---

Dillon threw himself towards Jamie, taking them both to the ground as glass showered the room. Mitch wasted no time following suit. Dillon tensed as he heard another shot being fired at almost the same instant, this one different in pitch. Worse though, was the silence that came afterwards.

He looked to Jamie. "Are you all right?"

"I'm not hurt, just pissed as hell that someone is shooting at us."

Mitch, who was lying beside them, said, "Make that two someones." When Jamie and Dillon both gave him blank stares, he said, "Unless I'm losing it, we have two separate guns firing on us."

Well, fuck. Wasn't that nice to know? Dillon reached for the cell phone he hoped he'd remembered to put in his pocket when they'd left for the auto-parts store what seemed like a lifetime ago. Pay dirt. He was just about to pull it out and call nine-one-one, when Sadie's voice came floating through the window. "Are you boys all right in there?"

Jamie's breath rushed out in a jagged rasp. "Oh God. Aunt Sadie's out there by herself." He struggled to get up. "We have to help her. We have to--"

Sadie's voice came through just in time to put a stop to Jamie's panic. "Jamie, if you're through having the little episode I'm sure you're having right about now, get your rump down here and help me tie this rascal up before the police arrive. I'm reasonably certain as to where his shot went. I know you're all right."

Dillon rose, pulling Jamie up with him and checking him from head to toe for injuries. He found a couple of shallow cuts on Jamie's hands and arms, but nothing more serious. Jamie repeated the same inspection on Dillon and was quickly satisfied that Dillon's cuts were no worse than his own. Mitch, too, seemed okay as he came to his feet and brushed the glass shards from his t-shirt and jeans. He had a few cuts himself, but all three of them seemed to have escaped any real harm. Sadie's voice came through again as they were heading to the door. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. Somebody better get down here right now and shut this piece of trash up before I shoot him again."

That was all it took to get them moving. The three of them were out the door, across the deck, and down the stairs in a heartbeat. Good thing Dillon hit the on-switch for the floodlights around the apartment as he was going out the door. He wouldn't have gotten the full effect of what he was seeing, otherwise.

Sadie was standing at the base of the old oak tree which provided shade and privacy to Jamie and Dillon's apartment. She was wearing a pink nightgown, a fuzzy purple robe, and a pair of honest-to-God bunny slippers. She was also holding a still-smoking twelve-gauge shotgun, the barrels trained on Dan Morgan's quivering, bleeding body. Dillon, Jamie, and Mitch stopped just a few feet from the pair, shock and amazement keeping them rooted to the spot.

Morgan was lying on his side, the black silk turtleneck he wore peppered with holes from the middle of his back, up. His arms were sprawled out beside him, his black-trouser-encased legs curled in a fetal position. He started whimpering and pleading the minute he saw Jamie.

"James, thank God. You have to help me. Your aunt's gone crazy. I was coming over here to ask you a question about the G.S.A." Morgan's normally oily voice was thick with obvious pain, but Dillon felt no sympathy. "This crazy old witch blasted me the minute I came into the yard. No warning, no reason. You have to call an ambulance. I'm dying."

Sadie held the gun steady, her eyes pinned to the bead at the end of the barrels. A bead directly in line with Morgan's head. "You're not dying, you miserable weasel. I knocked your sorry self out of that tree with birdshot." Sadie snorted. "Dying, my eye. I've been bird hunting at my daddy's knee since I was old enough to hold a rifle. Not to mention the fact that I was the Reed County Country Club's reining skeet champion six years in a row. Believe me, if I'd wanted you dead, you would be. You wouldn't even be breathing, let only sniveling like the coward you are." Sadie's voice took on a menacing quality that sent chills coursing over Dillon's skin. "But this is a double barrel shotgun, and I've only fired one shot. Do you know what that means?"

Morgan stammered a full ten seconds before getting out, "N-no."

"It means, my boy, that I have one shot left. And you can bet your worthless butt that the second shell doesn't contain game load. No, sir. It's a slug, and I have no objection whatsoever to firing it directly into your empty skull."

Mitch and Jamie were too shaken to speak, but Dillon went back to something Sadie had just said, "Aunt Sadie, did I hear you right? You shot Morgan out of that tree?"

"That's exactly what I said. I was just heading down to the kitchen for a late night snack when I heard a noise in the back yard." She spoke to Dillon, but never took her eyes off Morgan. "At first, I thought maybe I'd heard you and Jamie coming in from a date or some such, but when I looked out, I could see that your living room light was on, meaning you were probably up in the apartment, already. I felt like I should check on you, just to make sure everything was all right. I never go outside this late at night without some sort of protection, so I grabbed my father's shotgun. Thank the heavens above I keep it loaded. The first thing I saw when I stepped out the back door was this imbecile," she inclined her head towards Morgan, dislodging one green curler in the process, "climbing through the branches of that old oak. Even with the security lights on, I couldn't tell just what he was doing until he got about twenty-feet up, just level with your living room window. That's when the no-account-son-of-a-bitch pulled a revolver out of his pants and took aim." Sadie gave a put-upon sigh. "Only a true idiot would use a pistol to shoot someone from that range, but his ignorance worked to my advantage. Morgan and I fired at almost the same instant, but my shot unbalanced him causing his shot to go wild. The recoil from the revolver, combined with the pain of the birdshot I sent up his way, knocked his fool ass out of the tree." She nodded towards a shadowed spot a few feet away. "I believe you'll find his weapon over there in the bushes. He dropped it when he fell."

Even as injured as he was, Morgan kept protesting his innocence. "She's crazy, I tell you. Looney as a tune. All I did was walk across the yard--"

Jamie spoke then, his voice laced with so much rage and raw hatred even Dillon flinched. "You're the liar, Morgan. Or should I say, Uncle Jared?"

Morgan's eyes went absolutely wild. "I don't know what you're talking about. You have to help me, James. I'm bleeding to death."

Mitch stepped up. "You know exactly what he's talking about, you piece of shit. And I'm going to tell the cops every last one of your dirty little secrets. When I'm through with you, you'll be lucky if they don't crucify your ass."

Morgan's face twisted into a snarl, as much from the pain as anger. "Oh yeah? Who's gonna believe the word of a ten-dollar whore like you?"

Dillon narrowed his eyes. "If you're so innocent, Mr. Morgan, then how did you know Mitch used to be a hustler?"

Watching Morgan try to backtrack his way out of that one would have been funny if the guy hadn't been so pathetic. As it was, Morgan's pleas of denial made Dillon feel like he was going to be sick. Of course, Dillon's nausea could be attributed to the fact that Morgan had just tried to kill them. The approaching sounds of sirens brought Dillon's mind back into focus and away from his churning stomach.

A swarm of police officers and sheriff's deputies filled the yard, but Dillon's attention was centered solely on Brandon Nash, who was bearing down on them at a fair clip. He had his weapon drawn, but re-holstered it the minute he caught sight of Sadie and her shotgun.

"Miss Sadie, you wanna tell me why the principal of Plunkett High is lying in a bleeding heap with the end of that big ole' gun you're holding pointed at his head?"

Jamie answered for her. "Because Dan Morgan is a liar, a child molester, and a killer. I can prove it, Brandon. I think he killed Ben and his former foster father, and I know for a fact he just tried to kill us."

Morgan was really desperate now. "You think I killed Ben? No, Burke did that. Don't you see? He'd have killed me, too, if I hadn't gotten to him first." He raised one trembling arm and pointed to Mitch. "This is all your fault, you bastard. If you hadn't come to Reed tonight, none of this would be happening."

That was all it took to set the lot of them off. Mitch started shouting, swearing to see Morgan pay for what he'd done. Sadie was also carrying on about making Morgan pay, but not for his crimes. No, she wanted him to pay for the damage done to her window and the cleanup of any broken oak branches from her yard. Jamie was listing Morgan's believed sins one by one, from blackmail, on. Dillon was doing his best to tell Brandon the story as he knew it, when Brandon put two fingers in his mouth and gave an ear splitting whistle.

"Hold on just a damn minute here. Miss Banks, give me that gun." Once he'd gotten it away from her, Brandon emptied the slug from the chamber and handed it off to one of his deputies. "Bag that for me, please. And search the bushes around the house and the base of that tree. I'm almost certain I heard the word 'revolver' somewhere in the jumble of explanations and accusations they've all been spouting." When the deputy was gone, Brandon rolled his eyes. "Why is it always you people? Thank God one of your neighbors heard the shots and called it in." The ambulance pulled up, and a team of paramedics rushed out and headed towards Morgan. Brandon spoke to the man in charge. "Take Principal Morgan to County General, and make certain they understand that he's to be kept under lock and key. From what I've just heard, I'm pretty sure he's guilty of something." Motioning for one of his deputies to step forward, Brandon said, "Dewey, send two of our men along with the ambulance, and have the rest of them canvas the scene."

Dewey nodded. "You got it boss. Uh, what do you want me to do with them?" He pointed to Sadie and the rest.

Brandon sighed. "Take every last one of them down to the station, Miss Banks included. Oh, and Dewey?"

"Yes, sir?"

Brandon raked his fingers through his hair. "Make sure we have plenty of coffee. This ought to be one hell of a long story."

* * *

Jamie knew even before he turned over everything he'd been hiding for so long that he was looking at some serious trouble, but after five hours of answering questions and going through the story time and again, Jamie was starting to realize just how screwed he really was. Not even when the sheriff left to process all that evidence, was Jamie capable of feeling any relief. Brandon had been gone for almost an hour by Jamie's count, leaving him alone in the interrogation room to stew about what was to come. If Bran's intention had been to drive Jamie crazy with guilt and worry, it was sure working.

Just when Jamie thought he was gonna crack, the door opened and Brandon came back in. He looked haggard and worn, but not exactly angry. More like resigned. He sat down across from Jamie and slapped the folder he was holding on the table. "Go ahead. Read it."

Jamie reached for the folder, not certain he wanted to open it, but doing so, anyway. Scanning the top paper, he said, "What is this?"

"A list of all the evidence you've turned over to us tonight, as well as a summary of your statement. Read over it and see if we've gotten it all. Oh, you might not want to read that last page, though."

"Why? What's on the last page?"

"A list of all the things I could charge you with right about now." Brandon smacked his hand down on the table. "Jesus Christ, Jamie. What in the hell were you thinking?"

Damn. He just had to ask what was on that last page. But Brandon had asked him a question, and Jamie was gonna answer it. He was tired, and scared, and not a little bit angry. No, Brandon asked him a question, and damned if Jamie wasn't gonna answer it.

"I wasn't thinking, Sheriff."

Brandon made the mistake of taking Jamie's statement as an apology. "You're damn straight you weren't thinking. You--"

Jamie stood up, cutting Bran off in the process. He was filled with a rage he hadn't felt since the night Ben died. All the months of worry, of agonizing over who killed Ben and why, mixed in Jamie's gut along with the all-consuming fear that he could've lost Dillon to Morgan's bullet tonight. And all of it was due to the fact that Jamie couldn't let well enough alone, with no one to believe him or offer him help, besides. All of that helpless wrath was what Jamie turned on Brandon, now. "Like I said, I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking about the fact that my best friend was murdered and no one would believe me because they thought he was nothing but a two-bit hustler who deserved what he got."

"Now wait just a minute, kid--"

Jamie gave him no quarter. "And I wasn't thinking about the fact that Ben left me in charge of forty-two thousand dollars worth of dirty money and a letter that nearly destroyed an innocent guy's life."

"Jamie, wait--"

Jamie shook his head. "I've been waiting. Waiting for the truth to come out. Waiting for the same guy who killed Ben to come after me and Dillon. And that's exactly what he did, Sheriff. Morgan came after me and the man that I love all because you dropped the fucking ball. I came to you for help and you let me down. You charge me all you want. Hell, it's about time you sent someone to prison. Might as well be the guy who cracked the case you were too damn incompetent to break yourself. But whether you charge me or not, keep your damned lectures to yourself. Save them for someone who gives a shit."

A deep, throaty chuckled sounded from the doorway. Jamie looked up to see a grinning Hank Kilgore standing just outside the interrogation room. Jamie had been so into his tirade, he hadn't even heard the door open.

Kilgore said, "He's got your number, Nash."

Jamie looked at Brandon, surprised to see that he was smiling. "He may have my number, Kilgore, but you have to admit, he's got yours, too. It's a piss-poor day indeed when an eighteen-year-old kid cracks a case that two police departments and a ream of seasoned detectives couldn't."

Kilgore nodded. "True, but the kid had help. If I hadn't screwed up and left Carpenter's file within easy reach, James here couldn't have swiped that paper with Mitch Harding's name and contact info on it." He turned to Jamie. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you should be in for that, kid? Tampering with evidence, coercion of a witness." Kilgore grinned, again. "Practicing detective work without a license."

"I didn't--"

Kilgore held up his hand. "Calm down, James. I talked to the D.A., and there won't be any charges filed against you."

Jamie sank back down into his chair, some of the frustration and anger subsiding as he digested what Kilgore had said. "There won't be?"

Kilgore shook his head, his magnificent braids trailing over his shoulder. "Nope. You have your buddy Nash, here, to thank for that one. I may be grateful to you for giving us our prime suspect in Carpenter's murder, but that doesn't mean I wasn't ready to lock your lily-white ass up for screwing with my files. Lucky for you, Nash and I made a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

Brandon answered that one. "Hank has a case he wants me to profile for him."

"Profile? You mean, like F.B.I. stuff?"

Brandon nodded. "I was with the F.B.I. before I came back to Reed and ran for sheriff." He laughed. "Despite what you might think, I'm not totally incompetent. No, I prefer to think of myself as only an occasional imbecile."

Jamie's own angry words flashed back to him. Before he could say anything, Kilgore said, "I'm not even gonna touch that one. As it so happens, I gotta run, anyway. Morgan just came out of surgery. I want to be there to question the bastard as soon as the anesthesia wears off." Kilgore patted Jamie on the shoulder. "I know I should be grateful to you for everything you did, James, but heartfelt thanks aren't exactly my style."

"Not arresting me is thanks enough."

Kilgore threw back his head and laughed. "I like you kid. I swear I do." He left before Jamie could respond.

Jamie swallowed hard. He was still mad as hell, but he knew he owed Brandon for getting his ass out of a sling with Kilgore. He needed to say something, but he wasn't sure what. As it happened, he didn't have to say a word. Brandon did it for him.

Pointing to the file in Jamie's hand, Brandon said, "If you'll read over your statement there on the last page and sign it, I'll send it over to the D.A.'s office and we'll wrap your part of the investigation up. I've sent your aunt home already, though God knows if my deputies are still in one piece after taking her back to her house. She was one pissed off lady."

Jamie didn't doubt that, but it wasn't Brandon's statement about his aunt that had Jamie narrowing his eyes. "I thought you said all the things you were gonna charge me with were listed on the last page."

Brandon's grin was one part cockiness, two parts caring. "Yeah, well, I had to say something, didn't I? From the minute I brought you in here, I could tell that you were about ten seconds away from imploding. I had to do something to get all that stuff out of your system." When Jamie started to speak, Brandon held up his hand. "Before you start trying to take back what you said or make it sound better than it was, don't. You were right. I did drop the ball." Brandon sighed and leaned back in his chair. "It might surprise you to know this, Jamie, but I'm not perfect."

Jamie bit back a smile. "No? Really?"

"I know, I know. It shocked the hell out of me, too, the day I realized it." He came forward again, resting his elbows on his desk and looking Jamie right in the eyes, making his sincerity impossible to doubt. "I let you down in a big way by not believing you when you told me about Sledge and how you were sure he wasn't the one responsible for Ben's death. Of course," Brandon wrinkled his nose, "you knew a few things that I didn't, namely blackmail and extortion, but that doesn't mean I didn't have a job to do. I should have investigated your claim." Brandon stood up and extended his hand. Jamie rose to his feet and grasped it, surprised at how comforting Brandon's warm strength was to him. "I'm sorry, kid. Sorry for not listening, and sorry you didn't feel like you could come to me for help."

"That sorry business works both ways. I owe you for not coming to you in the beginning, the minute I found out about the money and then the pictures." Jamie dropped Brandon's hand and closed his eyes, the memory of Morgan's shot and the sound of breaking glass still ringing in his ears. "Dillon begged me to go to you for help, but I was too damn stubborn. My mistake could've cost him his life."

Jamie heard movement and opened his eyes to see that Brandon had rounded the desk and was now standing over him. He laid his hand on Jamie's shoulder. "It takes one hell of a man to admit his mistakes, Jamie. I almost lost Nate once because of a mistake I made. I left him alone with the wrong man, and Nate almost paid for it with his life. It took me months to forgive myself for that one, and still, I have trouble accepting it." Brandon shuddered. "Take my advice, kid. Spend a good, solid hour beating yourself up over it, and then let it go. Life's too short to what-if yourself into an early grave."

Jamie nodded. "I'll do that." He shuffled his feet as Brandon gave his shoulder one more squeeze and then returned to his side of the desk. Jamie had one more question to ask, and it was one he dreaded. "What happens now, with Morgan?"

Brandon sat down hard, weariness taking over. "It's hard to say. Hank's going to question him, confront him with the statements you and Mitchell Harding gave. And from what I've gathered, it shouldn't be too hard to prove that Morgan was Burke Carpenter's partner. His name alone is a good tip off."

His name? "Don't tell me . . ."

Brandon laughed. "You guessed it. The stupid fucker ran teenage prostitutes using his middle name. Seems Mr. Daniel Jared Morgan isn't as smart as he wants the world to think he is." Brandon waited until Jamie sat back down, then said, "We'll have to wait until the investigation is done to get the full story on Morgan, but I have a feeling he'll want to make some kind of deal before all this is over with."

Jamie's stomach clenched on the word "deal." He remembered all too well how Barry Sledge had gotten off with a lighter sentence because the D.A. was overworked and ready to bargain. That brought on a whole new set of questions. "Brandon, what about Barry Sledge? Will he get out of jail now that Morgan is a suspect?"

Brandon hesitated. "Here's the thing about Sledge, kid. He's already admitted to running down Ben, and the damage to his car proves that he did hit Ben's body. The only question now is whether or not Ben was already dead at the time of impact."

Jamie shook his head. "But Morgan--"

Brandon picked up the sentence. "According to my deputy, Morgan swore up and down in the ambulance that Burke Carpenter is the one who killed Ben. Morgan claims he killed Carpenter because he thought that Carpenter was responsible for Ben's death. Because of the blackmail, Morgan figured that he was next on Carpenter's list."

"There's your confession, then."

"I wish it were that easy, Jamie, but it isn't. A good lawyer could claim that Morgan's words were simply the rantings of an injured man, brought on by the pain. And even if we prove that Morgan killed Carpenter, that still doesn't prove that Carpenter killed Ben. For all we know, Morgan may have killed them both. Or, Barry Sledge could have killed Ben, and then Morgan offed Carpenter thinking he was to blame."

Jamie's head was starting to hurt. He didn't exactly relish the thought of Sledge being a free man--free, that is, to terrorize the streets during any one of his drunken marathons--but at the same time, Jamie wanted the man responsible for Ben's death to pay. Not just any man, but the right man. He lifted his tired eyes to Brandon. "So, what now?"

"We wait until the investigation is finished, sift through the findings, and hope we have enough evidence to clear up this damned mess." Brandon gave Jamie an apologetic shrug. "I know you were hoping for some smoking-gun conclusion straight out of the movies, but real police work doesn't usually go that way. All we can do now is process what we've got, then wait until Morgan gives his statement and take it from there."

Jamie nodded. "I understand, Brandon." And he did. But knowing that Brandon was doing the best he could didn't stop Jamie from hoping this would all be over. Soon.

* * *

The first person Jamie saw when he finished reading over his statement and signing off on it was Dillon. He was slumped in one of the waiting area chairs, his hair matted to his head with sweat and dirt. He needed a good shave, the shadow on his face leaving a dark line. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and sheer exhaustion. And still, he was the most beautiful creature Jamie had ever seen in his life. Nothing could have stopped Jamie from rushing across the room and pulling Dillon from his chair, his arms wrapping around Dillon's waist so tight Jamie was in danger of knocking the breath out of him.

Dillon didn't seem to notice. His sole focus was Jamie. He cradled him close, whispering words of love and offerings of devotion into Jamie's ear. The words were nice, but Jamie didn't need them. He had all he needed there, in his arms.

After a minute, Dillon pulled back enough to see him. His eyes searched Jamie's face. "Are you okay?"

Jamie nodded. "I am now. God, Dillon, I was so scared for you. This is all my fault. If I'd only listened--"

Dillon put one finger to his lips. "Hush, baby. None of this is your fault. It's Morgan's fault--and Carpenter's--for being such sick fucks."

Jamie appreciated Dillon's easy forgiveness, but he knew it was going to be a long time before he forgave himself. Then Brandon's words came back to him. Spend a good, solid hour beating yourself up over it, and then let it go. Life's too short to what-if yourself into an early grave. Jamie closed his eyes and took Brandon's advice.

When he finally opened then again, Jamie scanned the room but saw no sign of the man he was looking for. "Where's Mitch?"

Dillon stroked Jamie's hair back from his face. "They took him back to Chicago to answer some questions about Burke's murder and about the day-to-day dealings of his operation. He promised to get back in touch with us when all this is over with, and I believe him."

Jamie leaned, again, into Dillon's embrace. "Yeah. For everything that's happened to him, Mitch seems like a decent guy. Not like . . ." He couldn't say it. Couldn't, even now, form words against his best friend.

Dillon understood. He planted a kiss just below Jamie's jaw. "Ben did what he had to do to survive, Jamie. I'm not saying I approve of his methods, but after seeing how he was forced to live, I can't say I wouldn't have done something just as desperate in the same situation."

"You wouldn't have. You're stronger than that. I just thank God you're okay. That my fuck-up didn't kill you."

Dillon pulled out of the embrace and took Jamie's hand. "I told you I didn't want to hear that kind of talk." He led him towards the door. "Let's get out of here. I want to give you a good going over to make sure you aren't hurt." When Jamie started to protest, Dillon laughed. "I know the medics checked us when we got to the station, but I have a different kind of examination in mind, and I don't think the Reed County Sheriff's Office is ready to see it."

Jamie didn't need any more encouragement that that.

* * *

It was pushing five o'clock in the morning when Dillon and Jamie finally left the station. They took a cab back to the apartment, even though Brandon and several of the deputies offered them a ride. Dillon wanted Jamie all to himself, and he was pretty sure the cab driver would pretend not to notice all the cuddling and kissing going on in the backseat. As it turned out, he was right. The cabby didn't so much as comment, though Dillon was sure he must have seen Dillon fondling Jamie as he glanced in the rearview mirror. Dillon could have cared less. Let him look.

The driver refused to take any money when he dropped them off, saying Sheriff Nash had already taken care of the fare, tip included. Dillon thanked the guy one last time as he and Jamie got out and headed up the driveway to their apartment.

The front door was open. That was the first thing Dillon noticed as he topped the stairs and hit the landing. He felt a frisson of unease race down his back until he heard the sounds of a broom raking up broken glass. That could only be one person. He pushed the door open further and was told, "Well, don't just stand there like a ninny. Grab the dust pan and hold it for me."

Dillon leaned down and gave Sadie a kiss on the cheek. "You don't have to do this, you know. Jamie and I can clean up this mess."

Sadie waved that away as Jamie bent down to give her a kiss of his own and Dillon grabbed the dustpan. "The fact remains that Morgan should be over here cleaning this place up, not us. I wish now I'd shot the scoundrel in his good-for-nothing ass." Sadie swept the last of the glass into the pan. "That way, he'd think of me every time he sat down."

Dillon grinned. "I don't think he's gonna forget you anytime soon." He took the dustpan over to the trash and emptied it. "Nobody else will, either. You're a hero. You saved our lives."

Sadie shook her head. "A lot of nonsense, that. Morgan isn't exactly a crack shot. I doubt seriously if he actually had the skill to hit you. Not at that range, anyway." But even as she said it, Dillon could see that she was shaking.

Jamie must have seen it, too. He took the broom away from his aunt and set it aside, folding her into a tight hug. "You always did have trouble taking compliments. Well, tough. I'm gonna give you one anyway. You saved our butts tonight. Thank you."

Sadie returned his hug tenfold. "I'm just so thankful you're both okay." She pinched Jamie's side, causing him to jump back with a yelp.

"Ouch. What did you do that for?"

"For scaring me half to death." Sadie grabbed him back up and hugged him again. "You've kept this old woman going for the last fourteen years. Sheriff Nash filled me in on all the little secrets you've been keeping." Jamie tensed, and Sadie continued with, "Now, before you get your drawers all in a twist, I'm not angry, and I'm not going to question you any further. Let me just say this. If you think I'm going to lose you now, just when I'm getting the hang of this mothering thing, you're sadly mistaken. Next time you need help, you'd better well ask for it."

Dillon could see Jamie's smile from over the top of Sadie's head. "Understood. Now why don't you go on home and soak in a hot bath? You know that always makes you feel better. Dillon and I will clean up the rest of this."

Sadie took them at their word. After soundly kissing them both, she left them to it.

It took Dillon and Jamie another half an hour to sweep up all the glass and to cover the window with cardboard. Sadie told them before she left that the glass man would be coming first thing Monday morning to put in a new window pane. Cardboard wasn't the ideal substitute, but it would have to do.

By the time they finished, Jamie was swaying on his feet, and Dillon wasn't far behind him in the tired department. He pushed Jamie into the kitchen. "Sit down while I fix us something to eat. We never did get that late supper we started to have."

"No, we didn't. I'll help you, though. Between the two us, surely we can find something edible."

"Something edible" turned out to be day-old chocolate donuts and two tall glasses of chocolate milk. Sadie would have had a fit if she'd seen their idea of breakfast, but it would have to do. Dillon was just too tired to go out for anything else.

Jamie finished up and put their glasses in the sink. Turning to Dillon, he said, "You ready for bed?"

It was a mark of Dillon's exhaustion that Jamie's words didn't bring the slightest stirring below his belt. Even the examination he'd promised Jamie at the sheriff's station was going to have to wait. Holding Jamie in his arms would have to do until they both got some sleep. And from the look on Jamie's face when they finally climbed into bed together and Dillon had pulled him in as close as possible, holding him was more than enough.

* * *

How long they slept, Dillon wasn't sure, but it was nearly dark outside when the sounds of loud knocking woke him up. Careful not to wake Jamie, he slid out of bed and grabbed a clean pair of jeans from the closet. Pulling them on, he walked into the living room, wincing when a small piece of glass they'd missed in their cleaning bit into his bare foot. Hopping towards the door, Dillon pulled it open and came face to face with his parents.

Douglas Carver was his usual, disinterested self, looking at Dillon with a mixture of speculation and contempt. It was Angela who took over, her voice sympathetic and soothing. "Oh, Dillon, thank god you're all right. You father and I were worried sick." It wasn't until she'd pushed her way past Dillon and into the apartment that he realized she and Douglas were not alone.

Accompanying them was a slender man about the same height as Dillon. He was carrying a medical bag and wore an old fashioned fedora on his head. Dillon guessed his age to be about sixty, and from the look on his narrow face, the guy was on a mission.

He stuck out his hand, seemingly unfazed when Dillon refused to take it. "Dillon, I'm Dr. Henderson. Your parents have told me so much about you."

Jesus. Henderson, the shrink his father had been pressuring him to see. "Yeah, I'll just bet they have."

Again, Angela stepped in. "Dillon, we brought Dr. Henderson here because we heard about your ordeal from one of the ladies at church this morning. We're just certain after what happened last night that even you can see how dangerous living this lifestyle is."

Dillon fought hard not to laugh in his mother's face. "You think my being gay caused Dan Morgan to try and kill me?"

Angela sniffed. "Don't be clever with me, Dillon. You know what I mean. You must know that none of this would have happened to you if you hadn't hooked up with James Walker in the first place."

Despite the generous amount of sleep he'd had, Dillon was still tired, worn out from all he'd been through. He had no intention of going through all this again. Turning his full attention on the doctor, Dillon said, "You've wasted your time coming here. I have no intention of becoming your patient or listening to hour after hour's worth of lectures on the evils of homosexuality. You and my parents can show yourselves out."

Henderson ignored Dillon and looked straight to his father. "I see what you mean, Douglas. Dillon is obviously suffering from self-destructive impulses. I might even go so far as to classify him as having suicidal tendencies. I think Dillon is a prime candidate for involuntary commitment."

Involuntary commitment? Suicidal tendencies? What in the hell was this guy talking about? Dillon was starting to get scared. "You can't do that to me. There's nothing wrong with me, and you know it."

Henderson's smile turned nasty. "On the contrary, I can and I will. I'm a respected psychologist. All I have to do is sign the papers saying I believe you're a danger to yourself, and you'll be locked up in a state hospital by nightfall."

Dillon felt the cold grip of panic seize his heart. He reached for the only person in the room he thought might have mercy on him. "Mom, please don't let him do this."

"I'm sorry, Dillon. It's the only way." Turning to Henderson, she said, "Do it. Have him locked up for as long as it takes."

Dillon backed away, but his father stepped behind him, blocking his path towards the bedroom. "Don't you have anything in that bag to sedate the boy? The sooner we get him out of here, the better."

Henderson nodded and reached into his bag, pulling out a pre-filled syringe. "Of course. I never travel without the proper equipment. A mixture of Haldol and Ativan ought to keep him calm. The two of us will have to carry him out, but it's a small price to pay." He started towards Dillon with the syringe. Dillon tried to run, but his father was stronger. Doug had him pinned in place, his arms locking Dillon's behind his back and rendering Dillon immobile. There was nothing Dillon could do. He waited for the sting of the needle, but it never came. What did come was a loud crash and the splintering of wood as his little league baseball bat cracked against the back of Douglas Carver's skull. Doug let go of Dillon and sank to the floor.

The minute Jamie brought the bat down on Doug's head, he dropped it and grabbed Dillon's hand, pulling him forward with unheard of strength and propelling Dillon out of his stupor and towards the front door. Henderson and Angela were too busy seeing after Doug to try and stop them.

As they raced down the steps, Jamie pulled Dillon's car keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Dillon. Dillon jumped into the driver's side. Jamie had just climbed in and gotten buckled when Henderson, Doug, and Angela came charging out after them. Dillon gunned the motor of the Lumina and took off in the direction of the sheriff's station. It wasn't until he was on the main road that he noticed both he and Jamie were wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans each. Dillon pulled the car onto a side road and changed directions.

"Where . . where are we going?" Jamie was shaking so hard he could barely get the words out.

"I was headed for Bran's office, but I changed my mind. We'll try his house, first. With any luck, he'll be there, and if he's not, Nate might be."

Jamie only nodded, hugging himself even though it wasn't all that cold in the car. The temperature was pretty mild for early April, but Dillon knew Jamie's chills came from within. After an agonizing silence, Jamie said, "I know how Ben felt."

Dillon hadn't expected that one. "What do you mean?"

"The night Ben hit that guy who was roughing up Mitch. I knew how Ben felt the minute I swung that bat at your father's head. That's where I got the idea, from Mitch's story." Jamie shivered. "I thought I'd killed him until I saw him coming out the door behind Henderson and your mom." He put his face in his hands. "I didn't want to do it, but I didn't have a choice. They were gonna take you out of the house, give you that shot."

Dillon increased the pressure of his foot on the accelerator. "I know, baby. I know. We'll make this right, Jamie, I swear it."

Dillon let out the breath he'd been holding the minute he pulled into the driveway and saw the Sheriff-mobile, as Megan always called the government issue S.U.V. Brandon used when he was on duty. Seeing Nate's car there as well reassured Dillon even more. Unless the two of them were out for a drive in Brandon's Camaro, there was a good chance they were both home.

Dillon got out first, the pine needles and rocks that lined the driveway pricking his bare feet. He went around to Jamie's side and helped him out, much like he had the day Jamie found out about Ben's death and went into shock. God, Dillon hoped Jamie wasn't going to go through that again. From the look of him, though, it was a real possibility.

Brandon met them at the door, still wearing his uniform. "Get your asses in here. I was just about to go out and look for you." He surprised them both by enfolding them in his arms. "Do you have an idea how worried I was when I heard the call from your father come over the scanner?"

"Shit. He called the cops on us?"

Brandon pulled them into the house, one arm still wrapped around each of them. "'Fraid so. He called the city cops, naturally, instead of my office. He wants to have Jamie locked up for assault." Brandon let go long enough to close the door behind them. Seeing the look on Jamie's face, he pulled him back in close and said, "Relax, kiddo, nobody's gonna lock you up. The chief of police is giving me time to put this thing together before he even comes to question you."

Jamie was too shaken to answer, but Dillon said, "Put what thing together? What's going on? Do we need a lawyer?"

Brandon moved them towards the kitchen. "I'll tell you all of that in just a minute. First thing we're gonna do is get the two of you warmed up and settled down. Then you're gonna tell me every last thing that happened, from the minute your parents walked in the door until the minute Jamie cracked good old Dougie on the back of the head. Damn, I wish I'd seen that."

Nate met them in the kitchen, directing Dillon and Jamie to have a seat at the kitchen table. Coming back with two steaming mugs, he said, "I wasn't sure if the two of you would want coffee or hot chocolate, but chocolate is more soothing, so I went with that." After setting a mug in front of each boy, Nate knelt down beside Jamie's chair. "How you holding up, buddy? You feeling okay?"

Before Jamie could speak, Brandon came in from the laundry room holding a couple of long sleeved t-shirts. "My shirt will probably fit you, Dillon, but even Nate's will swallow Jamie alive. Still, they'll do until I can send someone to your house to pick up some of your stuff. I don't care if it is the end of April. It's still too cold outside for the two of you to be running around in nothing but blue jeans. " He handed the first shirt to Jamie. "You need Dillon to help you with that, slugger?"

Nate groaned. "Real sensitive, Nash."

But Jamie laughed, the sound more precious to Dillon than anything he owned. If Jamie was laughing, then he probably wasn't going into shock, thank God. "It's okay, Nate. I'm fine, just a little shaky." He reached across the table and took Dillon's hand. "I guess our little league coach was wrong, huh? I can hit the broad side of a barn."

Dillon grasped his fingers, and Brandon said, "I guess now would be as good a time as any to tell me what happened. Like I said, Chief Skinner is giving me time to get all this settled, but the sooner we deal with it the better."

Nate gave them both a pat on the back and then, indicating his scrubs-clad body, said, "I just got home from work, so I'm gonna go upstairs and shower. Sasha's still penned up in the sun-porch, so you shouldn't be disturbed."

Dillon and Jamie both nodded as Nate left, and Brandon walked across the room to one of the far cabinets, taking out a mini-tape recorder and coming back to claim a seat at the table. Placing the recorder in the center, he said, "I'm gonna tape this as we go, so be sure not to leave anything out."

Dillon went first, going over every detail be could remember, from the opening of the door to his near-injection by Dr. Henderson. Jamie picked up the story then, telling how he heard Dillon arguing with his parents and about Henderson's promise to have Dillon locked up. He went on to talk about grabbing Dillon's old bat from the closet. He even told Brandon and the tape recorder about where the idea came from. Brandon only nodded, having gotten the rundown on that story from Mitch late the night before. As soon as Jamie finished, Brandon pressed the stop button and turned to Dillon.

"So you never actually asked your parents to come inside?"

Dillon shook his head. "My mother just sorta barged in when I opened the door. The other two followed her inside."

Brandon nodded. "Sounds like self-defense to me. Jamie was doing what it took to defend his partner within the confines of his own home. I can't see any D.A. in his right mind bringing Jamie up on charges for that."

The word "charges" had Jamie gasping for breath. "Am I going to need a lawyer, Brandon? You never did tell us if we needed one."

The backdoor swung open just as Jamie was asking the question, and Dillon heard the clattering of high-heels across the floor of the mudroom. A honey-sweet voice said, "Did I hear someone say 'lawyer?' Don't you know that's a dirty word around most parts?"

Dillon recognized the tiny redhead the minute she came into the kitchen. Alicia Nash Wilton, Brandon's sister. He'd seen her more than once at the Nash family get-togethers and church dinners Megan had dragged him to. She seemed nice enough, but Dillon knew little about her other than the fact that she was a prosecutor for the D.A.'s office in Chicago. The minute the thought crossed his mind, Dillon's whole body stiffened. Surely she wasn't here to file charges against Jamie. No way was he going to let that happen.

Alicia must have seen the look on his face, because she started laughing, the sound so much like Megan's laughter that Dillon relaxed in spite of himself. "Calm down, Dillon. I was just teasing about 'lawyer' being a dirty word." She gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. "Sheesh. Talk about a tough room."

Dillon blushed. "Sorry about that. Jamie and I have had a rough evening."

Alicia nodded. "That's why I'm here." She smiled at Jamie. "I heard the question you asked my brother, and the answer is no. You don't need a lawyer. You've got me."