*The usual disclaimers apply--don't own them, just like to write about them—this story takes place directly after the end of Vacation. Some parts of this story have been changed and edited since the original posting. Thanks to Anne for the brainstorming help and I hope you enjoy *

What Lies Beneath-Chapter One

Farnsworth Manor

Monday, September 2, 2002

7:30 AM GMT

“Take care, Jenna,” Emily gave her a hug. “And just remember that if you ever need to talk I’m only a phone call away.”

Jenna returned the hug. “I won’t forget.”

“Oh and here—this is for you,” Emily handed Jenna a small folder. “A little memento of your vacation.”

Jenna opened the folder. “Oh,” was all she could say as she looked at the charcoal sketch. It was a portrait of her—in the background she could see Big Ben and the Tower of London.

Mom looked over her shoulder. “Oh sweetheart, that’s a wonderful present.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jenna said. “Thank you, Aunt Emily.”

“No—thank you for coming to see me, Jenna,” Emily said. “And if you look very closely at that sketch, you might just see a few little surprises in there.”

“What kind of surprises?” Jenna asked—she looked at the sketch, not seeing anything out of the ordinary –and then back up at Emily. “Can you give me a hint?”

Emily smiled and shook her head. “No—but I’m sure you’ll have no problem discovering the clues. Just remember that it’s something that I want you to have. Now all of you have a safe trip home.”

“We will, Emily,” Mom said. “And thank you.”

“But I just want—” Jenna started to ask another question but Dad took her arm and steered her towards the cab.

“Come on,” he told her. “We have to hurry if we’re going to make it to Gatwick by nine.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

12:00 PM GMT

“I think I see it. Or I see something, maybe—oh I don’t know.” Jenna rubbed her forehead. It could be her imagination—she’d been staring at the sketch so long that she swore her eyes must be crossed.

“What do you see?” Dad asked.

“Some letters.” Jenna pointed to one of the turrets in the Tower of London. “See? That looks like it might be a C, and then there’s an R down here on the clock tower, and in the clouds I think there’s an O, and a U and an A—”

“Yeah, I think you’ve got it.” Dad pointed to another place on the sketch near Big Ben. “And do you see what’s right down here?”

“Oh—I see it!” Jenna spoke a little more loudly than she’d meant to—attracting the attention of nearby passengers, who turned to stare. Jenna’s cheeks grew warm. Mom, who was sitting beside Dad and sound asleep, stirred slightly but didn’t awaken.

“That’s a G, isn’t it?” she asked Dad, lowering her voice slightly. “And this in the tree right here—I think that’s an F.”

Dad looked at where she was pointing and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s an F, Jenna—look a little more closely.”

Jenna did. “It’s an E. But what exactly—oh.” Something that Emily wanted her to have—she was silent for a moment.

“So do you know the answer now?” Dad asked.

Jenna nodded. “It’s courage,” Her hand shook slightly as she traced around the edges of the drawing, being careful not to smudge anything. “That’s what Aunt Emily wants me to have—isn’t it?”

“Yes it is.” Dad took her hand and squeezed it. “And it’s what your Mom and I want you to have too, munchkin.”

“Courage,” Jenna repeated the word, drawing strength from it. “I want that too.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4300 Maplewood Dr.

Arlington, VA

9:30 AM EST

She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Christy Blakeney crouched beside the bedroom door. The door was slightly open but she was well out of sight—if her dad happened to peer out he wouldn’t be able to see anyone. Christy couldn’t actually see him either but that really didn’t matter. Her main objective was to be able to hear her father's voice—and from this vantage point she could hear him quite clearly.

“I know what my objective is,” Dad was saying. “I don’t need you telling me that, Basayev—what?” There was a pause. “No, absolutely not. No changes. Either we meet at the arranged drop point or we don’t meet at all.”

Drop point? What could he be talking about? Christy was sure that if her heart pounded any harder her dad would hear it. Her hands were damp with sweat.

Dad’s voice rose slightly. “Why do I get to dictate? Because I’m the one with the goods—and if you want them we’ll do things my way or not at all. Keep annoying me, Basayev—you’ll see how fast my price goes up.” Another pause—slightly longer than the one before. Christy could feel an itch on the back of her leg. She bit her lip hard—fighting the urge to scratch it.

“Glad you see it my way,” Dad said. “I will see you later today, then? Yes, goodbye. `odikjoil.”

Christy heard the click as her father placed the phone back on its receiver. Her heart pounding, she tiptoed back to her bedroom and practically leapt onto her bed. The Jerry Lewis Telethon was on—some guy with a ventriloquist’s dummy doing funny voices. Christy stared at the screen, trying in vain to concentrate on what she was watching. His footsteps thudded down the hallway, growing steadily closer.

“Hey there, Christy.” Dad stood in the doorway, one arm propped up against the doorjamb. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, not much.” Christy tried to sound casual. “Just watching this telethon—I think that’s all they’re showing right now.’

“Boring, huh?”

Christy shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Well listen,” Dad said. “Since it’s Labor Day and all why don’t I take you and your mother over to Chincoteague? They have a great beach there—it’s not as crowded as Virginia Beach.”

‘I will see you later today,’ Christy thought. That’s what her dad had told the man on the phone—Basayev? Was that the reason he wanted them to go to Chincoteague? She wasn’t sure what she should believe.

“I don’t know, Dad,” she said slowly. “I really should get stuff ready for school tomorrow.”

“Please?” There was a pleading expression in her dad’s dark eyes. “Since I got out of prison, you know, we haven’t had a real day together—as a family. Come on, gumdrop. What do you say?”

“Well--” Christy found herself smiling as she looked at her father’s face—the woebegone expression reminded her of when she was a little girl—before everything had gone wrong. Her mother had called it his 'pleading puppy-dog face'. Very hard to resist—and this morning Christy didn’t want to.

“Okay,” she told him.

“Awesome,” Dad said. “Just get your bathing suit and everything ready—we’ll be leaving in an hour. I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.” After he left she slid down off the bed and rummaged through her bathing suits in the dressing drawer. The doubt was still there, but Christy shoved it to the back of her mind.

‘He’s my father’, she thought. ‘I love him—I want to believe him.’ As she shoved her things into a pink beach bag that thought played over and over in her mind like a broken record.

TBC

What Lies Beneath—Chapter Two

Chincoteague Island, VA

Monday, September 2, 2002

12:35 PM

A perfect day. Christy leaned back on her towel, propped up on her elbows, watching as a seagull whirled and swooped in the cloudless blue sky. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of saltwater that blew in from the ocean and trying to force herself to relax. .

It didn’t work.

“I remember when you and your father used to do that.”

Christy looked at her Mom in confusion. “Used to do what?”

“Look down there.” Christy’s eyes followed her mother’s pointing finger. A man and a little girl—no doubt father and daughter, crouched by the shore with a bucket. They were making castles, Christy realized—packing the sand into a bucket and then turning it upside down. A smile spread across her face.

“Yeah,” Christy said. “I remember doing that.”

“You were about six years old the last time we came here,” her mother’s tone was wistful. “You and your dad had cotton candy, built sandcastles and you even got to ride a pony. All that was before—”

“Before the arrest,” Christy repeated. The castle that the little girl and her dad had built was growing bigger now—they even had a moat. What they didn’t know that soon the tide would come in— destroying the castle until all that was left was a memory.

Memories. Christy’s smile faded.

“Mom?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“Do you know where dad went? He’s been gone a while.”

“To look at the art show on the boardwalk,” Mom told her. “And to get some lunch for us. Don’t worry—I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“I’m sure he will too.” Christy tried to sound confident. It was true that she hadn’t seen Dad in a while but she was pretty sure he wasn’t an art lover. And no matter how hard Christy tried she couldn’t shake that phone call from her mind. “Mom—can I ask you a personal question?”

“You can ask me anything, honey—you know that.”

“Why didn’t you leave Dad? You know, after he got arrested and all. You could’ve gotten a divorce.”

Her mother sighed. “Oh I don’t know—I certainly did think about it after he was caught embezzling all those funds from his company. You were part of the reason, I guess.”

“Part of the reason?”

“Well I knew he’d be getting out in a few years,” Mom said. “I hated the idea of leaving you in a broken home without a father. And as much as I hate to admit it, I—”

Her mother left the sentence unfinished. Overhead the seagulls squawked.

“What do you hate to admit?” Christy asked.

“That I still love him,” Mom said. “You’d think after everything that happened I wouldn’t but your Dad has a certain charm—he’s very easy to forgive.”

“That’s true,” Christy said. Mom reached over and took her hand.

“I know it won’t be easy, Chris,” she said. “But I believe your dad really wants to change this time—with a little effort we can make it work—can’t we?”

The father and daughter by the shore were still building their castle, making their towers even taller.

“Sure,” Christy said. “We can make it work.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“About time, Gambit.” Basayev spoke as he heard the soft footsteps behind him. “Do you have the goods?”

“Of course I do—everything right here.”

“Let’s have it, then—I don’t have all day.”

“What a surprise—neither do I.”

The next sounds Basayev heard were popping sounds—almost like a popcorn machine, but a popcorn machine didn’t—a searing pain spread across his back and chest, all throughout his body and he fell forward, gasping for breath. His blood stained the sidewalk, creating a small puddle and his limbs twitched convulsively. Slow measured footsteps walked around him and then stopped—Basayev looked up at the blurred face of the man who now loomed over him.

“Say goodnight,” Gambit said softly.

Another popping noise. Basayev felt a pain in his head, his body growing numb as darkness began to overtake him, robbing him of feeling altogether.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr.

7:00 PM

“Come on, Jenna,” Lee half-led, half-carried his daughter down the hall towards her bedroom. “Next time you really should try to sleep on the plane.”

“No—can’t sleep sitting up,” Jenna’s words were slightly slurred. “—take a shower?”

“You already took one,” Lee told her. “Your mom helped you get into your nightshirt—don’t you remember?”

“Sort of,” Jenna frowned. “But I think I’m kind of sleepy.”

“Yeah I think you’re right,” Lee said. “Now you just lie down and get some rest—you have a big day tomorrow.”

Lee pulled the blankets up over his daughter, tucking her in. Jenna frowned.

“I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“I know.” Lee kissed her forehead. “Good night.”

“Night Dad.” Jenna‘s eyes slowly began to close. “Don’t forget to leave the light on, okay?”

“I won’t.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“How’s my goddaughter?” Billy asked. “I hope the vacation did her some good.”

“It did.” Lee balanced the cordless against his shoulder as he transferred clothes from the suitcase to the washer. “She’s not one-hundred-percent yet, but she’s getting there.”

“Good to hear, Scarecrow.” Billy said. “Look—I know you and Amanda have two days of vacation time left but I’m going to have to ask you to cut it short—I need you first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Why?” Lee asked. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t say too much more over the phone,” Billy said. “But two agents under deep cover have been killed within the past week—it looks as though it might be the work of Gambit.”

“Gambit?” Lee asked. “But how? He hasn’t been active in years.”

“Lee if I knew the answer to that I’d have this case solved by now. This is a priority situation. I need you and Amanda on this case immediately.”

“I understand, Billy—we'll be there tomorrow morning.”

Tuesday, September 3, 2002

7:30 AM

"Gambit," Amanda repeated. "Now there's a name I hoped I'd never hear
again."

Lee sipped his coffee slowly, letting the bitter liquid slide down his
throat. "Believe me, I know."

Amanda poured pancake batter into the frying pan. "Are they sure it's
him?"

Lee nodded. "Pretty sure. The MO's the same as last time, the same
calling card left beside the bodies—"

"A chess piece," Amanda said. "I remember. Did Billy give you any more
details?"

"No, not over the phone," Lee said. "Gambit's a mercenary,
Amanda—he'll do just about anything for the highest bidder."

"And we still don't even know what he looks like." Sliding a spatula under
the pancakes, Amanda flipped them over. "Lee the last time he almost—"
Her voice caught slightly. Draining the last of his coffee, Lee rose
from the table.

"Hey," he wrapped his arms around his wife. "It isn't going to be
like the last time—this time we will catch him—I promise. As long as
we're together—"

"—we can do anything." Amanda leaned back against him.

"See? Great minds do think alike, Mrs. Stetson." Lee bent his head down, his lips brushing the side of her neck.

"And great minds are thinking that Jenna's pancakes will be burned
unless I get them out of the pan." Amanda said teasingly as
she pulled away. "Time for other things later, Stetson."

"I'll hold you to that. Where is Jenna, anyway? I haven't
seen her all morning."

"In the bathroom."

"Are you sure she's all right? She's been in there a
long time."

Amanda transferred the pancakes from the pan to a plate. "Jenna's
fine—she's just experimenting with makeup—I let her borrow some of
mine."

"Makeup?" Lee choked out the word as he poured himself a fresh cup of
coffee. "Don't you think she's just a little too young for that?"

"Lee—she's thirteen," Amanda said. "Before you know it she'll be
fourteen—"

"Don't remind me—"

"Look, if it makes you feel any better most girls her age have been
wearing makeup for over a year."

"It doesn't make me feel any better." Sitting down at the table
again, Lee grabbed the sports section. "What does she need makeup for
anyway? She's a beautiful girl without it."

"Well it's mainly to cover up the mark on her forehead."

"What—that little mosquito bite?"

"Try telling her that—Jenna's convinced it's huge," Amanda said. "And she said that she
didn't want to spend the whole first day of school looking like she had a zit, so—"

"I understand," Lee said. "I just don't know if she's ready for
that—for makeup."

"What you really mean is that you don't know if you're ready for her
to be wearing makeup." Amanda set a plate and a glass of orange juice
on the table.

"That too." Lee took another sip of coffee. In his mind he could
still see a five-year-old Jenna wearing a pink dress and matching shoes as she
skipped across the kitchen floor, backpack in hand. Had it really been
all that long ago?

"I'm going to kin'garten today, Daddy!"

"I know, munchkin."

"Dad?"

Lee looked up to see his daughter, not five years old anymore, wearing a blue shirt and jeans, staring at him with concern in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Jenna asked. "I called your name three times before
you answered."

"I'm fine." Lee looked at her face closely—he could see that there was
makeup there, but it wasn't overdone. "You look—ahh—very nice today."

Jenna smiled. "Thanks. You can't see the spot on my forehead, can you?"

"No I can't see it at all," Lee said.

"Sweetheart, sit down and eat some breakfast." Amanda said. "Are you
walking to school or is your dad taking you today?"

"I'm not sure." Sitting down at the table, Jenna began cutting
pieces of pancake with her fork. "Christy and I always planned to walk
to high school together on our first day, but that was a while ago
before— before all the stuff that happened this summer."

"I'm sure she hasn't forgotten," Amanda told her.

Jenna's face clouded. "I don't know Mom—Lisa said that she was acting
pretty strange—maybe she's not even speaking to me now."

"I doubt that," Lee said. "But if she doesn't come to walk with you
I'll take you there myself. Deal?"

"Deal," Jenna repeated.

"So, are you excited about the first day?" Lee asked.

"More nervous, I think." Jenna took a sip of orange juice "I just hope
no one asks me what happened this summer—It's just so weird—I couldn't
tell them even if I wanted to."

"Just tell them about going to England," Lee said. "I bet no one else
has done that."

"That's true—most people around here only go to places like
Williamsburg, Nags Head or King's Dominion." Jenna poured some more
syrup on her pancake pieces before taking another bite. "And I can tell them
about learning to ride a horse and about Geoff—he was really cute. And
he promised that he'd email me too."

"Yeah you could tell them about all that." Geoff, Lee could feel his insides clench at the thought. When exactly had his daughter become so boy-crazy?

"Daddy, does my dress look okay?" Jenna twirled around for effect, her
blond pigtails flying.

"You'll have the prettiest dress in kindergarten."

Lee noticed that Amanda was looking at him strangely. He opened his
mouth to ask her why when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," Amanda said.

Lee looked over at Jenna, who was staring out the window as she
finished her pancakes.

"Do you think you'll try out for the dance team this year?" he asked her.

Jenna looked at him. "I'm not sure, Dad—It's going to be a lot harder
than middle school and besides I've been out of practice."

"Still there's no harm in trying," Lee told her.

"That's true." Jenna took another sip of her orange juice.

"Sweetheart, Christy's waiting for you outside," Amanda called.

Jenna grabbed her backpack. "Better go—bye Dad—" her arms wrapped
briefly around his neck and she kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, munchkin."

SMK SMK SMK SMK

"Sorry I didn't keep in touch much this summer," Jenna said as they
crossed the road, the crossing guard urging them along. "Things got
kind of crazy."

"Believe me I understand about crazy." Christy looked at
Jenna. "I don't know if Lisa told you, but things have been kind of
crazy where I am too."

Jenna chose her words carefully. "Well she told me something was going
on—she just didn't say exactly what."

"Yeah." Christy took a deep breath. "Remember my dad?"

"Sure I remember—he had that bus and he gave all the kids rides to
your parties and all." All that had been before they
were seven—before Mr. Blakeney had gone to prison for something— and
after that Christy hadn't said very much. "What about him?"

"He's out of prison—early parole for good behavior."

"Oh Christy, that's great!" Jenna said. Christy didn't respond at
first, looking away from Jenna and down at her feet. "Not great?"

"See that's just it, I don't know." Christy said. "I mean, I want to
be happy about it—I want us to be a family again with everything like it was before.
But I keep getting suspicious—I think maybe he's up to something but
maybe I'm just imagining it. You know?"

"Yeah, I know." More than I can say, Jenna silently added.
Aloud she said. "Maybe you're just worried that it will happen all
over again and he'll leave you and your Mom. That's natural."

A long silence. "Yeah, that's probably it," Christy finally said. "At
least I'm going to give him the benefit of a doubt."

They were nearing the high school. Jenna could see lots of other
people walking, chatting—so far she hadn't seen anyone else she knew
yet—most of these kids looked older—juniors at least. The sound of a
car's horn honking startled her.

"Yo—foxy freshmen!" a guy in a red convertible called out. Jenna
looked away, pretty sure that her face was bright red at this point.

"Creep," Christy muttered. "So—now we're freshmen. You ready for this?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

TBC

What Lies Beneath—Chapter Three

Q-Bureau

Tuesday, September 3, 2002

9:30 AM

“Ramzan Maskhadov.” Billy handed file folders to both Lee and Amanda. “Convicted of money laundering in 1996 and was serving time in the Alderson Federal Prison Camp before his death this July. He’s believed to have had close ties with the Chechen separatists.”

“What does any of this have to do with Gambit?” Lee asked.

“We believe that Maskhadov made contact with Gambit and slipped him some information,” Billy said. “We’re not sure of the nature of the information but we believe that it probably had something to do with assisting the rebels in launching attacks against Russian and American interests abroad. Gambit was supposed to pass the information on to them as soon as he was released.”

“And instead he decided to sell the information to anyone willing to pay,” Lee said.

Billy nodded. “It fits with Gambit perfectly. And the fact that he was a fellow prisoner explains why he’s been inactive for so long.”

“Do we know who he is?” Amanda asked.

“Not yet.” Billy said. “Our agents never had any face-to-face contact with him before their deaths.”

Lee flipped through the folder. “Have there been any leads?”

“A few,” Billy said. “We’re looking into all the released prisoners who may have had contact with Maskhadov—so far we’ve narrowed it down to thirty persons of interest—that list is in your folder.”

“I’ll run a background check on all these names, sir.” Amanda scanned the list as she spoke. “Hopefully that’ll help us to narrow it down.”

“Good idea,” Billy said. “I also want you to talk to Maskhadov’s widow. It’s a stretch, but she may have some information on Gambit. We’re running against the clock here—the objective is to identify and locate him as quickly as possible. Other governments and organizations would love to get their hands on this information and we can’t afford to let it fall into the wrong hands. Is there a problem, Amanda?”

Amanda’s face was pale as she looked back up at Billy. “No sir,” she said quickly. “There’s nothing wrong—we’ll get to work on that right away.”

“See that you do,” Billy said. “Lord only knows who Gambit might give those plans to unless we can retrieve them first.” He left the office –the Q-Bureau door swinging shut. Lee turned to Amanda.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked her. “For a moment there you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

“Well in a way I did.” Amanda handed him the piece of paper. “Look at this.”

Lee scanned the list. “Just tell me what am I supposed to be looking for –Oh my—” his voice faded away.

“That’s just what I thought,” Amanda said.

“Peter Blakeney.” Lee shook his head bemusedly. “When the hell did he get out?”

Amanda didn’t look up from the computer screen. “According to this he was released on the first of August.”

“That must have been what was upsetting Christy,” Lee said. “He does fit the timetable. We’ve got to look into it.”

“You never did like him, Lee.”

“No I never did,” Lee replied. “I always thought he was slick, Amanda—a con man—but that’s a far cry from being a cold-blooded killer like Gambit. Still—we have to look into every possibility.”

“And if he does turn out to be Gambit?” Amanda wondered. “What will we tell Jenna?”

Lee ran his hands back through his hair. “If he does, we’ll deal with that when we come to it. In the meantime we need to keep Jenna as far away from this as possible.”

“He’s Christy’s father,” Amanda said. “Christy is one of Jenna’s closest friends—keeping her away might be a little difficult.”

“I don’t care, Amanda. If Peter Blakeney turns out to be Gambit it could be very dangerous for Jenna—she’s still not completely recovered.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Amanda said. “I just don’t know how we’re going to keep her away.”

“We’ll think of something—we have to.”

Standing up from her desk, Amanda walked over to him. “There are quite a few names on that list, Lee.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe Christy’s father is completely innocent.”

Lee ran his hand up and down Amanda’s arm before pulling his wife close. “I certainly hope so,” he said. “Because right now I have a really bad feeling about this.”

Yorktown High School

Tuesday, September 3, 2002

12:35 PM

“This stinks,” Lisa plopped her tray onto the table as she sat down. “Practically the only thing we have together is lunch.”

“Well we knew it was going to be this way,” Jenna sat down beside Lisa, one foot tucked under her leg. “I mean Christy and I are mostly college prep and you have all those AP science and math courses.”

“You make me sound like some sort of freak,” Lisa said. “Don’t forget that you have AP English with Mrs. Watson and Christy has AP Biology.”

“Yeah, but that’s only one course apiece,” Jenna teased. “We’re not the ones with the big giant math brains, are we?”

“Keep talking, Jenna Leigh—if you want to be wearing some of this salad.”

“Yeah maybe, but then your big giant head might be wearing my pizza.”

“You two need to stop, seriously.” Christy sat down at the table. “Do you know that you sound like freshmen or something?”

“Since we are freshman I’ll take that as a compliment,” Lisa turned to Christy. “Are you okay? How’s everything at home?”

“About the same I guess,” Christy shrugged. “Mostly I try not to think about everything that might go wrong.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lisa said. “Your dad’s home now, Christy. I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything to screw that up. So no more worries. Right, Jenna?”

“Right,” Jenna said.

“Ooooh look, here they are.” Terri Morgan’s nasal voice carried throughout the entire cafeteria. “All the little losers at the same table.”

Jenna looked at Terri standing there, a supercilious smile pasted onto her face. Next to her stood a boy—he was tall and looked older. His dark hair was wavy and slightly tousled and his eyes were a startling bright blue. He looked at her and smiled—with chagrin Jenna realized that she’d been staring. She looked away and down at the tabletop.

“Look, Terri—if you don’t have anything else to say you can just leave,” Lisa said.

“I’ll leave when I want to leave.” Terri wore a frozen smile but Jenna could see a flash of anger in her eyes. “I want you all to meet Brad, my boyfriend. He’s a Junior this year.”

“Yeah—he’s just lovely,” Christy flashed Terri an insincere smile.

“Nice to meet you—” Brad began to speak but Terri interrupted him.

“Brad, I’d like you to meet Lisa, your basic geek.” Terri pointed as she spoke. “And this blond girl here is Jenna—her main claim to fame is that she was kidnapped once a while back.”

Jenna’s cheeks burned—she kept her eyes fixed to the tabletop, not trusting herself to look Terri in the face.. .

“Really?” Brad asked. “You were kidnapped?”

Jenna nodded.

“And this is Christy,” Terri said. “And her dad was what we call a jail—”

That did it. Jenna stood up. “And Terri is the girl who wet her pants in front of the whole class in second grade.” Lisa tugged at her arm but Jenna ignored it. “Aren’t you, Terri?”

Terri’s pressed her lips together tightly. There were two bright spots of color in her cheeks. Without saying another word she simply turned and marched away, dragging Brad behind.

“Why’d you do that?” Lisa asked. “You know she’ll make you pay.”

“I don’t know.” Jenna sat back down. She bit into her pizza, trying to frame her thoughts into words. “I guess it’s because she just doesn’t scare me the way she used to, you know?”

Christy shook her head in amazement. “What happened to you this summer? Last year you’d never would’ve even thought of doing that and now—”

Jenna smiled.

“Maybe I just got stronger,” she said.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

3:39 PM

“You sure your dad’s picking you up?” Christy said. “I thought we were walking home together.”

“I thought so too,” Jenna said. “But he called me earlier and said that he’d pick me up.”

“Is he taking you somewhere special after school?”

“He could be,” Jenna said. “Or maybe there’s something else—like—” But she couldn’t tell that to anyone else, not ever.

Christy’s expression was confused. “Like what?”

“Nothing,” Jenna told her. “It isn’t important.” She checked her wristwatch—a quarter to four. He was late. Was the Corvette even in the car line? Jenna stepped off the curb to look—

“Watch out!”

The shout came from behind—before Jenna had a chance to do anything a pair of strong arms grabbed her, lifting her off the ground—

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“Thank God,” the voice was saying. “If that car had hit you—”

It was a guy’s voice, Jenna realized—it sounded vaguely familiar. But why was he talking to her?

“Jenna?” The next voice belonged to Christy. A hand patted Jenna’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m fine,” Jenna managed to say at last. “What happened?”

“You stepped out into the path of a car,” Christy’s face came into focus as Jenna’s vision started to clear.“Brad grabbed you and pulled you back and then I don’t know—you kind of zoned out or something.”

“Sorry,” Jenna said. She looked up, her gaze going from Christy to Brad. Sudden tears pricked her eyes. “I really didn’t mean to do that—I think I was just a little surprised.” Jenna tried to stand, but her legs were too wobbly and she fell back onto the pavement.

“Hey I’m just glad you didn’t get hit,” Brad said. “Sorry if I scared you—let me help you up.” He extended his hand. Jenna was about to reach out to take his hand when she saw her dad. He wasn’t looking at her, though. Dad was facing Brad, almost nose to nose, his hands clenched into fists.

3:50 PM

“Anyone want to tell me what happened here?” Dad’s voice sounded calm, but Jenna could feel the anger in his words.

“Why?” Brad asked. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh yeah,” Dad said. “There’s definitely a problem. Now tell me what happened.”

“Hello,” Jenna said—surprised by how faint her voice sounded.

No one paid any attention to her. For one bizarre moment Jenna wondered if she had become invisible. She looked up at her father and Brad. Their noses were almost touching as their eyes bored into one another—reminding her of the staring competitions that she used to have with her friends. The only difference Jenna could see was that those competitions usually ended in laughter.

This time no one was laughing.

Dad’s hands were still curled into fists. Jenna saw Brad’s hands clenching too.

“You want me to tell you what happened here?” Brad said.

“Hello.” Jenna tried again, louder this time.

“What I want,” Dad said, “Is for you to tell me just what you did to her.”

“I just pulled her out of the way of a speeding car,” Brad said. “If that’s any of your business—and just who are you anyway?”

“Um--Brad you might not want to—” Christy said.

“Well who I am is her father,” Dad said. “So it is my business. And you are?”

“Brad Mathews.”

“Hey!” A shout finally got their attention— Both Brad and her father turned and stared at her. Now that she had their attention Jenna made yet another attempt to stand. Her legs still wobbled slightly, but not quite as much as they had before. Dad’s hand grabbed her own—he helped to pull her to a standing position.

“You all right?” Dad asked. The same eyes that had been filled with anger only a minute ago were now filled with concern. “When I saw you on the ground I thought—”

“I know,” Jenna said. “But I’m fine. He—Brad, I mean—he saved me. He really did. Please don’t fight.”

Dad looked at Brad. “I guess I owe you an apology. Thank you.”

Brad nodded stiffly. “You’re welcome—just glad she’s all right.”

There was an awkward silence as everyone stood there for a moment. Jenna felt like she should say something else but nothing was coming into her head. The sudden sound of honking horns broke the silence, startling her.

“Ahh—we should probably get going,” Dad told Jenna. “I’m holding up the car line.”

“Okay,” Jenna said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Christy.”

Christy nodded. “Tomorrow.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“What possessed you to step in front of a car anyway?” Dad asked.

“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose or something,” Jenna said. “You were a little late and I was trying to see if I could find your car.”

“Yeah,” Dad said. “I’m sorry about that, munchkin, work kept me a little late. I’m also sorry that I overreacted, but when I saw that boy standing over you I thought he might have—” they pulled up to a stoplight and he looked over at her. “I guess I’m just still a little overprotective.”

“Dad I understand,” Jenna said. “It’s really okay.”

‘A Thousand Miles’ was playing on the radio—one of her favorite songs. Jenna felt like turning it up but Dad was still talking.

“Now about the car that almost hit you,” he asked. “Can you describe it? Did they even slow down or did they just keep going?”

“I think they might have just kept going”

Dad turned left onto Glebe Road. “You think? Don’t you remember?”

“It was all just kind of a blur.” Jenna hedged, hoping that would satisfy him.

“Do you remember anything at all about the car? Make, model—color, even?”

“Not—” There really was no easy way out of this—Jenna was going to have to tell him the truth. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” Dad repeated.

“What I remember is stepping out to check for your car and then Brad shouted and grabbed me from behind.”

They turned onto Maplewood. “And then?” Dad asked her.

“The next thing I remember is Christy and Brad asking me if I was okay.”

They pulled to a stop in the driveway.

“So what happened between that? Did you faint?” Dad asked.

Jenna took a deep breath. “Not exactly.”

Dad groaned. “Jenna just tell me exactly what you did do.”

“Well Christy said that I sort of zoned-out.”

“And what does ‘sort of zoned-out’ mean?”

“That my eyes were open but I wouldn’t talk to anyone,” Jenna said. “But I’m fine now—I promise.”

Dad shook his head. “It doesn’t sound fine to me. Maybe you should take the day off tomorrow and we can take you to the hospital—run a few tests and see what’s going on.”

“I don’t want any tests,” Jenna told him. “I hate tests and I hate hospitals. You hate hospitals too—”

“I never used the word hate—”

“You said they were weird and creepy. You’ve always said that. Do you want me to go to a weird and creepy place?”

Dad ran both hands through his hair. “Do you have to quote me so exactly?”

“I don’t want to go and I don’t need to.”

“But munchkin—”

“Dad please don’t make me. Please?”

“Let’s compromise,” Dad said. “This is the deal. When we get in we’ll call Dr. Kelford and Dr. Pfaff and see what they have to say. If they don’t think that you need to go to the hospital then I won’t make you go. Okay?”

“I get to talk to them too, though—right?”

Dad sighed. “Yes, you get to talk to them too. Is that a deal?”

Jenna smiled. “It’s a deal.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4300 Maplewood Drive

4:30 PM

The first thing that Christy heard as she put her keys into the lock was the sound of raised voices. She paused for a moment.

“I want those discs, Blakeney.”

The man’s voice was unfamiliar and heavily accented. Russian? Christy wasn’t sure. Carefully she withdrew the key from the lock and knelt down, pressing her ear against the door.

“I told you, you’ll have the chance to bid for the information just like anyone else.” Her dad’s voice. “I must warn you, though—the price is getting steep.”

“Maybe I don’t pay at all.” The tone of the other man’s voice sent a shiver through Christy’s body. “Eh? Maybe I take what I want—right here and now. I’m not a man who’s used to waiting.”

A long silence. Christy’s right knee was beginning to shake uncontrollably—she prayed that no one would be able to hear it. .

“Oh I wouldn’t threaten me if I were you, Ustinoff,” Dad said. “Those who have tried to cross me in the past have regretted it. Are you in the bidding?”

“We are in, Blakeney—for now.”

“Then we have nothing more to say to each other.” Dad said. “Oh and leave out the back way, Ustinoff—this is a decent neighborhood and I don’t want you to be seen.”

Another long silence. Christy heard the back door slam. Briefly she closed her eyes.

‘Oh dad,’ she thought. ‘What are you doing this time?’

Just act normal. Christy rose, gathering her books in her hands. Once more she tried to insert the key in the lock once more but her hands were shaking so much that it wouldn’t fit properly. The front door opened suddenly—startled, she jumped back with a little squeak. Her dad stood there, smiling.

“I thought that was you, gumdrop,” he said. “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

Christy shook her head. “I wasn’t scared—just surprised.”

“Where’s your little friend Jenna?” Dad asked. “I thought she was walking home with you.”

“No, her Dad picked her up.”

Dad’s smile widened. “That’s okay—it just means there’s more for us.”

Christy stared at her dad in confusion. “More what for us?”

“Well your mom’s out shopping so I made us some donut holes. I thought we could eat them while I help you with your homework—you know—like we used to when you were little.”

Christy just kept staring at him, thoughts racing through her head:

‘Who was the man you were talking to?’

‘Just what are you mixed up in?’

All those questions—but Christy didn’t ask them—there was a part of her didn’t want to know the answers. And Dad was smiling at her—a contagious smile that made her want to smile back.

Dad was a nice guy—he wouldn’t be involved in anything bad. He couldn’t be.

“Sure, Dad.” Christy told him. “Donut holes would be great.”

TBC

What Lies Beneath-Chapter Four

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Tuesday, September 3, 2002

8:30 PM

"A Dissociative episode." Lee sat on the edge of the bed, his forearms
resting on his knees. "That's what Dr. Pfaff called it."

"All right," Amanda said. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

"That the shock of being grabbed from behind so suddenly caused her to
flashback, panic and basically have a mental blackout."

"Is there anything that we can do about it?"

"Yes." Lee ran his hand over his face. "He said that if we give her
the tools for coping with the situation she'll be less likely to
blackout in the future."

"Well that's good, isn't it? We were planning on teaching her more
self –defense skills anyway." Lee was silent and Amanda touched his
arm. "Lee—tell me what's wrong."

"Jenna let me stay in the room while she talked to Pfaff. She told
him that while she was in England she'd had a bad nightmare."

"About Rudolpho?"

Lee shook his head. "No, this one was about Gary Johnston. Jenna told
him that she woke up and talked to Emily about it--after that she was
fine."

"She never told me," Amanda said.

"She didn't tell me either, Amanda—when Pfaff asked her why she said
that she didn't want to make us worry." Lee took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. . "It just makes me wonder."

"Wonder about what?"

"About how much of Jenna's recovery is real—whether she's really
getting better or just pretending for us because she's afraid of being
a burden."

"I really don't think that's what she's doing," Amanda said "I mean we
know that she has your habit of trying to solve her problems by
herself but she has improved—we've seen it ourselves."

"How much has she improved when she's still having nightmares about
Johnston?" Lee's fist clenched. "That bastard was the start of all
of this, Amanda—instead of behind bars he ought to be six feet under
with the rest of his lousy family."

"I know how you feel," Amanda said. "And believe me, if I could go
back in time and stop him—stop any of this from happening-- I would. But I
can't."

"I had just hoped the vacation would—"

"What? Fix everything? The vacation was a start, Lee. It wasn't going
to make everything all right—we knew this was going to be a long road
back."

"I understand--it just feels to me that for every three steps forward
we're taking two steps back."

Amanda's hand slipped inside his. "That's still one step ahead," she
reminded him. "We're going to get there—we'll do it together."

Lee squeezed his wife's hand and then pulled her against him, her head
resting against his chest. "Together."

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4300 Maplewood Dr.

8:45 PM

"I know you're hiding something. Just tell me what it is!"

Christy lay on her stomach on the bed, staring at the first question
in the AP Biology textbook. There it was--the words in black and
white, but her brain simply refused to give her the answer:

1. Explain the transport of water and nutrients through plants.

Maybe, Christy thought, maybe if she just stared at the words hard
enough everything else would go away.

"Do you have to question me all the time?" her father said. "Christ,
Kathryn—would it be too much to ask for a little trust from you? Huh?"

"And would it be too much for me to expect you to tell me the truth?"
her mother's voice shook. "I stuck with you through all of this,
Peter. Remember that--a lot of women wouldn't have."

"Why did you stick by me, anyway? So you could hold this
self-righteous martyr crap over my head for the rest of our lives?"

"Just tell me what's in the briefcase and I'll leave you alone."

"It doesn't concern you."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." Christy whispered the words to herself
like a magic charm, trying to make everything go away. It didn't work.

"Fine—if you don't tell me what's in the briefcase then I'll just have
a look for myself."

"Don't."

His tone made Christy shiver—she'd never heard her dad sound that
cold or angry before.

"I'm going to, Peter—you can't stop me this time."

"I'm warning you—"

The thud caused the whole house to shake. Christy's hand started to
shake too—the pen she'd been holding fell to her bedspread.

Nothing. No sounds, no voices. The silence was almost as bad as the
noise. Images of what might have happened went through Christy's head.

Enough imagining—she should go downstairs and see for herself.

Why wouldn't her legs move?

"I'm so sorry." Dad's voice. "You've got to believe me, I never meant—"

More silence. Christy picked up her pen again but now her fingers
were numb.

"I love you," Dad was saying. "And I promise I'll explain all of
this—just not now." More voices, the tones muffled now but less
angry-sounding. Christy let her body relax. Parents had fights, she
reasoned.

Maybe after this everything would be okay.

Footsteps came up the stairs, slow and measured. Christy watched as a
shadow moved along the hallway. Her mother's shadow.

"Sweetheart?"

She stood in the doorway. Her clothes were disheveled and one hand
cupped the side of her face protectively.

"Are you all right?" her mother asked.

Christy paused. "Sure," she managed to say. "I'm okay."

Her mother smiled and entered the room, sitting on the edge of
Christy's bed. "What are you doing?"

"Homework."

"On the first night?"

"Mrs. Kramer says that more should be expected from AP students."
Christy told her.

Her mother rolled her eyes and grinned. "Yeah, I remember teachers
like that," she said. "Christy, your father and I are fine—we were just
having a discussion. I hope we didn't frighten you."

"You didn't," Christy said. "I mean, I guess I was a little worried,
but everything's okay now—right?"

"Right." Mom kissed her forehead. "Now finish your homework and get
to bed, huh? I don't want you to stay up too late."

"I won't," Christy said. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

When Mom had left Christy closed her eyes briefly.

Everything is okay, she told herself. Everything is fine.

Would there ever come a point when she'd start to believe that it really was?

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Yorktown High School

Wednesday, September 4, 2002

8:00 AM

“Dad you didn’t have to take me to school this morning,” Jenna said as they pulled up in front of the building. “I could’ve walked with somebody.”

“But I don’t mind taking you,” Dad said. “And besides, this car is still considered cool, right?”

“Yes, it’s still considered cool. Even if it is ancient—I mean classic,” she said hastily as she saw the expression on her father’s face. “Classic is what I meant to say.”

Dad smiled. “Classic is better, yeah,” he said. “Did you have a good night last night?”

“Yes.”

“No nightmares or anything?”

“No nightmares,” Jenna said. “Really—I’m okay.”

“I know you are.” Dad pulled her into a hug, kissing her briefly on the forehead.

“I love you munchkin—have a great day.”

“I will—love you too, Dad.” Jenna hugged him back and then got out of the car, throwing her backpack over one shoulder.

“Don’t forget I’m picking you up after school too, right?”

“I won’t forget.”

“And just remember that if you need me or your mom—”

“You’re only a phone call away—I know.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“I don’t think your dad’s ever going to let you walk home again,” Lisa shut her locker.

“He just worries, that’s all.” Jenna opened her locker, putting all but her English book inside.

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “Overprotective much?”

“It’s really not that bad, Lisa. What happened yesterday scared him, that’s all.”

“What exactly did happen?” Lisa asked. “I tried to call Christy on her cell last night to get the dirt but she wasn’t in the mood for talking.”

“Family problems?”

“Has to be. You know Christy—she’s usually all talk, all the time. Now enough changing the subject, Jenna—spill the beans.”

“Okay. But it’s not very exciting.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“Look, all I basically did was step off the curb to look for my dad’s car in the line and Brad grabbed me before a car ran me over.”

“Wait a minute—Brad?” Lisa’s eyes were wide. “The cute guy we met yesterday—Terri’s Brad?” Jenna nodded. “So what happened next?”

“I don’t remember exactly,” Jenna told her.

“Christy and Brad said that I zoned out—that I was in some kind of shock and wouldn’t talk to them for a couple of minutes.”

“Wow—like that soap opera we saw where that girl went all cataplexic?”

“You mean catatonic.”

“Yeah that—you know on second thought I don’t really blame your dad for freaking out. Was he really upset?”

“A little. I mean, when he saw me on the ground with Brad standing over me—he misunderstood and nearly got in a fight with him until I explained about what Brad did.”

“You lead an exciting life, Jenna Stetson. I wish I had cute guys coming to rescue me.”

“Come on, it wasn’t really like that.”

“Oh yeah? Try telling that to her.” Lisa motioned across the hall to where Terri stood, hands on hips, her blue eyes glaring daggers in Jenna’s direction.

“I’m not bothered by her.” Jenna said.

“You really did get brave over the summer.”

Before Jenna could reply Christy pushed past them, heading straight towards her locker.“You okay, Christy?” Jenna asked. “You were nearly late.”

“Sorry about that.” Christy mumbled. She dialed her combination.

“Everything okay?” Lisa asked.

“Fine—I’m just tired.” Christy’s voice was barely audible as she grabbed the books she needed and slammed her locker shut. From this angle Jenna could see that her friend’s face was pale, with dark hollows under her eyes.

“If there’s anything we can do to help just let us know, okay?” Jenna told her.

“Thanks,” Christy said, “but you can’t do anything. See you later, all right?”

Jenna and Lisa stood, watching as their friend disappeared down the hallway.

“I wish there was some way that we could help,” Jenna said.

Lisa sighed. “You and me both.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Q-Bureau 2:15 PM

Amanda shrieked as she felt the shock of icy metal at the nape of her neck. Turning around, she looked directly into the smiling face of her husband.

“I know, you hate it when I do that.” Lee handed her a white cardboard carton and a soda can. “Here—I picked up a late lunch for both of us.”

“Thanks.” Absently she placed the container and the can beside her on the desk, her dark eyes still fastened on the computer screen.

“How are the background checks coming along? Any luck?”

Amanda sighed. “Yes, unfortunately.”

“How do you mean unfortunately?”

“Well right now everything points to one man—he was the one who spent the most time with Maskhadov—they were even
cellmates at one point. He’s the most likely person to have received the information. Want to guess who that is?”

“Peter Blakeney?”

“I wish it wasn’t,” Amanda said. “Lee, this is going to destroy that family. Mrs. Blakeney is a friend of mine—we’re on
the PTA together and Christy and Jenna have played together since they were toddlers. Have you thought about what we’ll be doing to them?”

“Amanda if this man is actually Gambit he’s destroying his own family—we’re not doing it.”

“I guess you’re right. I know you’re right—I just wish it didn’t have to be someone we know.”

“I understand,” Lee said. “So—now that we have a prime suspect it’s standard procedure. Right?”

Amanda nodded wearily. “Francine will place Peter and his family under 24-hour surveillance and we’ll issue a
wiretap—if anyone tries to make contact with him we’ll catch it.”

“And I meant what I said earlier—Jenna doesn’t come within a hundred yards of that man or that house.”

“But how are we going to keep her away? What do we tell her?”

Lee ran his hand back through his hair. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “We’ll think of something, because she’s not going to become a pawn in one of Gambit’s games. That man is ruthless—there’s nothing that he wouldn’t stoop to in order to achieve his ends.”

Ruthless. At her husband’s words a slight chill went through Amanda’s body. She shivered.

“Cold?” Lee asked her.

“Remember that bad feeling you said you had earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“Well now I think I have it too.”

“Don’t worry.” Lee’s hand rested on her shoulder. “We’ll get him this time, Amanda—I promise you.”

TBC

What Lies Beneath-Chapter Five

4300 Maplewood Dr.

Wednesday, September 4, 2002

3:00 PM

His cell phone rang a third time before Peter picked it up. He flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Hello, lover.”

“You better have a damn good reason for calling me, Elana—suppose my wife had been here?”

A throaty laugh. “Then I would’ve been a wrong number—remember, you’re not exactly speaking to a novice in these matters.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that fact.”

“Where is Mrs. Blakeney this afternoon?”

“She’s visiting her sister. Just tell me why you’ve called. What’s the emergency?”

“A federal agent phoned me today—A Mr. Stetson. He’s coming here tomorrow to ask me some questions.”

“Stetson? Well well,” Peter murmured. “That is a surprise.”

“You know him?”

“Let’s just say that we have mutual acquaintances. I still don’t see what the emergency is—unless you were planning on spilling the beans.”

“No of course not.” Elana’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke. “That would be foolish, wouldn’t it?”

“You have no idea how foolish, Elana.”

“But think about it—if they start checking into our background they’re bound to find out about my connection with you.
They probably already know of your connection to my late husband—Peter this could all unravel right before—”

“Don’t worry—I’ll deal with it.”

“How?”

“Mr. Stetson has what we call an—exploitable weakness.”

“What sort of weakness?”

Peter Blakeney picked up a picture from a nearby end table—Christy and Jenna in their softball uniforms, making faces for the camera. He smiled and stared at the photo—a delicious idea starting to take shape in his mind. “Leave it to me,” Peter said. “Once I’m through with Mr. Stetson I promise you—he’ll no longer be a threat to us. He’ll no longer be a threat to anyone.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4300 Maplewood Dr.

6:30 PM

Christy sighed. “Jenna I know what I said before about my dad—the truth is I still don’t know anything more than I did then.” Not strictly true, but with her dad in the house she really couldn’t risk saying anything more. Her head was starting to throb slightly. Christy rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, making small circles.

“Talking about your problems might help.”

“We don’t all need therapists.” Christy spoke more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m sorry, Jenna—I didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” Jenna said.

“It’s just that things are kind of stressful right now—talking about it is hard.” Christy could hear the thud of feet coming up the stairs. “That’s my dad—better go—I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Later,” Jenna said. “Take care, Christy.”

“Yeah, you too.” Christy hung up her cordless when Dad entered the room.

“Busy?” he asked.

Christy pointed to the sheet of paper in her notebook. “Almost finished—this is the last thing.”

Dad picked up the notebook. “Hmmm…good work. Was that your friend Jenna on the phone just now?”

Christy nodded.

“You know, you really ought to invite her for dinner some night,” Dad told her. “I can’t believe how much you’ve both grown—last time I saw Jenna she was a skinny little blond thing.”

“Yeah, well Jenna’s still skinny—but she’s taller and her hair’s a little darker.”

“What does she need a therapist for?” Her dad’s question caused Christy to look up. . “Sorry.” he smiled sheepishly. “I guess I couldn’t help overhearing some of your conversation.”

“Well it’s kind of a long story,” Christy said. “But over a year ago she was kidnapped—actually it’s been almost two years now.”

“Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that.” Dad said. “What happened?”

“It was a councilman, Gary something—he killed his own daughter and kidnapped Jenna to replace her,” Christy said. “I don’t know what he did to her exactly, but after she was rescued she spent some time in the hospital and when she came home she had to stay in bed and rest.”

“And she sees a therapist?”

Christy nodded. “Jenna still has nightmares, flashbacks—freaks out if anyone grabs her —so she sees a therapist about every two weeks."

"What do you mean, she freaks out?" Dad asked. "You mean she screams?"

"Not exactly."

"What, then?"

"Well today someone grabbed her from behind she just froze and kind of went blank--I really don't know how else to describe--Dad, what is it?" Christy asked, noting the strange expression on his face.

“Nothing,” Dad told her. The expression was gone now—maybe Christy had imagined it. “Let’s go downstairs and eat—I’m not the cook your mother is, but I managed to whip something up for us.”

“Sounds good,” Christy said. “But Dad—mom will be home soon, won’t she?”

“Sure she will. She just needed to spend some time with your Aunt Marie.” He ruffled her hair. “No more worries, gumdrop. I promise you—everything will work out just fine for us.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr

10:30 PM

“You’re up awfully late.” Jenna looked up from her notebook to see her dad standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry—I hope I didn’t disturb you or mom,” she said. Dad came into her room, sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Your mom and I are fine,” he told her. “We were worried about you.”

“Dad, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Are you still doing homework?”

“Sort of but not really.” Jenna carefully tore the page from the notebook, folding it in half. “Dr. Pfaff wants me to have a list when I come to see him after school tomorrow.”

“What kind of list?”

Jenna shrugged, looking down at her bedspread. “It’s just a list of some things that still bother and scare me—Dr. Pfaff says that we can go through them and that he can help me deal with them.”

“Can I read it?”

“Are you sure you want to?” Jenna asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I just don’t want anything to—”

“To what?” Dad asked. “To worry me? Is that it?”

Jenna bit her lower lip. “Basically.”

“Jenna look at me—I care about you— and if anything frightens or bothers you I need to know so I can help. You don’t have to face your fears all alone.”

“I know that,” Jenna said. “It—it just feels like this has been going on forever. “

“Oh believe me—I know how you feel. But recovery takes time. I wish it could happen overnight, but it doesn’t.”

“I know.”

“So can I read the list?”

Jenna placed the folded paper in his palm. “Here.”

Dad unfolded the paper. For a few moments he just looked at it, saying nothing. Then he carefully folded it back up, handing it back to Jenna.

“So? What do you think?” Jenna asked anxiously.

“It’s a good list,” Dad said. “But up until now I didn’t know how much of that stuff was still bothering you.”

“It’s not all that much. I mean, most of the time I’m really okay, it’s just sometimes when things get bad…” her voice trailed off—she wasn’t sure what else she could say. Tears pricked her eyes.

Dad took her hands in his. “You’ll be just fine,” he told her. “Just remember—we’re in this together—you, me, your mom, your grandma, your brothers—everyone. You’re never alone, Jenna Stetson. You hear me?”

“I hear you.,” Jenna said.

Dad pulled her into a quick hug. “Good,” he said. “Get some rest now, okay? It’s late. Night munchkin.” He paused. “I love you.”

Jenna smiled. “Love you too, Dad. Goodnight.”

Thursday, September 5, 2002

10:00 AM

The attic felt hot and close; the air was almost suffocating. Dark too—the bucket of paint he’d found in the garage had come in handy—from outside no one would be able to see a thing. Thick insulation had rendered the room nearly soundproof. A person could scream until their voice was hoarse, he thought—and no one would hear a thing. It was perfect. Sweat ran down Peter’s face as he secured the manacles to the wall with metal plates, singing snatches of the tune that kept running through his head. “I’ve got a beautiful feeling, everything’s going my way-ay…”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Q-Bureau

2:30 PM

“Elana Maskhadov was a dead end,” Lee said. “She told me that she knew Ramzan was involved in helping the Chechen Rebels but that he never gave her details—apparently he figured it was safer that way.”

“You believe her?” Amanda asked.

Lee sat on the edge of his desk. “I’m not sure—she seemed calm but there was something—I just couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t telling me the whole truth.”

“But what would be her motive for lying?” Amanda’s eyes widened. “Unless she’s working with Gambit to sell her husband’s secrets.”

“Exactly. It certainly fits his style,” Lee said. “Run a background on her, Amanda—I’d be willing to bet there’s a connection to Peter Blakeney in there somewhere.”

“That reminds me—Jenna phoned earlier.” Amanda’s fingers tapped the keys as she spoke. “Christy invited her over to her house for dinner.”

“Amanda you didn’t—”

“Relax—I told her no. I just felt bad that I couldn’t give her a real reason, that’s all. ‘ Just because’ doesn’t exactly satisfy a curious teenager, does it?”

Lee shook his head. “Not our teenager, that’s for sure.” His fist clenched and he hit his knee with sudden vehemence. “How does she do it, Amanda? How does she manage to find trouble wherever she goes?”

“It’s not exactly her fault.”

“I’m not saying it is—I just—” Lee’s voice trailed off.

“What is it?” Amanda asked.

“I just worry that Jenna will get into a situation where we can’t protect her,” Lee said. “And she won’t be able to protect herself either—not if she freezes up like she did on Monday.”

“Lee—”

“I’ve tried teaching her some very basic self-defense, but if she panics and zones-out it’s no good.”

“Well you’ve talked about teaching her more.” Amanda said. “We both have."

"Yeah."

"So, maybe it’s about time we stopped talking and started teaching."

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Yorktown High School

3:30 PM

“It doesn’t make any sense to me,” Christy slammed her locker shut and shouldered her backpack. “Your mom’s always let you come over before—it’s not like anything’s changed. My dad was really hurt when I told him you weren’t coming.”

“Christy I don’t know what else to tell you,” Jenna said. “It’s not like I made the decision myself.”

“Didn’t you at least ask why? And don’t say it’s your doctor’s appointment because you could always come over after. I can’t believe you didn’t ask.”

Jenna was not a short girl by any means, but she had to practically run to keep up with her friend’s long strides. “Of course I asked why. But all mom said was ‘just because’.”

“Just because? That doesn’t sound like your mom at all. Are you sure there’s not some other reason?”

“Don’t be silly. What other reason would there be?”

Christy pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, handing it to Jenna. “Maybe this? I got it in art class.”

“What is—” Jenna unfolded the paper, looking at the drawing of a man in a black and white prison garb, standing next to a blond girl in matching garb, a girl who was obviously supposed to be Christy. Underneath the drawing someone had written the word ‘Jailbird’s Daughter’ in bubble letters. “Christy I didn’t draw this,” Jenna said. “I can’t even believe that you’d think I would.”

“Terri drew it.” Christy’s voice shook. “I know that much—but that’s the only thing that’s changed. Don’t you see? That has to be the reason that you can’t come to dinner.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh don’t I? That’s okay, Jenna.” Tears glistened in Christy’s eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to come anyway—my family’s apparently not good enough for your family. The only reason you’re hanging out with me today is that Lisa’s sick. She’s your real best friend, right?”

“Christy, I—” Jenna started to tell Christy how unreasonable she was being but her friend had already whirled around and marched down the hall. “Wait!” Jenna yelled out. Other students stared but she didn’t care. Jenna followed Christy out through the front doors, narrowly avoiding being smacked in the face as they swung sharply backwards. “Christy would you just listen?” Jenna asked. “Come on—Please? Pretty please?”

“Don’t bug me when I’m mad, Jenna,” Christy said. “Just—just don’t.”

“But if I don’t bug you, how are we supposed to work it out?” Christy stopped, her back to Jenna. “We have to talk.”

“Hey, there, gumdrop.” A man’s voice said.

Jenna looked at the graying man who walked towards them. It had been a while but she recognized Christy’s father almost immediately.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” Christy asked.

“Your mom came back home—she asked me to pick you up.” Mr. Blakeney said. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” Christy said.

Mr. Blakeney looked at Jenna—for some reason his gaze made her feel very small—like she was a specimen under a microscope. “This must be Jenna Stetson.” Mr. Blakeney grinned and shook his head. “Wow. Last time I saw you, you were just an itty-bitty thing. How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Jenna said.

“And your family?” Mr. Blakeney asked.

“They’re fine too, dad,” Christy said. “Can we get going?”

“Hold on, Christy—I’m here for Jenna too. Your mom called Christy’s mom –she asked us to pick you up and keep you at our house for a while.”

“Did they say why?” Jenna asked him.

Mr. Blakeney shrugged. “Only that they’d be held up at work today and that your doctor’s appointment was cancelled.”

“That doesn’t—” Jenna’s mind raced. Someone would’ve called her, she thought. Someone always called before to let her know if there was going to be a change in plans. Especially after the kidnapping. And why would they want her to stay at Christy’s instead of Grandma’s house like she always had before?

It didn’t make sense.

“Jenna?” Christy’s tone was pleading. “I would really like it if you came over.”

‘This is Christy,’ a little voice inside Jenna’s head told her. ‘You’ve known Christy since she was little—her family is nice. What is there to worry about?’

“Okay, I’ll come.” Jenna took her cell phone out of her pocket. “Just let me make a quick call.”

Without any warning Mr. Blakeney’s hand shot out and grabbed Jenna’s right arm. She tried to pull away but the grip was like iron. He squeezed hard, pressing his thumb against the bony part of her wrist. Jenna felt a sharp pain and her hand opened, the phone clattering to the pavement.

“You don’t need to do that,” Mr. Blakeney told her. Something in his voice made Jenna’s blood run cold. Her legs shook, her heart beating wildly.

“Dad?” Christy was asking. “What are you doing?”

Jenna wanted to speak or move but all she could do was stare. Mr. Blakeney’s eyes were an icy blue color—just like--

“Your name is Marcie Ann Johnston. Say it!”

Gary’s voice echoed in Jenna’s ears, his hand gripping the back of her neck. He was going to hurt her, hurt her all over again and she couldn’t stop—

"Now," Mr. Blakeney's voice was soft, his lips barely moving as he spoke. "You're going to get in the car and we're going to leave. You understand?"

“Is there a problem here?”

Dad’s voice. Mr. Blakeney let go of Jenna’s wrist like it was on fire and stepped back.

“Dad,” Jenna turned to face him. “You’re—you’re here.” The relief she felt was almost palatable—and for one brief moment Jenna considered throwing her arms around her father and burying her face in his chest like she had done was she was little. But she was almost fourteen and in high school now—you didn’t do that sort of thing in public.

“Where else would I be?” Dad spoke to her but he kept his gaze fastened on Mr. Blakeney.

“But Christy’s dad said that you’d—” Jenna started to say when Mr. Blakeney interrupted.

“I’m sorry—we must’ve gotten crossed wires—I could’ve sworn my wife told me to pick up Jenna too.” He extended his hand. “I’m Christy’s father, by the way.”

“Oh, believe me— I remember you.” Dad ignored the outstretched hand, putting his arm around Jenna’s shoulders and pulling her close. “And after this afternoon I won’t forget you either—count on that. Let’s go, Jenna.”

“Dad—my cell phone—it’s—” Jenna pointed to the ground.

“Well since Mr. Blakeney here made you drop it,” Dad said, “I think that he should have the courtesy to pick it up. Don’t you?”

“Here you go,” Mr. Blakeney bent down and grabbed the cell phone. Dad snatched it from the other man’s hand, not even waiting for him to straighten up.

“Thanks,” he said. “Come on Jenna—we’re running late as it is.”

Jenna looked at her friend. “I’ll talk to you later—okay?” But Christy wouldn’t even look at her now.

TBC

What Lies Beneath-Chapter Six

Thursday, September 5, 2002

3:35 PM

“Dad you shouldn’t have grabbed Jenna’s arm like that,” Christy said breathlessly as she followed her Dad into the parking lot. “You really scared her—why did you do that? Dad?” But if he heard her at all, he gave no indication. “Just tell me what you were doing.”

“This doesn’t concern you,” Dad said. “Stay out of it.”

“How am I supposed to stay out of it?” Christy’s voice rose. “Jenna’s my friend. Just tell me. Please?”

Suddenly Dad whirled around. The look in his eyes—Christy had never seen that look before. She took an involuntary step backwards but he grabbed her wrist, pulling her close, squeezing hard just like she’d seen him do with Jenna—Christy couldn’t suppress a gasp of pain. Tears spilled from her eyes, running down her cheeks.

“I’m not telling you this again, Christy,” Dad said. “Defy me one more time and you won’t like the consequences. Understand?”

Christy nodded numbly. “I understand.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you get me angry I have no choice. I love you—why do you want to push my buttons and make me do these things?”

“I’m sorry,” Christy told him. “I won’t make you mad again, Dad—I promise.”

The scary look melted, replaced by a wide smile. He let go of her wrist. “Good girl—I knew I could count on you.”

Christy wasn’t sure why, but the smile seemed even worse than the anger had been.

3:45 PM

Dad was silent as they walked over to the Corvette. He unlocked the doors and Jenna climbed into the passenger side, putting her backpack on the floor. She tried to buckle herself in, but her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t quite make the pieces fit together.

“Here,” Dad said. “Let me help you with that.” The safety belt clicked as he fastened it around her.

“Thanks.” Jenna said.

Dad started the car and put it into gear as he pulled out of the school parking lot. “How’s your arm?”

Jenna stared at him. “Sorry?”

“Your arm.”

“My arm?” Absently she studied the red marks covering her arm and wrist. “It doesn’t hurt a lot.”

“We can put some ice on it later if it doesn’t improve,” he told her. “I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”

“But I still don’t understand what was going on. I mean, Christy’s dad –” Jenna said. “—it was almost like he was trying to—” she couldn’t quite bring herself to say the word.

“No almost about it, Jenna.” Dad told her. “That man was planning to kidnap you.”

“Oh.” That was all that Jenna could manage at the moment. Part of her had guessed it but she hadn’t really wanted to believe—she clasped her hands and pushed them down between her knees, trying to make the shaking stop. She could feel Dad’s eyes on her.

“I’m sorry—I really don’t want to scare you,” he said. “But after what happened here I think you deserve to know the truth.”

“What is the truth? Why would he do that?” Dad didn’t reply at first, staring straight ahead. His fingers tapped at the steering wheel.“Please tell me.”

“I can’t give you the entire story—as much as I’d like to. Most of what you’re going to want to know is classified.”

“So it’s to do with you and Mom—with your jobs?”

Dad took a deep breath. “Yes, it’s to do with our jobs.”

“Is Christy’s dad a spy?”

“Not really—let’s just say that he’s involved with some very bad things.”

“Well Christy told me that she thought something was going on—she thought he might be stealing again.”

“Oh believe me; this goes much deeper than embezzlement.”

“How did I get involved?”

Dad ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure. All I can figure is that he found out that we’re involved in the investigation—he probably thought taking you would give him some leverage.”

“He wanted to use me to get to you?” Jenna asked.

“That’s his style.”

“And I almost got into the car with him.” Jenna swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the growing lump in her throat but it didn’t work. “I should’ve known that something wasn’t right.”

“Come on, you can’t blame yourself,” Dad steered the car into the IFF parking lot, stopping briefly to show his ID to the guard on duty. “Christy is your friend. You didn’t have any reason to think that anything bad would happen.”

“Will he—will he try again?”

Dad pulled into a parking space near the front of the building. He looked over at her. “He probably will—I wouldn’t put it past him. I’m very sorry.”

“So what happens now?” Jenna asked. “What do we do?”

“Well the first thing we’re going to do is see about getting you some protection. And the second—”

“What’s the second?”

“We’re going to help you learn how to protect yourself.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

The Agency

4:15 PM

“Lee, just where are you? Amanda and I have been waiting over ten minutes.”

“I know that, Francine,” Lee said. “I’m out in the parking lot now—We just ran into a little trouble.”

“We? What kind of trouble?”

“Let’s just say that I’m bringing Jenna in.”

A quick indrawn breath. “Tell me what happened.”

“Our chief suspect, Peter Blakeney—he tried to take her.”

“Oh my—is she all right?”

“Well she’s a little shaken up but I think she’ll be fine,” Lee said. “I think we’re going to need to put her under Agency protection.”

“How did she get involved to begin with? After all that Jenna’s been through this is the last thing she needs.”

“It wasn’t exactly my idea either,” Lee snapped. “From what I can figure, Blakeney found out about the investigation and decided that he could use Jenna —our children are friends, after all.”

“Just great, Scarecrow,” Francine said. “Okay—bring her in—I’ll have a team standing by to debrief her.”

“A debriefing?” Lee repeated. “Is that really necessary?”

“We have to find out what she knows,” Francine told him. “Don’t worry, Dr. Pfaff will be the one doing the questioning--she's used to him.”

“All right,” Lee said. “We’re coming in now.” He flipped his phone shut. “Come on,” he said to Jenna as they got out of the car.

“Dad, what’s a debriefing?” Jenna asked.

“It just means they want to ask you a few questions,” Seeing the apprehension on his daughter’s face, Lee ruffled her hair. “Don’t be nervous—it’s not a big deal.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4:30 PM

Don’t be nervous. Dad had told her that. Jenna was trying really hard not to—but so far not being nervous didn’t seem like a very easy thing to be. She sat in a leather armchair in Francine’s office—one foot tucked under her and one leg pulled tightly against her chest. Her parents were there too, sitting on a nearby sofa and holding each others’ hands.

“Do you mind if this has to be recorded, Jenna?” Francine asked her.

Jenna shook her head. “I don’t mind.” She watched as Francine pushed a button on the recording machine.

“I’m going to be asking you a few questions,” Dr Pfaff told her. “If there’s anything you don’t want to answer you only have to say.”

“I understand,” Jenna said.

“What happened at the school with you and Christy?” Dr. Pfaff asked.

“She was mad at me because my parents said I couldn’t have dinner at her house,” Jenna said. “Christy told me that her dad was really upset about it— and she accused me of not wanting to come because her dad had been in prison.”

“I see,” Dr. Pfaff said. “And after that?”

“I followed her outside and her—her dad was there.” Jenna tried hard to keep her voice steady. “He said that my parents had told him to pick me up.”

“Did you believe him?”

“Not really, no. But I couldn’t think of any reason that he would be lying and I trusted Christy and all— but I still felt like there was something wrong. That’s why I was going to call and check.”

“On your cell phone?” Dr. Pfaff asked.

“Yeah. That’s when Mr. Blakeney—when he grabbed my arm.” At the recollection Jenna’s voice began to shake in earnest. “I tried to pull away but he just squeezed tighter—he pressed my wrist and it hurt—he made me drop the cell phone.” Jenna heard her mother’s gasp. “And then I—”

“And then you what?” Dr. Pfaff asked.

“Nothing,” Jenna focused on the dark green patterned carpet at her feet. “Dad came and then we left. There wasn’t anything else.”

“Sweetheart, if something else happened you can tell us,” Mom said. “It really will be okay.”

Jenna took a deep breath. “What happened is that I froze—when Gary grabbed my arm I just—I mean I couldn’t move and his eyes were so icy—they were blue just like—oh my gosh.” She rubbed her hand over her face, realizing what she’d just said. Christy’s father was named Peter. His eyes were brown, not blue. How could she have thought—her cheeks burned.

“Jenna,” Dr. Pfaff said. “Jenna, look at me.”

Jenna lifted her head.

“It’s very normal to flashback in times of trauma,” Dr. Pfaff told her. “Even to hallucinate. We’ve been through this before. You’re okay.”

“I know you’ve said that—that it’s normal,” Jenna said. “It’s just a little embarrassing.”

“Well it really shouldn’t be. Now is there anything else you can tell us?” Dr. Pfaff said. “Anything else that Christy or her father might have said or done?”

“All Christy’s told me is that she thinks her dad is involved in something,” Jenna said. “She hasn’t said anything else about it.”

Francine looked at her watch. “Interview terminated at 4:45."

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“What’s next?” Amanda asked as they stepped outside of the office. Jenna was still in there, talking to Dr. Pfaff.

“We’ll assign a team to protect Jenna—effective immediately,” Francine said. “I don’t know if Peter Blakeney will make another move on her, but if he does we’ll be ready for it. We can also move all of you to a safe-house if need be—hopefully it won’t come to that.”

“Hopefully,” Lee repeated. He looked at Jenna through the office window, still curled up on the sofa, her arms wrapped protectively around her body.

“Lee, what is it?” Amanda asked him.

“Amanda, if I hadn’t been there on time—” Lee’s hands clenched—he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Don’t think like that,” Amanda said. “You were there on time.”

“What if I hadn’t been?” Lee’s voice rose. “You heard, Amanda—you heard how she froze again. If I hadn’t been there Jenna would’ve been helpless to stop that creep from doing whatever he wanted. This can’t keep happening.”

“It’s not exactly Jenna’s fault,” Francine said.

“No,” Lee said. “You’re right, Francine—it’s my fault—our fault. We haven’t given her the skills to cope with these situations.” He paused. “But we can—starting now.”

Amanda looked at her husband. “Tell me what you have in mind.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

5:00 PM

“Here you go.” Mom handed Jenna a blue sweatsuit. “It’s the smallest they have—it should fit, but if anything’s too long you always can roll it up.”

“Thanks.” Jenna started to pull on the sweatsuit. It was a little big on her but it wasn’t all that bad. She rolled up the sleeves of the sweatshirt, wincing slightly at the pain that shot through her right arm.

“Let me see that.” Mom drew in her breath sharply as she looked at Jenna’s arm, her fingers probing gently. “Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry this happened.”

“It’s okay—it doesn’t hurt that bad,” Jenna said. “Mom, I really don’t know about this.”

“You don’t know about what?” Mom asked her.

“Self-defense,” Jenna said. “I tried that stuff before, remember? With Gary and Rudolpho. It didn’t really work very well, did it?”

Mom was silent for a moment, just looking at her. “How do you mean it didn’t work very well?”

“What do you mean, how do I mean? I didn’t get away or beat them up, did I?”

Mom shook her head. “That’s really all you think?”

“But Mom—”

“Listen to me, Jenna. With Gary you managed to get his cell phone and let us know where you were—and you stopped Rudolpho from drugging you and bought some time until we could get there,” Mom said. “Personally I think that’s pretty impressive.”

“True.” Jenna said. “I didn’t get away, though, did I?”

“Well you tried—you just need more training. That’s what we’re going to help you with.”

“Amanda—Jenna!” her dad’s voice floated into the locker room. “We’re ready.”

“Ready?” Mom asked her.

Jenna attempted a smile. “I guess so.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“The most important part of self-defense is attitude,” Francine told her. “Trusting your instincts, being confident, and most of all, staying calm. You have to stay in control of the situation. That will all get easier with practice—which is something you have to do a lot of. Just learning these things is no good—you have to practice these moves until they become second nature.”

Jenna nodded, not sure how she should reply.

“Now what we’re going to do today is go over various ways of escaping if someone grabs you,” Francine said. “There are several techniques if someone has you by the wrist. Let me show you. Lee?”

Dad walked over.

“Let him take your left wrist, Jenna—we don’t want to risk hurting your right arm any further.” Francine said. Dad’s fingers wrapped around Jenna’s wrist.

“Now how would you get out of this?” Francine asked.

“I—” Jenna tried to pull out of her dad’s grasp—he didn’t have a tight grip but she couldn’t seem to budge him. She tried twisting her wrist a little as she pulled but that didn’t work either. She tried to pull once morel. No good.

“Don’t keep doing the same thing over and over. Think.” Francine told her. “What are some other things you could do?”

“Stomp on his foot,” Jenna said.

“Good,” Francine nodded. “Try it—stomp down as hard as you can.” Jenna did—Dad gritted his teeth as her foot came down on his—a small sound escaped from between his lips but he still didn’t let go. If anything his grip tightened slightly.

“That didn’t work,” Francine said. “You need to try something else.”

Jenna’s mouth was dry. Again she tried to pull her arm back but it didn’t work. Her heart felt like it was galloping and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“Jenna?” Dad’s voice sounded muffled and far away.

“Sweetheart?” Mom’s voice. “Stay with us—don’t panic—you’re safe. Just breathe.” Jenna did. Gradually she felt her heartbeat slowing down to normal.

“All right now?” Francine asked.

“Fine.” Jenna said.

“Now I’m going to show you a technique,” Francine said. “What I want you to do is trap your Dad’s fingers with your right hand.”

Jenna grabbed Dad’s fingers, holding them in place.

“Good,” Francine instructed. “Now roll your left arm over, grab his wrist with your left hand and press down as hard as you can—just like that.”

Jenna pressed down and Dad fell to his knees, grimacing with pain. Immediately Jenna let go of his arm and stepped back. “Dad I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Dad stood, rubbing his arm. “I’m not hurt, munchkin—really.”

“There are a few other things you can do when someone grabs you like that,” Francine said. “Since the fingers are the weakest part of the grip you can jerk your wrist in the direction of the fingers and snatch it away. That might not always work, though—especially not with larger men like your Dad.”

“What else can I do?” Jenna asked.

“Well another move is to trap his fingers again—like that—and then you can twist and use your heel to kick the side of his kneecap .” Francine demonstrated the motion for Jenna. “Your feet are always an excellent weapon and the knee is a good target. But don’t actually do that right now—the last thing we need is to carry your father out of here on a stretcher.”

Dad shot Francine a look. “Very funny.”

Francine smiled. “I thought so too, Scarecrow,” she said. “Next we’re going to work on escaping from a grab from behind.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4247 Maplewood Dr.

7:30 PM

Getting old stunk.

Lee sank onto the family-room sofa, carefully propping his sore leg up on the footstool. The television was on—another sitcom—somehow they all seemed alike these days. Canned laughter filled the room. The telephone rang. Lee turned the volume down on the set and picked up the receiver.

“Stetson residence.”

“Hey, Lee—it’s been a while.”

Lee sighed. “Augie it’s only been a few weeks. Something you wanted?"

“Actually it’s about something you want. Word on the street is that you’re looking to acquire some information.”

“Go on,” Lee said.

“If you are, I might have a lead for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Not over the phone,” Augie said. “It’s not secure, you know? Meet me at my mud-wrestling bar at 12:30. We can arrange something then.”

“I’ll see you then,” Lee said. “Goodbye, Augie.” He hung up the phone

“Here’s an icepack, Dad.” Jenna walked in from the kitchen. “Mom thought it might help your knee a little bit.”

“Thanks, munchkin.” Lee put the pack on his knee. “I’m sure it’ll help a lot.”

“Was that guy Augie just on the phone?” Jenna asked.

“That was him, yeah.”

“He’s a strange guy.”

Lee laughed. “ Believe me, strange doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Jenna said nothing in reply, just stood there staring at him.

“Something else you wanted?” Lee asked.

“Not really, no.” Jenna bit her lip. “I just still feel awful about what happened—”

Lee groaned. “—we’ve been over his ten times already. I’m fine. Really.”

“I really meant to kick out to the side—I didn’t mean to actually hit anyone. I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you—”

“I want you to stop this,” Lee said. “I mean it. Stop. Sit down right here.” Jenna did. Lee took a deep breath and began:

“First of all, I’m not mad at you at all—I’m proud of you. You did very well for a first lesson—you controlled your panic and used your instincts.” Lee paused. “And secondly, if someone ever does grab you from behind I want you to do exactly what you did to me—I don’t want you to hold back because you’re worried about hurting some bad guy. Got it?”

“Got it,” Jenna repeated. “But seriously, how is your knee?”

“Well—it does hurt a little,” Lee said. “But there’s no permanent damage done. How’s your arm?”

“The same,” Jenna said. “I still can’t believe that Christy’s dad almost did that—it seems so weird." She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I mean when I was six I’d go to play over at Christy’s house—he was always so nice. At least he seemed that way.”

“He’s bad news,” Dad told her. “I can’t tell you everything, but trust me—he’s not someone you want to be around.”

“He’s not going to give up, is he?” Jenna’s voice was small. “When will it be over?”

Lee pulled his daughter into a hug. He could feel her shaking slightly as he smoothed her hair. “It’ll be over very soon, Jenna.” Lee told her. “I promise you. We’ll stop him.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

4300 Maplewood Dr.

8:30 PM

“Wife still not home yet?”

Peter sighed. “Don’t remind me, Elana—I had a hard enough time explaining to my daughter why I lied to her about that.”

“I bet. How’s your other little houseguest?”

“I didn’t pick her up yet.”

“What the—why haven't you?”

“It wasn’t exactly on purpose,” Peter snapped.“Her father showed up and there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t risk drawing unnecessary attention “

“We need that girl.”

“You don’t think I know that? I tell you, I’m working on it.” The sound of rock music floated down the stairs. Peter smiled to herself.

“I certainly hope you are.”

“Don’t worry,” Peter said. “I’ll get Jenna Stetson—and now I think I have the perfect tool to use.”

TBC

What Lies Beneath—Chapter Seven

Yorktown High School

Friday, September 6, 2002

8:00 AM

‘This is not my father,’ Christy thought. ‘He can’t be.’

Out of the corner of her eye she watched him, humming along with some country song on the radio as he pulled into the school parking lot. There was a smile on his face—he looked normal—like the dad she had always known, but how could he be? Memories from last night flooded Christy’s mind:

“You really need to invite Jenna over, Christy—I’ll even make my special spaghetti and meatballs. I’m so sorry if I frightened her today.”

“Dad that’s nice, but I really don’t think she’ll come.”

“Not even if you apologize for me, gumdrop? You can tell her that it really was an honest mistake.”

“You grabbed her arm really hard.”

“I was just in a hurry.”

“You saw how angry her Dad was. He’s not going to let Jenna get near you—you know that.”

After that his voice had turned from soft and wheedling to hard and threatening. Christy could still remember how his hand had gripped her shoulder, squeezing so hard until she’d finally cried out in pain.

“You’re going to do this.” His dark eyes looked down into her own. “You’re going to bring her here. Because believe me—this can get much worse.”After that he’d dragged her upstairs to show her the attic—the place where he was planning to hold Jenna. To hold Christy’s friend prisoner. Christy had looked at the manacles and the painted-over windows, fighting to hold back her nausea.

This couldn’t be happening. Part of Christy felt like screaming, or crying until there were no more tears left.

But the other part of her just felt numb.

This was not her father. It just wasn’t possible. The same man who used to play board games with her? The man who had sat with her when she was four and had been hospitalized with pneumonia?

“Well here we are.” Dad came to a stop in front of the school. “Nice and early, huh, gumdrop?”

“Yeah,” Christy said.

“You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

Christy nodded.

“And you also know what will happen if you fail.”

“I know.” Christy started to get out of the car.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Dad asked. “Something like a hug, maybe? Come here.”

Christy stiffened as his arms wrapped around her body and pulled her close. Her shoulder gave a twinge but she bit her lip, determined that he would not hear her cry out again.

“Have a good day, gumdrop.” Dad told her. “I love you.”

Once he’d driven away, Christy patted her backpack—feeling the CD jewel cases that she’d taken from his briefcase and hidden in there last night—reassuring herself that they were still there. Hopefully she’d be able to look at them later on—see what her father was up to. Could she stop him? Christy wasn’t sure, but she was definitely going to try.

8:15 AM

“You thinking of going out for Dance Team this year?” Lisa asked. “Auditions are next week.”

“I don’t know,” Jenna said. “Maybe. I mean, I thought about it but things are a little crazy right now.”

“Funny.” Lisa closed her locker. “That’s the same thing that Christy said when I asked her.”

“Christy is here?”

“Yep,” Lisa said. “Came in looking like something the cat dragged in and went to the restroom—she hasn’t been out since. If she’s not careful, she’ll be late—now where are you going?”

“To the restroom,” Jenna said.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Why do I even ask?”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“Christy?” Jenna’s voice echoed as she stepped into the restroom. “Lisa told me you were in here. Is everything okay?”

The only sound was a slight sniffle.

“I know you’re there,” Jenna said. “Please talk to me. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad at you.” Christy’s voice was a near whisper—so faint that Jenna had to strain to hear. “Just please—please go away. I want to be alone.”

Jenna shook her head. “No. Not until I see that you’re all right.”

The third stall door opened and Christy emerged, backpack in hand. Lisa hadn’t been kidding, Jenna realized. Her friend’s clothes looked as though she’d slept in them and her hair resembled a straw haystack. Christy’s face was swollen, her eyes red-rimmed.

“Okay, Jenna—are you happy now?”

“What’s going on?” Jenna asked. “Did your dad—”

Christy’s eyes flashed. “Leave my dad out of this! Just because you have some kind of a perfect family—”

“Come on, you know I don’t have a perfect family—”

“Whatever,” Christy said. “I’m out of here—talk to yourself if you want.”

“Wait.” Jenna grabbed at Christy’s shoulder but got her sweatshirt instead. There was a ripping sound as the material tore slightly.

“Oh.” That was all Jenna could say as she saw the darkening finger-shaped bruises that ran along Christy’s collarbone. Letting go of the sweatshirt, she stepped back. “Oh my gosh—Christy, I—what happened?”

“Nothing,” Christy snapped, pulling the sweatshirt back up. “I fell in the shower, that’s all.”

“That doesn’t look like falling in the shower. That looks like—”

“It’s none of your business what it looks like. Can I go now? Or do you want to rip my clothes some more?”

“You’re my friend—if you’re hurting I want to help.”

For a few moments Christy stared at Jenna, her expression unreadable.

“You don’t want to help me,” she said. “And you can’t, all right? So do me a favor, Jenna Stetson, and stay away. Far away.”

The restroom door slammed shut. Trembling, Jenna sank against the nearby wall, her eyes closed. She could feel the tears seeping through her lashes even as she tried to hold them back.

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Augie’s Mud Wrestling Bar and Grill

12:30 PM

“As you can see I’ve really invested in this place.” Augie led Lee and Amanda to a table in the back. “The artwork was Elsie’s idea—she thinks it gives the place a touch of class.”

“It’s very nice,” Amanda said.

Augie smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. Stetson. You want anything to eat? On the house.”

Amanda smiled. “No, thank you.”

“Augie, quit the stalling, huh?” Lee said. “You said you had some information to share?”

“Lee, do you have any idea how expensive it is to run this bar? “ Augie asked. “I mean, the overhead alone is killing me, and now the waitresses are demanding more pay and better uniforms—”

“Okay, okay.” Lee pulled a fifty out of his wallet. “Will this help your overhead a little bit? “

“It’s a start.” Augie grabbed at the money but Lee held it away.

“After you give us your information,” Lee told him.

Augie sighed. “Fine. Word has it that a lot of people are looking to buy the intelligence that was supposed to go to the Chechen Rebels—apparently there’s going to be an auction on Sunday—the info’s gonna be sold off to the highest bidder.”

“Any idea of who the bidders are?” Amanda asked.

“Lot of big names—Lee Cheol , Achmed Kabar, even Victor Ustinoff.” Augie told her.

Lee’s head jerked up. “Ustinoff?” he said. “I didn’t even know he was out of prison.” Amanda gave him a questioning glance. “He’s Russian mafia,” Lee explained. Amanda nodded

“From what I’ve heard his last appeal was successful,” Augie said. “They released him last month.”

“And just where is this auction going to be held?” Lee asked.

“That I don’t know,” Augie said. “But it should be easy enough to find out. I’ll—uh— take that fifty now, Lee?”

Lee handed the man the money. “You just better hope that you’re telling me the whole story,” he said. “Because if you’re holding back anything , rest assured I’ll find out.”

Augie tucked the money in his pocket. “Oh believe me, Lee—I have no doubts about that.”

Lee’s cell phone rang. He flipped it open. “Stetson here,” he said.

“We just got word from our people about Christy Blakeney,” Francine said.

“Oh yeah?” Lee said. “What kind of word?”

“She’s disappeared.”

“What do you mean Christy’s disappeared?” Lee asked.

“She came to school at 8 AM and left the school grounds at approximately 11 AM,” Francine said. “Our men followed her but they lost her.”

“How the hell do trained agents manage to lose one thirteen-year-old girl?”

“She slipped out of a back entrance,” Francine said. “By the time our men spotted Christy, she’d climbed over a fence and vanished. We’re still looking, but nothing’s turned up so far.”

“Just great, Francine.” Why would Christy have taken off? A dozen possibilities raced through Lee’s head, none of them good. “Any more news?”

“You and Amanda were right about Maskhadov’s widow—the background check turned up a connection with Blakeney—since his release he’s been paying her rent and other expenses through a second bank account which he arranged under an assumed name.”

“His mistress?” Lee asked.

“Sounds like it to me, Scarecrow,” Francine said. “I’d be willing to bet that Gambit’s made her a partner.”

“Except we all know from past experience that Gambit’s not willing to share,” Lee said. “Is that all we have?”

“Not quite. Cell phone records also show a few calls made to a local TracFone number. No luck yet on confirming the identity of the owner, but want to make a guess?”

“Makes sense,” Lee said. “An easy method to evade the wiretaps.”

“True,” Francine replied. “Lee, I know you hate to get Jenna involved, but she’d be the most likely person to know about Christy’s whereabouts and why she took off. You have to question her.”

Lee sighed. “Well the truth is that she’s already involved whether I like it or not. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her this afternoon.”

“Any luck with your contact?”

“Some,” Lee said. “The information is going to be auctioned off on Sunday—no idea of where or when.”

“In the meantime we’ll continue with the surveillance and the search for Christy,” Francine said. “Don’t worry, Scarecrow—something will turn up.”

“I hope so.” Lee said. “But something tells me we’re running out of time.”

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Yorktown High School

3:30 PM

“So, is it the dance team or no?” Lisa asked. “Because if it’s yes, we need to start working on our routines like yesterday.”

“Yeah I know,” Jenna said.

“Yeah you know because we need to start working on our routines or yeah you just don’t care?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jenna scanned the crowds out front, looking for Christy, but she was nowhere to be found. She hadn’t been in AP English this afternoon, either. As a matter of fact, Christy hadn’t been anywhere at all. Jenna’s stomach twisted as she thought back to the bruises she’d seen on her friend’s shoulder.

‘Report any incidence of abuse or neglect to the school social worker—he or she is authorized to investigate.’ At least that’s what it said in the school handbook. But in reality the school social worker had been no help at all:

“I’m sorry, Jenna, but without Christy here to collaborate your story, there’s nothing I can do.”

“But she’s in trouble, Miss Wilkins. I saw the bruises on her shoulder.”

A sigh. “I really do believe that you think you saw them.”

“Miss Wilkins—”

“Jenna, your file shows that you have certain—issues—of your own--with PTSD?” The woman had smiled patronizingly. “The mind can play tricks on you—before I can follow up with this I really do need to talk to Christy first. Just to make sure.”

At that point Jenna had thought of several rude things to say, but it was probably better to say nothing—no point in opening her mouth and making things worse.

But where was Christy?

“—so then I thought we could end our routine with a gerbil sacrifice,” Lisa was saying.

Jenna stared at her friend in shock. “Excuse me?”

Lisa grinned. “Kidding. Thought that’d get your attention. Where is Christy, by the way? I haven’t seen her all day except for this morning.”

“That’s what I was wondering too.”

“Is something going on with her, do you think?” Lisa asked. “Maybe she went home sick—she certainly looked bad enough.”

“It’s a possibility.”

“Possibility?” Lisa repeated. “I think you know something—something that you’re maybe not telling me? What’s up?”

“There’s—” Jenna started to say as Brad walked over.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” he said. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m okay,” Jenna looked into his eyes, trying to think of something interesting to say and failing. “Um—how are you?”

“Me?” Brad said. “I’m fine. I just wanted to apologize again for scaring you like that.”

“It’s fine, really,” Jenna said. “You didn’t know.”

“Brad!” Terri marched up. She was smiling, Jenna noticed, but the expression in her eyes was venomous. “You said you would walk me home and I find you talking to these losers—what’s up with that?”

“Sorry, Terri.” Brad gave Jenna an apologetic smile as Terri led him away by the arm.

“Let’s go back to what you weren’t telling me—” Lisa started to say when a voice interrupted her.

“Jenna!” Her father’s voice. Jenna turned to see him standing on the sidewalk, his arms crossed.

“There’s my dad— I really gotta go, Lisa,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

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“I don’t understand why that Brad guy keeps talking to you,” Dad said.

“I don’t think it was anything,” Jenna told him. “I think he just feels bad because he scared me, that’s all.”

“But he’s a Junior—he has no business being interested in Freshman girls.”

Jenna’s cheeks grew warm. “I don’t think he is interested,” she said. “At least not in that way.”

Dad shook his head. “Jenna, boys like that, they have—”

“—I know, urges. You said that before.”

“Well they do—they have them I mean.”

“What kind of urges did you have when you were sixteen?”

“Ahh—” Now Dad’s face was the one that was red. “I just want you to be careful,” he said. “Because everyone doesn’t always have good intentions—you can’t trust everything you hear.”

“I know that, believe me.” Jenna spoke quietly.

“Yeah, I know you do.” Dad paused. “There was something else I needed to talk to you about, Jenna—it has to do with Christy.”

“What about Christy?”

“Well the Agency has her family under surveillance.”

“Christy’s under surveillance? Just like me?”

“Pretty much,” Dad said. “Except that this morning she disappeared out of a back entrance, and by the time our people realized what was happening she was gone.”

“So that’s what happened,” Jenna said. It all made sense now.

“That’s what happened,” Dad said. “What I need to ask you is if you know anything about why she took off or where she might’ve gone.”

In halting tones Jenna described what she had seen—the bruises on Christy's collarbone and how she'd had been crying. As she spoke she watched the way her dad’s hands gripped the steering wheel—so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he told her.

“It’s okay,” Jenna said. “I mean, maybe not okay, but I know that things like that do happen, I mean look at Marcie Johnston—what her own dad did to her. But I still don’t understand it, I guess. I still don’t know how anyone could do that to their own child.”

Dad reached over and squeezed her hand. “To be honest, munchkin, neither do I.”

“I even tried telling the social worker about the bruises but she didn’t believe me,” Jenna said. “She said she couldn’t believe me because I had issues.”

“Issues?”

“With PTSD—it’s on my permanent record. She said that I might be imagining things.”

“You can’t listen to people like that—that social worker was way out of line.”

“I know that. What I’m worried about is Christy—what if something happens to her?”

“Well that’s why we need to know where she might have gone. Think hard, Jenna. Do you have any ideas?”

Jenna sighed. “Not really,” she said. “I guess can give you the names of some of her other friends, but I don’t know if she’d be staying at any of them.”

“Every little bit helps,” Dad said. “I promise you—we’ll find her.”

TBC

~For all of you who may have read this on-list, I've written an additional scene. Hope you enjoy :) ~

What Lies Beneath—Chapter Eight

Friday, September 6, 2002

4247 Maplewood Dr.

4:15 PM

“Look, Mr. Stetson, I don’t know what else to say.” Even over the phone the vice principal’s voice sounded irritatingly smug. “The social worker did not follow our policies and we will take disciplinary action. What else do you need to know?”

“What I’d like to know, Mrs. Stephens, is how PTSD ended up on my daughter’s permanent record in the first place.” Lee strode back and forth across the family room carpet as he spoke. “I don’t like that someone can just look that up and use it to imply that Jenna isn’t trustworthy.”

“I see where you’re coming from—and again, the social worker was out of line,” Mrs. Stephens said. “However, we do think it’s important to know all we can about our students—especially if they’re receiving medicinal treatment for any existing conditions.”

“Medicinal treatment? She’s not taking any medicines.”

“According to this she is or was taking something—a drug called Minipress?”

Minipress. Lee remembered now. “Yeah, she was,” he admitted. “But we discontinued it after a week—she had a bad reaction.”

“Nevertheless it stays on the file,” Mrs. Stephens said. “I can do something about the social worker, Mr. Stetson. But I can’t change the record.”

Just then Amanda came through the door, two bags of groceries in hand. She shot Lee a questioning glance.

“I understand,” Lee ran a hand back through his hair. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Stephens—goodbye.” He pressed the button on the cordless and put it back into its receiver, sinking down onto the sofa.

“What was all that about?” Amanda asked.

“Christy came to school this morning with some bruises.” Lee said. “Jenna said that they—the bruises—looked like someone had grabbed her.”

Amanda’s face paled. “Peter Blakeney? He hurt his own daughter?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Lee said. “But when Jenna told the school social worker about it the woman looked at Jenna’s records and said her word wasn’t good enough because of her ‘issues’ with PTSD—that she might have imagined the whole thing.”

Amanda’s face flushed. “Oh my—Lee, she can’t do that. If a child makes a report it’s supposed to be taken seriously no matter what.”

“I know,” Lee rose from the couch and took her hands in his. “I just spoke to the vice-principal and she said that the social worker would be dealt with.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah,” Lee said. “I just wish it wasn’t on Jenna's permanent record. This could follow her around forever, Amanda. It might affect future job opportunities, college admissions—where does it end?”

“Calm down,” Amanda’s voice held a hint of amusement. “Jenna’s only just started high school—we have quite a few years before we need to worry about any of those things.”

“You’re right,” Lee said. “It just bothers me, that’s all.”

She squeezed his hands. “I know—but we’ll cross those bridges when we come to them—together, right?”

“Together,” he agreed.

“So what about Christy?” Amanda asked. “I hope they’re going to investigate now.”

“Christy’s disappeared—left the school and gave our agents the slip. Don’t worry, we’ll find her—we’re pulling out all the stops on this one.” Lee pulled his wife close and whispered a silent prayer that they would find Christy—before anyone else did.

4300 Maplewood Dr.

5:30 PM

“Peter I’m telling you—Christy isn’t here,” Kathryn said.

Peter gripped the phone tightly. “Are you sure?”

“I think I’d know if my daughter was here,” Kathryn said. “What’s going on? Is Christy missing?”

“Of course not,” Peter snapped. “She just hasn’t come home yet—I thought she might’ve gone to see you without telling me.”

“Well she hasn’t.”

“Well has she called you?” Peter’s voice rose. “Has she told you about anything that she might have taken from me?”

“Taken from you?” Kathryn asked. “What do you mean? What on earth would she have taken from you?”

“Just tell me!”

“Christy hasn’t come over and she hasn’t phoned.” Kathryn said. “You are going to call the police—aren’t you?”

Peter ran a hand over his face. “Not yet,” he said. “I just have a couple more leads to check out and then I will, Kathryn—I promise.”

“The sooner you call the police the sooner they can help.”

“I said I will call them in a little while—get off my back, will you?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to call the police?” Peter could hear a slight tremble in Kathryn’s voice. “Just what are you involved in this time, Peter? Why would Christy have left like that?”

“That’s my business,” Peter told her. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of it.”

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Peter flipped his cell phone closed and sank down onto the sofa.

“Damn,” he whispered the words to himself. “Damn her.”

His eyes fell on the coffee table, on a pink origami flower that Christy had made in Kindergarten. Peter picked it up. In his mind’s eye she could still see her standing there, the flower clutched in her chubby fingers.

*~*

“I made it for you, Daddy.”

“Thank you, gumdrop—that’s real nice.”

*~*

She’d been such a cute little girl—Peter thought. Now that same little girl had betrayed him, lied to him—his eyes fell on the empty briefcase on the coffee-table—and stolen from him as well. With a sudden and vehement roar Peter clenched his fists, crushing the tiny pink paper flower in his grasp. Crumpled pieces fell to the ground.

‘I will find you Christy,’ Peter thought, “And then I’ll destroy you—count on that.” His daughter would have to wait for the time being, though—first he had a loose end to take care of.

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What had she done?

With a trembling hand Kathryn Blakeney replaced the cordless on its receiver. As she straightened she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—she walked closer, staring fixedly at her reflection. The paleness of her skin caused the bruise to stand out in sharp contrast—the bruise that Peter had given her. Kathryn’s fingers pressed into the bruised skin, wincing at the pain but welcoming it at the same time. It was no more than she deserved.

‘I ran off,’ she thought. ‘I ran off and left my child with a monster, and now Christy might have—” Kathryn couldn’t bring herself to finish that thought. If Peter wouldn’t take action, then she would. Again she picked up the receiver, dialing three numbers.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Kathryn Blakeney—I’m calling to report a missing child.—it’s my daughter Christy.”

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7:00 PM

There was a light tap on her door. Putting her book aside, Elana Maskhadov padded across the floor in her slipper feet.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“It’s Peter—can you let me in?”

“What’s the matter, lost your key?” Carefully she undid the main lock and the deadbolt and opened the door.

“Oh my.” It was all Elana could manage at first as she took in her lover’s disheveled appearance. “What happened to you?”

“The walls are closing in.” Peter’s voice had a sing-song quality—his dark eyes unfocused, devoid of all emotion. Instinctively Elana stepped away from him. Her heart was pounding hard against her rib cage.

“What do you mean?” Elana asked. “Which walls are closing in?”

“All the walls,”

“Peter—don’t.”

“Oh yeah, Peter—don’t.” Peter moved steadily closer until Elana was backed into the wall—he put a hand on either side of her, effectively blocking her escape. “That’s why I can’t afford to have you around any more—to implicate me.”

“Please don’t.” Elana’s voice was trembling.

“I’m afraid I have to,” Peter said. “No loose ends, remember?” He moved even closer.

That was when Elana felt it—a dull pain in her gut. Looking down, she saw a patch of spreading red on her white shirt--the knife in Peter’s hand, dripping onto the carpet.

It was the last thing she saw before the darkness closed in completely.

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The Agency

9:15 PM

“I’m sorry to have to call you in at this hour, Lee,” Billy said. “But I couldn’t exactly tell you this news over the phone. How’s my goddaughter doing?”

“Fine,” Lee said. “Amanda’s at home with her now—because of all that’s happened we decided to keep her home until this is resolved.”

“Well with what I have to say that’s probably a wise decision.”

“Why?”

“Several things, actually,” Billy said. “The first is that Kathryn Blakeney called in to report her daughter missing—she said that her husband called her, frantic and asking about Christy’s whereabouts and whether she had stolen from him.”

“Stolen?” Lee repeated. “Then Christy probably has the information.”

“That would be my guess,” he said. “You might want to sit down for the next part.”

“Billy, just tell me.”

“The second part is that we’ve lost him--we've lost Peter Blakeney.”

Lee stared at Billy. “What the hell--how?”

Billy sighed. “The two agents assigned to Blakeney’s surveillance turned up dead this afternoon and that’s not all. Elana Maskhadov’s body was discovered in her apartment an hour ago—she was stabbed to death. Chess pieces by each of the bodies as usual.”

“This is just great.” Lee ran both hands through his hair. “This bastard has murdered several agents, hurt his family, threatened my child and we don’t even know where he is.”

“We’ve assigned extra men to protect your family, Scarecrow—there’s always the safe-house option as well—”

“No,” Lee said. “At least not yet—I don’t want to have to do that to Jenna..” He slammed his fist into his palm. “Things had just about gotten back to normal, Billy—and now—”

“Think about it,” Billy said. “Rest assured that in the meantime we’re doing all we can. We will find them, Lee—and we’ll find the information as well. Count on it.”

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9:18 PM

“Having trouble sleeping?” Amanda asked.

“Not really,” Jenna was sitting on her bed, the Scarecrow doll clutched to her chest. Her eyes were glued to the screen. “Just not very sleepy yet.”

“Mind if I keep you company?”

“No, I don’t mind. Just watching the Wizard of Oz.”

Amanda sat on the bed beside Jenna. Together they watched the Scarecrow and Dorothy as they skipped arm-in-arm down the yellow brick road

“You must have seen this movie at least a hundred times,” Amanda said.

Jenna smiled. “Two hundred, probably. But it never gets boring. Is Dad going to be home soon?”

“Very soon—he called five minutes ago to say he was on his way.”

“That’s good,” Jenna said. “Maybe it sounds silly, but I worry when everyone isn’t home.”

“It doesn’t sound silly at all—I worry too.” Amanda wrapped an arm around her daughter, pulling Jenna close.

“I always thought this part here was smart, you know,” Jenna said. “The thing that the Scarecrow does to trick the trees into giving them the apples?”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Now that I know about you and Dad though, it’s hard to look at this movie in the same way,” Jenna said. “How did Dad get the name Scarecrow?”

“He got it from a friend of your father’s—Paul Barnes—you met him when you were three but you probably don’t remember.”

“But why Scarecrow?”

.”That’s a long story, sweetheart—I think I should let your Dad tell it.” Amanda looked at the Scarecrow doll that Jenna held. “You know, I remember when your Dad got you that doll for Christmas.”

“I remember too,” Jenna said. “It was when I had the really bad flu.”

“That was the one.” Amanda smiled at the memory. “You had leg cramps and you just felt awful. I sent your dad out to get some gravy for the turkey and he brought home the Scarecrow doll instead. It was your favorite gift that year.”

“Yeah it was.” Jenna said. “Mom do you think that Christy will be all right?”

“I don’t know,” Amanda admitted. “But I do know that we’ll do everything we can to find her.”

“It’s just that I hate to think about her being out there all by herself.”

“I know,” Amanda said. “I feel the same way.”

A sudden thud from downstairs shook the entire house. Jenna gasped.

“Mom what was that?”

A second thud followed.

“Mom?” Jenna repeated.

“Sweetheart, just stay right here, okay?” Amanda said, thinking fast as she spoke. “Keep the door shut and I’ll be back in just a moment.”

“Okay,” Amanda heard the tremble in Jenna’s voice. “Just hurry back. And please be careful.”

“I will.”

Her heart pounding, Amanda slowly made her way downstairs.

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*Thud*

The noise came from the outside, Amanda realized. As she passed through the kitchen she grabbed a brass candlestick from the countertop. The motion-activated floodlights came on as Amanda went into the backyard, illuminating the entire area—nothing there, as far as she could see. Whatever it was, it was happening in the garage.

“Ma’am?” A man suddenly materialized beside Amanda. “I’m Agent Hudson.” He showed her his ID. “I’m checking out an unauthorized entry into your—”

“Into my garage, I know,” Amanda said. “Let me check it out, Agent Hudson—if I need you I’ll let you know.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Holding the candlestick overhead Amanda approached the side door of the garage.

“Help me!” a girl’s voice called out. “Somebody help—please?”

Amanda opened the side door and flipped on the light switch.

“Oh my gosh—Christy!” Dropping the candlestick on the ground, she knelt beside the fallen girl.

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9:45 PM

“My daughter’s all right?”

“Christy’s fine, Kathryn,” Holding the cordless against her ear, Amanda took the saucepan from the stovetop, pouring the now-steaming milk into two mugs. “She hurt her head when she had an accident in our garage but it’s really not that bad.”

“Thank God.” Amanda could hear the tears in her friend’s voice. “I was so worried. If anything bad had happened—”

Amanda thought back to the time that Jenna had been missing. “Oh believe me I understand—I know it feels like.”

“I know you do,” Kathryn said. “Amanda I know this is a lot to ask—but do you mind if Christy stays with you for a little while? I’m not too sure she’s safe with me.”

“Christy can stay here as long as she wants to,” Amanda heard sound of the key being turned in the lock. “Lee just came home, Kathryn—I’ll explain things to him and call you back later, okay?”

“Thanks— I owe you for this. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Talk to you later.” Amanda hung up the cordless just as Lee came into the room.

“Amanda what’s going on?” he asked. “Why is Jenna still awake and making up a bed on the sofa?”

“It’s Christy.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Christy Blakeney? She’s here?”

Amanda nodded, ripping open two cocoa packets and pouring the contents in with the milk. “She was planning on sleeping in our garage but she knocked over some boxes trying to find the light switch and they fell on her—luckily I’d gone out to investigate the noise and found her in time.”

“Was she hurt?”

“Well there’s quite a knot on her head but she should be fine,” Amanda stirred the cocoa and retrieved the marshmallows from the cupboard. “I gave her an icepack for it and she’s in Jenna’s room changing into a pair of pajamas.”

“Does she have the information we’re after?”

“She has a backpack,” Amanda said. “But she’s very protective of it right now—wants to keep it with her.”

“We need that information,” Lee said. “And Christy’s a witness—she’ll have to be questioned—you know that.”

“Not tonight.” Amanda put both of the mugs on saucers.

“Amanda—”

“I said no, Lee. What if Jenna was in this situation? This girl’s world has been turned upside down—I can’t even imagine how frightened she must be. Whatever we or the Agency need to ask—it can wait until the morning.”

Lee took a deep breath and blew it out. “You’re right,” he said. “We’ll wait until the morning.”

“What’s happening with Gambit?” Amanda asked. “I know you couldn’t tell me everything over the phone.”

“Well he murdered the two Agents who were keeping tabs on him,” Lee said. “Along with Maskhadov’s widow.”

“Same M.O.?”

Lee nodded. “The same. Right at the moment we have no idea where he could be.”

“And Jenna and Christy?”

“Well when Billy found out about the murders he assigned extra men to the watch,” Lee said. “There’s always the safe-house option, but that’s a last resort.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. “Amanda, we’ll do everything to keep them both safe—I promise you that.”

Amanda leaned her head against his chest. “I know you will.”

She just hoped that everything would be enough.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Amanda tapped on Jenna’s door.

“Come in,” Christy said. Amanda opened the door. Christy stood there, wearing Jenna’s oversized Garfield nightshirt and a pair of striped neon-colored socks.

“Jenna said I could wear her crazy socks tonight,” Christy said “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Sweetheart of course I don’t mind,” Amanda said. “I brought you some cocoa with marshmallows.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Stetson.” Christy sat on the edge of Jenna’s bed. Wrapping her hands around the mug, she took a small sip. “I’m really sorry about those boxes in the garage.”

“I’m not worried about the boxes,” Amanda said. “How’s your head?”

“Well it hurts,” Christy said. “But I don’t think it’s that bad—just a bump. The icepack should help—thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Amanda said. “I called your Mother—she was glad to know that you were all right.”

Christy laughed shortly. “You mean she actually cares?”

“Christy of course she does—you know that.”

“What I do know is that she took off and left me with my fath—I mean—that creep.” Christy fell silent, looking down at her hands.

Amanda sat on the bed beside her. “It must have been frightening for you—running away like you did.”

Christy just shrugged, not meeting Amanda’s gaze. “The alternative would’ve been worse, believe me.”

Amanda wanted to ask what Christy meant, but she decided not to press her too far at this point. Now that she was closer she could see what Jenna had been talking about— the small bruises covering one side of Christy’s neck and collarbone.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Amanda reached out to pull the girl close but Christy pulled away like she’d been burned. Abruptly she stood.

“It’s really okay, Mrs. Stetson—I guess I’m just a little tired right now—I think I’ll go to bed if that’s okay.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Amanda said. “But you know if you need to talk we’re right here.”

“I know that,” Christy said. “And thank you—it means a lot.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Saturday, September 7, 2002

1:30 AM

“No!”

Jenna sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding furiously. Her nightshirt stuck to her back, and her breath came in gasps.

‘Only a dream,’ Jenna thought. ‘Nothing else--dreams can't hurt me.’

The moon shone down through her window, bathing her room in a dim light. Jenna looked around; taking some comfort in familiar objects as her breathing and heartbeat gradually came back down to normal. The only thing that wasn’t exactly normal was the inside of her mouth—it felt like it had been scraped down with sandpaper. Water would help. Jenna rose from the bed and went downstairs. A soft sound came from the family room—as she got closer Jenna realized that it was the sound of crying In the dim light she could make out Christy, curled up on the sofa, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs.

“Christy?” Jenna spoke her friend’s name softly, not wanting to startle her. She sat down on the sofa beside Christy.

“Jenna?” Christy sat up and looked up at her, one hand wiping at her eyes and nose. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Jenna said. “I came down for a glass of water.” She paused, not exactly sure of what else to say. “Want to talk about it?” she managed finally, knowing how lame that sounded.

“Not really.”

“Can I get you anything?”

A slight shake of the head. “You guys have done so much already,” Christy said. “Your family is so wonderful—I don’t— don’t know why my family can’t—why they aren’t like—”

Christy’s voice dissolved into sobs. Jenna put her arms around her friend, holding her while she cried. She could hear her own voice, telling Christy that it would be okay, that everything would work out and be fine.

TBC

What Lies Beneath-Chapter Nine

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Saturday, September 7, 2002

4:30 AM

“Hey.” A hand gently patted Jenna’s cheek. She opened her eyes to see her Dad bending over her.

“Have you been down here all night?” he asked.

“I think so,” Jenna lifted her head from the kitchen table, rubbing her eyes. “Most of it, anyway. We were talking and then we must’ve fallen asleep. Where’s Christy?”

“She’s on the sofa,” Dad said. “Which I might add is a lot more comfortable than a table. Let’s keep quiet, though, huh? We don’t want to disturb her.”

“Dad, Christy sleeps like a log,” Jenna said. “You could run a marching band through the family room and she wouldn’t even open her eyes.”

Dad smiled. “Even so, it’s awfully early.”

Jenna’s eyes focused on the red letters on the oven’s clock. “It is awfully early,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine—I just couldn’t sleep.” Dad reached up into one of the cabinets and grabbed the coffee filters. “That must’ve been some talk the two of you had.”

“I guess.”

“What happened?”

“Well I had a nightmare, so I got up to get a glass of water and—”

“Wait a minute—you had a nightmare?” Dad asked. Jenna nodded. “Why didn’t you wake us up?”

“I’m thirteen—I can’t wake you up for every little thing,” Jenna said. “Besides, it wasn’t a really bad nightmare anyway—just a normal one.”

Dad slowly shook his head as he poured water into the coffeepot.

“Are you mad at me?” Jenna asked.

“No of course I’m not.” Dad spooned coffee into the machine and turned it on. There was a crackling sound, and within moments the aroma began to fill the room. “It’s just—I really wish you didn’t have any kinds of nightmares at all.”

“Me too.” Jenna said. “But anyway when I came down here Christy was on the sofa and she was crying—I couldn’t just leave her here all by herself.”

“You’re a good friend.” Dad said. “And right now that’s what Christy really needs.”

“Yeah,” Jenna was silent for a moment. “What happens now?”

“Well, she’s going to have to be questioned, to see how much she knows about her father’s activities.”

“You mean debriefed, right? Like I was?”

“Pretty much—except we’re going to do it here,” Dad said. “Right now it’s not safe for either of you to be out of the house.”

Not safe. Jenna felt a chill go through her body at those words. “Things are that bad?”

“Afraid so.” Dad’s expression was grim. “There’s a team posted outside guarding this house, but if something goes wrong we can—”

“Go wrong?” Jenna interjected. “Why would something go wrong?”

“Calm down. I’m not saying that something will go wrong—just that it might. And if that happens we can always move you to a safe-house.”

A safe-house. That’s where they’d been planning to go that one night—the night before—the sound of gunshots echoed in Jenna’s head—memories of falling to the ground, the growing burning in her leg— unable to control the muscles as they spasmed or hold back the whimpers of pain—her Mother’s voice—

*~~*

“Lee, she’s been hit!”

*~~*

—Jenna stared hard at the kitchen table, trying to push those memories back into her head.

“Jenna?” her dad’s voice. Jenna looked up at him.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I had a little moment but now I’m okay.” Dad’s expression was skeptical. “Really, I am.”

Dad sighed. “I’m so sorry—you shouldn’t be mixed up in all this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jenna, Peter Blakeney wants to use you to get to me,” Lee told her. “If it wasn’t for me and our jobs you might have a normal life right now.”

“Maybe, but if it wasn’t for you and Mom and your jobs, Gary Johnston might have killed me two years ago. You can’t think about what-if’s”

Dad poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred in some creamer. “How’d you get to be so smart, anyway?”

Jenna smiled. “I had good parents.”

“That you did.”

“Christy wasn’t so lucky, though—not with her Dad—was she?” Jenna asked. “It’s funny—she used to tell us how great he was and how much fun they’d have when he came home.”

“Well sometimes we see people the way we want to see them—not the way they really are—especially your parents. Remember when you thought your Mother and I might be gangsters?”

Jenna winced. “I was trying not to remember that,” she said. “What’s going to happen to Christy and her Mom after this is all over?”

“I really don’t know—hopefully they’ll be able to put this behind them and live a normal life again.” Dad took another sip of coffee. “Would you like some breakfast? I can make you some toaster waffles or cereal.”

“No, I’m not really hungry,” Jenna looked at the cup he held. “I would like to try some coffee, though.”

Dad hesitated. “I don’t know—I’m not sure how good coffee is for someone your age.”

“Please Dad? Lisa says she drinks it all the time.”

“All right—well how much coffee? Do you want creamer with it? Milk? Sugar?”

So many choices. “I’m not sure,” Jenna said finally. “Whatever’s the best way, I guess.”

“Here.” Dad took a smaller cup, pouring coffee and stirring some creamer in. “This is the way I like my coffee—try that and see how it tastes to you.”

“Okay.” Jenna took a cautious sip of the hot liquid—then resisted the urge to spit it right back out again. “Ugh—it’s so bitter.”

“What did you expect it to taste like?”

“I don’t know,” Jenna admitted. “Not like this, though. It smells so good, but the way it tastes—”

“I guess it’s something to get used to. Can I get you anything else?”

“Yes—cereal would be awesome—maybe some juice too?”

Dad laughed. “Anything you want, munchkin.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

11:30 AM

“Who are you guys?” Christy asked. She was curled up in the armchair—knees drawn against her chest— arms wrapped around her knees—it was the same protective posture Lee remembered Jenna assuming during her debriefing, except with Christy it was worse. It was almost like she was trying to blend back into the upholstery. “You don’t look like the police.”

“Actually we’re federal agents,” Billy said. “We assisted during Jenna’s kidnapping—which is why her parents called us in to speak to you.”

“So what my dad’s involved in is federal?” Christy asked. “It’s a federal crime?”

“Well we think so,” Francine replied. “That’s why we need to ask you these questions. Just try and answer as honestly as you can, okay?”

Christy shrugged. “Shoot.”

“Before we start, is there anyone you’d like to leave the room?” Francine asked.

“Actually I’d like everyone to stay.” Christy said. “You too, Jenna—please?”

“I’ll be right here,” Jenna said.

Francine pressed the button on the machine. “Interview starting at 11:32 AM,” she said “Christy, can you tell us when you first started to suspect that your father was involved in something?”

“Probably about a week after he got out,” Christy said. “He carried this briefcase with him everywhere and he started making all these strange phone calls—almost like he was trying to get people to buy something. And then on Labor Day weekend I was listening outside his room and it sounded like he was arranging to meet someone—I can’t remember the name but when he ended the call he said a weird thing—it sounded like odik joy or something.”

`Odikjoil—Chechen for goodbye. Blakeney had been talking to Basayev, Lee realized—plotting to lure him out and then murder him.

“And after that you went to Chincoteague?” Francine asked.

“Yes,” Christy nodded. “It was a spur of the moment thing—Dad disappeared for a few hours while we were there. Mom said he was visiting the Art Show—but he’s never liked art before, so I thought it was a little weird. And then the next day when I came home Dad was talking to someone else—I was about to open the door and I heard him talking to someone named Ustinoff. Dad told Ustinoff that he would have to bid for the discs—the information—just like everyone else.”

“These discs here?” Francine indicated the jewel cases on the coffee table—the ones that Christy had removed from her backpack.”

“I think so,” Christy said. “That’s what was in the briefcase. When Mom tried to look at it he-he hit her, and after that Mom to stay with Aunt Marie.” Her voice faltered slightly. ”I probably should’ve gone with her, but I didn’t.”

“So what made you finally decide to leave?”

Christy wiped at her eyes. “When I found out what he had planned for Jenna,” she said. “He wanted me to bring her to the house—at first I thought he was being nice. I was even mad at Jenna for not being allowed to come over. But then after the thing in the parking lot when he grabbed her arm—I started to wonder what he wanted Jenna for.” Christy paused. “That’s when he showed me.”

Billy’s expression darkened. “What did he show you?”

“He grabbed my shoulder and dragged me up to the attic.” Christy’s voice was toneless. “He had painted the windows over so no one could see inside—he’d even bolted some manacles to the wall—it was like a dungeon or something. Dad told me that a person could scream for hours and never be heard.”

“Oh my gosh,” Amanda said softly. Jenna was silent, her hands balled up, eyes staring straight ahead.

Looking at his daughter Lee had a sudden and vivid mental image of her trapped in a dark airless room where no one could hear her cries—the mere thought made his stomach churn. If he ever got his hands on Blakeney—

“I was just so scared,” Christy said. “Dad said that if I didn’t bring Jenna to him that’s where he’d put me. After that I had to run—I didn’t really have much of a choice.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“I think she’s told us everything she knows,” Billy said. “We’ll take the discs back to the Agency—have them analyzed by our IT department and see what they can tell us.”

“Poor girl,” Francine’s blue eyes clouded as she spoke. “How any man could do that to his own daughter—”

“He’s a piece of murdering scum, that’s how, Francine,” Lee said. Amanda squeezed his hand.

“You realize that Gambit’s not going to give up on those discs, Scarecrow—the stakes are too high,” Billy said. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider a safe-house?”

Lee nodded. “Given the circumstances I think it’s best we stay here—changing locations at this point would risk exposure.”

Billy nodded. “Understood,” he said. “Just watch yourselves— because whatever Gambit’s next move will be —he’s bound to make it here.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

5:00 PM

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier,” Christy said. “I just—everything was crazy.”

“I understand, sweetheart,” Kathryn said. “I’m just glad to know that you’re all right—you have no idea how worried I was—I love you so much.”

“I love you too Mom—”

There was a sudden knock on the door. “Sweetheart I have to go—I have company. Can I call you later?”

“Sure,” Christy said. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Kathryn hung up the phone. The knock came again, louder this time.

“I’m coming,” she called. Kathryn slid back the deadbolt and chain and opened the door a crack—it was Peter. Panicking she tried to shut the door but by that time he’d already shoved his way in, flattening her up against the wall.

“Peter,” Kathryn said. “What are you doing?”

Peter smiled—the expression sent a chill through her body. “The question here, my dear wife, is what are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kathryn gasped as his forearm pressed against her throat, making it hard to breathe.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” Peter mimicked her tone perfectly. “Now that couldn’t have been Christy you were talking to—could it?”

“What if it was?”

Peter’s response to her question was to press his forearm deeper into her neck, pinning Kathryn’s body against the wall.

“Peter—please.” Kathryn whispered. She felt tears on her face.

“You’re going to tell me where she is, Kathryn.” Peter said. “And you’re going to tell me now, before things get unpleasant for you.”

“You can’t make me tell you.”

Another smile. “Oh believe me,” Peter’s other hand ran down her cheek. “I can make you—and I will.”

Sunday, September 8, 2002

4247 Maplewood Dr.

12:00 PM

The doorbell rang while Lee was in the kitchen making a sandwich.

“I’ll get it,” he called out. Slowly Lee unholstered his gun as he approached the door.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Visitor for you, Mr. Stetson,” Agent Hudson said. “He says he has some flowers.”

Looking through the peephole, Lee could see a man dressed wearing a jacket and a matching cap which was pulled down to obscure his features. Even with the get-up, Lee recognized him immediately.

“It’s okay, Hudson—I’ll deal with him.”

“All right—let us know if you need anything else,” Agent Hudson said.

Lee threw open the door, causing his visitor to take an involuntary step backwards.

“Augie, do you mind telling me just what the hell you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

“No need to get so uptight, it was the only way I could think of to get in touch,” Augie’s eyes widened as he saw the gun that Lee still held. “I hope you weren’t planning on using that right now.”

“No,” Lee sighed as he put his gun back in its holster. “You have something for me?”

“The flowers,” Augie held out the basket in his hands. “That’ll be twenty dollars.”

“Fine,” Lee handed him the twenty and grabbed the basket. “Now—what is this information?”

“Look at the note,” Augie instructed. Lee shot the other man a glare as he pulled the note out of the envelope.

“What the—” Lee said as he read the note and looked up at Augie. “7:30 tonight at Rock Creek Park? How can there still be an auction when there’s nothing to trade?”

“I don’t know,” Augie said. “All they told me is that everything is expected to go on as planned. Look, I have to go Lee—I can’t risk being observed.”

“Bye Augie,” Lee closed the door, his eyes still fastened on the paper in his hands. A trap? He wondered. Always a possibility—but he lead had to be followed up on—it was standard procedure.

Lee just wished that he could quell the growing uneasiness that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

1:30 PM

“Ustinoff, anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?” Peter said. “The auction will go off as planned—right on schedule.”

“I don’t see how that can be,” Ustinoff said. “Since my sources tell me that you no longer have the items—the discs—in your possession.”

“Your—sources, don’t know what they are talking about.” As he spoke, Peter glanced at the prone form of his wife, lying face down on the sofa. “Trust me—I’m not going to have any problems getting my hands on the information.”

“I sincerely hope not, my friend. My backers would be very concerned if they discovered you had been lying to me.”

“Yeah well you can tell your backers to cool their jets—I’m on top of things. Goodbye, Ustinoff.” Peter disconnected the call, putting his cell phone back in his pocket. Walking over to his wife, he grabbed her hair, lifting her head roughly. Kathryn gave a soft groan, her eyes barely focusing.

“Listen to me, darling—” he said. “In just a little while you and I are going to call our daughter—I’m sure she can’t wait to see you again. Nothing to say, Kathryn?” he shook her slightly. “Huh?” He watched as his wife’s mouth opened—trying to form words, but then her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness. Peter let go of her hair and let her head drop back onto the sofa.

“That’s right,” he told her. “Get some rest.” Peter caught his reflection in the mirror and smiled. “You’ll need it for what’s to come.”

TBC

Chapter Ten

Saturday, September 7, 2002

4247 Maplewood Dr.

2:30 PM

“What are you doing?”

Lee looked up at his daughter. “Watching football,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Not very much.” Jenna sat down on the sofa beside him, looking at the screen. “So who’s playing?”

“Redskins and the Cardinals.”

“The St. Louis Cardinals?”

“No, that’s a baseball team. These are the Arizona Cardinals.”

“Oh.” Jenna said. “Who’s winning?”

“Well, we’re in the third quarter and right now the Redskins are winning.”

“That’s good, right?” Lee gave her a look. “Of course it’s good,” Jenna said. “Hey, did you know they’re showing the Blues Brothers movie on channel 7?”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

“Well they are—and there’s a guy on there who looks like Dr. Pfaff—or sort of like what Dr. Pfaff would look like if he was younger and had different hair. Isn’t that cool?”

Lee sighed. “Yes, that’s cool,” he said.” Jenna, if you want to watch that movie there are always other televisions in the house.”

“The movie’s over now.”

“Well what about your Mom--or even Christy? I’m sure they’d love to play a game or something.”

“Christy wants to be by herself and Mom told me to come and talk to you.” Jenna said. “So are the Redskins still winning?”

“They’re still winning.”

“But how can you even tell who the winner is? I mean, to me it just looks like they run into each other and fall down and then get back up and run into each other again—”

“Jenna,” Lee turned to face her. “Can you stop for just two seconds and catch your breath?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Now is there something on your mind? Anything you want to talk to me about?”

“Not exactly,” Jenna looked away from him. “I mean, it sounds kind of stupid to say but I guess I’m just—”

“Bored?”

Jenna’s eyes widened. “How did you guess?”

Lee smiled. “It’s more than a little obvious—and it’s certainly nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Jenna shrugged. “I just feel a like I’m being a little selfish. All you’re only trying to do is keep us safe—I have no right to be bored.”

“So suddenly you’re Saint Jenna?” Lee asked. “Look—you’ve been stuck inside this house since Friday—a person would need the patience of a saint to not have a major case of cabin fever.”

“That’s true.” Jenna said. “When is this all going to be over?”

“By tonight, hopefully, if everything goes as planned.”

“And Grandma’s coming to sit with me and Christy?”

“That’s the plan,” Lee said. “And don’t worry—there’ll be guards on the house the whole time. That creep is not going to get his hands on you.”

“What about you and Mom?”

“I’ve told you before—your Mom and I are more than capable of taking care of ourselves.”

“I know that,” Jenna said. “Just promise me you’ll both be extra careful, all right?”

Lee hugged Jenna briefly, kissing her forehead. “I promise.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“Christy?”

Wide-eyed, Christy turned around, nearly dropping Jenna’s phone on the carpet in the process. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jenna looked at the phone. “Were you calling somebody?”

“This is going to sound silly,” Christy said, “But my cell battery is a little low and I was trying to call my Mom back—I called her earlier and she had to let me go because she had company—I’m just a little worried that I can’t get in touch with her or my aunt.”

“That doesn’t sound silly at all,” Jenna said. “I’m sure everything’s fine, though—maybe they went out shopping or something.”

“Maybe,” Christy said. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I just worry.”

“Believe me—I understand worrying,” Jenna said. “Oh, and—before I forget—I just wanted to say thanks.”

“What for?”

“For not helping your Dad—you know—when he wanted to take me.”

“You’d do the same for me, right?”

Jenna nodded.

“The only thing I can’t figure out is why he wanted to take you,” Christy said. “I mean—there’s no possible way you’re connected to this.”

“No, I’m not exactly connected.” Jenna stared down at her shoes as she spoke, choosing her words carefully. “But I mean—um—my parents are involved with the Government— so maybe your Dad thought they would have some influence.”

“Maybe.” Christy sounded doubtful. “I just hope that it wasn’t for some sick kind of reason.”

“No, I’m sure it wasn’t that.”

“How do you know?”

J “I just know, that’s all.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” Christy asked.

Jenna looked up at her. “I –ahh—”

“Jenna Leigh!” her mother’s voice floated upstairs. “I’d appreciate your help with this laundry.”

“I’ve got to go—um—talk to you later,” Jenna said.

“Oh sure, the laundry excuse—very believable—we will talk later, okay?”

Jenna grinned. “Okay.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Christy listened as Jenna’s footsteps faded away. She was about to call her mother’s number again when her cell phone rang. — the caller ID indicating that it was from home. Maybe her mom was home again. Her hopes rising, Christy flipped her phone open.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hello, gumdrop.” The sound of her father’s voice sent shivers through Christy’s body. “I’ve got someone here that you’d like to talk to.”

“Dad?” Christy asked.

“You sound surprised” her dad said. "Are you having a good time at the Stetsons?"

"How did you--I don't understand."

“You should know by now that you can’t hide from me—especially after what you’ve stolen.”

.“What do you want?”

“Like I said once before, I have someone here who wants to talk to you. Honey—say hi to Christy.”

“Chris?” The voice was weak—Christy had to strain just to hear.

“Mom? Are you okay?”

“Sweetheart I’m—I’m so sorry all of this happened—so many mistakes—'member that I love you— all right?”

Christy swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “I love you too, Mom.”

“Awww—it’s so touching isn’t it?” Dad said. “A daughter’s love for her mother.”

“What’s wrong with Mom? What did you do to her?”

“Well she had to be persuaded to tell me where you were, gumdrop.” Dad told her. “It’s regrettable, but I’m afraid that some of the persuasion was a little on the rough side.”

“Daddy, please—” Christy’s voice broke. “I love you—why are you doing this?”

“You love me, Christy?” Dad laughed. “Love? You disobeyed, you stole from me—betrayed me—people who love one another don’t do that. You drove me to do this.”

“Don’t hurt Mom anymore because of me—at least let her go to the hospital—”

“Oh I might do that,” Dad said. “But only on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You bring Jenna Stetson to me.”

“Jenna? But what about the discs I took?”

“You insult my intelligence, Christy—those will have already been turned over to the authorities. What I need to get them back is a bargaining chip.”

“And that’s Jenna?”

“Her life for your mother’s life,” Dad said. “Shouldn’t be a hard decision to make. And don’t even think about getting help, Christy. If I discover that you betrayed me again, I might—well I just don’t know what I might do.”

Christy’s heart was racing, making it hard to breathe. She clutched the phone, fighting to keep her voice calm. “I don’t—the house is guarded,” Christy managed to say. “How will I get Jenna out?”

“You’re a bright girl,” Dad said. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Where am I bringing her?”

“Our house— at four-thirty"

“And if I do that Mom will be safe and she can go to the doctor? You promise?”

“Well that all depends on you—on how much you’re willing to cooperate,” Dad said. “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” Christy told him. “We have a deal.”

TBC

Chapter Eleven

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Sunday, September 8, 2002

3:30 PM

As Christy made her way downstairs she could hear voices.

“But Mom I don’t need to iron it,” Jenna was saying. “I don’t see any point in ironed jeans—they’re stretch jeans anyway.”

“Sweetheart your jeans are one thing,” Amanda said. “ But these khaki pants have about a zillion wrinkles.”

“They’re supposed to look that way—it’s a style, right Dad?”

Lee sounded faintly amused. “Munchkin I have to agree with your Mom on this one—style or no style, those pants really need an iron.”

“Mom—”

“Jenna you are going to iron these—end of discussion.”

Jenna sighed audibly. "All right."

Normal family life. Christy thought of her mother, lying somewhere, hurt and in pain—probably dying—

“Remember that I love you.”

Christy clutched the banister, fighting a wave of dizziness and nausea as she slowly made her way downstairs.

--her life for your Mother’s –

--bright girl—you’ll think of something— the nausea grew and Christy's knees started to buckle.

She was only vaguely aware of hands supporting her—other voices—

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” a woman’s voice said. “We’ve got you—you won’t fall.” Her mother? Of course it wasn’t her mother. Tears pricked her eyes. Someone guided Christy to sit on something soft—a sofa? Easy chair? She wasn’t sure.

“Bend down and hold your head between your knees. ” the same woman instructed her. It was Jenna’s mother. “Nowake deep breaths—that’s it--”

“I’ll get her a glass of water, Mom.”

“That’s a good idea, Jenna.” Amanda said. “Keep breathing, Christy—in through your nose—out of your mouth.”

Christy did as she was told—gradually things began to clear and the nausea and dizziness faded.

“Here’s some ice water, Christy.” Jenna handed Christy a glass. Christy sat up and took the glass, sipping the liquid slowly.

“Feeling better?” A man’s voice asked. Jenna’s Dad.

“Yeah. Thanks.” A hand smoothed her hair, just like her own mother used to—tears filled Christy’s eyes for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

“Tell us what happened, sweetheart.” Amanda said.

“I got a—I mean –I got--” Christy struggled to get the words out.

“Take your time,” Lee said.

“It was my cell phone,” Christy said. “My dad—he called me—he knows where I am, and my Mom, he—” she sipped some more water, feeling the icy liquid trickling down her throat.

Amanda knelt beside Christy. “What did your Dad do?”

“He said he ‘persuaded’ her,” Christy felt her nausea rising again. “I don’t know what he did, exactly, but mom—she sounded pretty bad. He says he wants to make a trade—that if I give him something he’d let my Mother get some help.” She paused. “I’m sorry—he said not to tell anyone or he would--”

“You did the right thing in telling us, Christy,” Lee said. “Now we can help you. What does he want to trade for— is it for the information?”

Christy shook her head. “Not the information,” she said. “The person he wants me to trade for my Mom is Jenna.”

SMK SMK SMK SMK

“Billy, I’m not doing it.” Lee strode back and forth across the kitchen, the cordless clenched in his hand. “You hear me? I refuse to involve her. Dammit, you know yourself what she’s been through.”

“Of course I know, Lee, and I don’t like it any better than you do. But at this moment I don’t see that we have a choice.”

“What about a decoy? Give someone a wig— maybe some of Jenna’s clothes—they could pose as her long enough to let us get to him.”

“Firstly, we don’t have anyone in the field section who can successfully impersonate a 13 –year-old girl,” Billy said. “And secondly, even if we did have a ringer you know that it takes time to set up something like that. At this point you only have an hour.”

Lee ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen what Peter Blakeney has done to his own family. If that man gets his hands on Jenna—” Lee felt a shudder run through his body. “Billy, there’s no telling what he might do to her. I can’t let this happen again—there’s just no way.”

“But I want to do this.”

Lee turned around. Jenna stood at the foot of the stairs, a resolute expression on her face.

“Munchkin—” Lee began.

“I want to do this, Dad,” she repeated. “I want to help. Please let me.”

"Billy, I'm going to have to call you back." Lee hung up the phone and turned to his daughter.

“You can’t,” Lee told her. “I know you want to help, but your mother and I—”

“—if I don’t help, Christy’s mother could die.”

“Well you could die too. Have you thought of that?” Lee’s voice rose. “Peter Blakeney enjoys hurting people, Jenna— and he’d enjoy hurting you—he’d kill you in a split second if it suited his purposes. Is that really what you want?”

Jenna blanched. “No.” Her voice trembled. “It’s not what I want.”

“And what if you panic and freeze, huh? Or this triggers another flashback? Tell me what happens then, Jenna. I’ll tell you—you’ll be completely helpless.”

“There’s no choice.”

“Oh yes there is,” Lee countered. “My choice is not to endanger your life or put you through any more trauma.”

“Don’t I get a choice?” Jenna asked.

Lee shook his head. “Not this time you don’t. I refuse to bury my own child.”

“Sweetheart, your father’s not trying to scare you,” Amanda came in from the family room. “But I have to agree with him—this could be very dangerous.”

“I know that,” Jenna said. “You’ve been teaching me, though—how to take care of myself—and I’ve been practicing, too.”

“No, all you know are some very basic moves--that's it," Lee said. “And you only learned those a few days ago—I don’t care how much you’ve practiced. You’re still just a kid—”

“Don’t call me a kid.”

“Jenna you're only thirteen years old. You wouldn’t have a prayer against a professional. The answer is still no.”

“Fine,” Jenna said. “But if it’s not going to be me and I don’t do this—then who does? And what will happen to Christy’s mother? Just tell me.”

Lee looked at his daughter and then he turned—his gaze locking with Amanda’s. He knew she was thinking the same thing—coming to the same realization.

There was no choice.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

Courage.

Jenna sat on her bed, looking down at Emily’s drawing. ‘Something that Emily wanted me to have,’ she thought to herself. ‘Something I should have—’ But all the wanting in the world wouldn’t dissolve the knot that had settled somewhere in the pit of Jenna’s stomach. She looked at her hands.

‘How the hell am I supposed to have courage if I can’t stop shaking?’ she wondered.

“Munchkin?” The sound of Dad'svoice made Jenna jump. She looked up from the drawing to see him standing over her.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “I just need to give you this.”

Jenna put the paper aside as she rose from the bed. “What is it?”

“It’s a necklace with a miniature transmitter—just pull your hair out of the way so I can get it on—” Jenna did, and Dad fastened the clasp around her neck. “This way we’ll know where you are at all times—within a radius of at least twenty miles, that is.”

“Thanks.” Jenna fingered the tiny pendant on the necklace—it was funny—it didn’t look or feel different from any other piece of jewelry. “Will you be able to hear me with it?” she asked.

“No, it’s not that kind of transmitter,” Dad told her. “But we can use it to find you if we need to.”

Jenna nodded. “So what—” she cleared her throat. “What do I do? When I get there, I mean.”

Dad was quiet for a few moments, just looking at her. “The main thing you need to do is stay calm,” he said finally. “It never helps to panic, and don’t try to be a hero, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Also, don’t let him take you out of the house and to another location if you can help it. Because once he takes you somewhere else he has more control over you—don’t let him have that.”

“I understand,” Jenna said. Dad continued.

“Once Christy and her mother are out safely, a TAC Team will be sent in to arrest Peter and retrieve you.”

“A TAC Team?” Jenna repeated.

“It’s short for Tactical Team,” Dad said. “I don’t know if you remember, but they helped rescue you and your mother from Franco and Rudolpho Necci.”

Jenna had a vague memory of people wearing jumpsuits—smoke, gunfire and lots of shouting. “Will you and Mom be there too?”

“We’ll be there—you couldn’t keep us away if you tried.”

“But what if something goes wrong?” Jenna asked. “What if you aren’t there? What if—”

“Jenna, stop,” Dad said. “Weren’t you were the one who told me not to think about the what-if’s?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts." Dad put his hands on her shoulders. “There are always about half-a-million things that could go wrong with any operation, but if you let yourself think that way you’ve already lost. Understand?”

Jenna nodded. “I guess you’re more used to dealing with this.”

“I’m not used to putting my own child in danger.” As he spoke Jenna could see fear in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this—there’s still time to back out.”

“But this is the only way to save Christy’s mom—isn’t it?”

“Knowing that doesn’t make it any easier. I never wanted you in the line of fire.” His gaze fell on the bed. “What were you looking at, anyway?”

“That drawing Emily made for me,” Jenna said. “I just wish—I wish I had what she wanted me to have.” She lifted a shaking hand to wipe at her eyes.

“Hey.” Dad hugged her. “You do have that—and you know what?”

Jenna’s voice was muffled against her dad’s shirt. “No, what?”

“You always have.”

“Jenna, Christy’s waiting for you downstairs,” her mother said. Jenna broke from Dad’s embrace and walked over to where Mom stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her mother’s face was pale—dark eyes puffy—the signs of recent tears all too visible.

“Oh Mom, I’m—” looking at her made Jenna want to start crying herself. But before she could do or say anything else, Mom pulled Jenna into a fierce hug.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Mom said. “Just be brave, and we will get you out—I promise.”

Jenna closed her eyes, tears escaping from beneath her lids.

“I know, Mom—I love you too.”

TBC

What Lies Beneath: Chapter Twelve

Sunday, September 8, 2002

4:25 PM

‘Put one foot in front of the other…’

For some bizarre reason the song from that old Santa Claus movie kept looping through Jenna’s head. She watched her sneakers as they moved down the sidewalk. There were the familiar cracks in the sidewalk—uneven places—bits where grass and weeds had sprouted through.

“My bike is faster than yours, Jenna”

“You wish!” Jenna pedaled even harder then, standing up on the pedals as they seemed to sail down the street…

*Brrrinngg!*

Jolted from her thoughts by the sound, Jenna looked up to see a blond girl on a pink ten-speed bike. The girl gave Jenna and Christy a curious glance as she passed, disappearing rapidly down the street.

“Hey that almost looked like you,” Christy said. “Remember that pink and grey ten-speed you had?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Everyone at school called it ‘the midget bike’ because of how small it was,” Christy smiled as she spoke. “But after you won that downhill race with Brant Cornish no one laughed at it again.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Jenna said. “That was when I ran into Mr. Marcher’s brand-new car and scraped up my whole left side—Dad nearly called 911 when I came limping through the door and bleeding all over the carpet.”

“You did win, though.”

“Yeah,” Jenna said. “I did win.”

Christy’s house was directly across the street now. An ordinary looking house—one Jenna knew as well as her own, but now—she swallowed hard.

Ordinary. But of course Gary Johnston’s house had looked ordinary too—no one ever would’ve guessed what was happening behind those walls. Jenna forced those thoughts away—Gary Johnston was then. This was now.

Dad had told her the most important thing was keeping calm. But as hard as Jenna tried she couldn’t stop the rapid beat of her heart—betraying her growing fear.

“This can’t be happening, Jenna,” Christy said—her feelings mirroring Jenna’s own. “I keep hoping that I’ll wake up and it’ll all be just a bad dream—but it isn’t.”

“No, it’s not a bad dream.” The metal of the pendant felt cool against Jenna’s skin and in a way it was comforting—reminding her that she wasn’t completely alone. “But everything should be okay if we stick to the plan.”

“So? I mean, even if the plan works how can things ever be okay?” Christy said. “What my Dad is—what he’s done to my Mom—to you—and I’m his daughter.”

“I don’t know.” Jenna said. “I wish I had an answer, but I don’t.”

“It’s all right—maybe there is no answer,” Christy took in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

Together they crossed the street, opened the gate and went up the walk. Before they could open the door it was opened for them. Jenna stepped back as she looked up into Mr. Blakeney’s face. His smiling face—right above the barrel of the gun pointed in their direction. Jenna’s eyes focused on the metal barrel.

“That’s right…get back in the room, there’s a good girl…”

“Your name is Marcie Ann Johnston. Say it!”

‘Stop it,’ Jenna thought--focusing on her breathing, forcing herself to focus on something in the present. She looked over at Christy.

Her friend’s face had grown very pale, her dark eyes wide as she looked at the gun and then at her father.

“I’ve been expecting you two,” Mr. Blakeney said. “Won’t you come in?”

“I—” Christy hesitated, struggled to speak. Jenna could see tears on her friend’s cheeks. Mr. Blakeney grabbed his daughter’s arm, pulling it and then twisting until Christy cried out in pain. “I said, come inside,” he said. “Didn’t I, Christy? It’s not nice to disobey your father.”

“Christy,” Jenna started forward, but Mr. Blakeney cocked his pistol.

“Don’t you worry, Jenna,” he told her. “You’ll have your turn soon enough. Now will you both come in or not?”

Jenna followed Christy and Mr. Blakeney through the door. The first thing she saw was Mrs. Blakeney, lying face down on the sofa. Was she even alive? Jenna wasn’t sure.

“Mom!” Christy cried out.

“That’s right, darling—go say hi to your Mother.” Mr. Blakeney roughly shoved his daughter to the floor. Christy crawled over to the sofa.

“Mom?” she patted her mother’s face—Mrs. Blakeney gave a soft groan. “It’s Christy—I’ve come to help you.” Christy looked at her Dad. “You said you’d let us go if I brought you Jenna.”

“Oh I’m keeping my word,” Mr. Blakeney said. “You’re free to go –provided that you’re able.”

“Mom?” Christy knelt beside her and patted her cheek. “We’re getting out—can you walk?” Mrs. Blakeney groaned again—this time her eyes opened slightly—Jenna could see the dark bruising on the woman’s face.

“Chris?” Mrs. Blakeney said.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Christy said. “I’ve got you.”

Jenna watched as slowly they rose—Mrs. Blakeney’s arm draped over Christy’s shoulder as Christy struggled to support her. Together they managed to walk out of the open door.

Mr. Blakeney closed the door with a final sounding thud and looked at Jenna. Still holding the gun, he walked towards her. Slowly Jenna backed away from him, her mouth dry.

“Alone at last,” he said. “And what are we to do with you, Jenna Stetson?”

“Mr. Blakeney.” Jenna’s back was against the fireplace—she could feel the rough stone through her clothing. “Please— my Dad will get you what you want.”

“What I want?” Mr. Blakeney raised his eyebrows. “And what do you know about what I want? What I want from you?” He was close now, close enough that Jenna could feel his breath on her skin.

Stay calm—don’t panic— be brave—have courage—those thoughts raced through her mind. Mr. Blakeney’s fingers brushed Jenna’s cheekbone.

“Your father will get me what I want,” he said. “And then you’re going to be my life insurance policy for getting out of the country. No one will touch the Scarecrow’s daughter, now will they?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh I think you know good and well what I’m talking about.” Mr. Blakeney’s hand ran down her neck as he spoke. Jenna felt her legs trembling, threatening to buckle completely. His hand stopped at the necklace—without any warning he gave it a sharp yank.

“You won’t be needing this,” he dangled the object in front of her face. “You know, Jenna—if you’re a good girl and do what I say maybe I’ll let you go when this is all over.”

Again Jenna heard a familiar sound—the sound of a pistol being cocked—only this time it wasn’t Mr. Blakeney’s gun. She felt a rush of relief as she heard her father’s voice.

“If you know what’s good for you, Blakeney,” Dad said. “You’ll let her go—right now.”

Mr. Blakeney laughed. "I don't think so, Stetson." Before Jenna was
able to do anything else the man grabbed her, swinging her roughly
around to face her dad. Mr. Blakeney's arm was around Jenna's
shoulders, pulling her tightly against his body. The barrel of the
gun he held was now pressed against the side of her head.

"Ready to play, little girl?" Rudolpho Necci chuckled at Jenna's
futile struggles.

"You're no match for me. Don't you know that?" Jenna's eyes widened as
she saw a needle in Rudolpho's hand. The syringe was filled with a
clear liquid. Rudolpho's grip was bruising on her lower arm. As he
squeezed Jenna gasped with pain.

"Give me a vein, there you go—that's real good," Rudolpho said. "Now
the best thing is just to relax and let this happen."

Jenna threw back her head—there was a cracking sound as she hit something—Rudolpho howled in pain and Jenna dropped to the ground. Now was her chance—she started to crawl away when her ankle was grabbed and she was pulled backward, the carpet scraping at her bare legs. Rudolpho’s large shadow loomed over her—Jenna tried to move but there wasn’t anywhere to move to.

“I’ll teach you to mess with me,” Rudolpho growled, lifting his hand—

With a gasp Jenna pulled herself out of the flashback. Keeping her breathing even, she focused on her father's face. Dad wore a black jumpsuit. His gun was trained on Mr. Blakeney but Jenna could see that he was
hesitating—-holding back--

"Not an easy choice, is it?" Mr. Blakeney said. "Do you risk hurting
Jenna to get to me? In chess I believe this would be called a `check'."

"Look, I have the information you want," Dad said. "Let Jenna go,
Blakeney—she's no use to you."

"Actually she's very useful to me—with her I'll be able to sell the
information at auction and get out of the country safely." Mr. Blakeney's hand
cupped the side of Jenna's face. "No one will risk bringing harm to
this pretty little thing—though she won't look so cute if I'm forced
to knock her around a little. You get my meaning, Stetson?"

Jenna watched as a cold anger flashed briefly in her dad's eyes—a
muscle in his jaw twitching slightly. "Using people is all you do,
isn't it, Gambit? My child, your wife--even your own daughter. When
does it end?"

"It ends when I say it ends," Mr. Blakeney said. "My game—my rules."

Several things seemed to happen all at once. The family room window
shattered as a black object landed on the carpet. Thick black smoke poured
from the object, quickly filling the room. At that moment her Dad
kicked his foot out—making contact with the gun Mr. Blakeney held and
knocking it from his grasp. Jenna tried to move away but Mr. Blakeney held her even more tightly, his forearm pressing against her throat.

"No, you're not getting away from me that easily," Mr. Blakeney told her.
"Not like before."

Without thinking Jenna twisted her body sideways, kicking out towards
Mr. Blakeney's kneecap with the heel of her foot. There was a
satisfying crack as Jenna's foot made contact. The man howled,
releasing his grip. Through stinging and watery eyes Jenna saw Mr.
Blakeney bend over, clutching his kneecap.

The door flew open and the room filled with people dressed in black
jumpsuits just like the one Dad wore—the TAC team.

"Jenna!"

It was her mom's voice. Jenna tried to focus on where the voice was coming
from but it was hard for some reason—maybe it was the smoke or all the
noise but she was starting to feel a little queasy.

Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm, throwing Jenna to the ground. She fell hard, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Mr. Blakeney seemed to tower over her, walking slowly forward with measured strides. Jenna tried to back away but she seemed to be moving in slow motion--like swimming through mud.

"You really thought you'd gotten rid of me—didn't you, Jenna?" Mr.
Blakeney knelt beside her. "Now you'll pay." Jenna closed her eyes as
his hands slowly reached for her—

"No," a man's voice said. Dad's voice. ""Now you're the one who
pays." Jenna opened her eyes. She watched as Dad grabbed Mr. Blakeney’s shirt, jerking him sharply upwards.

"How does it feel to fight someone who can fight back, Blakeney? Does it feel good?” Dad's teeth were gritted as he spoke. Jenna watched as he rammed his fist into the other man's stomach—once, twice—Mr. Blakeney gasped and doubled over, clutching his midsection. . "Do you enjoy this? Huh?" Once again Dad pulled Mr. Blakeney up.

“Say goodnight.” Dad’s uppercut hit the other man squarely in the jaw, knocking his head back. A kick slammed Mr. Blakeney against the wall, where he slid slowly to the ground and stayed there, his head hanging limply forward.

"Jenna?" Dad knelt down beside her. “Everything’s going to be okay now—you’re safe.”

“Where’s Mom?” Jenna asked. Her tongue felt too thick for her mouth. “Is she—”

"I’m right here, sweetheart." Mom’s hand smoothed Jenna’s hair back from her
face. Jenna tried to sit up but Mom gently pushed her back down. “Not right now—just take it easy.”

“—‘kay—feel sort of sick.” Jenna’s words slurred together.

"That's the zap gas," Mom said.

"Zap gas?" Jenna repeated.

"We only used it as a precaution, munchkin," Dad said. "When it
takes effect completely you won't be able to move—but don’t worry—it only lasts
for a few minutes."

"You’re moving."

"Well we've been neutralized," Carefully Dad lifted Jenna into his arms, his arm sliding under her knees, positioning her so that her head rested against his shoulder.
"Let's get you out of here. Some fresh air should help you feel better.”

“I—I did good—huh?” Jenna tried to smile but she wasn’t sure if she actually had.

“You were very brave,” Dad told her. “You showed a lot of courage, Jenna—Emily would be proud—and so are we.”

TBC

What Lies Beneath: Epilogue : One Door Closes

“Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.”—Tori Amos

Sunday, September 22, 2002

1:30 PM

“Well that’s everything I think.” Christy zipped up her suitcase. “Mom should be here soon.”

“Where will you go?” Jenna asked.

“We’ll stay at Aunt Marie’s house for a little bit,” Christy said. “Anything’s better than the hospital. Mom’s looking for a place in Alexandria—I think she’s already got me registered at Minnie Howard.”

“And after that?”

Christy shrugged. “Who knows? All I know is that we can’t go back to the house—not after what happened there. We’re both going to get therapy I know but I can’t—we just can’t go back into that place. ”

Jenna nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I’ll miss you, though.”

“Yeah I’ll miss you too,” Christy said. “As weird as it sounds I’ll even miss Lisa. Thanks for letting me stay here—putting up with all my stuff—the nightmares and all.”

“Well thanks for putting up with sleeping with the lights on,” Jenna said. “And believe me—when it comes to dealing with stuff I’m an expert.”

Christy smiled. “Yeah I know you are. Does the stuff—does it ever get easier to deal with?”

“Yeah,” Jenna said. “I mean it never goes away completely, but it will get better, Christy—I know it will. I’ve been there.”

“But how?” Christy asked. “My dad is a monster, Jenna—he’s killed and hurt so many people—including you. How do I get past that?”

“Just give it time.” Jenna told her. “You have your Mom there with you—your Aunt—and if you ever need to talk you always have my number. Things will get better, okay? Trust me.”

“Christy, your Mother’s here!” Mom’s voice floated up the stairs. .

This was it.

“Take care,” Jenna told Christy. “I’ll miss you.”

Christy gave Jenna a sudden hug. “You take care too— and keep in touch, all right? Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t be—don’t worry.”

Christy smiled. Jenna listened as her friend left the room and went downstairs.

The front door closed.

SMK SMK SMK SMK

3:30 PM

“Watching the Redskins again?” Jenna asked.

Lee nodded. “Yes, I’m watching the Redskins again.”

“Are they winning this time?”

“So far,” Lee said. “But it’s only the first quarter. Something on your mind, munchkin?”

“Not really,” Jenna said. There was a long pause. “Mind if I watch with you?”

“No, I don’t mind,” Lee patted the space next to him. “Sit down.”

Jenna curled up on the sofa, her knees drawn to her chest. She said nothing for a few moments as they both watched the action on the screen.

“I still don’t understand this game,” Jenna said. “Why is everyone cheering now?”

“Well the Redskins just got a first down.”

“Is that a touchdown?”

“Well no, but it’s a good start to getting one.” Lee said. “It’s progress--it means that the ball's moved ten yards forward since the last play.”

"How many downs do you need?"

"Four"

"And then that's--is that seven points?"

"No, it's six. You get an extra point if you score a field goal."

“A field--" Jenna shook her head. "Okay, this is confusing.”

Lee smiled. “Jenna you don’t have to watch this with me, you know. It’s okay if you want to go and watch something else.”

“I’m fine, Dad—really. I’m getting into this--trying to.”

“Well maybe one of these weekends when your brothers and I go to see a game you can come along—I don’t think you’ve ever seen RFK Stadium.”

“Maybe,” Jenna said. She stared at him. “Dad I –I just wanted to say—” for a long moment she paused, then shook her head. “No, never mind.”

“What?” Lee asked. “What did you want to say?”

“Well—” Jenna twisted her fingers together in her lap. “Mostly I guess I just wanted to say thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being here,” Jenna said. “For helping me, just for being you, and not —I don’t know, maybe it sounds silly but I just wanted to you to know that. I love you, Dad.”

Lee pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead. “I love you too, munchkin.”

The End