Dusk was setting in now, and the light-sensor parking lot lights were just beginning to glow an eerie purple. Frank glanced around once or twice as he slipped between parked cars, and saw what looked like Andrea Bender’s black Jaguar, but he couldn’t be certain it was hers without closer examination. Still, the thought of Andrea, his mother, and Mrs. Wright sitting watchfully in the Jag made him smile just a little. He hoped, however, that they hadn’t noticed him!

Close now…just around this corner…ohhhh, yes…There were bushes, a ten-foot-high row of photinia with dark red leaves, extending along the back of the building. Frank shrank into the welcome concealment with a sigh of relief. So far, so good. He felt in his pocket for the key Mrs. Wright had given him, and crept silently to the door.

The security code pad was steady green, and Frank offered silent thanks. He cautiously tried the door, just in case, but it was locked. He inserted the key; turned it – and was inside.

Moving as quickly as he dared but realizing he had to remain silent, Frank paced unfamiliar blank back hallways. Where would Crowley have Megan? Basement? A storage room? Someplace as obvious as his office? He decided to start with the obvious, and followed the "fire exit" signs toward the stairs. Once inside the stairwell, he relaxed a tiny bit, although he knew well that if someone entered it, he had no place to hide.

Recalling that he’d promised Joe he would check for messages, Frank pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He punched the appropriate buttons, and with a start, read a message from Joe:

So! Waring was coming! Frank re-pocketed the phone and continued up the stairs. When he reached the third floor, he cracked the door open and surveyed the hallway. Empty…but Crowley’s office was around the corner, he knew. Here goes nothing….

Sticking close to the wall, Frank edged his way down the corridor, walking as silently as he could, barely breathing – and listening for any sounds of human occupancy. Megan – if you’re here, make some noise, baby! Give me some kind of sign!

He stopped at the corner and flattened himself against the wall, then leaned forward just enough to peek around the edge of the wall. The hallway stretched before him, empty. But there was a light shining onto the floor, partway down…Crowley’s office door was open! Frank drew back, eyes shut tight as he concentrated. Was the closet on this side of the office? Yes, yes it was…now, can I get in there without making any noise?

Stepping around that corner felt like walking into a mine field. Frank took it one slow step at a time, mentally thanking all his lucky stars that Ted Crowley had chosen to carpet the hallways in his office building. He reached the closet door – and now he could hear soft rustling noises from Crowley’s office – sounds of papers being shuffled, perhaps; file drawers being opened and closed. Cautiously, carefully, Frank put pressure on the doorknob of the closet, gently twisted it – and slithered inside, silent as a ghost. He shut the door, and stood stock-still, attempting to catch his breath.

When his heart finally stopped trying to batter itself through his chest wall, Frank gulped a few more breaths, then pulled out his penlight and switched it on. Nothing had changed since his last visit, he noted; the paper supplies were still there, the mop and pail hadn’t been moved. At least I’m on familiar ground!

He was reaching for a cup, hoping to repeat the success of his last visit to this closet, when he heard rapid footsteps go past his hiding place, and then voices, loud and clear. This time he didn’t need the cup.

"What do you think you are doing?" Frank recognized the voice from the video tape: Dr. Gerald Waring had arrived.

"What’s it look like I’m doing?" another voice snarled. Crowley! Frank caught his breath. "I’m cutting my losses and getting out of here!"

"Getting out! What do you mean? You can’t just leave me to take the rap for all your schemes! And what about her?"

"Aauugghh!" Crowley made a sound of disgust. "Those morons! They thought I’d like something to exchange for that damned video tape – so they snatch Wright’s daughter! Well, I wanted the tape, all right, but it’s too late to trade now. She’s seen and heard way too much. I can’t let her go." More rustling of papers and the slam of another drawer.

"Do you have to keep her gagged like that?" Waring sounded almost sympathetic.

"Just try taking it off, and see what kind of response you get!" Crowley sneered. "I tried it, earlier today. They don’t teach little girls properly anymore; you should have heard the things she said!" He laughed roughly.

Frank’s heart contracted at the words. Attagirl, Megan, I hope you gave him hell!

Silence for a moment, then, amazingly, another familiar voice. "Thank you for taking that off, Dr. Waring…but Mr. Crowley’s right. And my opinion of you is second only to my opinion of him. I think you are both lying, cheating murderers; you killed my father as well as a lot of helpless patients in the hospital, and – "

A sharp smack interrupted her words. Frank heard her gasp, then go silent; and he clenched his fists in fury.

"Shut up, you little brat!" Crowley howled. "Unless you want some more of the same, keep that little trap shut!"

"Crowley, you didn’t need to hit her like that." Waring protested.

"I’ll hit you a whole lot harder if you don’t shut up, too!"

More rustling of papers…and then Waring spoke again, and his words made Frank’s blood freeze.

"What are you doing? You aren’t really going to set the building on fire, are you?"

"Why not?" Crowley laughed, a trifle hysterically. "Maybe the insurance will pay off on it! Isn’t that where all this started, Waring? The insurance – those lovely, convenient life insurance policies…only they stopped dying, Waring! Why wouldn’t they just die?"

"I’m getting out of here!" Waring shouted. "You’ve gone completely crazy!"

"Go on, then! And when that tape comes to light, just how long do you think you’ll have before Bayport’s finest come knocking on your door, Doctor Waring? Did you think of that? Maybe you’d better stick with me on this – you coward!"

"Don’t you call me a coward!" raged Waring. Frank, trapped helplessly in the storage room, trying to figure out where each person was, next door, heard the doctor close to his wall now. "I’m not a coward – I just have more brains than you, Crowley!"

An inarticulate bellow of rage from Crowley was the only response; and then Frank heard the unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh once again. He cringed, hoping Megan was not the recipient of the violence, and heard more blows being delivered. Waring and Crowley were evidently fighting. Frank cracked the closet door open, just enough to admit light from the hall and amplify the sounds from the office. He waited, holding his breath.

"Unnh!" Waring grunted sharply, and Frank heard a snort of satisfaction from Crowley. And then, one more sharp smack of a fist – and a sudden rush of footsteps. Frank peered through the crack of the door, and saw Gerald Waring tear past, running as if his life depended on it. There was no sound from Ted Crowley.

Frank waited – ten seconds…twenty…thirty. Still hearing no sound at all, he dared to exit the storage room and flattened himself against the wall beside the office door. He cautiously peered around the doorjamb.

Ted Crowley lay sprawled on the floor of his office, apparently knocked cold. Megan Wright was seated on a couch against one wall, her hands and feet tied. A strip of cloth – apparently the gag – hung loosely about her neck. Her right cheek bore a red mark, and was beginning to swell. She was watching Crowley as if he were a poisonous serpent.