil giggled.

"Oh no, wait," Annie commented, sarcastically scratching her head as if to jog her memory. "I remember the word I used!"

"Hot," Tim beamed.

Annie raised her eyebrow. "Flaccid."

Wil's jaw dropped open. Wow, he thought, this girl is good.

"Your brain obviously isn't functioning, Annie."

"Well you know all about dysfunction, don't you, Tim?" She stuck her finger up in the air and slowly lowered it, until it was completely limp.

Tim blinked.

"You are callous, Annie," Wil grinned. "I think we'll get along just fine."

Tim pouted at Wil. "Twirp," he grumbled, his ego now more deflated than ever.

***

A gloved hand muffled Brad's scream. "Relax, you idiot, it's me!" the voice said. Brad sprung up from the couch and spun around to see his would-be attacker.

"Does Dawson's Creek always reduce you to a whimpering wreck?" Leo asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Luh . . . luh . . . Leo," Brad sighed. "You scared the bejeezus outta me!"

"All in a day's work," Leo grinned. "Hey, I found this in your front yard." He handed Brad a small garden spade then removed his gloves. "It's getting cold out there. And it's pouring like . . . large amounts of precipitation."

"I thought you were gonna kill me," Brad said as he examined the spade.

"Um, okay. With a garden tool? Listen, I've wanted to, on many occasions. Kill you that is. Not necessarily with an implement commonly utilized for the displacement and replacement of soil . . . but I kinda have to admit you've grown on me, Bradley!"

"Gee, thanks," Brad tried to collect himself. "I thought you were having dinner with your dad tonight."

"I was supposed to, but he had 'urgent business matters' to attend to, which probably means he's trying to find invent a new and improved spray cheese. So I'm suddenly free. And I figured it would be a safe assumption that you would be too."

"I am. But only since Dawson's Creek is over, and only because Amy wouldn't invite me to that party thing."

"It's not a party, Brad. That guy that died last year, Mark Whopper or Wapner or whatever, they're having some memorial thing. Not the type of thing you want to crash."

"I know, but I'm so seriously bored it's not funny." Brad remembered his phone call. "Hey, Amy called a while ago, said there was something going on over there."

"Well did she say what?"

"I dunno, I was in the middle of my show."

"Well, did it sound urgent?"

"You know Amy. With her, everything is urgent."

"Let's call," Leo said. "See what's what." He picked up Brad's phone and began to dial as a lightning bolt struck outside the window. They both jumped as the lights went out. "Well there goes that idea," Leo sighed as he dropped the useless phone on the couch.

"Let's head over there and find out what's up," Brad suggested.

"Quick, to the Mystery Machine!" Leo laughed as they ran outside.

***

"I can't find it," Antonio grumbled as he continued to search for the phone. "Not while I'm trying to support Gabi."

Michael took one hand off the wheel and began his own search for the phone.

"Careful, Michael," Antonio said.

Gabi moaned quietly.

"Gabi!" Antonio exclaimed as he turned toward her. "Gabi, can you hear me?"

"Antonio . . ." she sighed as her eyes fluttered slightly. She was oblivious to her surroundings. Almost as if in a trance, she remembered her visit with Madame Carmen, earlier that day.

"There is something you need to know, Gobbie," Carmen had stated. "Something which has gone unsaid for far too long. And I can promise you, it won't be easy for you to hear."

Gabi groaned in irritation. "What are you talking about?"

"Your Mark was not at all what he seemed."

Gabi was shocked. "How can you say that? Mark was the sweetest, kindest, most loving person I've ever known!"

"Ever known?" Carmen repeated. "And what of my Ricardo?"

"Carmen, I love Ricardo. More than anything in the world."

"But had it not been for Mark's death, you would not be with Ricardo."

"Carmen, I . . . who knows? Mark is dead. Period. There's no way of knowing what would have been had he lived. And I don't appreciate you using his memory to twist my feelings for Ricardo! Mark Wolper is dead."

"No, Gobbie. That is where you are wrong. Mark Wolper is very much alive."

"Stop talking in metaphors! Yes, I know, his memory lives on . . ."

Carmen raised her hand sharply. "No. What I tell you is the truth. Mark is alive. And he is in Sunset Beach."

Gabi was too shocked to speak. She continued to listen to the woman's explanation, and by the time she left, she didn't know what to believe. The story was certainly hard to swallow. And there was no proof. But something about it made sense. Something about her time with Mark felt very wrong, now that she looked back on it. As if Mark was living a lie. He loved her, that much she knew, but did he really love her enough to tell her the truth behind the secret he was hiding?

"Antonio," Gabi mumbled as Michael's truck hit a small pothole.

"Shh, don't try to talk," Antonio said.

Gabi knew her wound was serious. And she knew that it was a distinct possibility she would die from it. She needed to tell him the truth about Mark.

***

Emily woke up with a seasick feeling, but that was nothing compared to how ill she felt knowing that the car she was in had just hit her boyfriend. She opened her eyes and realized that Cole and Casey were already outside, and Sara was gently nudging her shoulder.

"I'm awake," Emily sighed.

"You shouldn't move," Sara said. "You could have a concussion."

"I've got to see if Sean is okay!" she shouted as she moved Cole's seat forward and jumped wearily out of the car.

Cole was dumbfounded. "Where could he be?"

"I dunno, but he can't have gone far," Casey replied.

"What's wrong? Where is Sean?" Emily asked.

"He's got to be here. I mean where could he have gone?" Cole asked in frustration.

Emily twirled around. Other than a small motel that sat off the road, there was nothing but open land around them. But there was no sign of Sean or Tiffany. "Well he couldn't have just vanished! How long was I out for?"

"Just a couple minutes," Sara answered.

"And how long have you been looking for Sean?"

"We started looking as soon as we made sure everyone in the car was okay," Casey said.

"How long!?" Emily barked.

"About fifteen seconds longer than you have," Cole muttered.

"She must have taken him," Emily decided.

"Where could they have gone?" Sara asked.

Emily spun around once more, then looked at the motel. "There," she said and read the sign. "Sunset Bungalows."

***

Tiffany shuddered momentarily as she heard the sound of crushing metal from outside her room at the Sunset Bungalows. She turned her attention back to the bed, where Sean lay unconscious. "It'll be okay, Sean, I promise." She gently placed her hand on his face, and with a moist cloth she dabbed at some blood which was slowly trickling from a gash on his forehead. "Soon you'll be right as rain."

Sean groaned slightly and opened his eyes. He tried to focus, but couldn't. "Hello?" he asked. "Who's there?"

Tiffany was about to respond when she thought better of it. She quickly leapt up and turned the light off. The room was bathed in the flickering glow of a neon sign which stood outside the window, blinking in confirmation of the fact that there was no vacancy.

"Can you see me?" she asked, deepening her voice.

"I . . . I can't see anything," he sighed. "And my head . . . it's throbbing. Where am I?"

"That's not important right now. Tell me what you remember."

He thought for a long moment. "Emily," he said, and Tiffany groaned. "I was walking with Emily, on the beach. Who are you? Your voice sounds familiar."

"It's okay, I'm here to help you. You had a little accident. But I'll help you get better."

"So you're a nurse. Thank you." He blinked his eyes a few times and tried again to focus. "Did you call my family?"

Tiffany pondered an answer. "Yes, I tried, but there's a storm, and a lot of lines are down." As if on cue, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.

"Well, you should probably know something. About a year and a half ago, I was . . . I was hurt," he explained remembering the fight he had with Mark Wolper, when his head collided with the fireplace and he lost his vision. "I lost my eyesight for a while. I'm afraid I may have had some kind of relapse, because I can't see a thing."

"Good," Tiffany mumbled, relieved that Sean wouldn't be able to recognize her face.

Sean snickered. "How is that good?" he asked, perplexed.

"I mean, it's good information to have. It will help me to treat you better."

"Listen, I don't mean to sound rude, but could you send my doctor in? It's Doctor Robinson. Do you know her?"

"Oh, of course I do. She's a great doctor. Listen, I'll try to have her paged."

"Thank you," Sean smiled.

Tiffany walked across the room, bewildered as to what her next move should be. "I'll be right down the hall," she said as she opened the bathroom door.

"And you'll send Doctor Robinson?"

"I'll find her as soon as possible." She shut the bathroom door and began to scramble for a plan.

Last I knew, Tyus was a man, Sean thought. And there is definitely something going on here. Her voice, it's so familiar, but I just can't place it. He strained his mind trying to remember how he had gotten here. He was with Emily, that's the last memory he had. I need to figure out where I am.

He sat up slightly and felt his surroundings. The bed was uncomfortable, but too large for a hospital gurney. On the side of the bed, he felt what he was certain must be a nightstand of some kind. He felt for a drawer, found one, and opened it quietly. Moving his hand around inside, he stopped on a rectangular object. A book of some kind.

A bible, he thought. I'm in a hotel room. Why do I have the feeling this isn't good?

In the bathroom, Tiffany sat on the closed lid of the toilet and pulled lightly at her hair. "Come on, Tiffany, think," she whispered. "You came to Sunset Beach for revenge. Revenge on Gregory Richards, and revenge on that bitch who let Mark die. I still can't believe he's dead. He was like the only real friend I ever had, and he wound up getting massacred on some island. Meg's island. Bitch. I wish she'd drowned that day she fell off the pier. It would have saved all of us a lot of agony."

She shook her head and sighed. "Okay, so you went to Mark's old house," she told herself, "to torment Meg and her simp friends. Then Sean had to find you. So you ran. That's something you were always pretty good at, huh? Running. Running and running away. So you ran, across the street, with the man of your dreams, the man you're going to have once again, hot on your trail, and then . . . smoosh. Sean gets run over. By his own brother-in-law. Priceless. So you drag him toward the only thing in sight, this dive hotel. You're just lucky there was an empty room. With an unlocked door. Now you just need to hope that there's nobody staying in here."

She kicked her foot out and it connected with a large box. "Ouch," she grumbled. "So you drag him in here, and it turns out he's lost his vision, just like he did way back when. And you're stupid enough to tell him you're a nurse, and that he's in the hospital, except, blind as he is, he's still going to figure out what's going on, in about two seconds in fact, if you don't get back in there."

Taking a deep breath, she stood and prepared to return to the room. She kicked the box again, and this time noticed a word written on the side of it. "Wow. What's this doing here?" she wondered, and lifted the lid off the box.

***

The brother of the man who was known to Sunset Beach as Mark Wolper continued his drive to Sunset Bungalows. "I've got to get into my room and touch up this make-up job," he mumbled. "No use being me when I can be someone else."

I'll be you, Mark, a voice echoed in his mind, a long-ago memory. I'll be you, and you can be me.

"I miss you, bro," he thought as he continued his drive.

***

"Sunset Bungalows," Emily repeated. "Guys, he's got to be in there. Where else could he be?" She began walking toward the tackily painted building.

Hold on a sec," Sara said. "If Sean is with Tiffany, we should be careful."

Emily sighed. "You're right. Hold on, I've got some mace in my purse." She walked back toward the car, and Sara followed.

"I'm not liking this at all," Casey grumbled.

"Me neither," Cole said. "I can't shake the feeling that something really terrible is about to happen."

"Where is my damn purse?" Emily cursed as she fumbled around the back seat.

"Hold on, let me pull the car off the road," Cole said. He approached the car, and Casey followed. "Last thing we want is for some idiot to come barreling down the road and pick us all off."

Almost on cue, a pair of headlights appeared and began rapidly approaching them. "Oh my God!" Casey exclaimed as a horn began blaring. "They're coming so fast! Come on guys, let's move." He grabbed Sara's arm and tugged.

"But, Emily . . ." Sara sighed as she pulled away from Casey and moved closer to the car.

"I've got it!" Emily exclaimed from inside the car.

The sound of the horn grew much closer, and was soon accompanied by the sound of squealing tires.

"This is not good," Casey said in a panic. There were only seconds left.

***

"Antonio," Gabi moaned, trying to gather the strength to tell him what she'd learned.

"Thank God you're okay," Antonio said, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

"I got it!" Michael said as his hand emerged from the floor holding the phone. He fumbled and the phone fell again. "I don't got it."

Gabi cleared her throat and sat up slightly. "Antonio, listen to me. It's about Mark."

"What about Mark?" Antonio asked distractedly.

"All the time we knew him. It was all a lie."

"What are you talking about?"

"We thought we knew Mark. But we didn't know him at all. The person we knew was . . ."

Antonio looked to the road, and saw what looked like a car in the road ahead of them. Four people were standing around it. "Michael, watch out!" Antonio warned.

Michael put his foot to the brake, but the truck continued to move. "Hold on, you two!" he exclaimed.

"Hold on? What do you mean 'hold on'?" Antonio asked fearfully.

"The phone's stuck under the brake pedal," Michael explained as he pressed the car horn. "If you have any good prayers, you better go ahead and start saying 'em right now." His eyes widened with recognition and horror as he recognized the familiar faces mere feet in front of him. There was the terrifying sound of startled shouts, the blaring of the horn, the crush of metal folding and glass tinkling, then nothing but the hiss of steam and smoke escaping from the engine of Michael's demolished truck.

Ben sighed and looked at the ceiling. He had phased out of the conversation several minutes ago, having become completely absorbed in his own well-founded fears for the safety of his old friend Jack. "I can't believe he's going to that bloody island," he thought. "And I can't believe I agreed to let him."

Jack had phoned him earlier, to inform him that there were signs of activity on Ben's island, the island he had bought for Meg, the island where just over a year ago so many horrible things had happened. They were both convinced that Mark's brother, who had recently been released from incarceration, and who had a questionable psychological background, was the person who had taken up residency on the island, perhaps looking for clues as to what happened to his brother, or perhaps with much more diabolical plans.

What didn't occur to Ben was that Mark's brother was already in Sunset Beach, and the person on the island, though not Mark's brother, was brother to Ben himself . . . his twin brother, back from the dead.

"I should not have allowed Jack to go," he mumbled aloud.

The conversation around him stopped, and Ben glanced at what were the confused eyes of Maria, Meg, Caitlin and Vanessa.

"Everything okay in there, English?" Maria asked. The nickname was a reflex. Residue of the time she'd spent with Ben in what seemed like another lifetime. She didn't need to look at Meg to know that she was scowling.

"Ben, what's wrong?" Meg inquired, trying not to seem as if her show of concern was in competition with Maria's.

"What? Oh, nothing. Just daydreaming I suppose. It's been a rather long day, don't you think?" he asked as he smiled, indeed tired.

"That's the truth," Caitlin sighed. "I wish we knew what was going on with Cole and the others."

"We all do," Vanessa smiled. "But with the phones out, who knows how long it will be?" She walked across the room and looked through the window. "Rain seems to have let up. I think maybe I'll head home while the getting's good."

"That's not a bad idea," Caitlin agreed. "Maybe the phones will be working at my house. Come on, Vanessa. I'll walk you out."

"Sure thing."

Meg yawned and walked toward her brother. "Wil, we're going to head out. I'll get the guest room all set up for you."

"Great," he smiled. He remembered that he had left his bag at Ben's house. If Meg were to find it sitting smack dab in the middle of the living room, she'd know that he'd let himself into the house earlier. And that would open a whole can of worms he wasn't quite sure he wanted open.

"What's going on, English?" Maria asked quietly. "I know you, and I know when something is bothering you. Now please tell me."

Ben quickly weighed his options, then spoke quietly. "Maria, I realize this is horrendous timing, but I've got to leave town for a little while."

"Leave town? What for? And don't tell me business." A look of concern creased Maria's brow.

Ben chuckled. "I'm that predictable, am I?"

"I know you, Ben. I know something's wrong, and I know it's not business. Now are you going to let me in on it or what?"

He sighed lightly and looked at Meg, who was talking to her brother. "Listen," he said quietly. "There's something I've got to check on. And it's really rather important, but I just can't tell you what or where it is."

"That is simply unacceptable," Maria said. "We've been through too much for you to tell me that I don't have the right to know! I can take the fact that things are uncomfortable with us, and with Meg. I can't challenge that at all, and I won't. But damn it, Ben, I know you, and I know when you're about to do something stupid, something dangerous. And this, whatever you have planned, absolutely reeks of danger."

"You sure your mother's psychic powers haven't rubbed off a bit on you?" Ben asked, attempting to diffuse the tense situation.

"Not funny. Now are you going to tell me, or aren't you?"

Ben conceded defeat. "I will tell you, Maria. And as much as I know you won't like it, you won't change my mind."

"That doesn't mean I won't try."

"You're welcome to," he smiled. "But it won't change anything. Let me take care of this first." He walked across the room and said a few words to Meg. As Ben was speaking, Meg shot Maria a suspicious glance, then kissed Ben. Maria turned away. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't help but feel a tremendous sense of loss every time she watched Ben kissing Meg. Maria put a smile on her face and turned back toward them.

"We'll see you back at the house," Ben smiled. "And Wil, again, welcome to town."

"Thanks, Ben," Wil smiled, "and thanks for letting me crash at your place."

"You're quite welcome," Ben nodded as Wil left with Meg.

"Okay, now spit it out," Maria urged Ben.

"Fine. It's not a short story by any means."

"I've got all the time in the world."

"See the problem is, I don't. Someone's life is in danger," Ben explained, unaware of how melodramatic he sounded.

"And that automatically means yours is in danger as well, am I right? Ben, tell me what is going on."

"It's about Mark," Ben began.

Ben, you're my best friend in the world, Mark had said.

That's three times you've promised, you know, Mark had said, and began his story.

"What about Mark?" Maria asked.

Ben shook his head. He had promised Mark that he'd take his secret with him to his grave, and that wasn't a promise he was about to break. "You know how special he was to me," he began, not quite sure where this would go.

"Of course, Ben. I felt the same way. Many people did."

"Right. But Mark and I had a very special bond. Something that I'm not quite sure anyone would understand. I feel like I've let him down."

"Ben, how can you say that?"

"I'm going to the island," he said with finality.

Maria was silent. She could see the conviction in his eyes and knew there truly would be no changing his mind. "I understand," she said.

He was surprised that she wasn't going to fight him on this. "I need to pay my respects," he said. Not a lie, but certainly not the whole truth.

"Ben, it's okay, I understand. Please be careful," she pleaded, not at all realizing the danger he was truly in.

"I will, of course," he said. "And now I've got to ask you something I know you're not at all going to like. I've got to ask you to lie to Meg."

Maria nodded somberly.

"She's not to know where I've gone. I'll be back soon enough."

"Fine," she said, upset.

"You're to tell her that I've gone to the hospital to check on our friends."

"And if she goes there herself?"

"I'll be leaving a message with the nurse's station."

"That you've gone away on a business trip?" Maria asked.

Ben chuckled lightly. "Something like that."

"Is there anything else?" she asked, near tears.

"No, that should do it. Come on, I'll walk you back to the house." Ben glanced quickly around the Surf Central living room, so busy mere hours before, now completely empty. A shiver ran down his spine, and for a brief moment he had the feeling that this was the last time he'd ever look at this room.

***

"It's just not gonna work," Virginia sighed as she and Francesca scrapped what was at least Plan C.

"Nah, it won't," Francesca laughed. "Though ya gotta admit, the idea of making Amy dress up like a nun is pretty damn humorous in my book."

"Amy dressed up like a nun. That'll be the day."

"I say we get back to Plan A," Francesca sighed. "It had some serious potential. It just wasn't . . . creative enough in that . . . Frannie in black leather kinda way."

Virginia grinned. "Well, we could always go back to Plan B."

"Ha!" Francesca balked. "I'd sooner drop dead than pop out of a cake, Virginia!"

"But ya have to admit, those there were some major creativity points."

"If you're that much into the creativity thing, then why not Plan C?"

"No way. I don't care what the end product is. You are not getting me in a straight-jacket."

"But feigning insanity is always worth pity points, doll."

"Sorry, girl, that's something that'll never happen."

Francesca kicked off her heels. "So back to Plan A."

"The Mission," Virginia nodded.

"Right." They continued to iron out the details of their plan when the phone rang.

Francesca leapt for the phone. "Hell's Kitchen," she answered as Virginia stifled a giggle. "Oh, hi, Michael!" Francesca exclaimed as she winked at Virginia.

Virginia lunged for the phone, pulling it forcefully out of Francesca's grasp. "Michael, hi! Where . . . ?"

Francesca watched with building amusement as Virginia listened to Michael speaking on the other end of the line.

"But you're okay?" Virginia asked. "And what about everyone else?"

Francesca's amusement shifted to concern as she realized something serious had happened.

"Yes, Michael. I'll tell them." She sighed and hung up the phone.

"Well some on, girl, what's going on?" Francesca inquired.

"Accident," was all she could say.

"What kind of accident?"

The color flushed out of Virginia's face. "Bad," she said, "Bad accident."

"Who, Virginia? Who was there? Is everyone okay?"

"Gabi," she said in disbelief.

"What about her?" Francesca asked urgently.

"She's dead."

***

He and Maria walked in silence back to his house. He hugged her gently and kissed her on the forehead, frowning as he realized tears were running slowly down her cheeks. He wiped them softly away and smiled at her. "Just a quick trip," he said.

"I know, Ben, I just . . ." she began as she placed her hand on his chest.

"I know, Maria. Me too."

She got herself together quickly and disappeared into the house. Ben looked upward and noticed that Meg was standing in the window of the master bedroom, looking out across the horizon, where the sun was slowly peeking out above treetops and buildings. He marveled at how the golden light, awash on her alabaster skin, made her look very much like an angel.

He thought briefly of their hasty goodbye at Surf Central, and would have made that goodbye much more meaningful had he known that they would never see each other again.

Meg scarcely had time to unlock the front door of 1313 Ocean Drive when her young brother Wil pushed quickly past her and ran inward. "This place is gorgeous!" he ad-libbed, eager to get to his backpack before Meg could spot it.

"There is such a thing as too eager, little brother!" she giggled through her exhaustion, wiggling her key loose from the lock.

There you are, Wil thought, spotting his bag, some of its contents loosely scattered, lying in front of the couch. He began haphazardly stuffing the contents back in the bag when Meg shut the door and glared at him.

"Wilbur Cummings!" she chided, a look of dismay across her tired face.

Here's where the trouble starts, he thought. "Meg, I can explain. I guess I was just too excited to check this place out, and I . . . dropped my backpack."

"Uh-huh."

"Which I already had. Already. Before I came in. I had it. With me."

Meg raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "You always were a bit danger-prone," she smiled. "Something you and Sara share." Through the verandah doors the sky was still dark, but the sun had indeed begun its ascent, a fact that Meg had noticed shortly after leaving Surf Central. "I'm heading upstairs, kiddo. Gonna get your room all set up."

"Great," Wil grinned. "We'll just be here."

"We?" Meg wondered.

"Me and my bag."

"What is with the bag?" Meg asked, but didn't wait for a reply before climbing the staircase.

"Camera, meds, journal . . ." Wil mumbled as he rifled through the contents of his backpack. "Come on, you better be here . . ." He turned his head toward the stairway, listened for a moment, then emptied the bag on the floor with a series of dull, percussive thumps. "Eureka," he said with satisfaction and admired the large pile of banded hundred-dollar bills.

***

Meg finished tidying the smallish room which was to serve as Wil's guest suite. "So small by Ben's standards . . . but this room is nicer than anything any of us Cummings had back in Kansas. Wil's bound to be comfortable." She sat on the edge of the bed and yawned. Wil had always been a bit odd, but Meg couldn't help but feel he was acting particularly strange since he arrived in town. He had said very little about his experiences at school, and had made it very clear he didn't want his parents to know he was in Sunset Beach. And what's the deal with the bag? Something didn't add up. Meg briefly tried to make sense of these things, then dismissed it with another yawn.

She made her way into the master bedroom and looked out the large picture window that faced East. As the sunlight broke over the horizon, her thoughts turned to Ben.

Meg, I've got to speak to Maria about a few things, Ben had said at Surf Central, minutes earlier. I won't be long, I promise.

She wrapped her arms around herself and frowned slightly. Ben had said nothing more, simply kissed her, then turned his attention back to Maria. "I've got to make this work," she said. "I've got to stop being so damn jealous of Maria. She has the right to be here, just as much as I do. I just hope Wil's presence can maybe lighten things up a bit. We need some joy in this house." Turning away from the window, she began downstairs.

***

Okay, Maria, pull yourself together. She took a deep breath, wiped the last of her tears away, and opened the door to what used to be her home. "Oh, hi there," she said, surprised to find Wil sitting on the floor.

"Hi, hey!" Wil scrambled to stuff the stacks of money back in his bag. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I live here," Maria replied defensively.

"Uh . . . okay . . . I'm sorry, I just . . ."

"I know, it doesn't make much sense. And don't be sorry. I snapped at you. I should be apologizing."

"It's okay. I just . . ." he stood up, his bag over his shoulder. "New in town," he smiled, pointing to his backpack.

"I'm sure not much is making sense to you at this point."

"You can say that again. I'm the new guy. Everything is very . . . new."

"I know how you feel, Wil. I've lived here almost my entire life, and I feel like the new guy too. Every day since I've come back to Sunset Beach has been new to me. You can miss a lot in five years."

Wil looked at Maria with an awkward expression. "I'm missing something here. I know you and Ben were . . . married right?"

Maria smiled at the newcomer. "It's all a very long story."

"Gotcha," he sighed, and had some rather long stories of his own. "Well, you could tell me, if you want. I know I should be exhausted right now, but I'm not at all. I'm just so . . . alert, I guess. I couldn't keep my eyes shut longer than five seconds even if I tried."

Maria considered the situation. She felt uncomfortable telling Wil everything that had passed, but at the same time thought she might enjoy the perspective of a relative outsider, regardless of the fact that he was Meg's brother. "Do you want anything? Maybe some breakfast? Coffee?"

"Some breakfast would be great," he beamed, realizing that his stomach was grumbling.

"Great. Breakfast it is," she said with a warm smile. "Care to give me a hand?"

"I'd love to," he nodded. "As long as you tell me that story of yours."

"I'd be glad to."

The two of them disappeared into the kitchen.

***

He parked a block away from Sunset Bungalows. I doubt anyone followed me. But you can never be too cautious. He locked the car and inspected his reflection in the window. His prosthetic nose was hanging by a thin strand of adhesive. With a quick tearing jerk, he ripped it from his face. What a mess, he thought. Make-up needs some serious attention. The reflection he was looking at, the make-up having been washed away due to the rain, was actually his own.

As the motel came into sight, he froze as he saw a young blonde girl peeking out the doorway of his room. What the hell is going on here? He reached into his pocket and produced a small switchblade knife. A nervous smile crept across his face as he made his way toward the door.

***

Tiffany looked down at the box that sat on the floor of the motel bathroom. "What the heck is this doing here?" she wondered and read the word that was scrawled across the front. "'Makeup.'" She squatted down and lifted the lid. There was an assortment of stage makeup, some facial adhesive, several locks of hair. "Weird."

She lifted the top tray and gasped when she saw what sat beneath it: a skull mask exactly like the one she had been wearing earlier . . . exactly like the one Derek Evans wore on a certain island exactly one year before. Tiffany, you are in some serious doo-doo. She slowly lifted the mask and trembled when she saw a fisherman's gaff and an intensely sharp-looking kinfe.

Whose room is this? Don't tell me that Derek guy is alive . . . and I just happened to hijack Sean Richards into Mister Evil Twin's Secret Psycho Lair. She picked up the gaff and marveled at its weight, brandished it momentarily, then opted instead for the knife. It had jagged edges, and looked like it could do some serious damage. Setting the makeup tray back in its place, she shut the lid of the box, nervously squeezed the handle of the knife, and crept into the hotel room.

Sean Richards lie motionless on the bed, his hands folded on his abdomen. Tiffany considered him for a moment and hoped that he was asleep. "Sean?"she whispered and crept closer to him. She nudged him gently with her free hand and repeated his name. His hands unclasped, and one wrist fell limply to the mattress by his side as his chest heaved slowly up and down.

"You just sleep, Sean," she said. "I'll make sure everything is right as rain."

Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle to the doorway and peeked outside. For a moment she thought she saw movement across the parking lot, but then there was nothing. She glanced around again to be certain, then shut the door, fastening the bolt as she did so.

Sean, we need to get out of here, she decided, and began brainstorming a plan.

***

A wave of intense nausea washed over Antonio as he heard Gabi's heart monitor flatline. His vision went momentarily black and he began to swoon.

"Whoa there!" Michael said, reaching over to support Antonio. He grabbed the priest's shoulders and began to walk him toward a seat when Antonio broke violently away.

"My God," he mumbled, stunned. "My God, this can't be happening. She can't be dead." He headed for the mob of doctors and nurses which was huddled around Gabi's gurney and shouted, "You've got to save her! You can't let this happen!"

"Cole, help me out here," Michael pleaded.

"Antonio, there's nothing you can do. Just let the doctors do their job. This isn't over yet." Cole wrapped a strong arm around Antonio and led him to a nearby chair. He thought momentarily of the ill-fated cruise mere months before, when he himself had more or less been brought back from the dead.

Antonio clenched his fists, mumbling to himself, tears trickling down his face. "She doesn't deserve this. My God, why couldn't it have been me?"

Cole looked at Michael and frowned. "I'll stay with him. Why don't you go check on the others."

Michael nodded. When the truck had connected with Cole's car, Emily was still inside, with Casey and Sara very close as well. The arrival of the ambulances and their hasty departures were very much a blur, but Michael did remember Casey, Emily and Sara being in pretty rough shape. He started down the hallway, glanced briefly at a pay phone, and decided to call Vanessa, whom he believed to still be at Surf Central. "I've got to let her know about Gabi," he said to himself.

***

Meg smiled awkwardly as she saw Maria and Wil laughing and talking over breakfast. She watched for a long moment before moving closer.

"I can see the two of you have hit it off," she said with a forced smile.

"Meg, please, join us," Maria beamed. "Your brother was just telling me some stories about Kansas."

"Nothing too embarrassing, sis, no worries."

Meg looked at her watch. "I'd love to join you, but I think maybe I'll wait for Ben to come back."

Maria frowned. You're to tell her that I've gone to the hospital to check on our friends, Ben had said. "Meg, Ben won't be coming back." She gulped as she realized how dramatic she sounded.

Meg scowled, a million thoughts racing through her mind. "Maria, what the hell do you mean? What did he tell you?"

"Meg, I'm sorry, he just . . . decided he'd go to the hospital to see how everyone is doing. You know Ben, he's always concerned about everyone else's safety before his own. He'll be back soon," she lied, "I'm sure of it."

Meg paced the room. "Why didn't he just tell me? Why did he decide he could share this information with you, but not with me?"

"Meg," Wil chided, seeing the fury building in his sister.

"It was a last minute decision," Maria said.

"Then what was it he had to talk to you about?"

"I . . . I wanted to talk to him. About us. About the three of us. About trying to work things out."

"I'm going to the hospital," Meg decided.

Maria scrambled for a response. "Meg, he . . . won't be there."

Meg spun on her heels and glared at Maria. "Do you have something to tell me, Maria? If so, I'd really like to hear it. Where's Ben?" she demanded.

"Meg, I . . ." Maria stalled.

"Where is he?I" Meg repeated forcefully.

Maria shook her head. "Fine," she said resignedly. "The truth."

***

Approaching the docks, Ben glanced sadly at the spot where The Mariah once floated, a truly beautiful boat upon which he and Maria had made many happy memories . . . until the fateful night when the two of them, after a heated argument, took the ship out to sea in the midst of a terrible storm. Maria had gone overboard, and drowned. Or so Sunset Beach had thought for the past five years.

Ben turned his thoughts back to the task at hand: getting to the island as quickly as possible, finding Mark's brother, and bringing him back to Sunset Beach. If he's anything like his brother, then he'll have to listen to me. He'll have to come back. So many people loved his brother; there's no reason he can't enjoy that same kind of love.

But no matter how hard Ben tried to convince himself of Mark's brother's good intentions, he couldn't help but remember the files Jack had supplied him with. Particularly the line that stated Reason for incarceration: Murder.

Pulling his cellular phone from his pocket, he decided that someone needed to know where he was going, just in case the worst-case scenario came to fruition. He dialed the number and waited for a response.

***

Antonio was in a state of utter despair. The horrifying sound of the flatlining heart monitor had played out for fifteen minutes before it was turned off, a group of crestfallen doctors and nurses slowly departing from Gabi's bedside.

"Call it," one of the doctors sighed.

"6:23 a.m.," another voice replied.

"Antonio, I'm so sorry," Cole said at a complete loss for words.

"I never . . . I never had a chance to tell her," he sobbed, his face in his hands.

"Tell her what?" Cole asked, eager to listen to the priest's pain, particularly after the numerous times Antonio had listened to Cole's own confessions.

Antonio lifted his head and looked at Cole. Cole had never in his life seen anyone who looked so utterly heartbroken.

"I loved her," the priest confessed.

***

The answering machine in Ricardo Torres' loft began humming softly as the tape reel began to play. "I'm not in, you know the drill," Ricardo's voice said.

"Ricardo, hullo, it's Ben Evans. I was hoping you might be there because . . . I wanted to let you know . . . Look, I'm going away. To the island. It's a long story, but I just . . . I know we've been through a lot, but I do trust you, and I want you to know where I'm going. I might be in a bit of danger, nothing serious I hope, but for my own peace of mind I need to tell someone. Please don't say anything to Maria or Meg. I'll be back within twenty-four hours. And if not . . . Well let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

The motor stopped and a red light began flashed a few times before a gloved hand pressed the delete button, erasing Ben's message, and with it, perhaps his only chance of returning to Sunset Beach alive.

***

The man who was Mark's brother stood silent outside the door to his motel room. He placed a finger over the peephole, not wanting the person inside to be able to recognize him. His ear to the door, he listened for a few moments before slowly turning the key in the lock.

Before he could finish, the door was pulled quickly inward. He lost his balance momentarily and looked up just in time to see the blonde girl standing in front of him, the skeleton mask on her face, her arm raised over her head. Her arm came down quickly, driving the jagged knife into his heart.

He looked down in disbelief, gasped, and clutched at his chest.

Tiffany took the mask off and looked into the eyes of the man she'd just killed.

"Oh my God," she said. "Mark."