Puzzle Pieces: The Collins Family

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id87.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="All Hallows Eve"><U><B>All Hallows' Eve</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id88.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Fall Camoflage"><U><B>Fall Camoflage</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id89.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Cyrus"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Cyrus</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id90.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Roxanne"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Roxanne</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id91.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Claude"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Claude</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id92.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Christmas Magick"><U><B>Christmas Magick</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id93.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Maggie"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Maggie</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id94.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Winters Deep Freeze"><U><B>Winter's Deep Freeze</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id95.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Sabrina"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Sabrina</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id96.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Frostbite"><U><B>Frostbite</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>Puzzle Pieces:  The Collins Family</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id98.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Biding Time in Purgatory"><U><B>Biding Time in Purgatory</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id99.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Quentin"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Quentin</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id100.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Family Secrets"><U><B>Family Secrets</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id102.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Vortex"><U><B>Vortex</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id101.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Spring Whirlwind"><U><B>Spring Whirlwind</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id103.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Den of Vipers"><U><B>Den of Vipers</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id104.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puzzle Pieces: Angelique"><U><B>Puzzle Pieces:  Angelique</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id105.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Converging Forces"><U><B>Converging Forces</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id106.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Flames of Purification"><U><B>Flames of Purification</B></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id85.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Adam in Parallel Time"><U><B>Adam in Parallel Time</B></U></A></div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>Puzzle Pieces:  The Collins Family</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div>      <I>He looks familiar,</I> Carolyn Loomis thought, watching the extraordinarily tall man dance with Sabrina Stuart.  "Chris," she said to her companion, setting her drink down, "dance with me, would you?"</div> <div>      "Sure," her easygoing cousin answered good-naturedly.  He stood up and pulled her chair back.  She got up, and he escorted her to the dance floor.  </div> <div>      As they began to move around the dance floor, Carolyn whispered, "Who is that very tall man dancing with Sabrina?"</div> <div>      Chris looked over at the couple briefly.  "I have no idea," he answered.  "Probably some friend of Maggie's."</div> <div>      "He was on our side of the church."</div> <div>      "Then he's some friend of Quentin's.  Maybe from college or something."</div> <div>      "I guess," Carolyn agreed, still eyeing the man curiously.  There was something about him…"Where is Cyrus?"</div> <div>      "You sure are nosey, Carolyn," Chris teased her.  "Who's that?  Where's Cyrus?  Who walked Maggie down the aisle?"</div> <div>      Carolyn laughed liltingly.  "I know that one.  It was her Uncle Bob-her mother's brother."</div> <div>      Chris raised his brows.  "Aha!  And how did you find that out?"</div> <div>      "Well, I did talk to Maggie that one time Quentin brought her out.  Poor little mouse.  They're going to eat her alive."  Carolyn's voice had just a hint of spite in it.</div> <div>      "Well, Quentin should have warned her what she'd be getting into," Chris answered.</div> <div>      Carolyn looked around for her cousin.  He was easy to find in the crowd.  He was heart-breakingly handsome, she thought, with his dark hair and brilliant blue eyes.  In that white tuxedo, though, he was positively the sexiest man in the room.  <I>If he wasn't my cousin</I>, she thought and couldn't deny that lustful thoughts about him hadn't crossed her mind before many times.  Many times she'd also felt sorry for him, dragged into such a family as theirs.  She bore no ill will toward him as did many other members of the family, including her own husband.  Will had flat-out refused to come to the wedding, siding with Carolyn's mother and Uncle Roger.  <I>Just as well-I wouldn't want to be tied to that sot Will today.</I></div> <div>      Now Carolyn looked at Chris, wondering what he thought of it all.  He kept his opinions to himself, though, being careful not to offend anyone.  Did he ever think about what might have happened if old Jamison, her grandfather, had been unable to locate Quentin's mother?  Maybe Chris would have gotten it all.  </div> <div> She knew that Will did a lot of thinking about it-not so much about Chris, although that topic had come up a couple of times.  No, Will seemed to harp mostly on the fact that she'd been denied an inheritance for a mistake her mother had made-which had been the same sort of mistake Quentin's father made!  "I tell ya, it's the old double standard," Carolyn could hear Will's voice in her head.  "The old man's daughter gets herself knocked up, and she's out of the will.  This guy's father knocks up the maid and what happens?  He gets everything-just cause he's a guy!"</div> <div> Carolyn resented that kind of talk.  First of all, Will was in no position to criticize her family-he was being supported by them.  His first book had sold modestly well; his subsequent novel had been a flop.  Since that disaster, he hadn't written a word.  He spent more and more of his time in front of the bar at The Eagle than in front of his typewriter.  All the love she felt for her husband was quickly being drained away, just as quickly as he drained his whiskey or scotch.  </div> <div> The other thing was, "the old man's daughter" was her mother, and she resented Will's criticism bitterly.  Yes, her mother had been pregnant with her sister Vicki but at least her father, Paul Stoddard, had married her before the birth.  Vicki was passed off as a "preemie" and no one in town dared question it.  It was just that her grandfather was so grimly inflexible, Carolyn believed.  He thought her mother was witless and weak.  Was it her fault that Paul Stoddard had been unable to withstand Jamison's cold will and had abandoned his wife, pregnant again (this time with Carolyn), and little Vicki?</div> <div> Vicki was the smart one in the family, Carolyn reflected as the dance came to an end.  She wanted no part of Collinwood anymore.  She'd married Burke Devlin, and they traveled the world together.  Lucky Vicki!  Burke's business was multinational, and she and the children were getting quite a tour.  When they were in the States, Vicki and the children would come to see Carolyn and her mother-but never with Burke.  There was bad blood between the Devlins and the Collinses.  Carolyn knew why, too, but she'd die before she told anyone else.  "You've become very quiet," Chris remarked, escorting her back to their table.</div> <div> "I was thinking how strange life is," she answered, which was partly the truth.</div> <div> "I'm thinking about Buffy," Chris answered.  He picked up his drink and sipped it, looking around for his little sister.   He found her at the far corner of the room, playing with Daniel and some other children.  He relaxed visibly.  He was very protective of her.  </div> <div> "The men in this family!"  Carolyn exclaimed.</div> <div> Chris looked at her sheepishly and laughed.  "Oh, I know.  But Sabrina Stuart is taken.  Buffy's really very sweet."</div> <div> "A bar maid?  At Collinwood?"</div> <div> "We've had worse," Chris reminded her, lifting his glass.  He winked at her.</div> <div> Carolyn laughed.  "What can I say?  You're right about that, Chris!"  She stood up, swaying a little.  She'd had a little too much to drink already but managed to steady herself.  "I think I'll go powder my nose."</div> <div> "Don't be gone too long.  Looks like the happy couple are beginning to make the rounds.  You don't want to miss them," Chris advised her, grinning complacently.  Carolyn nodded briefly and managed to walk a straight line out of the room.  Chris turned his head again to watch his sister and sighed, thinking about Buffy.  Sometimes, he thought, being a member of the Collins family really sucked.  He liked Buffy a lot; she was witty and fun, but Carolyn was right.  He couldn't bring a barmaid to Collinwood.</div> <div> Although…he was sure that Quentin wouldn't care.  If he cared about that kind of thing, he wouldn't have married Maggie-who was she, really?  Her father was a drunk who'd drowned taking the Old Man fishing one day.  Sam Evans was so drunk he'd probably turned the boat over-it was fortunate he hadn't gotten the Old Man killed that day as well.  That was bad enough.  Worse, her mother was a lunatic, locked up in some asylum.  Quentin didn't care, though.  He went ahead and got married to the girl, in spite of everything Elizabeth and Roger said.</div> <div> Why does he let them continue to live at Collinwood?  Chris wondered.  I would've thrown them all out years ago.  Elizabeth fawned, bowed, and scraped when she was in Quentin's presence but criticized him bitterly behind his back.  And Roger! Quentin's too much of a nice guy, Chris thought.  Not me.  I'd never be nice to people who treated me the way they'd treated Quentin as a boy.  He's put up with a lot of shit all right.  Sometimes Chris felt a little guilty for the things he'd done to contribute to the way the others-especially Roger-had mistreated his cousin as a boy.</div> <div> Well, Elizabeth and Roger had to die eventually, he thought.  That was the only reason he stayed in Collinsport.  In spite of his dislike of them, they were still family-the only ones he had left now.  He needed help with Amy, too.  He'd never been married and didn't know anything about raising children-especially little girls.  Their parents and brother Tom had been killed in a car accident just a little over two years ago.  Amy had been in the car, too, but she had survived with just a broken arm, cuts, and contusions.</div> <div> Funny thing about that accident, Chris mused.  They were on their way to pick him up in Bangor; he'd just passed the bar and was exhilarated.  His father had said something odd to him.  Something about Angelique and some sort of experiment he'd caught her at…when Chris, confused, had asked for details, his father said he'd explain it when they got to Bangor.  They never arrived.  By the time the police arrived, Chris was already almost out of his mind with worry.  He could tell by the looks on their faces that the news was bad…He never did find out what it was his father wanted to tell him and had always kept a long distance from Quentin's wife.</div> <div> Golddigger, that's what she was, Chris reflected.  She went after Quentin like a piranha; it was obvious why she wanted him.  To a kid like Quentin, she must've been glamorous and sexy.  She was older and sophisticated; she'd been dating his brother Gabriel on and off.  She must've started seeing Quentin after Gabriel went to Vietnam, though, and seduced him or something.  The next thing everyone knew, Gabriel was dead and Quentin was marrying Angelique-and Angelique was pregnant with Quentin's child.  What a family! </div> <div> Chris watched the tall man Carolyn pointed out argue with Cyrus over by the big windows.  Huh! Wonder what that's all about?  The tall man strode away, out the door and outside the building.  Cyrus had been behaving very strangely lately.  He'd come to Chris, asking about setting up a separate, special bank account and had begun hinting around that he might want to change his will-well, the beneficiary of his will.  Right now, the designated executor was Cyrus' father, Rev. Longworth, and the Longworth family was the beneficiaries.  Chris assumed Cyrus meant to change everything to Sabrina and was quite shocked when Cyrus had blushed and answered, "Ah, no."</div> <div> Cyrus was weird.  He had very odd theories, theories he'd discussed with Chris once or twice at Collinwood while waiting for Quentin.  Certainly the weirdest thing Chris had every heard was this "mirror" theory of Cyrus'-as if the personality could really be broken down into separate pieces.  There's another guy who needs a shrink, him and Will and Roger and all the other nuts in the vicinity.  Maybe Quentin himself wasn't wrapped too tight-Cyrus was his best friend.</div> <div> Chris saw that Quentin and Maggie were closer.  He felt a movement beside him and looked up to see that Carolyn was sitting down again.  Carolyn lit a cigarette.  "Since when did you start smoking?" Chris asked, surprised.</div> <div> Carolyn laughed again.  "I always have, dear Chris!  It's just that I don't usually smoke in front of the family."  She lowered her voice.  "It's really only when I've had a bit much to drink.   It-stimulates me."  It helps me keep my head around that slob Will, too, she thought to herself.  She, too, noticed that Quentin and Maggie were closer.  She wondered how inconvenient a divorce would make her life.</div> <div> Life had gone down hill not only because of Will's drinking and the failure of his second book.  She wanted to have children, but it didn't look like that was going to happen now.  She'd miscarried twice, just as she'd been on the verge of announcing the happy news.  She didn't tell anyone-only Will.  After the first one, he had been tender and caring toward her.  After the second one, he turned away from her and opened another bottle of scotch.   It really hurt, especially when Elizabeth kept dropping hints about more grandchildren.  The hurt increased with the healthy births of each of Vicki's children.  <I>Why does she have four children?  Four!  And I can't even have one of my own!</I></div> <div> "Carolyn?" Chris said, concerned, putting his hand on her arm.</div> <div> "I'm all right, Chris," she replied thickly, feeling her eyes fill up.  She could see Chris' cousin Joe and his wife Susan coming toward them.  Joe had been one of Quentin's ushers and Susan one of Maggie's `bridesmaids'.</div> <div> "Hey, I'm really glad you two came down," Joe said, seating his wife before taking a chair himself.  He managed the operations department of the cannery.  He'd always been on good terms with Quentin-there was no reason for there to be any rivalry at all between the two.  If anything at all, Joe felt a little "dumb" around Quentin because he'd gotten no further than high school, but he was a skilled, organized leader and kept the workers happy and on task.</div> <div> "I wouldn't have missed it," Chris said.  "I hope Quentin realizes that.  Has he said anything?"</div> <div> "He was glad to see you two," Joe answered.</div> <div> "I think he was afraid the whole family would boycott the wedding," Susan put in, patting her abdomen.  Carolyn stared at her, wondering.  Her belly was flat.  Could it be…Carolyn pushed the thought away.  She didn't want to think about it.</div> <div> "I'm sure he wouldn't have missed any of us," Carolyn drawled, a little sarcastically.</div> <div> Joe and Susan exchanged looks.  "That's where you're wrong."</div> <div> "Well, I'll tell him," Chris said, looking over.  Quentin and Maggie had been delayed.  Now the bandleader was announcing a special dance between Quentin and his Aunt Nancy:  "Mr. Wonderful."  Smiling broadly, Quentin went to his aunt's table and led her to the dance floor.  Maggie sat down with her Uncle Bob, brother-in-law Dan and sister Jennifer.  </div> <div> As the band began to play and Quentin and his aunt moved across the dance floor, Carolyn looked over and saw the sad look on Maggie's face.  It suddenly struck her: They're<I> both orphans, really.  They have no one but each other.</I>  She knew what Maggie was facing at home.  She thought she would try to befriend the poor girl.  The bandleader was calling for everyone else to join in.  Maggie got up with her Uncle Bob.  Joe and Susan got up to join the other couples, but Carolyn shook her head at Chris.  She lit another cigarette and smoked it moodily, watching the couples dance.  Just as the song was concluding Quentin and Maggie were passed back to each other.  Quentin kissed his bride and whispered in her ear.  She put her arms around his neck and hugged him.</div> <div> I remember when I used to feel like that, Carolyn thought bitterly.  Enjoy it while it lasts, folks.  She stubbed out her cigarette angrily.  Quentin and Maggie had turned toward them.  Great.  She composed her features into a smile.  Quentin looked happier than she'd seen him in years.  Her own smile became more genuine.  She stood to greet him and he pulled her into a bear hug, lifting her off her feet.  "Oh, Quentin!" she squealed.  He swung her in a circle; it was like they were children again.  "No, don't!  I don't want to puke on your tux!"  She was set back down on the ground abruptly.</div> <div> "I'm really glad you came, Carolyn," Quentin was saying, taking her by the hands. </div> <div> "I hope you'll be happy this time, Quentin, you deserve it," Carolyn said sincerely.  He was clearly moved, she could see that.  He was also very happy.  Maggie stepped forward to greet Carolyn; she'd already said hello to the others.</div> <div> "So where are you two going anyway?" Chris asked.  "You never did say."</div> <div> "The Riviera," Maggie said, her face flushed with excitement.  She looked at Quentin with what Carolyn usually derisively called sappy lovesick eyes.  At that moment, though, Carolyn shivered, thinking how vulnerable and young she looked.</div> <div> "Oooh la la," Chris teased.  "Do you parlez vous Francais?"</div> <div> "We won't need to," Quentin answered.  Maggie blushed, and everyone laughed.  He put his arm around her in a protective way.</div> <bR> <div> Adam came to the doorway and looked in.  He wanted very badly to say goodbye to Quentin and Maggie, but they were with Carolyn.  He was still afraid she would recognize him.  He sighed.  He felt sure they would understand why he had to go now.  He turned and went back out into the foyer.  He met a waiter on his way into the room.  "Excuse me," he said to the waiter.  "Would you mind?  Would you give a message to the bridge and groom in that room?"</div> <div> The waiter held out his hand.  Adam looked at him, confused.  The waiter looked a little disgusted.  "You're going to give me a tip, aren't you?"</div> <div> Tip, tip?  Adam thought.  Ah!  That was money left on a table for the waiter or waitress.  He reached into his pocket, searching for some money.  He pulled out a five-dollar bill and gave it to the man with a message to Quentin and Maggie that he had to leave and would see them when they got back.  He went outside to wait for Steve, the Stuarts' chauffeur to come and pick him up.</div> <div> He was still brooding about his argument with Cyrus.  He couldn't believe how angry his friend had become.  Didn't Cyrus understand that finding Roxanne was more important to him than the surgery was?  He was sure Dr. Hargrove would understand.  Cyrus didn't even begin to calm down until Adam suggested the idea that maybe Claude North had held a knife on Roxanne and that was why she went with him willingly.  Cyrus' anger had abruptly drained away; pale and speechless, he stared wildly at Adam for a moment.  He had the look of a desperate man suddenly.</div> <div> He turned away, as if unable to look at Adam.  "Yes, yes, I suppose that's possible," he muttered.  He was breathing deeply, almost gasping.</div> <div> "Dr. Cyrus, are you all right?" Adam asked, concerned.</div> <div> "You do what you must, Adam," Cyrus answered in a strangled voice.  "I am all right."  He began to walk away.</div> <div> It was then that Adam left the room to call Steve to come and pick him up.</div> <bR> <div> The Stuarts were just sitting down to a mid-afternoon snack when Adam knocked gently at the kitchen door.  The cook let him in, surprised to see him.  "I thought you went to a wedding," she said, stepping back to let him in.</div> <div> "Yes, it was very nice.  I've just come from the reception," Adam answered.  "I just wanted to talk to Admiral Stuart."</div> <div> "Oh!  Well you'll find them both in the morning room."</div> <div> Adam smiled a little, wondering why it would be called a morning room when it was afternoon.  Shaking his head, he went into the room-it was really a fully enclosed and insulated patio, Adam thought.  It even had fake green grass on the floor.</div> <div> "Why, Adam!  Back so soon?" Mrs. Stuart exclaimed, standing up to greet him.  She pushed a bowl to the side discreetly, and the Admiral raised a napkin to his lips with his good hand.  "Is Sabrina and Cyrus back too?"</div> <div> "No, the reception is still going on," Adam replied.  "I left early.  I needed to talk to Admiral Stuart-and you."</div> <div> The admiral turned with a little difficulty to look at Adam.  He beckoned with his hand.  "Come in and sit.  We'll talk."</div> <div> Relieved, Adam came in and sat at the table.  He began to talk.  He was going to tell them everything-well, almost everything.</div> <bR> <div> Tuesday morning, Adam was driving east on Long Island toward Riverhead.  He felt a little nervous about driving all alone; his new license was in his wallet, but this was really the first time he'd driven a car without Admiral Stuart beside him.  He was truly grateful to Sabrina's parents.  After he told them about Roxanne and what he wanted to do, they were very supportive.   There was nothing Cyrus could say-not without causing a scene, and he was not about to do that.  He and Sabrina left the following afternoon.</div> <div> Adam called Dr. Hargrove Sunday afternoon to explain he had an emergency.  The doctor was very understanding and said simply that Adam should call to reschedule his appointment when he came back to New York.  Relieved, Adam hung up.  He thought of Quentin and Maggie; they had stayed one night in a hotel somewhere in the vicinity.  They were on a plane now, heading for the French Riviera.  He wished them well and thought determinedly that he would have Roxanne with him when they came back.</div> <div> All that remained on Monday was the driver's test.  Although he was nervous, Adam passed on his first try-both the written and the performance portion.  Delighted, the Stuarts' took him out to lunch to celebrate.  Admiral Stuart gave Adam a set of keys-it was to their second car, a large Ford Galaxy.  Adam was stunned.  "You'll come back when you find her," the Admiral said.</div> <div> And now he was retracing the route he and his friends had taken in January.  When he arrived at Orient Point, he would take the ferry back across the Long Island Sound to Connecticut.  From there, he would drive northeast to Maine.  He wasn't sure where he would go when he arrived in Collinsport; he wasn't sure Cyrus would welcome him.  </div> <div> He sighed, turning on the radio.  He and Cyrus were both hurting.  He'd known for a long time that something was bothering his friend.  He'd often wished he could do something to help.  That desire was tempered now by his need to find Roxanne.  He hoped Cyrus wouldn't get in his way.  He didn't want his friend to force a confrontation that would end their friendship. </div> <bR> <div> Adam was feeling tired by as he pulled into the parking lot for the ferry.  He hadn't been driving that long, but he just wasn't used to highway driving, and it was nerve-wracking.  He was grateful for the break the ferry ride across the Sound would give him.  In his pocket he had Nancy Talbot's phone number and address in a neighborhood called Beacon Hill in Boston.  Quentin's Aunt Nancy made it plain she would welcome a visit from Adam anytime, and he thought it might not be a bad idea.  He didn't think he wanted to attempt the whole trip in one day.  </div> <div> He also didn't want to impose on Aunt Nancy.  While he was waiting for the ferry, he called the Hilton in Boston and made a reservation for himself, imitating Quentin and Cyrus.  He began to feel quite sophisticated and confidant, although the credit card he used was not his own; Admiral Stuart had given it to him and told him to use it.  As his reservation was being arranged, Adam thought that the plastic card was a remarkable thing to have.  After he found Roxanne and they got married, they would get plastic cards in their own names.  He asked for directions to the hotel.  He thought he would stop there first and if he became lonely or frightened, he'd call Aunt Nancy and go to visit her.  Sometimes just being around friendly people gave him all the courage he needed.</div> <div> He arrived in Boston about four hours later and went directly to the hotel.  There was a uniformed man who wanted to park the car for him.  Adam had learned by now that all of these employees expected a "tip" so he gave the man a bill and went into the hotel to register.   As he walked across the room toward the registration desk, he happened to see a striking blonde woman turn toward him.  His heart almost stopped and he walked right into a pillar.  Stunned, he stumbled backward and fell to the ground.  To his horror, the woman rushed to his side.</div> <div> "Are you all right?" she asked, concerned.</div> <div> He looked up at her, terrified and speechless.  It was Angelique!  It was the last coherent thought he had before his head hit the floor again.</div> <bR> <div> Adam came around within moments.  Two men were bending over him, and so was Angelique.  He drew away from her, frightened almost out of his wits.  "Are you all right, sir?"  one of the men asked.  </div> <div> The other was taking his pulse and pushing his eyelids up.  Adam assumed this must be a doctor.  "I feel a little dizzy," he said weakly.  He looked back at Angelique, who was staring at him, puzzled.  He started to sit up.  "Please-I'm all right.  I had a long drive, and I must be tired."</div> <div> "You look as if you've seen a ghost," Angelique said, and he started.  She looked concerned again.  "Do we know each other?  I have a feeling that you know me."</div> <div> "Angelique," he whispered before he could stop himself.  He saw her blanch.</div> <div> "You knew my sister?  My God!" she exclaimed.  "It's no wonder then!  You thought that I was she!"</div> <div> "Do you know each other?" the doctor asked.</div> <div> "No, I don't know him," the woman was answering.  To Adam, she said:  "I am not Angelique Collins-what a remarkable coincidence, though!  I am her sister, Alexis Stokes."</div> <div> "Sister?" Adam repeated.  "I did not know she had a sister."</div> <div> "No, I'm not surprised!" The woman had turned a bright red.</div> <div> Adam was totally confused.  <I>Sister?  Angelique had no sister in the other time!</I>  He held his head, realizing that it was aching from the fall.  "Alexis Stokes?  Your father is-"</div> <div> "Timothy Stokes.  Do you know him?"</div> <div> "Not really."  Adam swallowed hard, willing himself to look at the woman whose features terrified him so.  He whispered:  "You look just like her."</div> <div> "We were twins."</div> <div> <I>Twins?</I>  He turned his head as the doctor asked him if he'd like to try and stand up.  He nodded, allowing the two men to help him get to his feet.  He looked again at the blonde, blue-eyed woman so like the evil Angelique-and yet, so different.  "I have not seen you in Collinsport-ever."</div> <div> "I have not been there in years.  I left when I was eighteen years old, and I have been in Europe since-most of the time, anyway.  Most recently, I was in Italy."</div> <div> "I see."  Adam felt overwhelmed.  He wanted to get away from her.  "Thank you for stopping to help me.  I am quite all right now."</div> <div> "Oh, please, allow me to buy you a cup of tea or something to refresh you," the woman offered.</div> <div> "I need to check in," Adam hedged.</div> <div> "The coffee shop is just over there.  I can get a table for us.  Please, allow me to do this.  I feel that the shock of seeing me-thinking that I was my sister-caused you to pass out and I'd like to make up for that."</div> <div> "You don't have to."</div> <div> "But I'd like to.  You knew my sister.  Perhaps-" She stopped, looking at him wistfully.  He wavered.  <I>If this were truly Angelique, I would have a very bad feeling about her.  I don't.  Maybe she is telling the truth.  And if she is Angelique, perhaps she knows what has happened to Roxanne.</I>  He thought that Angelique wouldn't dare kill him in a public restaurant, so he nodded at her and said he would meet her after he'd registered.  She smiled.  It was the same gorgeous, brilliant smile he'd seen on Angelique's face-and yet it was different.  Deeply disturbed, Adam turned away to go to the registration desk.  He signed the register, giving the admiral's card to the clerk.  </div> <div> The clerk called to verify that Adam had permission to use the card.  Satisfied, he pushed a key toward Adam and said politely, "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Knight.  Please let us know if you need anything.  Do you have luggage?"</div> <div> "Yes-that suitcase."</div> <div> "Would you like us to take it to your room for you?"</div> <div> "No, thank you," Adam said politely. He could carry the bag himself and didn't see the need to tip everyone for every little thing.  He picked up the bag and carried it to the hotel's restaurant, looking for the blonde woman calling herself Alexis.  She was very easy to find.  He approached the table cautiously, and she looked up and him and smiled.  He tried not to flinch.  He sat down across from her.  "I am sorry," he told her honestly.  "I am not comfortable."</div> <div> "I know.  I'm sorry, too," Alexis said earnestly.  "You see, when I found out that you knew my sister, I wanted to ask-well, did you go to her funeral?"</div> <div> <I>She knows,</I> Adam thought, relieved.  "No, I was already living on the grounds of Rushmore Sanitarium by then."  At her suddenly frightened look, he smiled gently and went on, "I was the caretaker there.  I was not a client."</div> <div> "I see," Alexis said, color returning to her face.  She laughed a little.  "I apologize for what I was thinking.  Please tell me, how do you know my sister?"</div> <div> "Her husband, Quentin, is my friend."</div> <div> "Quentin-how is he?  Is he all right?"</div> <div> Adam considered.  "Yes, he is all right," he answered cautiously.</div> <div> "What is it, Mr. Knight?"</div> <div> "Well," Adam said, shifting uncomfortably.</div> <div> "I was considering going to Collinsport to pay my condolences," Alexis ventured.</div> <div> "I see." Adam cleared his throat and looked down at his large hands.  His fingers twisted themselves.</div> <div> "There's a reason I shouldn't go, isn't there?" Alexis pressed.</div> <div> Adam realized he had no idea how to tell her the news.  It probably wasn't a good idea to just tell her straight out, but he didn't know what else to do.  "Quentin is married again.  He got married on Saturday."</div> <div> Alexis' eyes widened with shock.  "So soon?" Adam turned red.  How could he tell her that he knew Quentin had been so unhappy?  "To whom, I wonder?  I wonder if I know her?"</div> <div> "Maggie Evans?"</div> <div> "Evans."  Alexis seemed deep in thought.  "A young girl, very studious-much younger than I.  I saw her in the library many times, poring over books.  A lonely girl, I thought."</div> <div> "As you were?"  Adam guessed.</div> <div> Alexis drew back a little.  The waitress had arrived with their tea.  "I spent a lot of time at the library-researching art history, mostly.  Sometimes I would look at books on sculpture.  That's what I do, you see.  I was gifted, even then.  I seem to remember that her father was a painter-he, too, was gifted."  There was something in her voice, a hint of remorse-and something else.  Loss.</div> <div> "Will you go to Collinsport, then?" Adam asked.  He wasn't so sure he liked the idea.</div> <div> "Probably not-not at this point.  There is no reason to," Alexis replied softly.  "I had planned to-when my show here is over.  I think perhaps I will go to New York first.  Do you know when Quentin will return to Collinsport?"</div> <div> "A few weeks," Adam replied.  He wasn't sure whether Quentin had said a month, six weeks, or longer.</div> <div> "I see.  Mr. Knight, it was a pleasure to meet you," Alexis said suddenly, extending her hand.</div> <div> Startled, Adam took it.  "You haven't had any tea."</div> <div> "It's all right.  I don't want to take up any more of your time.  Thank you, and have a good trip."  She smiled that dazzling, familiar, beautiful smile at him.</div> <div> "Thank you," he replied. "And I hope you have a good show."</div> <div> She smiled again and got up and walked away.  He picked up his teacup and found he had trouble holding the cup in his trembling hand.  He didn't see her stop to throw a troubled backward glance at him.  After he was sure she was gone, he went up to his room and called Quentin's Aunt Nancy.  He suddenly felt the need for some reassurance.</div> <bR> <div> Adam sat awkwardly on Aunt Nancy's love seat, awkwardly balancing a plate of cookies on his knees.  He had a glass of milk in his hand and felt slightly foolish, wondering if Quentin's aunt thought he was a large child.  That good lady sat across from him, giving him a pensive, troubled look.  "Well, there really is an Alexis Stokes-I just want to put your mind to rest about that," she was saying.  "Why would you think she was really Angelique?"</div> <div> "I didn't say that I thought that-" Adam began, very surprised.</div> <div> "You didn't have to," Aunt Nancy answered.  Her blue eyes were penetrating.  They were as deep a blue as Quentin's but much sharper.  Nothing got by her.  "Did you know Angelique?"</div> <div> "Well-" Adam began.  He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to tell the truth.  Agitated, he began to dither.  "I have not met this Angelique, no, but I have heard of her-I mean Quentin has said, no-I mean-"</div> <div> "I always thought the young lady was a witch myself."</div> <div> At that, Adam very nearly spilled his milk across the carpet.  He stuttered.  "Wh-wh-why d-did you-you th-think that?"</div> <div> "It must have crossed your mind, too, judging by your reaction," Aunt Nancy replied mildly.  She sighed and smoothed her skirt with her hands.  "Well, I am not sure if I mean she was a witch who could cast spells or if she was just a very mean spirited person.  I was worried about Quentin even before he married her.  I didn't like her the first time I saw her.  I had a feeling she was up to no good."</div> <div> "You were worried about Quentin?"</div> <div> "Especially after his mother-my sister-died.  I thought the circumstances were-unusual."</div> <div> "Do you think Angelique did something to her?"  Adam asked.  </div> <div> "What has Quentin said?"</div> <div> "Not a lot.  He doesn't like to talk about Angelique."</div> <div> "I'm not surprised.  Frankly, I am sorry Jamison Collins ever found us."  She seemed to realize how angry and bitter she sounded because she very deliberately changed her expression.  "Well, perhaps he can be happy now.  I think Maggie is a wonderful person!"</div> <div> "Me, too.  Did you know Alexis?  Do you think she is bad, too?"</div> <div> "I don't know.  I don't know Alexis Stokes.  I know of her, from Quentin.  I felt sorry for her.  Quentin told me that she had a very unhappy life at home.  It seems her step-father beat her."</div> <div> Adam was shocked.  "That is why she left home and never came back?"</div> <div> "Yes, that's my understanding."</div> <div> He felt more relieved now after this conversation.  It probably was foolish to have believed for a moment that Angelique had somehow magically resurrected herself!  It was also foolish to believe that even if she had, Angelique would have done something to Roxanne.  Why would she?  After all, they'd never even met!  He began to relax a little more and looked around the room.  "Quentin lived here before he moved to Collinsport?"</div> <div> "Oh, dear, no.  We weren't that well off.  I've lived here only since I remarried-my husband was a senior partner in a law firm before he died.  This was his home, and now it's mine.  No, my sister Helen and I were not doing so well financially then.  We lived in south Boston."  Aunt Nancy smiled wistfully.  "If there's one thing we've learned too late it's that money doesn't create happiness."</div> <div> "No, of course not."  Adam wondered why people would think that it would create happiness.  He'd been perfectly happy, and he wasn't rich.</div> <div> "Sometimes I think we were happier back then," Aunt Nancy continued thoughtfully.  Then she seemed to collect herself again and stood up.  "You'll stay for dinner, I hope?"</div> <div> "I would like that," Adam replied gratefully.  He had no intention on imposing on Quentin's aunt much longer, but he was glad for the company.  His experience with Alexis Stokes had shaken him very much.</div> <bR> <bR> <div> Alexis Stokes was fighting off the waves of dizziness as she drove south toward New York.  There was a rest stop, and she pulled off the highway and parked.  She always felt as if she was going to lose her mind, especially when these attacks came upon her as she was driving.  She was sure the car would run off the road or, even worse, she would lose control and hit another car.  She was too dizzy to get out of the car yet.  She tried to slow her breathing.  She hadn't had one of these attacks in a long time, not since she learned that her twin sister was dead.</div> <div> When she'd finally gotten the telegram from Aunt Hannah and read it, she'd felt-relieved.  Horrified by her reaction-the fact that she felt almost glad about her sister's death-she'd nearly collapsed as the room spun and twirled crazily around her.  She'd sunk to her knees on the floor, trying not to pass out.  Her sister was gone-she'd been dead for months.  <I>What do I want to do now?</I>  She realized that along with the relief, she didn't want to go back.  <I>There is no reason to.</I>  She hadn't responded to her Aunt Hannah.</div> <div> <I>Why should I?</I>  Aunt Hannah said she loved me, but she never protected me from either of them.  Not from her sister's spiteful resentment and not from her father's fists.  She was tired of hiding the bruises on her throat and on her arms.  Her father was always so careful not to leave a mark on her face-he didn't want any questions.  Which was worse though?  Enduring her father's drunken beatings or his slobbering affection?  Alexis knew her father visited her sister several nights a week.  </div> <div> <I>Why did she endure it?</I> Alexis had wondered after she left home.  Her sister had bragged about having power; having the ability to cast spells.  Alexis thought it was amusing.  If Angelique was a witch, why didn't she turn Tim into a frog?  Angelique didn't love her stepfather any more than Alexis did.  Alexis was sure that was why Angelique had turned into a run-around.  She led all the boys around by their-Alexis blushed furiously.  She used them and when she had gotten all she wanted, she moved on.  When Alexis left home as soon as she was 18, Angelique had been through all the boys in their senior class.</div> <div> She was very surprised to hear that Angelique was marrying Quentin Collins several years later, but she elected not to attend the wedding.  She knew who the Collinses were and she knew that was why Angelique was marrying into the family.  She wanted power, and she wanted to get away from Tim.  Alexis had a moment's flickering pity for Quentin Collins, who was younger than they were.  <I>Poor fool</I>.  He was too naïve to know, she know.</div> <div> Alexis made a life for herself in Europe.  She lived for several years in Paris before moving on to Florence.  She had several lovers but committed herself to no one.  She didn't trust any of the men she slept with, always wondering when they were going to hit her.  Often, they eventually did.  She would never give them a second chance.  She would pack her things and leave.  She was a sensitive sculptor; she expressed her inner pain in her work.  She was doing well.</div> <div> She probably would not have returned to the United States at all if it hadn't been for an old friend who had an art gallery in New York and wanted to do a show centered around her pieces.  Now that she was back, all the old tormenting memories were washing over her.  That man she had met-so strange and frightening!  She didn't want to go back to Collinsport, yet she felt something pulling her there.  No!  She had to get to New York.</div> <div> Determined, she started her car again.  There was no reason at all to go back there.  None.  She pulled back onto the highway, driving south again toward New York City.</div> <bR> <div> After Adam returned to his hotel room, he called Sabrina Stuart.  "Adam!" she exclaimed.  "Where are you?"</div> <div> "I'm in Boston," he began.  He hesitated.  He needed help making a decision, but he hated putting Sabrina in the middle.  "I am staying here tonight, and then I will drive to Collinsport tomorrow.  I thought about calling Dr. Cyrus, but I thought he might still be upset with me."</div> <div> "Yes," Sabrina said softly.  She wasn't agreeing that Cyrus was angry, but she wasn't dispelling Adam's belief either.</div> <div> "Well, I wanted to talk to Quentin's private investigator.  I never found out his last name.  Do you know what it is?"</div> <div> "I'm not sure.  I don't know all of Quentin's friends," Sabrina hedged.</div> <div> "Tony?"</div> <div> "Oh!  That would be Tony Peterson."</div> <div> "Good!"  Adam was relieved that Sabrina knew the man.  That would make things a little easier.  "Can you tell me where to find him?"</div> <div> "Of course.  Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?"  As Adam wrote the information Sabrina provided, she asked, "Adam, where are you going to stay?"</div> <div> This was a sticky point.  He really wasn't sure.  He and Cyrus had had a real quarrel about this.  Cyrus was adamant that he didn't want Adam to come back to Collinsport at all.  He didn't think he'd be able to stay with Cyrus.  "I think I can stay in my own home," he began.</div> <div> "That's going to be such a long drive!"  Sabrina exclaimed, in protest.</div> <div> "Yes, well."</div> <div> After a moment, Sabrina offered, "You can sleep on my couch, Adam.  We won't tell Cyrus."</div> <div> Adam was troubled, yet relieved.  "I don't want to lie."</div> <div> "No-we won't lie.  We just won't volunteer the information.  Cyrus hardly ever visits me."</div> <div> Adam heard the sadness in her voice at that and, again, he wondered what exactly was troubling his friend.  Around the holidays, Cyrus seemed better.  He seemed to be growing closer to Sabrina, and he seemed much happier.  Now, he had changed drastically-ever since Roxanne disappeared.  Adam was becoming more and more certain that Cyrus knew more than he was telling about it.  "Thank you, Sabrina.  I'll see you soon."  He hung up and lay back on his bed, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.</div> <bR> <div> Adam first went to the sanitarium and talked to his supervisor, who was very pleased to see him.  "I wasn't expecting you back until after your surgery," he was saying.  "Are you coming back to work?"</div> <div> "Not yet-the surgery was just put off for a few days," Adam lied, feeling terribly guilty about it.  "I just came back to visit for a while."</div> <div> "I hope you brought Roxanne along-we haven't seen her in weeks.  Mabel really misses her, ya know?"</div> <div> Adam started guiltily.  He looked away.  "I'll go and see her."  Visiting Mabel had only caused Adam to feel more depressed.  Mabel was morose because she felt that Roxanne and Adam had both abandoned her.  Deep in thought, Adam wandered to Roxanne's home and was shocked to find yellow tape on the door.  There was a warning not to enter the premises, with the phone number of the police.  He went straight home, picked up the phone and made an appointment to see Tony Peterson right away.</div> <div> Adam was surprised to find that Tony Peterson was a young man-he'd expected someone much older.  He always thought of private detectives as being tough, older men with craggy features, felt hats and raincoats.  This was a good-looking young man, too.  As he shook hands with Peterson, he wondered if the man really knew how to look for a missing person.  As he began to talk, however, Adam felt his doubts beginning to melt away.  Tony reviewed what he had learned to date: that Roxanne had vanished without a trace, leaving no word with anyone.  At about the same time, Claude North had vanished, too.</div> <div> "She was reported missing two weeks ago by a chaplain in the Army," Peterson went on.  "The police looked at it as a missing persons case with foul play possibly involved.  They haven't been able to turn up anything, either.  They dusted your girlfriend's house for prints-nothing.  Not hers, not yours, not anyone's.  That's why the tape is there."</div> <div> "That can't be!" Adam exclaimed, wondering what had caused an Army chaplain to become involved..</div> <div> "Of course it can't be.  That's why they suspect foul play.  They contacted Claude North's sister-Marie Wilder.  They got permission to go into his place-same thing.  No prints anywhere."</div> <div> "What will happen now?"</div> <div> "Oh, they'll keep looking," Peterson assured him.  "The Army is interested now, too."</div> <div> "Why?"</div> <div> Peterson shrugged.  "I didn't get a chance to examine the document, but I have heard that they've located her brother."</div> <div> "Randy?"</div> <div> Peterson shrugged.  "Is that his name?  I don't know. He was a POW somewhere in Cambodia, Laos or Vietnam.  He may have gotten loose."</div> <div> "How do you know?"</div> <div> Peterson smiled.  "It's my business to know, Mr. Knight."</div> <div> "What should I do?  I want to help."</div> <div> "Well, to be honest with you, Mr. Knight, if you really want to help, you won't do anything.  You'll go back to Bangor or Long Island and wait for me or Mr. Collins to get in touch with you."  When Adam began to shake his head, no, Peterson went on impatiently:  "Look, if you stay here you may interfere in my being able to locate your fiancée for you.  You don't want that, do you?"</div> <div> "I don't see how that is possible," Adam objected.  "No one knows me here."</div> <div> Peterson sighed.  "I can't make you leave.  I even understand how you feel.  All I can tell you is that you may hamper my handling of this case.  You've got to be careful.  You don't want to put your fiancée's life in danger."</div> <div> Adam felt frightened.  Of course he didn't want to endanger Roxanne's life, but he also didn't feel he could sit and do nothing.  "If anyone recognizes me, I will leave right away," Adam promised.  </div> <div> "All right," Peterson agreed.  He added darkly, "I just hope it won't be too late by then."</div> <div> Adam felt chilled all the way through.  He was so frightened by Peterson's words that he elected to drive all the way back to the sanitarium and stay in his cottage that night.  Perhaps he could search Collinsport during the day and come back to his cottage at night.  He just didn't know what to do anymore.  He'd been so positive that coming back here to look for Roxanne himself was the right thing to do-now he wasn't so sure anymore.  There was just one more place he wanted to visit before he returned to his cottage.  There was just an hour or two left before the sun went down.</div> <bR> <div> Adam walked down the street toward Cyrus Longworth's house, feeling a great deal of trepidation.  He had a feeling that his friend would not be pleased to see him at all.  He stopped suddenly as a man came from behind the house.  <I>Willie!</I>  Adam thought, horrified, watching as the man seemed to sway from side to side as he approached.  Adam was too frightened to hide; it was too late, he was sure Willie had seen him.  As Willie staggered by, he muttered, "'Scuse me," and kept going.  Adam realized suddenly that Willie not only hadn't recognized him, he'd barely noticed him.  Something was wrong with Willie, and he'd just come from Cyrus' house.  Impulsively, Adam turned and followed Willie down the street to the Eagle.</div> <div> Once inside the dimly lit bar, Adam looked around and saw Willie slumped down at a table.  An attractive blonde woman was standing over him.  "I don't think I ought to be bringing you any more seven and sevens, Will Loomis," the woman was saying.  "You can barely sit up as it is."</div> <div> "Look, Buffy, darlin, don't argue with me, huh, sweetheart?  Just be a good kid and go get me the drink.  I'm meetin a friend o'mine here."</div> <div> Adam walked toward them, and the woman-Buffy-turned toward him, looking a little relieved.  "Are you his friend?  He's pretty drunk."</div> <div> "We're not friends," Adam said softly, "but I thought I would say hello.  Maybe you can bring his drink when his other friend shows up."</div> <div> "Nah, nah, nah," Willie slurred.  "Lemme buy you a drink.  Tell ya what-I'll have whatever you have."</div> <div> Adam shrugged.  "Pepsi," he said to Buffy, who gave him a grateful smile.</div> <div> Willie snickered.  He seemed to find it increasingly funny because he began to laugh so hard the tears came to his eyes.  "Pepsi!  Oh, that's a good one!  Pepsi!"</div> <div> Buffy left to get the drinks, and Adam sat down at the table with Willie.  He realized that this man couldn't hurt him.  "Do you remember me?" he asked.</div> <div> Will looked at him with bleary, bloodshot eyes.  He shook his head slowly.  "Nah, I have no idea who you are, buddy."</div> <div> "My name is Adam Knight.  You're Willie Loomis, aren't you?"</div> <div> "Will, not Willie.  I ain't been Willie since I was a little kid-hey, you know who I am, doncha?"  Will was looking at Adam more closely.  He was so drunk, though, that when he tried to focus on Adam his eyes crossed and he had to jerk his head back.  "Lissen-are you a fan?"</div> <div> Fan?  Adam thought.  He doesn't mean to ask if I am an electrical appliance.  Fan means something else-what?  "Well," he began cautiously.  "I wanted to talk to you."</div> <div> "Sure ya did.  `Bout my book, right? `The Life and Death of Barnabas Collins', right? Y'want my autograph?"  Adam was stunned, hearing the name of his former mentor-turned-foe.  Barnabas!  Perhaps <I>he</I> had stolen Roxanne away!  He was barely listening as Will went on, "Well, this is really cool.  My buddy's so damn sure nobody's never heard of me-wait until he gets a loada you, man!  So-so-you wan' my autograph?"  He sounded a little pathetic.</div> <div> Numbly, Adam nodded and pushed a cocktail napkin toward him.  Will didn't seem to notice, fumbling in his breast pocket for a pen.  "Wha's ya name again, buddy?"</div> <div> "Adam Knight.  Tell me, how well did you know Barnabas?"</div> <div> "Oh, got t'know him damn good through all the research.  Go on-y'can ask me anything y'wanna.  Can tellya `bout how he built up the shipyards here an how he had four sons.  He built two more houses for the t'other two, ya know?  One of `em's Seacliff.  The other's Rose Cottage.  He stayed on at the Old House-only we call it Loomis House now."</div> <div> Adam had calmed down somewhat, listening.  This Barnabas is not the same, he realized.  There were so many similarities between the worlds-was it possible that Will's Barnabas was the alternate to the man he knew?  "What happened to him?"</div> <div> "Dincha read the whole thing?"  Willie frowned.</div> <div> "I forget."</div> <div> "He died-heart failure or somethin.  In 1830."</div> <div> Now Adam was thoroughly confused.  There was no way they could be the same man, he reasoned.  The Barnabas he knew there must be like the Quentin here-there was no alternate.  Will was mumbling again, and Adam heard the name Angelique.  "What?" he asked.</div> <div> "Bitch ruined me," Will was mumbling.  "Never could do anythin right again-no book, no baby, no nothin."  He looked at Adam, tears of self-pity spilling over his cheeks.  "I used ta be somebody, ya know?  I had a wife that loved me.  But <I>her</I>-she's like one of them sirens, ya know what I mean?"</div> <div> "I don't know what a siren is," Adam admitted.  He felt pity for this man.  He was nothing like Willie, who had tormented him and been cruel to him.  This man was suffering.</div> <div> "She's a beautiful woman who lures ya with her song.  Then she sucks the life right outta ya!"  Adam was taken aback by the intense hatred suddenly blazing in Will's eyes.  "Makin promises-oh I shoulda been more than I am.  And Quentin!"  Will snorted, beginning to laugh.  "Poor schmuck!  I used to really hate the guy, ya know-cuz he took from us what shoulda belonged to us.  But ya hadda feel sorry for the guy-"</div> <div> "Quentin is my friend," Adam interrupted, coldly.  He felt himself growing irritated, his pity dissipating.  This Willie was weak, a whining man full of self-pity for himself.</div> <div> "Oho, then I guess I better not tell ya no more secrets `bout Angelique!"  Willie exclaimed, beginning to laugh gleefully.  The door opened, and he looked up, his eyes brightening.  "Oh, hey!  John!  C'mere, lemme inner-duce ya to someone who knows me, man!" he called.</div> <div> Adam turned to look, jumping up as soon as he saw who it was.  His chair fell over.  It was the man who'd come to him at the hospital, giving him the note from Roxanne saying she was leaving with Claude North.  The man took one look at him, turned, and fled.  Adam ran out after him.  "Hey!" he heard Will cry out in disappointment behind him.  The man was a swift runner, and he quickly outpaced Adam who resolutely ran as fast as he could and was able to at least keep him in sight.  They were heading out of Collinsport, toward Collinwood, and the sun was setting.  I can't lose him now!  Adam thought with dismay.  The man turned abruptly and ran down a path through the woods.  Following, Adam felt a little hopeful.  He felt he knew where the man was going: the Old House.</div> <bR> <div> Chris pulled into the driveway at Collinwood and parked his car.  Climbing out, he stretched.  He looked toward the path leading to the Loomis house and considered going there to visit Carolyn and Will.  He almost immediately rejected the idea.  He would only be delaying the inevitable.  He almost groaned with aggravation as he remembered coming out of his meeting with his partner Larry Chase and finding five messages from Roger waiting for him.   <I>It's taking him less and less time to run through his allowance,</I> Chris thought irritably.  </div> <div> As he entered the foyer, he wondered what his chances were of sneaking up the stairs without being heard.  Hoffman was on him immediately.  The damn woman had ears like a cat, he thought, looking at her coldly polite features with distaste.  A cat, that's what she was.  Cats were independent and sneaky.  A weird thought popped into his mind even as Hoffman opened her mouth to speak: familiar-that's what cats are.  Familiars.  He wondered what on earth he was thinking.</div> <div> "Ah, Mr. Collins-your Cousin Roger would like to speak to you," Hoffman was saying, taking his coat.</div> <div> "And I suppose he's in the drawing room with his pre-dinner brandy bottle?" Chris asked.</div> <div> Hoffman shrugged.  "I don't know whether he has a bottle or not," she replied coldly as she hung up his coat.  She walked silently away from him, disappearing through the door under the stairway.  A damn sneaky kitty cat, he thought.  He put his hands on the drawing room doors and opened them reluctantly.</div> <div> Within and already gloriously drunk, Roger heard the doors beginning to open and turned to face Chris.  He'd been drinking to cover the humiliation of having to ask his young cousin for money.  It wasn't fair!  His father had been such a bastard to put him in this position because he was such a hypocritical Puritan.  Even worse than the humiliation of having to ask Chris for money was to have been turned down already by his lover, who'd given him a contemptuous look and demanded:  "Really, what <I>do</I> you do with your money, Roger?"</div> <div> It shouldn't be anyone's damn business, Roger thought, his embarrassment fueling the growing rage simmering inside.  None of this should have been anyone's damn business and then I could've done as I pleased with the money.  I should be in Quentin's position, doling out the allowances to the other relatives.  Even as his fury and resentment burned against Quentin and Chris, he was also filled with self-loathing.  If I hadn't been caught! If I hadn't been so damn careless…and why Elizabeth and I should suffer for our sins, while the favored golden boy had not…yes, Father had been a damn hypocrite, the spiteful old pious thief!  Oh, yes, one had to have moral scruples sexually but it was perfectly all right to steal a man blind or cheat him for his money!  And if gambling had been Roger's only vice, he thought bitterly, he wouldn't have lost favor with his father.</div> <div> Stepping into the drawing room, Chris wasn't surprised to find Roger already drunk and working up a fine head of steam.  He sighed.  "There you are!" Roger barked imperiously.  "Why haven't you returned any of my calls?"</div> <div> "I've been in meetings all afternoon," Chris replied evenly, setting his briefcase down.  "I assumed I'd see you here.  What is it now, Roger?"</div> <div> "Don't you take that tone with me!" Roger raged.  "How dare you!  Do you think yourself better than me?  Well, you're not!"</div> <div> Chris had a sudden, clear image in his mind.  As a curious boy, he'd learned where Roger kept his secret slides.  Snooping, he'd found them carefully wrapped in a cardboard box, deep within Roger's chest.  He told Quentin and Tom about them and what was in them-they didn't believe him, and so he'd dared them to come with him and look.  </div> <div> Roger still worked at the cannery then; the governess had let the children go for the afternoon because it was so warm out-a great day for a walk.  The boys had sneaked up into Roger's room, and Chris had retrieved the box of slides.  Quentin took them from his hands and went to the window, opening the box and holding a slide up to the light.  Shocked, he'd let out a low whistle.</div> <div> "Lemme see," Tom said, reaching out for a slide.</div> <div> "You're too little," Quentin objected.</div> <div> "No, I'm not, I'm just a year younger than you!"</div> <div> "Let him see," Chris ordered, and so Quentin had given the slide to Tom.</div> <div>      "Geez, what're they doing?" Tom asked, shocked. Quentin was already looking through the other slides.  He didn't answer at first.  Tom threw the slide back into the box and backed up until he stood near the door beside his older brother.  "How can they do that?"</div> <div>      Quentin looked at Chris with an expression that said: well? Do you want to explain this? Chris heard footsteps coming down the hall.  He grabbed Tom by the arm, pulling his against the wall behind the door.</div> <div>      The door flew open, startling the three boys.  It was Roger, and he was quivering with rage.  "What are you doing in my room?" he snarled at Quentin, who dropped the slide his was holding, terrified.  He saw the box.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  He moved swiftly, reaching for the boy.  As Roger grabbed Quentin roughly by the arms, shaking him, Chris pulled Tom by the hand, slipped around the door and ran.  Tom began to stumble, and Chris pulled him roughly upright.  They ran down the hall, down the stairs and out the front door.</div> <div>      "We gotta help him, Chris!" Tom protested as soon as they were outside.</div> <div>      "Are you crazy?  Did you see how mad Cousin Roger was?  He'll <I>kill</I> us!"</div> <div>      "He'll kill Quentin!" Tom wept.</div> <div>      Chris shook him.  "Shut up!  Just shut up!  Do you want to get into trouble, too?"  Blubbering, Tom shook his head no.  Feeling deeply ashamed of himself, Chris shoved his brother and ran off into the woods.</div> <div>      Chris shut his eyes and swallowed hard, coming back to the present.  "You're drunk, Roger," he said calmly.  "Why don't we talk about this when you're sober?"</div> <div>      "You can't brush me off so easily!  I have my rights!  I demand-" Roger's angry ranting was cut short by a piercing scream from the garden.  A few seconds later, there was another scream.  Both men turned toward the windows.  "My God-that's Liz!"</div> <div>      Chris ran.  He threw the doors open and ran across the patio, through the garden and onto the path.  He saw Elizabeth on the ground, a large man bending over her.  "Hey!" he yelled.  "What are you doing?  Let her alone!"  He pulled up short as the large man straightened up.  He'd helped Elizabeth get to her feet.  Chris recognized the man-from Quentin and Maggie's reception.</div> <div>      "Oh, Chris, it wasn't him," Elizabeth gasped.  "It was that man-" She pointed up the path toward Loomis House.</div> <div>      "Who?"</div> <div>      "I don't know!  He knocked me over, he was running so fast!  Oh!"  Her knees buckled, and Chris and the other man moved swiftly to support her.</div> <div>      "I am sorry," the stranger said, clearly distressed.  "I was chasing the man who knocked Mrs. Stoddard down.  I have to find him-"</div> <div>      "You know Mrs. Stoddard?"  Chris interrupted.  "Do we know each other?"</div> <div>      The stranger hesitated before answering.  "No.  I know about Mrs. Stoddard because I am Quentin's friend.  I saw you at his wedding."</div> <div>      "Yes," Chris agreed.  He regarded the other man a little suspiciously.  "You do look familiar, though-"</div> <div>      "From the wedding," the other man insisted.  He then addressed Elizabeth:  "Are you all right?"</div> <div>      "I think so-oh, that man!  He looked so wild!" Elizabeth exclaimed.</div> <div>      "Yes-I agree!  Please-you take Mrs. Stoddard back.  I need to find that man!"</div> <div>      Before Chris could say another word, the tall man had released Elizabeth and sprinted off into the gathering darkness.  Chris put his arm around his cousin's shoulder.  "What happened, Liz?"</div> <div>      "Well, I was just visiting Carolyn.  We talked, and when it started to grow dark, I began to walk back here.  I heard crashing through the woods.  I heard someone yelling, `Please stop, I just want to talk to you!'  Then all of a sudden, this wild man was running at me.  He never slowed down, Chris-he ran me down and kept going!"</div> <div>      "Okay, well, thank God you're all right," Chris soothed her.</div> <div>      "Oh, my God!  Carolyn!  What if that man goes to her house-Will's not home yet!"</div> <div>      "I'll go there myself to make sure she's all right.  Let me get you inside first," Chris assured her.  He was relieved to have a legitimate excuse to get away from Roger for a while.  As they entered the drawing room from the garden, Liz made a sound of disgust: her brother was sprawled in a chair, passed out, empty glass still in his hand.  Chris grimaced too and turned to his cousin.  "Will you be all right?"</div> <div>      "Yes, yes, please go and make sure Carolyn is all right, Chris," Elizabeth fretted.  As the young man left, Elizabeth reflected that she really could have picked up the phone and called her daughter, but she just wasn't ready for another confrontation. </div> <div>  She looked back down at her brother.  <I>What is wrong with this cursed family?</I> She wondered, not for the first time.  She couldn't hate her brother; she could remember both of her little brothers crowing happily as she pulled them around in a wagon.  She'd loved them both.  <I>It was Father who did this to us-he who was so cold and unforgiving, driving first Paul and then Quentin away.  He ridiculed Roger and practically emasculated him.  And to punish us like this-to make us paupers, dependent and beholden to a boy-it was humiliating.</I>  She might have loved her nephew and protected him tenderly were it not for the face that her father had held him up in their faces, flaunting the fact that he was disinheriting them both.</div> <div> <I>As if he was without sin,</I> Elizabeth continued her dark thoughts.  Like Roger, she knew about some of the more unscrupulous business dealings her father had had with good men-running them out of business to enfold their small businesses into Collins Enterprises.  <I>He thought himself so righteous,</I> Elizabeth's brows contracted furiously.  <I>He consorted with whores himself, down there at the Eagle.  He befriended drunkards.</I>  She wrung her hands.  Loving Paul hadn't been wrong-he was a weak man, yes, but he'd genuinely loved her.  He was reluctant to marry her only because her father was so ferocious.  They'd tried-they'd really tried before Paul finally gave up and ran away.  Her eyes filled with tears.</div> <div> She took the glass from Roger's hand and gently set it on the table.  She found a light cover and spread it over his sprawled out form, knowing when he woke up he'd be cold.  Poor Roger-he'd already been rejected by Father as the heir when Elizabeth became pregnant.  Elizabeth didn't understand what it meant to be homosexual, but she knew that love was love.  Could love be wrong-even if it was love for someone of the same sex?  She refused to believe that her brother was perverted: he'd never molested anyone; he'd never tried anything "funny" with any of the boys.   All of his "special" friends had been about the same age.  No, her brother wasn't evil, she believed, sighing with a sense of pity.  She made sure the doors to the garden were locked and turned the lamps down low.  She pulled the doors shut behind her.  </div> <div> Hoffman was standing there, watching her.  <I>I despise this woman!</I>  Elizabeth thought, forcing herself to compose her features into a calm expression.  <I>Why couldn't Quentin just dismiss her after his horrid wife died?  We might have been able to lure Mrs. Johnson back if only we'd acted in time!</I>  Mrs. Johnson, so imperiously dismissed by the Mistress of Collinwood, had finally moved from Collinsport only with the last few weeks.  The two women looked at each other steadily but had nothing to say to each other.  Finally, Elizabeth went up the stairs alone.</div> <bR> <div>      Adam ran until the Old House came into view, and then he pulled up short, panting hard and deeply disappointed.  He'd lost the man.  He knew that man must know something about Roxanne's disappearance-why else had he run like that?  Where had he gone to so quickly?  He wondered if that man knew about the secret way to the basement of the Old House.  It was possible…he turned toward Widow's Hill and took a sidepath which would take him down to the beach and the cave there.</div> <div>      In October, he'd led Quentin and Cyrus from the basement of the Old House out to the beach.  Now he found himself going into that dark, damp cave-he had no flashlight to guide him and he had to feel his way in the darkness.  Eventually, he would have to crawl down the passageway which led to the basement cell in the Old House.  It was very quiet here-that man couldn't have come here, Adam thought.  He felt panicky at being so confined but forced himself to go on.  Finally, he'd gotten ahold of the brick which would open the small opening in the cell.</div> <div>      He lowered himself from the opening to the floor in the cell.  He felt dirty and sticky and almost thoroughly disoriented.  Disappointed, he realized that the man he'd been chasing had not come this way.  He felt around in the dark confines of the cell.  Perhaps there was another way out-he'd prefer not to go out the way he came.  He found the cell door and opened it, feeling his way along the stone wall.  He bumped into something-perhaps an old desk-and sent another object which had been perched on top crashing to the floor.</div> <div>      Immediately above, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.  Adam heard the door open and Carolyn call tentatively, "Will?"  He held his breath and kept still.  He didn't want her to see him.  He wasn't sure he could explain why-it was obvious that this Carolyn was not like the Carolyn of his time.  Yet, he was afraid to let her see him.  The light came on, and he heard her coming down the steps.  Now what?  He thought, fighting his rising panic.  He moved as quietly as he could into the shadows of the room.  She only came part of the way down.  "Will?" she called again.  When he made no response, he heard her turn and run back up the stairs.  He was relieved until he heard her turning the lock in the door.  Dismayed, he realized he had no other choice than to go out the way he came.</div> <div>      He could hear someone banging on the door above.  This is too much like before, like Halloween, he thought dispiritedly, slowly feeling his way back to the cell.  By the time he'd climbed the path back from the beach to the path leading back to Collinwood he'd skinned both his knees and one hand on the slippery rocks.  It had all been a waste of time, he thought mournfully.  He hadn't been able to find Roxanne, and he felt that if he'd only been able to catch that man-he heard voices along the path and stopped, listening.</div> <div>      "Damn Will!"  Carolyn was saying angrily.  "He never thinks of anyone but himself!  How could he do this to me?"</div> <div>      "Now, Carolyn, you know what they're saying now about drinking," Chris was saying in a placating manner.  Adam recognized his voice as the man he'd seen at Quentin's reception and, most recently, on the path near the garden.</div> <div>      "Don't give me that shit, Chris!  Are you going to tell me that almost everyone in this family has the same damn disease?"</div> <div>      "I'm just trying to get you to calm down a little.  Getting yourself all upset like this isn't going to help you any.  Besides, he didn't do anything that anyone is going to find out about.  Buffy's got him in the back."</div> <div>      "Your little cocktail waitress!" Carolyn spat out, strongly emphasizing the first syllable of cocktail.</div> <div>      "Hey, that's really uncalled for!" Chris protested.  "She's just trying to help-it's not like she held a gun to Will's head and forced the bottle down him, you know.  Besides there was a guy there earlier-that same fella I was telling you about-and he was trying to slow Will down, too."</div> <div>      "There's too many strange things happening around here, you know that?  I wonder if one of those men were in my basement."</div> <div>      "How could they get down there without you seeing?  Be reasonable, you're just upset."</div> <div>      "Oh, Chris-just shut the fuck up!"</div> <div>      "Hey!" Chris exclaimed, sounding just as shocked as Adam felt, hearing that bad word come from Carolyn's mouth.  What kind of a person was she, sounding so hard and mean, he wondered?  This was beginning to feel like a bad place again, he thought morosely.  He waited until he was sure they were gone, and then he walked slowly back to town to get his car and drive back to his cottage.</div> <bR> <div>      As Chris drove Carolyn into town to pick up her husband, who was passed out in a back room of the bar, she stared out the window and wondered bitterly how her life had turned out to be so miserable when her sister was so happy.  They'd grown up under similar circumstances, after all-same mother, same cold grandfather.  If anyone should have been more "messed up" it should have been Vicki.  What had caused her to be able to hold her head up high in spite of everything and marry a man like Burke Devlin?  The thing is, Carolyn thought desperately, I didn't know how weak Will was.  I really didn't!  He was some college classmate Quentin had brought home one holiday like some abandoned puppy.</div> <div>      He was just the sort of person Quentin would bring home, not only because he seemed to like stray puppies but also because he knew it would annoy everyone.  Then there had been the one that had annoyed Grandfather most of all-Angelique.  She was of questionable background to begin with and someone that Grandfather would have rejected immediately except-she was pregnant with Quentin's child.  It seemed to be the family curse, Carolyn thought, amused.  She was sure her Grandfather would have killed Quentin if he'd been able to.  He was so young to be a father, but he'd always been contrary and had always seemed to go out of his way to annoy her mother, Uncle Roger, and Grandfather.</div> <div>      She'd thought of Quentin when she heard the noise on the stairs.  He hid in the basement of Collinwood when things became too much for him.  On a warm, sunny day, the governess had given them all a break from their studies.  She and Vicki went out into the garden, enjoying the sunshine and having a tea party with their dolls.  For once, the boys didn't bother them.  After  awhile, Carolyn stretched out to watch a ladybug on a leaf and became aware that her cousin Tom was standing there, shifting from one foot to the other.    Looking up, she thought he seemed like a giant.  She was the baby, the youngest, and even Tom was almost four years older than she was.</div> <div>      "Vicki, can you come?" he asked urgently.</div> <div>      Vicki scowled.  "What's the matter?  Why don't you ever leave us alone?"</div> <div>      "We need you to come, Vicki," Tom insisted.</div> <div>      "This is another practical joke.  Well, ha ha, I'm too old to be bothered, Tommy!"</div> <div>      "No it's not-<I>please</I>, Vicki!"</div> <div>      Vicki stood up, making it plain that the whole thing exasperated her.  She was the eldest of all the children-except for Gabriel, but he didn't count, not really, he wasn't one of them-and everyone seemed to look to her for guidance when there was trouble.  "You'd better not be playing a joke on me, Tommy, or you'll be sorry!"  She and Tom set off across the lawn.  Not wanting to be left out, Carolyn jumped up and followed them.  </div> <div>      They slipped into the house stealthily.  The new housekeeper, Mrs. Johnson, was young-she had a son Harry around their age.  Her hearing was sharp, and she was not a good-humored person.  The basement was dark as they started down the steps, and Carolyn could hear the sound of someone crying and running water.  She felt frightened, and clutched at Vicki's hand.   Carolyn knew enough not to speak yet.</div> <div>      When they came to the little laundry room, which was where the sink was and where the sound of the water was coming from, Vicki pulled the overhead cord and a lightbulb snapped on.  "Oh!" Vicki exclaimed, shocked, and quickly put her hand over Carolyn's eyes.  It was too late, though, because she had already seen that it was Quentin, one eye swollen shut and blood still running from his nose and mouth.  He'd taken his shirt off to try and mop the blood up, and Carolyn had seen that his shirt was splotched with red.</div> <div>      "Don't tell my mother," Quentin said, through his tears.</div> <div>      "Who did it?" Vicki asked, trying to keep her hand over Carolyn's eyes.  The little girl pushed her sister's hand away.  Giving up, Vicki slowly approached Quentin.  "Who beat you up like that?"</div> <div>      Quentin didn't answer, and Vicki turned to look at Tom, who looked down at his shoes.  "Go get Gabriel," Vicki snapped at her cousin.  Relieved, the boy was off in a flash.  She reached out and touched Quentin's face gently, taking the bloody tee shirt from him.  She held it under the running water and then wrung it out.  "Put this on your nose and tilt your head back," she advised soothingly.</div> <div>      Carolyn took a tentative step forward.  "What happened to your arms?" she asked curiously.  She could see red finger marks on Quentin's bare arms.</div> <div>      "Never mind, Carolyn, go to Quentin's room and get him a shirt."</div> <div>      "Okay," Carolyn agreed.  All this frightened her anyway.  "Which one do you want?"</div> <div>      "Just the first one you see," Quentin answered, his voice thick and funny.</div> <div>      "Okay," Carolyn agreed.  She knew she'd be able to get into Quentin's room without anyone seeing her.  She was small for her age and moved fast.  She could hear Vicki and Quentin talking softly as she went upstairs, wondering what on earth had happened to her cousin-who had hurt him?</div> <div>      "Are you still thinking about Will?" Chris asked, breaking into her thoughts.  Carolyn shook her head no.  Missing that, her cousin went on, "He's fine, Carolyn, really."</div> <div>      "No, I was just thinking about when Uncle Roger beat Quentin up that time."</div> <div>      Chris looked over at her quickly.  "That's funny-I thought about it earlier myself.  What made you think of that?"</div> <div>      "Hearing those sounds in the basement, I guess, and then you showing up with that wild story about a man knocking Mother down.  And then in the middle of that, the phone rings, and it's that Buffy person calling about Will."  Carolyn sighed.  "Chris, do you think there will ever be a time when this family isn't so fucked up?"</div> <div>      Chris laughed, a short, bitter, barking laugh.  "I doubt it-maybe when our kids grow up."</div> <div>      "We don't have any kids, Chris," Carolyn said harshly.</div> <div>      Chris laughed again.  "Right," he agreed.  He didn't say anything else.</div> <bR> <div>      After breakfast the next morning, Adam drove back to Collinsport to try his luck again.  He decided to seek Cyrus out first.  He was afraid Sabrina would have told her fiancé that he was in town, and he didn't want to strain their friendship further by not seeking Cyrus out.  He knocked several times before Cyrus finally opened the door, looking pale and very ill.  "Adam," Cyrus muttered, turning away.  He left the door open so that Adam could come in.</div> <div>      Adam was alarmed to see Cyrus stagger into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.  He could hear his friend being sick.  Adam knocked at the door, which was locked.  "Dr. Cyrus!" he called when the retching stopped.  "Do you need help?"  He heard the toilet flush.</div> <div>      Cyrus said weakly, "I'm all right, Adam.  I'll be right out."</div> <div>      "I'll make you some tea," Adam offered, remembering that Roxanne had often made tea for him.  She used herbal tea, which was soothing, and wondered if Cyrus had any.  As he went into the kitchen to look for a teapot, he could hear Cyrus vomiting again.  Maybe he really has a virus this time, Adam thought, worried.  He found a teakettle and began to fill it with cool water.  There was a glass in the sink with some crusted substance on the inside.  Adam glanced at it curiously but set the kettle on the stove first and turned the gas on.   He turned his attention back to the glass, picking it up in his hand and examining it.  He rubbed his finger on the inside of the glass and looked at the powder which came away.  It looked like the compound…</div> <div>      "Adam!" Cyrus exclaimed, and Adam dropped the glass.  It shattered on the kitchen floor.  Both men stared at the shards of glass and then looked at each other.  Cyrus looked away and stumbled to a kitchen chair, moaning.</div> <div>      "I'm sorry," Adam apologized.  He found a broom and a dustpan and began to sweep up the glass.</div> <div>      "It's not your fault," Cyrus whispered, moaning miserably.  He put his head on his arms, hiding his face in them.</div> <div>      Adam shook the glass into the trashcan.  He found a teacup and searched for the tea bags.  Cyrus did have some herbal tea after all.  Adam found several varieties-he recognized chamomile and peppermint, debating which of the two would be best for nausea.  As he was about to take the peppermint, he saw a small box of elderberry and remembered something Roxanne had said once when they'd tried it-it soothed the spirit.  Perhaps that was what Cyrus needed.  Adam's fingers moved from the peppermint to the elderberry tea.  "How long have you been sick like this, Dr. Cyrus?" he asked, beginning to steep the tea for his friend.</div> <div>      "Since this morning," Cyrus mumbled, without looking up.</div> <div>      Adam sat down across from his friend, setting the teacup to one side of his bowed head.  "There is tea brewing for you, Dr. Cyrus.  It might help."  Adam looked at Cyrus, troubled.  His hair was damp and curly with perspiration.  He tried to think how to ask the question he needed answered without upsetting his friend and decided there was no way to do it.  "Are you drinking the fizzy drink?"</div> <div>      Cyrus' head came up immediately.  He looked frightened and defensive.  "Why do you ask me that?"</div> <div>      "The glass in the sink-the glass I broke," Adam explained.  "That had the fizzy drink in it, didn't it?"</div> <div>      Cyrus' mouth opened and shut, and he began to splutter incoherently for a few seconds before he was able to gain control of himself.  "Why, yes, it did, Adam, but that doesn't mean I drank it.  Why would you think such a thing?"</div> <div>      Adam looked at him directly, very troubled.  "You are changed."</div> <div>      "How am I changed?"</div> <div>      "You are sick often.  Something troubles you very much, yet you deny that it does.  You are preoccupied with some experiment-perhaps this experiment is too dangerous, but you do not want to give it up.  You haven't come to see me as you used to-not since Roxanne disappeared…"</div> <div>      Cyrus groaned and dropped his head again.  "Adam, Adam, I am not changed.  I am still the same person I was.  I am still your friend-I'm sorry I haven't been to see you.  I have been preoccupied, that is true, but-"</div> <div>      "I have a feeling you don't want me to find Roxanne," Adam said sadly.  "I think that is why you avoid me."</div> <div>      "Oh, God!  Adam, I would give anything for you to have Roxanne back!" Cyrus cried out, as if in agony.  "Perhaps I feel guilty for not stopping her-that's why I haven't been able to visit so much.  I feel so guilty!"</div> <div>      Adam looked at his friend compassionately.  Cyrus was telling him the truth right now.  He believed his friend did feel guilty and that he wished he could bring Roxanne back.  He reached out and squeezed his friend's shoulder.  He also knew there was something that Cyrus wasn't telling him, and it probably had to do with the fizzy drink.</div> <div>      As if he sensed what Adam was thinking, Cyrus said softly, "I was making some more of the compound for you."  Adam didn't want to say anything; he didn't want to call Cyrus a liar.  He patted his friend on the shoulder gently.  "Adam?  When you've taken the compound, have you ever forgotten something you did?"</div> <div>      Puzzled, Adam answered, "No, never."  Realization slowly seeped into his numbed thoughts as he tried to deny the growing suspicions there.  Cyrus was having memory losses-Adam was sure of it.   If he was unable to remember things, then perhaps he didn't really remember what had happened to Roxanne after all.  Or, even worse-frantically, Adam repressed the thought that had been about to express itself in his consciousness.  No!  He couldn't face that thought-if he did, perhaps he might begin to believe it, and it was too painful to even consider!  "You mustn't drink it, Cyrus," Adam whispered.  "It's bad for you."</div> <div>      "I know," Cyrus agreed, neither denying nor admitting drinking the stuff.  He sat up again and pulled the tea cup closer, keeping his eyes on the cup.  "Have you learned anything at all?  About Roxanne?"</div> <div>      "No, but last night I followed Will Loomis from your house," Adam began.</div> <div>      "From <I>my</I> house?" Cyrus repeated, shocked.</div> <div>      "Yes, he came from behind your house.  Isn't that where your lab is?"  Adam paused, waiting for his friend to answer.  Cyrus looked up from the teacup briefly and nodded, waiting for Adam to go on.  "Well, I followed him to the Eagle and we talked.  He was waiting for someone, a friend.  His friend was the same man who gave me the note that was supposed to be from Roxanne."</div> <div>      Cyrus let his breath out explosively.  "And what happened then?"     Adam described chasing the man all the way to Collinwood; that the man had knocked Elizabeth Stoddard to the ground, and Adam had stopped to help her.  The man had disappeared.  "Was there anything else, Adam?  Did you hear about any-attacks or-" Cyrus broke off, his hands beginning to tremble.</div> <div>      "Please tell me what it is that is troubling you so," Adam pleaded.  "You are my friend.  I want to help you."</div> <div>      "I wish you could, Adam, but you can't-oh!"  Cyrus set the cup down abruptly and bolted from the table, back into the bathroom.  He was sick again-he was not even able to keep down the small amount of elderberry tea.  <I>His spirit is too sick to be helped by the tea</I>, Adam realized with overwhelming sadness.</div> <div>      </div> <div>      When Sabrina showed up, Adam felt comfortable enough to leave.  Cyrus hadn't wanted Adam to call and was angry again, retreating to his bedroom and shutting the door.  Adam explained to Sabrina what had happened, feeling sorry for her at the sad expression in her eyes.  "I think he'll be all right," Adam concluded, "but I did not want to leave him here alone.  He has not been able to eat or drink anything without becoming sick to his stomach."</div> <div>      "Thank you Adam," Sabrina answered, kissing him gently on the cheek.  "He hasn't got any good friends to look after him-not like you do. I'm very grateful."</div> <div>      Adam blushed.  "I will try to stop here again before I go back to my house."  He left and began to walk down the street.  He thought he would go back to the Eagle and see if the strange, dark haired John Yaeger showed up again.  He stopped short, startled, as a woman stepped into his path and halted in front of him.  He nearly gasped in fear when he saw who it was-the red headed doctor-no, not a doctor here.  Still, she was evil, evil-</div> <div>      "Go away," she was saying to him in a hissing voice.  He stared at her, his mouth agape.  "I know you are the man who suddenly appeared out of nowhere last year.  If you do not go away and leave us alone, I will call the police-do you hear me?"</div> <div>      "I have done nothing to you!"  Adam protested.</div> <div>      Hoffman's features twisted in fury.  "You can't stop her from coming back-and you won't!  I'll see to it!  I will call the police, I swear it-you must leave Collinsport, do you hear me?"</div> <div>      Adam didn't answer.  Evil, he thought, terrified, backing away.  Her green slanted eyes glittered with menace.  <I>Angelique!  She knows me, and she will destroy me!  I will never be able to find Roxanne this way-not with this enemy.</I>  He turned on his heel and, unashamed of his fear, fled in the opposite direction.  He ran all the way to his car and drove to Tony Peterson's office, out of breath and still trembling as he waited to see the detective.</div> <div>      Peterson looked glad to see Adam and ushered him in.  "I have some news-" he began.</div> <div>      "Roxanne!" Adam exclaimed.</div> <div>      "I'm sorry, no, not about Roxanne," Peterson answered immediately and sounding contrite for causing a misunderstanding.  Adam's face fell and his shoulders drooped.  "It's about her brother-he has been found.  He's coming home."</div> <div>      "When?" Adam asked dully.</div> <div>      "A few weeks.  He needs to be debriefed and stay in the hospital.  He was in pretty rough shape." As Peterson spoke, Adam nodded, looking exhausted and upset.  Peterson put his hand on Adam's shoulder sympathetically.  "Look, this kid needs somewhere to go in case-well, in case we can't find Roxanne in the next two weeks."</div> <div>      Some of Peterson's words had begun to sink in.  "Roxanne has no other family," Adam remembered.  He looked up at Peterson.  "He would have nowhere to go?"</div> <div>      "Not unless he's got friends I don't know about," Peterson answered kindly.  "He's been there a long time."</div> <div>      Adam said immediately, "If he has nowhere to go, he can stay with me.  Together we can look."</div> <div>      Peterson's expression changed immediately.  "No, I don't think that's a good idea, Mr. Knight.  In fact, I was hoping I could convince you to go back to Long Island for now-maybe make a place for this young man…"</div> <div>      "Leave?  Without Roxanne?" Adam repeated numbly.  Almost without speaking, he blurted out his encounter with John Yaeger the night before and then Hoffman that morning.</div> <div>      Peterson questioned him carefully about Yaeger and then said, "You know, that housekeeper might get the family set against you.  That'll ruin the investigation for sure-especially if this man Yaeger ran onto Collins property."</div> <div>      "How?"</div> <div>      "They could keep us off their grounds.  How can I find any trace of this man if you get the family set against you?" Peterson answered.  His face filled with compassion again.  "Look, this is hard for you-I can't say I understand it.  I haven't lost my loved one.  But you gotta let me help you.  The only way you can do that is to go back to Long Island.  If you got to come here, at least wait until Quentin Collins comes home."</div> <div>      "When?" Adam whispered.</div> <div>      "Not long-six weeks," Peterson replied.</div> <div>      Six weeks!  It sounded like forever. Adam wanted to cry.  Roxanne had been gone a month and now he was to wait another six weeks…Adam buried his face in his hands, remembering the look of hatred on Hoffman's face.  Peterson was right.  It was better to go.  He didn't want to put Roxanne in danger, but it was so hard to leave!  "I will go," he said heavily after he'd composed himself.  "If anything happens-"</div> <div>      "I'll call you," Peterson assured him, sounding relieved.</div> <div>      Adam nodded slowly and then stood up, reaching out with his hand to shake Peterson's.  With a heavy heart, he left the office and went back to the car.  He would go back to his cottage, close it up, and then call the Stuarts to tell them he was on his way back.  He tried to convince himself that he was making the right decision-he couldn't put Roxanne in danger, he just couldn't!  However, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that leaving was not the right thing to do after all.</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id96.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Frostbite"><U>Frostbite</U></A>    <A HREF="id98.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Biding Time in Purgatory"><U>Biding Time in Purgatory</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id85.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Adam in Parallel Time"><U>Adam in Parallel Time</U></A>     <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> </td> </tr></table></body>