THE SOCCER MOM ASSASSIN

A desperate widow accused of killing her husband becomes a fugitive from justice for seventeen years. After being approached by a crime boss she must find a way to maneuver around him.

THE SOCCER MOM ASSASSIN

          Peering out the window of Jessica’s Café reminded Rachel Goodman of the night she left Orlando. The pounding rain summoned images of frightened motorists and disappointed tourists evacuating the area as Hurricane Charley made its way up the Florida Peninsula.  Although more than a decade had passed since that fateful night, Rachel often wondered what happened to those anxious souls who braved the winds of impending doom.  People from various walks of life endeavored to get back to worried loved ones who prayerfully awaited their safe return.  The enchanting beauty didn’t know their stories, but she was fairly certain few of them shared her reason for beating a hasty retreat.  While no one needed more encouragement than a category 4 storm to vacate the Sunshine State, Rachel stood to lose a lot more than a home and a tarnished collection of neglected possessions.  In fact, her very existence was at stake.  Twelve hours after crossing the Mississippi line, this intrepid sojourner became the prime suspect in the investigation of her late husband’s murder.

         Realizing how difficult it would be to carry on without the luxuries she had enjoyed for the past seven years, Rachel set her sights on a sleepy little town in Kansas.  A distant relative she kept in touch with lived there. Despite the precarious nature of the fleeing widow’s odyssey, there was one truth that couldn’t be disputed.  The value of the riches she was leaving behind paled in comparison to the treasure she was about to bring into this world.  So with a new social security card and drivers’ license, Marla Cooper became Rachel Goodman.

         After seventeen years on the lam, Rachel never imagined she would ever willingly return to Florida.  However, news of her father’s declining health compelled her to risk exposure for the chance to lay eyes on the old man just one more time.  The desolate expression on the forty-six year old fugitive’s face seemed to mirror the gloomy conditions outside.  Years of hiding in plain sight had taught the svelte offender the dangers of trusting the wrong people.  Yet, when local crime boss, Conner Henson, requested a private meeting at Jessica’s Café, she had to find out what he knew about her.

         There was nothing particularly special about Jessica’s place.  As expected, the floor and the tables were immaculate.  The juke box on the far end of the room played one standard after another and the aroma of country fried steak seemed to linger in the air.  However, there was something that troubled Rachel.  Some of the local business owners near the café told her the greasy spoon was very successful.  Yet, she hadn’t seen a customer since she walked in.  The modern-day desperado had no doubt her crafty host had arranged this eerie set of circumstances.  Even the cooks and waitresses had abandoned the establishment.  

         Rachel had never met Henson, but the venerable gangster’s exploits were legendary.  His organization had a hand in every criminal enterprise in the Panhandle city of Emerald Gulf Florida.  Drugs, racketeering, extortion and illegal weapons were merely a few of the unlawful endeavors that occupied his time.  He wasn’t ashamed to flaunt his wealth. Several times a year, the dapper Don attended special outings all decked out in one of his Kiton K-50 suits and Aubercy Diamond shoes.  Although he was approaching seventy, there wasn’t a strand of gray in that modern textured quiff.  Over the years, he’d become quite proficient at concealing the vindictive monster lurking behind those cunning green eyes.  Anyone familiar with this malefactor’s reputation knew he didn’t take no for an answer.  For Rachel, that made contemplating his arrival even more stressful.

         Though she’d been careful, Rachel understood that anyone willing to dig deep enough stood a good chance of exposing the skeletons in her closet.  She wondered how a mobster in North Florida could’ve unearthed any of the secrets in her past.  As far as the qualmish widow knew, no one in her husband’s family had done business with Henson when she lived in Orlando.  Rachel’s curiosity was completely warranted.  After all, she had spent a considerable portion of her life on the run in that small Kansas town with a relative who seldom left home.  It didn’t seem possible that Henson could’ve kept tabs on her since the night she hit the road.  Despite that pretty face, anyone who was around when she lived in Orlando wouldn’t have immediately recognized her.  The auburn wedge-cut that once garnered the attention of the boys back home was now a shoulder-length raven mane.  There was a wrinkle or two beneath those entrancing brown eyes.  It was strange to see a woman wearing blue-jeans and a sweatshirt under a Kensington taffeta trench coat.  Even her Saucony cohesion sneakers looked like they’d been worn a few too many times.  It was hardly the kind of fashion statement that was going to spark the indignation of local residents.  On the other hand, depending on what Henson had in mind, there was another accessory on the women’s person that would’ve provided the incentive to let her leave the eatery alive.

         Struggling to conceal her apprehension, Rachel watched the towering grafter as he entered the café and placed his umbrella by the door.  He was accompanied by two of his most trusted goons.  

         The portly associate with the receding hairline was Markus Lowenthal.  Careful never to outshine his boss, the proficient enforcer purchased his three-piece suits from a more reasonably priced haberdasher.  He didn’t appear to possess a sense of humor.  His menacing glower sent chills up Rachel’s spine. The stories she’d heard about this ruthless psychopath were like something out of an ancient myth.  He enjoyed leaning on pathetic clowns that had gotten behind on their payments to Henson.  There wasn’t a hint of compassion in those vindictive gray eyes.  With uncompromising devotion to his boss, Lowenthal wouldn’t hesitate to take matters into his own hands when he felt a situation needed to be expedited.

         Rachel didn’t recognize the thug in the Classic-fit Corduroy stretch sport coat.  His straight- fit Workday Khakis and Hermes shoes gave her the impression he was a man of unusual taste.  He was of average height, but his brawny frame was broad and toned.  With that youthful visage and energetic gait, she presumed he couldn’t have been more than thirty.  She also determined that with all his attributes, this curly-haired henchman was an enemy she could do without.  Still, there was something almost familiar about him.  The anxious loner couldn’t imagine what these three philistines wanted with her, but she was about to find out.

         Henson’s flawless smile and placid demeanor did little to make Rachel feel at ease when he approached the corner booth where she was sitting.  She was well aware that a few of the slickster’s boys were stationed around the building to make sure they weren’t disturbed.  

         “Ms. Goodman,” the confident crime boss said, as he sat down.  “I apologize for deceiving you.”

         “What do you mean?” she asked.

         “Didn’t you receive word concerning your father’s health?”

         “Yes, but what does that have to do with you?”

         “I sent the message.”

         “What?”

         “Now wait a minute. There’s no need to fly off the handle. I can explain.  I knew your concern for your father would get you here and provide an opportunity for us to meet.”

         “Where is my father now?”

         “I don’t know.”

         Rachel stood up and prepared to leave.  “Look man, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing,” she said.  “But I want no part of it.  How dare you make me think my father’s near death.”

         “Alright, Ms. Goodman,” Henson responded.  “I know it was a lousy trick to play on you, but I had to see you.”

         “Why?”

         “The authorities in South Florida have been looking for you for quite some time.  They seem to believe you had something to do with your husband’s death.”

         Unaware of what this accomplished extortionist had in mind; Rachel maintained her poker face and sat back down.  She wasn’t about to volunteer any information.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told him.

         The expression on Henson’s face was becoming a little more intense.  “Please don’t insult my intelligence, Rachel,” he said.  “Or should I say Marla?”

         She realized her adversary’s sources were better than she thought.  
“What do you want?” Rachel conceded.

         “Well I’m not sure how a jury will respond after hearing about some of the battle royals you and your late husband were known for.  However, there are at least five armed robberies that have occurred over the last twelve years.  Three of those crimes resulted in the deaths of four security guards.  My people managed to link those holdups to a brilliant female assailant who knows how to cover her tracks.  Needless to say, she’s very good with a gun.  Now I don’t want to interrupt this woman’s plans, but there are three local politicians who need to take a permanent vacation.  I’m willing to pay that woman $300,000.  That should make life a lot easier for her.  Don’t you agree?”

         “Are you kidding?  I wouldn’t make it to the state line if I took out a trio of politicians.”

         “But you’re good, Rachel. Just look how many times you’ve already succeeded.”

         “That was different.”

         “How do you figure?”

         “Those guards fired first. It was self-defense.”

         “That may help you sleep at night, but in the eyes of the law, you are a killer.  So you go back to your hotel and do whatever you deem necessary to help you cope with the decisions you’ve made in life.  In the meantime, you have three days to give me your answer.  Do the job and you’ll get $300,000.  If you let me down, the FEDs will get all the information they need to bring down Carter Ramsey’s daughter.  Let me know what you decide.”

         With her fear and outrage contained, Rachel stood up.  For a woman whose world was on the verge of crumbling to the ground around her, she was surprisingly calm.  That was for the bewilderment of her new nemesis.  The artful chameleon didn’t want him to believe he was holding all the cards.  There was still time to compose a plan if she didn’t panic.  When she crossed the parking lot and entered her minivan, an inferno of questions exploded in her head.  How did Henson learn all those details about her?  Why did he wait until now to make his move?  Did he have some type of grudge against her father?  If she did what he wanted, how did she know he wouldn’t turn her in anyway?  Most importantly, with all the information the master manipulator had gathered, why didn’t he mention her most important possession?  Was he even aware the fleeing slayer was pregnant the night her husband died?  None of this made sense.  The addled mother wanted answers, but she was well aware her potential partners in crime could be watching her and she didn’t want to do anything that would put her daughter’s life at risk.

         Rachel was staying at the Panhandle Palms Hotel.  The two-story brick boarding house was nothing to brag about, but it was located about six miles from the Interstate and the police didn’t find many occasions to drop by.  The proprietors kept the rooms clean and they didn’t ask too many questions.  For a woman in her position, that was as close to paradise as she could hope to get.

         There was another reason why this resourceful fem fatale preferred to take up lodging at this less than glamorous hideaway.  With so many back roads leading in different directions, she was able to approach a small phalanx of her father’s old cronies who were more than willing to help her uncover the dirt she needed to neutralize Henson before killing him became her only alternative.  Regrettably, after two days of sneaking around and plotting, none of her connections had found anything she could use.  Rachel was almost convinced that matters couldn’t get worse, until an early morning call from Benton Kansas showed the troubled fugitive just how wrong she was.  The caller ID identified the person as her cousin, Laura Wayne.

         Laura had been a widow for two decades.  The first three years without her husband were painful and empty.  The world around her had become a very dismal place, until the night Rachel knocked on her door seventeen years ago.  During her young cousin’s pregnancy, the retired nurse provided excellent care and made certain she kept every appointment with her OBGYN. Watching Baby Madison grow up gave the eighty year old loner a new lease on life.  It was a decision she’d never regretted.

         Although Madison had become a virtuous and intelligent young woman, the silver-haired governess still worried about her.  Her tiny hands trembled as she dialed Rachel’s number.

         “Laura,” Rachel said. “Is something wrong?”

         “It’s Madison,” her tremulous cousin replied.  

         “Has something happened to Madison?”

         “That depends.”

         “What are you talking about, Laura?”

         “When you headed for Florida two weeks ago, a man visited me.  He was asking all kinds of questions.  He seemed to know as much about you as I do.  He also mentioned trips you’ve made to Las Vegas in order to launder stolen money.  It was ridiculous.  I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know what he was talking about.  But he also brought up the circumstances that impelled you to leave home seventeen years ago.”

         “How does this involve Madison?”

         “When the man arrived, I thought the child was visiting one of her friends from school, but she was here in the house.  She heard everything that was said.  And she is very interested.”

         Rachel lowered her head and sighed.  “Did the man tell you his name?” she asked.

         “He told me to call him Porter,” Laura told her.  “But I’m sure that wasn’t his real name.  What’s this all about, girl?”

         “I can’t talk about it on the phone, but my bags are packed and I’m ready to roll.  I should be home before the end of the week.  It looks like the time has finally come for me to have a serious talk with my daughter.”

         “That’s why I called you.”

         “What else?”

         “Madison’s college roommate called this morning.  She wanted to know if she could use the child’s car while she was away in Florida.”

         “How could Madison have known I was coming to Florida?”

         “According to the roommate, your daughter was looking for something in your bedroom when she saw an open address book on your dresser.  The city of Emerald Gulf was written in capital letters and underlined. After that, Madison bought a bus ticket and said she planned to rent a car when she arrived.”

         “Well that’s just swell,” Rachel commented.  “This is no metropolis, but there are a lot of hotels around here.  If she starts looking for me, she could ask the right people the wrong questions and I’ll be locked up by nightfall.  I’ve got to find her.”

         “But how?” Laura asked.

         “I’ll have to start with the local bus stations.  I’ll keep you informed.  Thanks for everything, Laura.”

         “Take care, my dear. I love you.”

         Rachel was in a real pickle.  Finding her daughter was only half the battle.  If Henson’s goons learned that Madison was in town, they’d have the leverage they needed to force her mother’s hand.  She had to get to the girl first.

         The overwrought pursuer strapped her 9mm revolver to her waist and slipped her arms into her trench coat.  She retrieved three speed loaders and a bottle of pepper spray from her purse. Placing the items in her pockets, she prepared to collect her luggage and head out.

         Painfully focused on Madison, Rachel gave little thought to the deadline that was approaching. Recognizing the fuse her daughter was about to ignite, she was perfectly willing to put Henson’s ultimatum on hold until her child was safe and sound.  Regrettably, Markus Lowenthal didn’t want to wait.

         Rachel opened the door and discovered the colossal hoodlum standing in the corridor.  She stepped aside and motioned for him to enter the room. There was no exchange of pleasantries as Lowenthal strolled toward the round table near the window and observed the potted Red Anthurium plant.

         The embattled slayer did everything in her power to conceal her trepidation.  She had no way of knowing whether or not the intrusive brute had found out about Madison and she was well aware that the wrong word or action might tell the perceptive harrier more than she wanted him to know.

         “I’m on my way to meet Henson,” she said.

         “Is that so?” Lowenthal replied, stepping to the other side of the room and plopping down on the large recliner.  “You can be quite elusive, Ms. Goodman.  My boys have been trying to keep up with you for the past two days.  Your ability to make use of old back roads is impressive. I even hear you have a network of friends who would drop everything and be at your side in a matter of minutes.  You also have a knack for appearing and disappearing without breaking a sweat.  One of the numbskulls I had tracking you is convinced you’re an alien from another planet. Of course, the Shiloh Brothers aren’t exactly rocket scientists.  But they do love their work.  You might want to remember that in case you get any ideas about double-crossing Mr. Henson.”

         Rachel had to get rid of this obnoxious encroacher and begin the search for Madison before it was too late.  She’d always despised women who used their feminine wiles to obtain their goals, but time was running out and she couldn’t think of anything more effective.

         Although her appearance would hardly have appealed to a man like Lowenthal the night they met in Jessica’s Café, the beguiling temptress standing before him had obviously undergone an astounding transformation.  Her makeup was exquisite.  There was a twinkle in her eye that conveyed every emotion she wanted him to experience. The Suffolk Flare jeans accentuated every curve of her diminutive frame.  That burgundy pullover Cashmere sweater was mesmerizing.  Her Reebok F/S high sneakers weren’t the snazziest choice for completing the ensemble, but the clever vixen had to be prepared to run at any given moment.

         “Maybe we can work something out that doesn’t involve Henson,” she suggested, sauntering toward him with her hands on her hips.  “I mean, after all, you’re the one who’s kept the organization prospering.  Don’t you think it’s time you did something for yourself?”

         There was a menacing smile on Lowenthal’s face as he stood up and looked her in the eye.  “What are you suggesting?” he asked.

         “I think the two of us could make a great team.  I could find us a little hideaway somewhere in Canada or Mexico.  We’ll make a bundle and live the kind of life we both deserve.”

         There weren’t a lot of men in Lowenthal’s position who could’ve resisted the proposition of such a sultry pretender, but Rachel had taken too much for granted.  One of the most dominant quirks in the big man’s personality was his deep-seated contempt for scurrilous women who thought they could wrap him around their little fingers.

         Without warning, the irascible bruiser slapped Rachel and shoved her to the floor!  “What kind of broad are you?” he snarled.  “Do you really think you’re that hot?  You’re out of your league, sister.  I learned about cheap chicks like you a long time ago.”

         “Your education is about to get a lot more intense,” she told him, reaching into her pocket for the pepper spray.

         The livid misogynist reached down to inflict more punishment on his victim, but before he could take hold of her, she maced him!  Lowenthal cried out, as he fell to his knees, providing the opportunity for Rachel to pick up the potted plant and smash it over his head!

         With the more immediate danger rendered unconscious, Rachel gathered her belongings and headed for the elevator.  Suddenly, the well of choices this clever transient thought she could draw from had gone dry.  Now, her only option was to disappear with her daughter or take Henson out.  The wheels of destiny were in motion and there was no turning back.

         One of the secrets in Rachel’s past that Henson and his wrecking crew hadn’t managed to unearth involved the frequent trips she made to Emerald Gulf when she was a young girl. She’d spent several summers visiting relatives throughout the Panhandle.  So maneuvering around the city by way of backstreets and graveled roads was no difficult task.  However, staying a step ahead of the Shiloh Brothers wasn’t quite so easy.  

         Products of an abusive upbringing, Garren and Randy Shiloh were a couple of small-time hoods who’d been in and out of the system since they were teenagers.  With little more behind them than a childhood void of parental supervision and familial love, the lanky hooligans relished the prestige they’d garnered while working for Markus Lowenthal.  Aside from their somber green eyes and auburn crew cuts, the thirty year old twins shared the emptiness of a disassembled life.  There was a time when encouragement, compassion and discipline would have made a difference, but the malevolent pariahs had seen too much.  Their perception of human nature had been sculpted.  As far as they were concerned, empathy was weakness.  Now, the only philosophy that guided them was a quest for the comfortable living they enjoyed making the problems of men like Conner Henson go away.

         The River Road Coach Lines was the nearest bus station to the Panhandle Palms Hotel.  The bus from Kansas had arrived two hours earlier. Rachel learned that Madison rented a car from Winston Kaplan’s Auto Rentals across the street where an employee remembered recommending a few motels on Graceville Road.  With a despicable Cretin looking to profit from her sorted past, the antsy tracker had to make sure none of his savages got a whiff of Madison’s existence.  There wasn’t a moment to waste.

         In typical North Florida fashion, the sun was shining and the temperature was barely fifty degrees. It was hard to believe the beauteous verdure that made the encompassing landscape look like paradise was more than two months overdue.  The dormant brown grass along the shoulders of the road should have already turned green. Nevertheless, Rachel couldn’t afford to concern herself with mercurial weather patterns.  Her daughter’s well-being was at the forefront of her mind.

         So many years had passed since Rachel rode her bicycle on dusty dirt roads and played volley ball in the park.  Back then, the NO TRESPASSING signs and pad locked fences that protected the vacant industrial complexes were rare.  At the age of seven, the hopeless stares of disillusioned dreamers didn’t leave a knot in the pit of her stomach.  Like so many people, she’d chosen to remember the most enjoyable events of her childhood. Now that she was a parent, the sight of scantily clad young women willing to do anything to make a few dollars broke her heart.  She couldn’t bear the thought of Madison being dominated by some panderer who’d only leave her broke, battered and bitter.  Everything this conflicted road warrior had achieved was for her child and she wasn’t going to let the likes of Lowenthal destroy the life she’d risked so much to build.    

         Madison was a conscientious young woman with an unwavering affection for humanity.  The values she’d learned from Cousin Laura had helped to shape the idealistic outlook that guided her path.  Compassion and honesty were very important to this staid young visionary.  She wasn’t interested in making a lot of money.  To her, becoming a social worker was the most meaningful way to benefit society. Unaware of the demons that blighted her mother’s world, Madison was devoted to the principles of turning the other cheek and overlooking the shortcomings of others.  It never occurred to her that the greatest transgressions she’d have to forgive would be imposed by members of her own family.

         After more than an hour of driving past dilapidated structures and tent cities, there were those who would have believed that finding Madison was nothing less than a miracle.  Rachel was certain it had more to do with the two flat tires on the child’s rental car than divine intervention.

         At any rate, when the ecstatic mother recognized that short boyish bob with messy front fringes, she pulled over and leaped out of the vehicle.  The statuesque teenager in the Anorak Puffer parka and Low Rise Flare jeans had already changed one of the tires, but she didn’t have a second spare. That should’ve made this impromptu reunion a dream come true.  However, there were issues between them that required more effort than a simple drive to town.

         “Madison!” Rachel shouted, running to embrace her only daughter.  She could see the discontentment in the teenager’s eyes. “I know we’ve got things to talk about. Let’s get your luggage out of the car and put it in the van.”

         “Alright mother,” the girl said, complying with the request.

         Madison didn’t say a word while the two of them put the suitcases in the van.  Rachel could almost feel the girl’s piercing stare as they secured their seatbelts and prepared to have the conversation that could no longer be delayed.

         “Nature sure is wonderful,” Rachel said, referring to the flock of tiny birds soaring in perfect formation, as if they were stippling various works of art across the distant morning sky.

         “I hope you’re not trying to stall,” Madison said.

         “No.  It’s time we have the talk we should’ve had years ago. I want to answer your questions.”

         “With the truth?”

         “With the truth.”

         “Who is Carter Ramsey?”

         “He’s your grandfather.”

         “Is he still alive?”

         “I believe so.”

         “What kind of answer is that?”

         “When I was a little girl, he was some kind of union official.  He was convicted of corruption, racketeering, bribery and assault. I haven’t seen him since I was ten. That’s when he broke out of prison and visited me at summer camp before vanishing off the planet.”

         “Was he innocent?”

         “I can’t say, honey. I just knew he was leaving and I would probably never see him again.”

         “At least you knew your father.”

         “Sounds like you got a real earful.”

         “The only thing you ever told me about my father was that he was killed in Orlando while evacuating during a hurricane.”

         “True.”

         “But you left a few details out of your version of events.  Now you said you’d tell me the truth.  I want to know how and why he died.”

         Rachel started the engine and headed toward the Interstate.  “Your father’s name was Preston Cooper,” she said.  “He was a cruel and ruthless criminal who expected the people around him to do everything he wanted.  That included his wife.  I made several trips to the Emergency Room with broken ribs, black eyes and any other misery he could inflict upon my body.  My home was a battlefield.”

         The thought of her mother suffering such abuse seemed to have a profound effect on Madison.  She lowered her head and sighed.  “It sounds like a real nightmare,” she commented.  

         “We’d been married for seven years when I told him I was getting a divorce if he didn’t stop hurting me. Now that I look back, I can’t believe how long I put up with the violence.”

         “Was it really bad toward the end?”

         That’s the weirdest part of the whole thing.  After that, he became a different man.  The beatings stopped and he rarely raised his voice.  I really thought we were going to be a happy couple again.  That was until I discovered the source of his uncanny metamorphosis.”

         “What changed?”

         “He had his eye on another woman.”

         “Is that what he told you?”

         “He didn’t have to. I saw them together.  I felt so stupid.  It really did look like we were reconnecting.”

         “Did you confront him?”

         “You better believe I did. He had the nerve to suggest everything could be worked out amicably.  After all he’d put me through, I was supposed to be a good girl and just accept it.  It couldn’t have happened at a more inconvenient time.  I’d been to the doctor and found out I was pregnant.  I couldn’t tell him.  With another woman in the picture, there was no telling what he might do.”

         Madison covered her face with her hand.  “What kind of family did I come from?” she spoke aloud.

         “Everyone in your family isn’t like your father,” her mother assured her.  “Don’t forget Cousin Laura.  The kindness she extended to us before you were even born saved both our lives. She had a lot to do with rearing the woman you are today and I’m very proud to call you my daughter.”

         “How did he die?”

         “We’d packed our SUV and joined the caravan of vehicles on their way north.  I was driving.  It felt like we’d been on the road for hours.  Darkness had fallen and neither of us had spoken a word.  Finally, out of the blue, he began rambling about divorce settlements and dividing assets.  I’d never felt so insulted.  That’s when I made the mistake that changed my life forever.”

         “What did you do?”

         “I asked him what he planned to tell the home wrecker about his newborn child.”

         “How did he respond?”

         “For a moment, he didn’t say anything.  I didn’t know what to make of it.  We were on a crowded highway with cars all around us.  I was sure he wouldn’t try anything foolish in front of all those witnesses.  He reached into the glove box for a gun and had me take the next right up ahead.  I turned down Dowager Road and took the Old Hunter’s trail to Goldson’s Pond.  He ordered me to get out of the vehicle.  Despite all the times he’d beaten me, I’d never seen such hatred in his eyes.  He was about to pull the trigger when an unexpected bright light diverted his attention! I charged him like a bull and took him off his feet!  When he dropped the gun, I picked it up and took aim.  I didn’t want to kill him, but he kept coming toward me.  I had no choice.”

         Madison closed her eyes and shook her head.  “It took a lot of courage to do what you did,” she said.  “You saved my life.”

         “Of course,” Rachel replied.  “You’re my baby.  I know it’s not easy to hear your father wanted to end both our lives, but he wasn’t the typical father.  Parents are supposed to love and protect their children.  Someday when you meet the right man, you’ll see how a truly loving spouse behaves.  And I don’t want you to settle for anything less.”

         The girl had finally learned the truth about the father she never knew.  Processing everything she’d just heard wasn’t going to be easy, but at least she was no longer in the dark.  Although she appreciated what her mother had endured, there were more questions afflicting her thoughts and she couldn’t get on with her life until she had the answers.  

         “Mother,” Madison said. “I understand why you had to kill my father, but the man who visited Cousin Laura mentioned other things about you.”

         “I can only imagine,” Rachel commented.

         “You know there are principles in life I take very seriously.”

         “I realize that and I’m proud to have a daughter who knows what’s important.  You have an honest and compassionate heart.  But to be frank, I worry that you might be a little too rigid when it comes to your ideals.  After all, people are only human and we all make mistakes.”

         “I know.  And as hard as it may be to believe, I do strive to consider the motives behind the actions of individuals.  I’m well aware that blanket judgments can be dangerous.”

         “You came to understand a lot of grown-up issues at a very early age.  Still, I worry that you take life too seriously.  You should try to relax and enjoy your youth.  Time can slip away before you know it.”

         “As far back as I can remember you attended soccer games, school plays and student debates.  You’ve never made me feel unloved.”

         “Well I am your biggest fan.  I always wanted you to know I was in your corner.”

         “I never doubted you, Mother.  But I can also remember times when you’d be gone for weeks at a time.  Laura said you were away working.”

         “True.”

         “The man asked Laura if she knew anything about your covert activities in at least three states.  He accused you of robbing banks and liquor stores. He asked her if she knew anything about you going to Las Vegas to launder the money you stole.”

         “That man was a criminal, honey.  He was trying to dig something up to hold over my head.”

         “Why?”

         “Because his boss wants me to commit a crime for him.  It’s all quite an elaborate scheme.”

         Madison placed her hand to the back of her head.  “All I know is the man tried to get everything he could out of Cousin Laura,” she said.  “I watched from my bedroom window as he returned to his car and joined the other man.”

         “There was someone with him?” Rachel inquired.

         “Yes.  A curly-haired young man was driving.”

         That confirmed Rachel’s suspicions.  The roots of Henson’s interest in her had to run deeper than the smooth-talking creep wanted her to know.  Madison’s description sounded a lot like the racketeer’s man, Humphrey.  After trying to compel her to commit murder, she wondered what else he had up his sleeve.  “Madison, you need to be very careful from here on out,” she told her. “I’m not sure these people even know you exist, but we can’t take them lightly.”

         “That wasn’t all, Mother,” the teenager continued.  “The man said people were killed during those robberies.”

         Rachel turned right down Cranford Street and parked on the side of the road.  She took a deep breath and looked at her daughter.  “Everything isn’t so black and white, Madison,” she said. “Sometimes you have to do unpleasant things to stay alive.”

         “Are you defining murder as a mere unpleasant act?  You took the lives of others during the commission of a crime.”

         “Madison, you just don’t understand.  You’ve had it too easy.  You’re just beginning to learn how the world works.  We’d all like to be noble and live an exemplary life, but so many people are like wild animals.  They only respond to brute force.  I was a widow with a child to support.  And no matter how many Good Samaritans reach out to help, there’s one fact that never changes.  You need money to make it in this world.”

         “What about the people you killed?”

         “I only fired in self-defense.”

         The mortified teen detached her seatbelt and opened the passenger side door.  “How can you justify your actions?” she asked.  “Don’t you realize you’ve committed murder?”

         Rachel reached out to take her arm, but Madison pulled away!  “Try to understand, baby,” the desperate mother pleaded.

         Madison exited the vehicle and ran toward the seventy-yard tract of manicured Zosyia Grass.  Rachel could see the girl was headed for the junkyard in the distance.  So she started the engine and proceeded down the road until she came to the asphalt driveway of Fowler’s Junkyard.

         Located about five miles from the main highway, the nine-acre complex had been the working man’s alternative for affordable farming tools, plumbing supplies and automobile parts for as long as Rachel could remember.  Stacks of mangled cars, eighteen wheeler cabs and heavy equipment were all around the place.  She wondered why there were no vehicles in the designated parking area near the Granny Pod House that served as the main office.  On the opposite side of the property, a huge metal shed that housed a numerous assortment of used tires along with air powered presses and heavy duty truck chargers had been left unmanned.  Under normal circumstances, the ambivalent surveyor would’ve anticipated the proximate calamity that awaited her, but she was too concerned about Madison to listen to her instincts.

         As Rachel stepped out of her van and walked past sheltered bays of neatly stacked panels, electrical wire, heating equipment and basic insolation, she feared her only child might get hurt.  Had the experienced trigger woman been more focused on her surroundings, she would’ve realized how close her enemies actually were.  Something was off, but finding her daughter was the potential sitting duck’s foremost consideration.  “Madison!” she cried out.  “Come out and talk to me, baby.  You’ve got to understand how much danger we’re facing.”

         The doors of the metal shed were wide open.  Rachel was about to approach the structure when she was distracted by the screeching of a 2003 Oldsmobile Alero entering the driveway and speeding toward her! The Shiloh Brothers were on their way.

         The cornered markswoman drew her revolver and took cover behind a stack of cinder blocks.  She stayed out of sight as the Shiloh twins parked their car behind her van.

         All decked out in black denim, the armed hit men endeavored to give their prey a demonstration of their fire power.  Garren scurried around to the rear of the vehicle and unleashed a fury of automatic gunfire with a PM-125 submachine gun!  Rachel returned fire striking the reckless renegade in the abdomen!  Randy darted across the yard to get a better look at his target.  He was prepared to launch an assault when he tripped over a rusty muffler and lost his balance.  With his weapon on the ground a few inches out of reach, he made an attempt to stand up, but he’d twisted his ankle and the pain was excruciating.  

         Rachel approached the incapacitated hatched man with her revolver in hand.  She kept the piece trained on him as he struggled to retrieve his handgun.  “You don’t have a chance,” she admonished.  “I’ve already got too much blood on my hands.  I don’t need yours.”

         Randy stopped moving and kept his hands where she could see them.  He didn’t protest when his proficient foe picked up his gun and put it in the pocket of her trench coat.

         She stepped over to the rear of the car where Garren’s barely conscious body was lying and checked for a pulse.  He was alive and in need of medical attention, but the petrified mother didn’t have time to render assistance.  She had to find her daughter.  So she collected the fallen bandit’s submachine gun and resumed her search. With no way of knowing how many guns she’d yet to confront, Rachel advanced toward the metal shed prepared to send the next bozo that pointed a roscoe at her to an early grave. Regrettably, the individual who emerged from the darkness wasn’t one of Henson’s thugs.  Witnessing her daughter stagger out and fall to her knees made it evident that two of the random bullets Garren discharged around the yard had struck Madison in the torso.

         “Madison!” Rachel shouted, hurrying to her wounded child’s side.  Mother’s here, baby.  I’ve got to get you to a doctor.”

         Madison was still breathing and able to stand up.  “Mother,” she muttered.  “It hurts so bad.”

         “I know, honey.  But we’ll be at the hospital in no time. Just hang on.”

         Although Madison was a bit larger than her mother, Rachel managed to walk her to the parking area.    

         Had the Shiloh boys been dealing with a less experienced adversary, their strategy would have been brilliant.  For example, parking their car so close to Rachel’s minivan would’ve given her few options for making her escape.  Unfortunately, they’d allowed their victim to get the drop on them and Randy forgot to remove the key from the ignition.  Now, all the sagacious guardian had to do was put Madison in the backseat of the Oldsmobile and get her to the nearest medical facility before it was too late.

         On her way to town, Rachel tried to get a handle on the bizarre chain of events that had overtaken her world in such a short time.  What was Conner Henson trying to accomplish?  Of all the killers he was associated with, why did he choose her to do his dirty work?  Where did Humphrey fit into all of this?  Most importantly, how did that slimy pit of vipers even learn about her role in her late husband’s death?  Despite all the questions that required answers, she wouldn’t be able to devote her full attention to them until her child was in the capable hands of a skilled physician.  

         “Mother,” Madison groaned. “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have judged you.”

         There was a neatly folded towel on the dashboard.  Rachel retrieved it and gave it to the girl.  “Don’t worry about that, baby,” she said.  “Just put this on those wounds to control the bleeding.  We’re almost there.”

         By the time Rachel pulled into the parking lot of Mother Ruth’s Memorial Hospital, night had fallen and the wondrous glimmer of an enchanting full moon graced the breezy evening sky like something out of a fairytale.  However, to a parent who’d just arrived with an injured child in the backseat, the narrative read more like a Russian tragedy.  

         Rachel sprang from the front seat to check on Madison.  She wanted to walk her to the entrance, but the weary victim had lost consciousness. Thankfully, a nurse with a wheelchair had just delivered a patient to his car.

         “Would you help me please?” Rachel cried out.  “My daughter has been shot!”

         The nurse rushed back inside to summon the aide of two orderlies.  They promptly headed toward Rachel and proceeded to secure her comatose daughter’s body to a gurney.  Once they were in the ER, medical personnel determined the patient needed to be prepped for surgery.  Although everything seemed to be going around in circles, Rachel managed to answer routine questions and sign the necessary documents that were presented to her. For the most part, the answers she gave were accurate.  Every item of validation concerning Madison was based on the identity her mother assumed for her at birth.  Nevertheless, a shooting had occurred and Rachel knew it wouldn’t take the authorities long to link her to the death of her late husband.

         A brief consultation with Madison’s surgeon gave Rachel a more positive outlook concerning the teen’s condition.  The doctor didn’t expect his young patient to be on the operating table longer than three hours.  That gave her mother enough time to return to the junkyard and bring the minivan back.

         About a mile from the hospital, she stopped at an abandoned juke joint and wiped the fingerprints off the weapons she’d confiscated from the Shiloh Brothers.  After securing the sub machine gun and the .380 automatic in the trunk, she headed for the junkyard.

         While Rachel wasn’t plagued by the same anxieties that impelled her to overlook the dangers around her the first time she entered the junkyard, the atmosphere was just as eerie. She parked on the other side of her minivan and stepped out of the Oldsmobile.  The streetlights and full moon provided enough illumination for her to take aim at any enemy that might have been lurking in the shadows.  

         After cleaning her fingerprints off the stirring wheel and other parts of the car she remembered touching, the first order of business was to check the minivan for booby traps. Next, she replaced the license plate with a tag she kept under the front seat for emergencies like this.  The cops would be less likely to pull her over if they were looking for another driver.  Rachel was prepared to hit the road when a thought occurred to her. During the confrontation with the Shiloh Brothers, she shot Garren.  While it was no surprise that someone had probably come along and taken the twins to a doctor, the inquisitive enforcer couldn’t understand what could’ve happened to the puddle of blood the victim had to have left on the ground.  

         Rachel took a flashlight from the glove box and proceeded to search the area.  The trail of blood leading from the parking lot asphalt to the doorway of the metal shed should’ve still been there, but the pavement was spotless.  Something strange had taken place at that junkyard while Rachel was gone and she just couldn’t let it go.

         A few hours earlier, a worried and apprehensive parent prowled through this maze of recycled refuse because she feared the worst for her disillusioned daughter.  Now that Madison was safe, Rachel’s mind was clear and her instincts were firing on all cylinders.  That’s why she was able to sense the presence of the hulking figure lurking around in the shed.  

         Rachel reached under her coat for her revolver.  “You might as well come out,” she said.  “If I start shooting, I’m bound to hit you.”

         The enormous gunman was no stranger to Rachel’s propensity to violence.  Their last encounter resulted in a flower pot getting demolished over his head.  He wasn’t immediately recognizable in those oil-stained coveralls, but Rachel would never forget the temperamental chauvinist who’d come close to killing her earlier that morning.  After everything that had happened, Markus Lowenthal had made his way to the junkyard and decided to maintain his position until the woman he despised returned to retrieve her vehicle.  The snarl on his face and that .45 automatic in his hand had the intuitive survivor convinced of one indisputable fact.  This turkey had serious issues.

         Lowenthal strutted toward the beguiling temptress with his weapon trained on her.  The vindictive bruiser seemed rather pleased with himself. “Did you think I’d stop looking for you?” he asked.  “Oh, you broads are all alike.  You actually believed you’d beaten me.  Well I hope you’ve enjoyed that little fantasy because you’re never going to feel that way again.”    

         “Before we seal our fates, would you mind if I ask you something?”

         “It’s your funeral.”

         “How did Henson find out about me?”

         “Three years ago, we did a little business with an organization in Miami.  One of the members of that organization had a federal agent in his pocket.  He told us that the FEDs were looking for Preston Cooper’s wife.  You were the prime suspect in your husband’s murder.  Henson had been toiling with the idea of getting rid of a few enemies.  When we learned you’d spent a little time in the juvenile system for gun-related offenses, the Boss had an epiphany.  Finding you wasn’t easy.  So we concentrated on a way to smoke you out.  That’s when Humphrey joined the team.”

         “Humphrey?”

         “That’s right.  The kid had more insight into the situation than anyone.  He set everything up.  He went to Kansas to talk to your cousin.  That little ruse about your father being sick was a stroke of genius.  And now, you’re here.  If you’d taken the money and gotten rid of the thorns in Henson’s side, you could be planning your retirement on a secluded beach somewhere.  Instead, you’ve been outwitted by a young thug. Yes, that Humphrey has it all. There’s a glorious future waiting for that boy in Henson’s organization.”

         “There was something familiar about him, but I just can’t remember.”

         “Ah well…It doesn’t matter anymore.  Now if you’re finished stalling, I have an appointment later tonight.”

         The moment of truth had finally arrived.  It would take every skill Rachel possessed to take this monster out.  There was a gleam of anticipation in his eye that told her he intended to savor this moment for the rest of his life.  She had to do something he didn’t expect.

         In utter desperation, the cornered quarry hurled her flashlight at Lowenthal, striking him in the face as she fired a round into his shoulder!  The big man went down and dropped his weapon on the ground beside him. Uncertain of his condition, Rachel approached her fallen enemy and reached down to get his gun.  That’s when she learned she wasn’t the only one who knew how to bait a trap.

         Without warning, Lowenthal disarmed the startled patsy with a staggering chop across the forearm!  As Rachel’s diminutive frame struck the pavement and tumbled over a stack of aluminum rods, her vindictive nemesis picked up his handgun.  There was nowhere to run.  She was in pain.  Any attempts to fight would’ve been futile.  Nevertheless, the intransigent murderess wasn’t about to give her executioner the satisfaction of hearing her beg for mercy.  So she braced her shoulders and looked intently into the eyes of that misanthropic beast, as she waited for the bullet that would end her life. Consequently, the blast Rachel heard wasn’t fired from Lowenthal’s piece.  From somewhere in the distance, a gunman had discharged a round from the barrel of a 300 RUM hunting rifle that took the rancid enforcer off his feet!

         Unable to see where the sniper was, Rachel realized he could’ve picked her off with minimal effort. Yet, she was determined to get back to the hospital and no one was going to thwart that goal.  Her only option was to stay low and make a run for the minivan.

         It took considerable effort, but Rachel made it to her vehicle without provoking a shot.  While she was grateful to be alive, the stalwart perseverer found the actions of the sharpshooter quite perplexing.  If he was one of Henson’s goons, why did he shoot Lowenthal?  Could he be a cop who was waiting for the right moment to take her down?  Despite all the questions that needed to be answered, the concerned mother didn’t have time to ponder them.  She just sat down in the front seat and started the engine.  As she sped away, there was no way of predicting how many more challenges were waiting for her, but she refused to be deterred.  Nothing was more important than getting to Madison’s bedside.

         Although it took some creative driving, Rachel managed to return to the hospital about a half hour before daybreak.  Her activities in the junkyard didn’t leave her looking like someone who wanted to get lost in a crowd.  There were scratches and bruises on her face.  She had a black eye and every movement revealed the agony in her ribs.  There had to be an inconspicuous way to get inside. The makeup in her purse and some freshly laundered scrubs would be the basic essentials she needed to alter her appearance.  Her image in those security cameras would likely be the catalyst investigators would need to discover her identity.  This cagey fugitive had to be careful.

         An unlawful entry into the hospital pharmacy gave Rachel access to bandages and antiseptic. Taking time to look a little more presentable would make it possible to curtail the attention of curious medical personnel she passed in the corridor.  A lab coat no one was using added the finishing touch to her disguise. With an inexpensive pair of sunglasses and a stolid expression, Madison’s anticipating guardian made her way to the patient’s room.

         The surgery didn’t take as much time as the doctor predicted.  He informed Rachel that her daughter would remain asleep for several hours, so she was prepared to spend the night somewhere near the girl’s room. However, she didn’t expect to discover the husky janitor that was caressing Madison’s forehead.

         “Excuse me,” Rachel whispered.  “May I ask who you are?”

         When the gentleman turned to look at her, her question and many others were answered.  “Hello, baby,” he said.

         Rachel fell into his embrace and held him tightly as tears rolled down her cheeks.  “Dad,” she said.  “Where have you been all these years?”

         “We can’t talk here, kid. Follow me and I’ll tell you everything.”

         Carter Ramsey was alive and well.  Even though life on the run had taken a toll on his weathered visage, the seventy year old career criminal was still strong and articulate.  That silky black hairline had receded since the last time his daughter saw him and the remaining strands had turned gray.  After more than three decades, those yearning brown eyes and huge hands were pleasant reminders of the security his little girl always felt in his loving arms.  He’d maintained his brawny build and captivating presence, but it was the stress of coping with the life he’d lived that made him question the twisted values he taught Rachel when she was young.

         Rachel wasn’t aware that Carter was at the hospital when she brought her wounded teenage daughter to the ER.  He’d been keeping a low profile in an unoccupied office on the ground floor. He couldn’t afford to be recognized, but he was determined to do everything possible to help his granddaughter.

         The shabby little hole-in-the-wall was no longer fit for conducting business.  With the rows of folding chairs, tables and filing cabinets taking up so much space, there was barely room for a man as tall as Carter to stretch out.  Yet, considering some of the places he’d been compelled to crash in, the retired racketeer didn’t feel the need to complain.  Moreover, he didn’t intend to be there much longer.  In fact, the most appealing feature of his tedious surroundings was the large window through which he could make an unanticipated exit should the need arise.  Like his extraordinary daughter, Carter Ramsey always planned ahead.  

         Rachel was practically overwhelmed with emotion when she and her father entered the office.  There was so much she wanted to say to him. “What’s going on, Dad?” she asked, as she sat down on the faded brown sofa in the corner.  “A moron named Conner Henson lured me to Emerald Gulf with some garbage about you being at death’s door.  When I met with him, he tried to blackmail me into killing three people.  This is all some kind of wacky nightmare.”

         “I know,” Carter agreed, unfolding a chair and sitting down.  “I’ve been living in Bermuda.  You’d been on the run for several years when I found out about Preston’s shooting.  I sent an informant to look into what happened. Ironically, it was around that time that Conner Henson was looking to expand his organization into other parts of Florida.  When my man began his investigation, he realized you’d been on the lam for a long time. You honestly thought the cops were looking for you.”

         “But they were looking for me.”

         “Not for Preston’s murder.”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Preston Cooper is alive, kid.”

         “What?”

         “That’s right.  A couple of farmers found him that night. They extracted the bullet and got him to the hospital the next morning.”

         Rachel removed her sunglasses and ran her fingers through her hair.  “I don’t understand any of this,” she said.  “Why didn’t I hear about Preston?”

         “Because the police arrested him before he was discharged from the hospital,” her father explained. “The charges against your loving spouse would have sent him away for fifty years.  Turning state’s evidence was the only way out.  The FEDs have him in witness protection.  I don’t know where.”

         “He doesn’t even know about Madison.”

         “You changed your entire life because you thought the law was on your trail.  And you’re not even guilty.”

         She looked toward the window and sighed.  “Well that’s not completely true,” she said.  “In order to maintain the lifestyle Madison and I enjoyed, I resorted to armed robbery.  I also shot and killed a few people.  I’m not proud of that.  Can you believe it was the very subject we were arguing about when Madison ran into that junkyard?”

         “Yes I can,” the contrite old man said.  “Years ago, I realized what you could’ve become if I hadn’t taught you how to get over and skirt the responsibility for your actions.  Just think of the wonderful years I could’ve spent with my granddaughter, if I’d remained on the straight and narrow.  You paid a terrible price for my self-indulgence and I’m so sorry I did that to you.”

         “I guess there’s no turning back now, Dad.  If you stay in the country, the FEDs will eventually catch up with you.  And even though I didn’t kill Preston, the authorities may find a way to link me to the robberies I did commit.  I guess it’s back on the road for me too.”

         “It doesn’t have to be.”

         “I don’t understand.”

         “I came here to see you and the granddaughter I’ve never met, Marla.  It’s going to take some time to get used to calling you Rachel.  I want you to come back to Bermuda with me.”

         “But what about Madison?”

         “She’ll be with us. I want my family together again.”

         Rachel stood up and looked at her father.  “If I hang around the hospital until Madison is well enough to travel, the cops are going to ask questions,” she said.

         “That’s all been taken care of,” the former crime boss assured her.  “I have someone who will pose as her guardian until the doctors release her.  Then the two of them can join us in Bermuda.”

         Rachel put her hand on her side.  “Oh no!” she dreaded.

         “What’s wrong?” Carter asked.

         “I left my gun at the junkyard.  If the cops find it, I’m in the system.”

         “You don’t have to worry about that.  I’ve got you covered.”

         “I can’t take that chance, Dad,” Rachel responded, as she rushed to the door and prepared to leave. That’s when she discovered a familiar foe lurking in the corridor.

         “What is it now?” Carter inquired.

         Stressed and terrified, the exuberant fugitive ran to the window.  “I’ve got to get out of here,” she said.

         “Tell me what’s happening, child.”

         “Henson’s man, Humphrey, is out there.  He’s going to kill me.”

         “Calm down, girl. He’s not going to harm a hair on your head.”

         “You don’t know this rat.”

         “Actually, I do. He’s your brother.”

         Rachel turned around and faced the door, as Humphrey entered the room with her revolver in his hand. “What is this?” she asked.  “Why have you been helping Henson set me up?”

         “Hello, sis,” Humphrey said, handing her the weapon.  “It’s so nice to finally meet you after all this time.”

         “His real name is Michael Humphrey Ramsey,” Carter explained.  “He was born here in the States, but his mother and I moved to Bermuda when he was about five.  Oh, how I wish you could’ve known her.  It tore me up to leave you with your aunt and uncle, but I knew they would take care of you.”

         “But how did you get involved with those thugs?” Rachel asked.  

         “I’m a private investigator,” her brother told her.  “I was working on a case in South Florida when word got around that Henson had questions concerning Preston Cooper’s murder.  Even though there was a federal agent willing to provide the information he needed for the right price, he couldn’t pin down the whole story because the FEDs had Preston in witness protection.  That’s when I called Dad and then proceeded to insert myself into Henson’s organization.”

         “But how did you learn that Preston was really alive?” Rachel asked.

         “I have some incredible resources at my fingertips,” Humphrey replied.  “The man who questioned Cousin Laura was a recovering drug addict who owed me a favor.  When we left her home, I gave him a brief case full of cash and drove him to the airport.”

         “So you were the one who cleaned the blood up at the junkyard,” Rachel concluded.

         “That’s right,” Carter confirmed.  “He also made sure the Shiloh Boys got medical attention.”

         “Are they here now?” she asked.

         “No,” Humphrey replied. “I took them to a doctor I know. He takes care of patients who aren’t inclined to answer a lot of questions.”

Rachel thought for a moment.  “You killed Lowenthal,” she deduced.  

“He’s not dead,” her crafty sibling assured her. “But his condition was quite serious. So I took him to a hospital across the Alabama line.  He should be placed into custody the moment he regains consciousness.”

         “Why?” she asked.

         “The big dope has a few issues with women,” Humphrey explained.  “You may have noticed.  Evidence of at least three assaults on young ladies who got on his nerves was found in his apartment.”

         “Now all I have to worry about is staying out of Henson’s way,” Rachel spoke aloud.

         “I wouldn’t be so concerned about him,” Carter advised.  “He’ll be ducking the IRS for years to come.  For some reason or another, Uncle Sam decided to audit him.”

         “This is outrageous,” Rachel said.  “Now I know why you looked so familiar.  You look just like Uncle Alex.”

         “Well there you have it, girl,” her father told her.  “Humphrey has been protecting you from the beginning.  We’re almost home.  We can make a fresh start.”

         “I’ve already printed up the necessary documents,” Humphrey said on his way out.  “The police have been snooping around the ICU for a while. I won’t have any problems convincing the hospital staff that I’m Madison’s guardian.  I’ve got my story straight and I’m ready to get started. Our family will soon be together again.”

         When his son left, Carter could see the dubious expression on Rachel’s face.  “What’s troubling you, baby?” he asked.

         “I’m just wondering how Madison’s going to feel about living with two fugitives,” she told him. “That kid has scruples.  What if she insists I turn myself in for the crimes I’ve committed?”  

         “I can understand your misgivings.  I’ve had my share of sleepless nights.  When I realized what I’d done to your life, I didn’t think I was fit to live.  But I had people who needed me.  It won’t be easy, but spending our lives locked away in the system won’t benefit anyone.  We’ll just have to do our best to live better lives.  Our family has a lot to iron out.  We’ve got to devote ourselves to helping the next generation avoid the mistakes we made and show them a better path.  Now let’s find a quiet way out of this hospital and sit tight until we hear from Humphrey.  Are you ready to begin a new life?”

         “I’m ready, Dad.”

         There was no way to predict how Madison would cope with the changes she was about to face.  Rachel and Carter would have to live the kind of lives that showed the child how much they cherished the time they had left to spend with her.  While there would always be moments when the repentant slayer would wonder who was watching from the shadows, she’d have to devote herself to making up for past mistakes and set a more positive example.  Right or wrong, Rachel Goodman was finally free.  

      

                                             M.C. BECHUM