Their arms loaded with equipment, Rollie and Angie set foot on another planet.  The set for the alternate universe shoot had been completed.  Two-thirds of Stage Six was now occupied by an alien landscape with jagged spires of black rock rising from orange-gold sand.  Poking up out of the sand were tiny tubes and nozzles from which smoke and random jets of flame would emit.   The fire would come from dozens of small tanks full of flammable gas that were hidden beneath the floor of the set.  The entire system would be controlled by computer.

As Angie set up the ambler, Rollie went to check the green screens to make sure that none of them had been accidentally moved.  When he returned a few minutes later, Angie was busy confirming that she had control of all of the tanks and the smokers.

“How’s it going?” the Aussie asked.

“We’re green across the board.  Everything seems to be working,” Angie replied.

“I guess we should run a test.”  Rollie stepped toward the set.  “Attention everyone!  We need you to clear the set.  We’re going to run a test, and we don’t want anyone to get singed.”

All of the grips and prop people quickly got off the set.  As soon as it was clear, Angie hit an icon on the ambler, and tendrils of smoke began drifting up from the sand.  She then hit a second icon.  Jets of flame began shooting up here and there.  Rollie immediately noticed that one of the jets was not turning off.

“Angie?”

“Yeah, I see it.”  She kept hitting the icon for that tank.  “It won’t turn off.”

“The gas nozzle may be stuck open.  I’ll have to see if I can fix it.”

“How?  You’re not going to be able to get near it.”

“I’ll have to crawl under the floor.  That’s the only way,” the Aussie said.

“Rollie, there’s only about a foot and a half space under there, and it’s a virtual maze with all the support beams and pipes for the smoke.  And, in case you’ve forgotten, you’re not the littlest of people.”

The Aussie grinned.  “Hey, I may be tall, but I’m skinny.  I’ll make it.”

“Yeah, sure you will.  You’ll probably get stuck halfway there, and we’ll have to cut the floor open to get you out.”

“O ye of little faith.  You just watch me.”  Rollie looked at his PDA.  “I’m going to have to figure out how to carry this.  Strapping it to my wrist isn’t going to work.”  As he stared at the PDA, an idea came to him.  Angie followed him as he went out to the van, from which he got a tube of glue and some heavy string.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Rollie didn’t answer.  Instead, he put a bead of glue on either side of the PDA case and stuck the ends of the string to them.  He waited a few seconds for the glue to dry, then hung the PDA around his neck, shoving it underneath his shirt.  “There.  Problem solved,” he said.

Rollie grabbed a flashlight and some heavy work gloves, and they went back inside.  The Aussie called to a grip to give him a hand.  The two men walked out across the set to the place where the tank nearest to the malfunctioning one was.  They swept off the sand, and Rollie opened the access door.  He quickly disconnected the tank from its mounts and, with the help of the grip, lifted it out.  The Aussie then somehow managed to get his lengthy frame down through the hole and under the floor.  He turned on the flashlight and craned his neck back to peer into the depths of the obstacle course he would have to negotiate.  Sliding across the floor on his back, he began the journey.

Angie watched Rollie disappear into the floor.  About five minutes later, her PDA beeped, and she answered it.

“Angie, I’m stuck,” came the voice of Rollie through the speaker.

The blonde groaned.  “I knew it.  I just knew it.”  Then she heard chuckling.

“Gotcha,” Rollie said, laughing.

“You jerk.”

The Aussie gave a final chuckle.  “I’m almost there.  It’s bloody cold down here.  Ouch!”  There was a moment of silence.  “And dark too.”

“Let me know when you get there.”

Rollie wound his way through the beams and pipes, feeling the coldness of the concrete seep into his back.  At last, he reached his destination.  He could feel the heat of the fire above him even through the sand and wood floor.  Rollie immediately turned the manual valve on the tank, shutting off the gas.  He then checked the automatic release valve and confirmed that it was malfunctioning.

“Angie, this valve is shot.  It would take a while to replace it.  I think it will be faster just to replace the whole tank with another one.  We have a spare.”

Two grips fetched the spare tank and carried it over.  They removed the sand and opened the access panel to find Rollie peering up at them with a smile on his face.

“Hello, mates,” the Aussie said cheerfully.

The grips removed the old tank and helped Rollie up through the opening, the three of them then installed the new tank.

Angie shook her head as she watched Rollie heading toward her.  “You’re a mess,” she told him.

The Aussie was busy pulling cobwebs from his face, hair, and arms.  “Yeah, the spiders don’t waste any time building their webs, and that concrete floor wasn’t exactly clean.  I’m going to go change my shirt.”  When he came back, the PDA was still hanging from his neck.

“Aren’t you going to take that thing off?” Angie asked.

“Actually, it’s kind of handy wearing it like this.  I’ll have to do something more permanent than gluing string on it, though.”

A short time later, Rollie and Angie were busy covering fifteen extras with layers of mottled brown alien skin.

The director’s assistant stuck his head in the door.  “Are we on schedule?” he asked.

“We had a malfunction that put us about twenty minutes behind, but we’ll try to make it up here,” Rollie told him.

They managed to make up all of the time they’d lost and were on the set ready to go when the director appeared.  The lights on the set were turned up to make it appear that it was under a glaring sun.  In post production, Angie would add a background of barren, desert mountains and a roiling, angry red sky.  The finished product would look like the vista of a world after some kind of terrible holocaust.

Filming went well, with a successful print gotten on the second take.  Pleased, the director gave Rollie and Angie a verbal pat on the back in passing then went off to the next shoot.  Rollie and Angie quickly got the extras out of their suits, gathered up their equipment, and moved next door to Stage Seven where they would be setting up their next gag.

The rest of the day did not go quite as smoothly, but they still managed to finish early enough to go home, shower, get something to eat, and make it over to the self-defense center before the class started.  After the class, Angie got Linda alone.

“You did even better than usual today, Angie,” Linda told her.  “Did you and Rollie practice yesterday?”

“Yeah, we did, and that’s what I want to talk to you about.”  She told the woman about Rollie’s little ‘counterstrike’, being careful to leave out any hints of how it had affected her.  By the time she was finished, Linda was grinning.

“Well, that’s certainly a new one.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that particular method of attack.  I have a feeling that if Rollie ever decided to take up some kind of martial arts training, he might be pretty good or at least very inventive.”

“I doubt that will ever happen.  Rollie prefers using his brains to beat someone he’s up against, and I like it that way.  What I want to know is if there’s a way I can counter what he did.”

The smile on Linda’s face grew.  “Ah, I see.  Well, let me think.  The times when he is most vulnerable are when he first comes at you, when he’s pulling you to the floor, after he gets you on the floor before he gets his legs around yours, and those moments when he’s off balance rolling you underneath him.”  Linda ran through a few moves with Angie, illustrating with her hands and feet what the blonde should do.  By the time she was finished, Angie had a grin on her face.

“What was that all about?” Rollie asked when she returned to him.

“Oh, Linda was just giving me some pointers.”

Back at the loft, Angie got the sudden urge to try out what Linda had shown her.  “Hey, Rollie, I’ve been thinking that I want a rematch on our last practice session.”

The Aussie looked at her suspiciously.  “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” he muttered.

“Haven’t a clue,” Angie replied, keeping the smile off her face.

Rollie kept staring at her for a while longer.  “All right, you’re on, but I suddenly have an idea what those ‘pointers’ were for.”  He turned and headed for the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“What do you think?”  The Aussie said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Oh.”  Angie cleared her throat and pretended to become interested in something else.  A few minutes later, Rollie came back down.  He was again wearing the lower half of the football uniform.

Angie grinned.  “You really are afraid of me,” she teased.

“Actually, I just don’t have a pair of pants I can wear that will work comfortably with the you-know-what, and I figured that you’d probably laugh yourself to death if I came down wearing pajama bottoms.”

“Aw.  I think that would be adorable, Rol.  I always wanted to wrestle around on the floor with a guy in pajamas.”  The instant the words were out of her mouth, Angie wanted to run after them and get them back.  To hide her blush, Angie quickly went to get the mats, thereby missing Rollie’s reaction entirely.  The Aussie’s eyes had widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in a swallow.

“It would be a lot more fun without the pajamas,” he murmured under his breath.  Rollie quickly shoved out of his mind the image that had leapt into it and went to help Angie with the mats.  They got them laid out and stood a few feet away from each other.

“So, you want me to use the same move?”  Rollie asked.

“Yep.  We’ll see how successful you are this time now that I’m prepared.”

“Oh boy,” the Aussie muttered, knowing that he was in trouble.  Not waiting, he immediately came at her.  This time, as he ducked around behind her, Angie suddenly stuck her leg out between his feet, and he went sprawling.

Rollie looked up at her from the floor.  “Well, I sure didn’t get far that time.  Do I get a second chance?”

Angie grinned down at him.  “Certainly.  As many chances as you need, Rol.”

The Aussie tried again.  This time, he managed to dodge her feet and grab her from behind, but, as he pulled her down backwards, she quickly lifted both her legs, bringing her knees clear up to her chest, throwing him off balance and causing him to land harder than he expected.  With Rollie’s arms holding her prisoner from the waist up, Angie brought her heels down on his knees, then planted her feet on the floor on either side of his thighs and, using the entire strength of her legs, hips, and lower back, lifted her lower body up, then slammed it back down onto him.

“Oofh!”  Rollie’s arms loosed, and he released her, deciding that he didn’t want her to do that again.  Angie rolled off him.

The blonde looked at Rollie, who lay unmoving on the floor, his eyes closed.  She became concerned that she’d hurt him.  “Rol, are you okay?”

“Uh huh.  I’m just trying to get my lungs working again.”

“I think we’d better stop now.”

Rollie’s eyes opened, and he looked at her.  “Not a chance.  I’m going to beat you yet.”  A smile slowly spread across his face.

Angie answered it with one of her own.  What had started out yesterday as a means to improve her self-defense techniques had turned into a game, and all at once she realized that she was enjoying herself immensely.

“You can try,” she said.

They got up and faced each other.  Seconds later, he was coming at her again.  Angie braced herself, preparing to use another move that Joyce had showed her.  But then, as Rollie began to dodge behind her, he suddenly tackled her from the front.  They both went down.  The Aussie immediately grabbed Angie’s wrists and pinned them above her head, wrapping his legs around hers at the same time.

Angie looked up into Rollie’s eyes, which were only a few inches from hers.  There was laughter in them.

“Not fair,” she complained.  “You were supposed to grab me from behind.”

“Oh.  So sorry.  I didn’t know that I had to play fair,” Rollie said, chuckling.  The chuckling stopped when he began to grow extremely aware of the fact that he was lying fully on top of her.  Nipping in the bud the traitorous reactions of his body, the Aussie quickly got up off her, wincing at the pain that lanced through his injured arm.  Unfortunately, Angie saw the wince.

“What’s wrong?  Did you get hurt?”

“It’s just my arm.  I think I’ve been abusing it a little too much.”

“Rollie, I’m sorry.  We should have taken it easy until you were healed.  Okay, that’s it for tonight, and no more practice sessions until that arm is fully healed.”

“Angie, by the time it’s completely healed, you’ll be finished with your lessons.  How about if we just take it easy for the next few days?”

“All right, but no practicing at all tomorrow or the next day, and that’s final.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“However, in three days, I’m going to get back at you for that sneaky trick you just pulled.”

“Maybe I’d better just surrender now,” Rollie said, grinning.

“If you were smart, you would,” Angie shot back.

They got up and put the mats away, then Angie went home.  Rollie took a pain pill, then put an ice pack on his arm.  It hurt a lot more than he had let on.  There had been a little pain throughout their ‘battle’ tonight and during their practice session yesterday, but if he had told Angie that, she would have put a permanent stop to their practicing, and he didn’t want that.  He was enjoying himself, and he liked the idea that he was helping Angie learn how to defend herself.

Looking forward to when Angie would “get back at him” for his trick, Rollie put the ice pack away and went off to bed.

The following morning, the throbbing in his arm was gone.  Showered and dressed, Rollie opened the top drawer of his dresser to get something and caught sight of the papers he’d gotten to make Angie a partner in the business.  Did he still want to do that now that he knew he was in love with her?  Yes, he did.  The thought of Angie being his partner, even if only in business, made him happy.  He couldn’t deny the fact that he also wanted Angie to be his partner in another way.

The Aussie glanced at his watch and decided that he would have time to fill the papers out before Angie got there.  He fixed himself a cup of coffee and placed the papers on the counter.  Rollie wondered what Angie would think when he handed them to her.  She’d definitely be surprised.  After all these years, she’d probably given up any hope of a partnership.

Rollie was about halfway through filling out the papers when the door unexpectedly opened and Angie walked in.  The Aussie hurriedly shoved the papers behind a cereal box and turned toward her.

“Hey, you’re early,” he commented, trying not to look like he was hiding something.

“Yeah, I woke up early and decided to come on over.  Have you eaten?  I brought some Danish.”

They ate the Danish and discussed the day’s schedule.

“How’s your arm?” Angie suddenly asked.

“It’s fine.  No pain.”

“Good.  I’ve been thinking that your doctor would probably kill me if he knew what I was putting that arm through.”

“No, he’d just frown at you disapprovingly.  It’s me that he’d kill.  I’m afraid that he doesn’t have a lot of patience or sympathy for my apparent inability to get through a month without some kind of injury.  You know what his first question is every time he sees me?  ‘So, what did you do to yourself this time?’  He once told me that I could be relaxing by a stream out in the middle of a peaceful forest somewhere, and a tree that had been standing since time immemorial would choose that moment to fall--right on me.”

Angie laughed.  “He’s probably right.”

“Oh, come on.  I’m not that bad.  I got through that bit with Eve and her car without a scratch, remember?”

“That was a fluke, a ripple in space-time causing a momentary violation of the laws of nature.”

“Har har.  You’re a real comedienne, Miss Einstein.”

“I try,” Angie said with a smirk.

During the lunch break, Rollie took some cloth straps and made a type of sling for the PDA to hang it around his neck.

“You’re really going to carry it around like that from now on?” Angie asked, shaking her head.

“Not all the time.”  He saw the expression on her face.  “Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“No thanks.”

That afternoon, during a break in filming, Rollie glanced up from what he was doing and saw Mira and Frank heading toward them.  By the look on their faces, he knew that it was something serious.  Angie noticed that he had stopped working and turned to see what he was looking at.

“Uh oh,” she muttered upon seeing the detectives.

“Hey, Rollie,” Francis greeted.  His eyes went to Angie, and they deepened with concern.  “How are you doing Angie?”  This was the first time that he’d seen her since the attempted rape, though he had called a couple of times.

“I’m doing good, Frank, really good.  Or at least I was until a minute ago.  Please don’t tell me that you’re here to drag Rollie into another case.”

“No.  No new case,” Mira assured her.  “We have some news.  Some kids were playing at the lake in Central Park this morning, and they found something.”  She reached into the bag she was carrying.  Both Rollie and Angie stiffened when the object inside was revealed.  It was Loubar’s mask.  Mira handed the mask to Rollie.  “It washed ashore not too far from where you last saw Loubar.  Apparently, it had been stuck in some debris all this time and finally came free.”

Rollie studied the mask.  There was a deep gash that penetrated completely through the material on the right side near the forehead.  He ran his finger across the damage.

“We ran some tests and confirmed that the gash was caused by a bullet,” Mira said.

Angie stared at the mask.  “Then I did hit him?”

“It looks that way, though we still don’t know if it was a fatal wound.”

Angie sat down heavily, a stunned look on her face.

“Are you all right?” Rollie asked.

“Yeah, I . . . I just wasn’t expecting this.  After all this time, I was beginning to believe that he’d gotten away again.  And now. . . .  What if I did kill him?”

“Angie, even if we do eventually find a body, there wouldn’t be any charges brought against you.  You don’t have to worry,” Frank said.

“I’m not.  That wasn’t what I was thinking.”  Angie stood up.  “Thanks for letting us know so quickly.”

Mira nodded and took the mask from Rollie.  Her eyes searched Angie’s face in concern.  “If you’d like to call me sometime, please do, okay?  I understand what you’re feeling.”

Angie gave her a slight smile and nodded her head.  “I will, Mira.”

“I think we need to talk about this, Angie,” Rollie said after the two detectives had left.

“Talk about what?  I’ve known all along that there was a chance I might have killed him.  Nothing has changed except that it now looks a lot more likely.”

“Angie, you just found out that there is a very good chance you killed a man.  You can’t tell me that this doesn’t bother you.  Please don’t shut me out.  We’ve come too far for that.”

Angie sighed and sat down.  “I really don’t know what I’m feeling.  Part of me is glad that this whole thing might actually be over, that he might really be dead, but another part of me just keeps going over and over the fact that, if he is dead, I’m the one who killed him.  Me.  I never thought that I might actually take a human life.”

Rollie sat beside her and took her hand.  “Angie, I know how hard this must be.  I know what I would be feeling if I had been the one to pull the trigger.  But you have to remember why you shot at him.  You couldn’t just stand there and let him get away, not after what he did.  You also knew that if he got away, he’d come back someday and go after us again.  You really had no choice but to do what you did.”

Angie gave him a small smile.  “Yeah, I know, but it makes me feel better to hear you say it.”  She kissed his cheek.  “Thank you, Rollie.”  She got up.  “We’d better get back to work, otherwise our illustrious director is going have a cow when we delay the shoot.”

Rollie brought his hand to his cheek for a moment, still feeling the touch of her lips on him.  Keeping the idiotic smile off his face with an effort, Rollie got back to work.

They were unable to make it to the class that night, but Angie wasn’t unhappy about it.  She wasn’t really in the mood for it anyway.  She had been distracted ever since Mira and Frank’s visit.  Rollie had noticed and had jumped in and done a lot of the work that should have been her responsibility.  He was now sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep, having dozed off shortly after they got back to the loft.

Angie sat on the floor beside him and gently stroked his hair, her eyes taking the rare opportunity to openly and unabashedly gaze at him.  He’d been so good to her this past week and a half.  He’d helped her more than he would ever realize.  He had been, and still was, the most wonderful friend she could ever hope to have.

She knew that if the tables had been turned and it had been he who needed her so badly, she would have done anything and everything that she could for him.  She just hoped that time would never come.

Angie got up and fetched a blanket.  She spread it over him, and brushed a soft kiss across his cheek.  “Goodnight Rollie,” she whispered, adding a silent ‘I love you.’  She went to the door, opened it, called out “lights off, Bluey,” to the little robot, and went out into the night.
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -- WITNESS

Rollie watched from the top of the stairs as Angie walked across the room and sat down at the computer terminal.  He could tell just by looking at her that she was not a happy camper.  It was bad enough that they were having to work the entire weekend, but early this morning, they were presented, via delivery boy, with the footage of the battle scene between the lead characters, Cullen and Mardon, that was supposed to be meshed with the CGI of the warrior and dragon.  The director had taken it upon himself to go ahead and shoot the scene without Rollie and Angie’s presence or knowledge, and he now expected them to make it work with the CGI.  Angie had been livid, and Rollie hadn’t been far behind.

Rollie had hoped that they would get through with their work by a halfway decent time, but this was going to add hours to their day since Angie would have to go ahead and try meshing in the CGI.  They had to know as soon as possible if the scene would need to be shot again.  Rollie did not envy the director the tongue-lashing that Angie would inflict upon him if that turned out to be the case.

“I don’t believe this!” Angie exclaimed, jolting the Aussie from his thoughts.  Continuing down the stairs, he joined her.

“You see, they did it again,” she said.  “Right there.  The position of Lance’s hand puts it right through the chest of the dragon.  No matter how I shift the position of the dragon, it just isn’t going to come out right.”

The scent of Angie’s hair filled Rollie’s nostrils as he bent down.  Struggling to keep his mind focused on the problem at hand, he studied the image on the monitor.

“Is the rest of this okay?”

“Uh, yeah.  It’s just that one spot.”

“Why not just shift Lance’s arm then?  We’ve got enough junk footage that it shouldn’t be too hard to put Lance’s arm in a different position and still get the angles and body movement to match.”

Angie stared at the screen, wondering why she hadn’t thought of this solution.  “It’ll take some time to get it right, but it might work.  Thanks, Rol.”

Rollie smiled.  “Glad I could help.”  He straightened and walked over to one of the workbenches, getting busy on some equipment that would be needed for another scene.

Angie watched him leave.  She should have been able to come up with the solution herself.  It was so obvious an answer.  She knew why she hadn’t, though.  Ever since she had found out about Loubar’s mask, her mind had been preoccupied with the thought that she might have killed the man.  She was still full of conflicting emotions over it, not knowing if she should be glad or horrified.  There was one thing that she was definitely glad about: that it was she who was going through this and not Rollie.  She knew him well enough to know that if he had been the one to pull the trigger, his feelings of guilt over having taken a life would have been far more brutal.  That’s the kind of person he was.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Angie got back to work on the CGI.  A couple of hours later, she was satisfied that she would be able to work with the footage, and they headed on over to the location where they would be filming.

Unfortunately, the unexpected additional work was only the first thing to go wrong that day.  Numerous technical and cast problems pushed filming way beyond schedule and left both Rollie and Angie with king-sized headaches.  The following day, Sunday, was even worse, everyone finding themselves working late into the night.  Rollie and Angie were forced to stay even later since they had to gather up all of their equipment.  It was now well after midnight, and all Rollie wanted to do was go home, take a nice long, hot shower, and go to bed.  The morning was going to come all too soon.

Rollie had tried to arrange Monday’s schedule so that they would both have a few hours to do their final Christmas shopping, but the best that he could manage was some time off on Tuesday.  Of course, the most important present he had yet to get was Angie’s.  The travel agency would be his first stop.

Rollie looked over at the subject of his thoughts.  He could tell that she was tired too.  She was almost asleep on her feet.  “Hey, Ange, why don’t you go ahead and call it a night.  I can take care of putting away the rest of the stuff.”  She looked at him, starting to object, but he stopped her before she got out a word.  “That’s an order, Angie.  Now, you don’t want to disobey the boss, do you?”

Angie could tell that Rollie was not going to take no for an answer.  Hating to leave him to finish cleaning up alone, yet admitting to herself that, if she did not leave soon, she would be in danger of falling asleep at the wheel, she finally agreed to leave.  Normally, she would have had no choice but to wait since she and Rollie usually went to work together in the van, but Angie had brought her car today because she had wanted to get some bread and a few other things she needed during the lunch break.  As it turned out, she hadn’t had time to go anywhere because of how far behind they were.

Rollie saw her out to the car.  As she pulled away, she saw him continue to stand in the parking lot, watching her leave.  About halfway home, she had to stop in the middle of the road to make way for a cat and its kittens.  The felines leisurely crossed the road, not in the least concerned by the glowing-eyed, steel monster only a few feet away.  Though it was freezing outside, Angie had her window down, knowing that the cold air would help keep her alert.

A faint sound in an ally to her left drew Angie’s attention away from the cats.  In the darkness of the alley she saw two figures.  Unable to make out any faces, Angie continued to watch.  She could faintly hear two voices, but they were too low to understand anything that was being said.  Suddenly, there was a muffled pop and one of the figures fell to the ground.  Shocked by what she had just witnessed, Angie sat frozen in place.  The other figure bent over the one on the ground.  Abruptly, he straightened and spun around.  Though Angie could not see his face, she knew that he was looking right at her.  Angie slammed the accelerator to the floorboard just as something went whizzing past her head.  There was the sound of shattering glass from the other side of the car.  She didn’t stop to look as she sped away down the road and screeched around a corner.  All she could think about was getting back to Rollie, to the safety of his presence.  She made her way back to the building, praying that Rollie would still be there.  She arrived just as Rollie was pulling out of the parking lot.

Rollie saw Angie’s car come barreling up to his and knew that something was terribly wrong.  He jumped out of the van just as Angie leaped out of her car.  The Aussie took one look at her wide eyes and grabbed hold of her shoulders.

“Angie?  What’s wrong?  What happened?”

“Rollie, I think I just witnessed a murder!”

“What?!  Where?  Tell me what happened.”

Angie told him what she’d seen and what had happened afterwards.  Rollie walked over to the passenger side of her car, Angie following him.  They both stared down at a single round hole in the car door window.  Tiny cracks spread out from the hole like spider webs.  The sight made Angie feel cold all over.

Rollie reached for the PDA hanging from the strap around his neck, quickly hit the phone icon, and dialed the police.

Twenty minutes later, he and Angie were at the crime scene with Mira Sanchez and several other cops.  Mira had been awakened out of a deep sleep to come down there.  The remnants of sleep quickly dissipated, though, as Angie described what she had seen.  The police were unable to find the body, but they did find a small stain on the ground that was unmistakably blood.  After finding out where she had been at the time of the killing, and determining the trajectory of the bullet that went through her window, they were able to find the slug buried deep within the mortar of the wall across the street from the alley.  Mira ordered that the bullet be taken immediately to Ballistics.

“And you’re sure you can’t I.D. the shooter?” the detective asked Angie.

“It was too dark.  He was hardly more than a silhouette.  I couldn’t even tell you what color his hair was.  He looked to be about six feet tall, medium build, but I can’t really be sure of that either.  I’m sorry.  I wish I could be more help.”

“Don’t apologize, Angie.  If it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t have even known something had happened.  I am worried about one thing, though.  You couldn’t see his face, but could he see yours?  If he thinks that you can identify him, you may be a target.”

Disturbed by this thought, Rollie looked at the place where Angie’s car had been during the time of the shooting, then at the alley.  There were no street lights on this portion of the road.  The closest light of any kind was a street lamp on the road at the opposite end of the alley.  It was because of that lamp that Angie had been able to see anything in the alley at all.

“There’s one way to find out how much he could see,” he said.  He had Angie move her car to the exact location it had been in before and turn on the headlights, then he had the police cars all turn off theirs.  After a few moments, his eyes became adjusted to the dark.  The Aussie walked over to the spot where the killing had taken place and turned toward Angie’s car.  He could make out the outline of the car by the light of the headlights, but Angie’s face as she sat in the driver’s seat was not recognizable.  He could not even tell it was a woman sitting in the car.  Mira joined him and made the same conclusion.

“Well, this sets my mind a little more at ease, but I’d still prefer to put an officer on you, just in case.”

Angie hated the idea of having a bodyguard shadowing her every move, but agreed that it might be smart to have a guard posted outside her apartment and someone to follow her to and from work and to watch the loft while she was there, but that was all.  No one could get on the set without a pass so there was no need for a guard to be posted there.  Besides, unless the killer somehow found out who she was, he wouldn’t know where to look for her anyway.

Rollie insisted that Angie stay at the loft that night.  Her first instinct was to say that she could take care of herself, but then she admitted that the thought of being alone was not very appealing and the idea of being with Rollie did make her feel more at ease.  With a police car following behind, they made the trip in silence together in the van, each one occupied with their own thoughts.  A cop drove Angie’s car.

The image of the dark figure in the alley kept coming back into Angie’s mind.  Her imagination kept filling in the blankness of the killer’s face.  She saw narrowed, evil eyes in a bony, pale face.  Dull black hair was brushed straight back, forming a widow’s peak hairline.  Thin lips pulled back to reveal a vicious grin.  After a few moments, Angie began to realize that there was something familiar about the face.  Then, suddenly, it dawned on her, and she almost laughed out loud.  The face her imagination was building was an exaggerated version of the villain, Mardon, in the movie they were working on.  Mardon, the embodiment of true evil.  Angie doubted that the real killer bore any resemblance, physically or otherwise, to the world-destroying creature of the movie. ‘Whew!  You need some sleep real bad, Angela,’ she told herself.

Rollie saw a faint smile come briefly to Angie’s lips and wondered what she was thinking about.  He had not admitted it to her, but the events of the night had really put a scare into him.  When he had seen that bullet hole in the car window, it was all he could do not to take Angie into his arms and just hold her.  A couple more inches, just a couple more inches, and that bullet would have hit her.  He had almost lost her tonight.  The thought terrified him.  He tried to imagine his life without her and couldn’t.  The very thought made his throat and chest tighten.  He loved her so much that to live without her would be more than he could bear.  He would rather be dead.

As soon as they got to the loft, Rollie had Bluey put the place on high security.  He then made up a bed on the couch, intending it to be for himself.

“What are you doing?” Angie asked when she saw him take off his shoes and sit on the couch.

“I thought that I’d sleep down here tonight and you could take the bed.”

“Rollie, that isn’t necessary.  I’ll be able to sleep on the couch easier than you can.”

“Angie, I’d really rather be the one to stay down here.  I’d feel a lot better.  I don’t think I’d be able to sleep if I went upstairs.”

Angie looked at the expression on the Aussie’s face.  He was clearly worried.  She knew he was thinking that if he was down here and the killer came, he might be able to stop the man or at least delay him long enough for her to get away.  She also knew that if the killer did get in the loft and Rollie tried to stop him, there was a very good chance that the Aussie would be killed.

“Rollie, please don’t . . . please don’t take any extra chances.  I don’t want you to get yourself killed trying to protect me,” she pleaded.

The Aussie came up to her and gently cupped her face in his hands.  He gazed deeply into her eyes.  “Angie, I need you to know something.  If it ever came to that, there would be no decision for me to make.  I made that decision a long time ago.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” she whispered.  Rollie was making it clear that he would give his life for her, and Angie knew that, if the tables were turned, she would do the same for him.

Angie wrapped her arms around his waist.  She felt his arms go around her.  They held each other for a few moments, then Rollie gave her a final squeeze and released her.

“We’d better get some sleep.  As it is, we’re only going to get about four hours.”

Angie groaned.  “It is going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“Yeah.  Just keep remembering that we’ll have a whole five days off soon.”

“I can’t wait.  Oh, have you told Frank that we won’t be going to the Christmas party this year?”

“No, not yet.  If I get a chance, I’ll call him tomorrow.  You know, that’s something I didn’t think about.  I don’t envy you having to do your shopping on Tuesday with a cop as your shadow.”

Angie groaned again.  “I didn’t think of that either.  Maybe I could give him the slip.”

“Don’t you dare,” Rollie said emphatically.  “Why don’t you see if Mira can arrange the time off and go with you?”

“That’s an idea.”

A few minutes later, Angie was wearily climbing into Rollie’s bed.  The scent of him was strong in the pillows and bedcovers.  That scent and the thought that Rollie slept in that very spot nearly every night sent a shiver of pleasure through her.  Funny how, even after witnessing a murder, she could still fantasize about being with him.  If she wasn’t such a coward, she would go right downstairs, pull him up off the couch, and lead him up here.  Just the thought of doing that made her feel warm.

With a sigh, Angie snuggled into the pillows, closed her eyes, and drew in a deep breath of Rollie’s scent.  Maybe, someday, it would be more than his pillow that she would be snuggling into.
 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN -- CONFRONTATIONS

The next morning, Rollie and Angie went to the set accompanied by a police escort.  As they pulled into the parking lot, the police officer pulled up beside them and said that an officer would be back at 7 p.m., the expected wrap time for that day.  Ballistics had turned up nothing on the slug retrieved from the wall and, so far, no bodies had been found that matched with the little information they had.  Mira had assured them that she would keep them apprized of any new developments.

Rollie and Angie passed through the security check at the door and entered the building.  Normally, this kind of filming would have been done on a set at the studio under a more controlled environment, but the location scout for Double-Edged had ‘discovered’ this building and found it to be perfect for several of the scenes in the movie.  A lot of money was being saved by not having to build a set and, on a production like this, saving money was everything.

Rollie looked up into the rafters of the old warehouse.  The place looked as if it had been there since the turn-of-the-century.  He was surprised the building wasn’t condemned.  Then again, maybe it was and Bill Harris just hadn’t bothered to tell anyone.

“Ange, I’m concerned about these beams.  They may not be strong enough for that pallet.  I think I’d better go up there and check.”  He grabbed a safety line and a hammer and headed up the ladder.  Once he’d reached the catwalk, he called down to a couple of grips who handed a step ladder up to him, which he set up beneath the beam.  Rollie then strapped on the harness attached to the safety line and attached the other end of the rope to the metal railing.  Climbing up onto the beam, he started walking across.  The beam groaned under his weight, not a good sign.  About fifteen feet out, he got down on his knees and pulled the hammer out of his belt.  He gave a couple of strong whacks to the beam, watching in disgust as chunks of wood went flying.  Rotten, just as he’d suspected.  Fuming, Rollie returned to the catwalk, disconnected the safety line, and descended to the floor.  He strode over to the producer.

“Damn it, Bill.  The next time you decide to film in a condemned building, first make sure the place isn’t going to come tumbling down around our ears.  The beams are shot.  There’s no way they’ll take the weight of those bricks.”

The rotund man patted the Aussie’s arm.  “Rollie, Rollie.  You worry too much.”

“Well, I’d better worry.  It isn’t going to be just your butt on the line if that beam snaps and we have half a ton of bricks come crashing down in the middle of filming.  Someone could get killed.”

“Now, Rollie, no one’s going to get killed.  The studio couldn’t afford the hike in insurance premiums.  I’m sure you’ll come up with something.  But don’t take too long at it.  We’re scheduled to shoot that gag day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, no, Bill, it won’t take long at all.  I’ll just hoist a steel girder up there, whip out my trusty screwdriver and, presto, problem solved.”  The sarcasm was completely lost on the producer.  Rollie turned on his heels and strode back toward Angie.

“Come up with something, Rollie.  Be quick about it, Rollie.  Yeah, that’s right.  Good ol’ Rollie Tyler.  Leave it up to him.  He’ll figure something out,” the Aussie growled.

Angie had heard bits and pieces of the argument with Bill Harris, enough to know that Rollie’s concerns had been confirmed.  “The beams are bad?”

“Rotten to the core.  It’s a miracle the whole building hasn’t collapsed.  We’re going to have to reenforce that entire center beam.”

The reenforcement took several hours, meaning that a lot of the things that were going to be done had to be rescheduled for another day.  Bill Harris was not happy with the extra time and money this was costing.  Rollie had not one shred of sympathy for him.  The man was even less happy, however, when the leading lady went home sick with the flu.

It was getting close to 5 p.m.  Rollie was hot and sweaty and in no mood for the producer’s sudden announcement.

“Gena’s not going to be well enough to work tomorrow, so we’re going to have to shoot around her.  We’ll be doing the gun battle and pallet gags tomorrow, Rollie.”

It was almost too much for the Aussie to take.  “How in the bloody hell do you expect us to do that?  We’re not set up for it.  There are about two hundred squibs that have to be placed.  We’ve got to rig all the harnesses, fill the blood pouches, set everything up for the oil drum explosion and pallet drop, and that’s only half of it.  You expect us to do all that tonight and tomorrow morning?”

The man shrugged his shoulders.  “You may have to work over a few hours, but I’m sure you’ll be able to get it done.”  Bill turn and walked off, which was a good thing since it saved Rollie from having to explain to the police why he’d suddenly flipped out and strangled the producer.

Angie, having heard the whole thing, came up to Rollie.  So much for getting off at seven.

“It’s confirmed, Ange.  I’ve long suspected that Bill Harris lived in another reality, and now I know for sure.  You’d better call the police station and tell them that we’re not going home at seven.  We’ll have to call them to send our escort when we get done . . . if we get done.”

His watch told him that it was midnight as Rollie set the last squib, but it felt like 5 a.m.  After eighteen hours of almost continual work after having gotten less than four hours sleep, the Aussie’s eyes felt like they were being burned out of his skull.  He closed them for a moment and felt himself nodding off.

“Don’t you dare, Rollie!” Angie called.  “I’m not about to carry you home.”

Shaking the fog out of his head, Rollie stood up.  “Who says I have to go home?  This concrete looks soft enough.  Just give me something for a pillow, and I’ll be fine.”

“Can I join you?” Angie asked, then immediately regretted it.  She hadn’t meant it the way it sounded.  Well, maybe part of her had, but she didn’t want Rollie to get the wrong idea.  Fortunately, Rollie tactfully chose not to respond to the question in the manner that another man might have.  Trying to cover her slip of the tongue, Angie looked up at the reenforced rafter above their heads.  “Are we going to rig the pallet tonight?”

Rollie groaned.  “I guess we’d better.  We’re going to have enough to do in the morning as it is.”  They wouldn’t have even gotten as far as they had if it hadn’t been for all the grips who stayed late to help them. very early in the morning.

Rollie looked at the reinforced beam above their heads.  One of the scenes they would be filming called for the hero to drop a pallet of bricks on two of the bad guys by shooting the cables holding the pallet suspended above the ground.  They were going to accomplish this by attaching a small explosives charge to the cables that would be triggered by remote.  Normally, she'd have detonated the device with her ambler, but she was going to be too busy controlling other effects.  Rollie would therefore be doing it the “old-fashioned way” with a remote control.

Angie went over to the F/X van, which had been pulled into the warehouse, and got the explosives pack.  She carefully attached the explosives to the cables, making sure that the charge was shaped and positioned properly so that it would sever all of the cables cleanly.  Things could get messy if it didn’t.  Rollie had been exaggerating when he said that the pallet weighed half a ton.  Many of the bricks on it were fake.  It probably weighed closer to five or six hundred pounds, still heavy enough, though, to make a mess of anyone who happened to be under it when it fell.

With the help of three grips, the pallet of bricks was hoisted about twenty-five feet off the floor.  Once all the lines and rigging had been removed and cleared away, Rollie told the others to go on home.  Not objecting, they bid him and Angie goodnight.

Angie started to put their equipment back in the van.

“Wait a sec, Ange.  I want to make sure the detonator’s live.”  He got the remote control and flipped the switch to arm the detonator.  High above, on the cables holding the pallet of bricks, a small red light came on.  “Looks good.”

Just then, they both heard a noise come from the main entrance to the warehouse.

“Henry?  Is that you?” Angie called to the guard on duty.

Something moved in the shadows.  It drew closer and took on substance.  The man walking toward them did not look familiar to either of them, but they both instantly recognized the object he was holding.  It was a gun, and it was pointed straight at them.

“Sorry.  Henry can’t answer you right now.  He’s taking a nap.”

“What do you want?” asked Rollie.

“Want?  I should think that’s obvious.  I want you dead.”
 

CHAPTER NINETEEN -- DEATH . . .

The man’s eyes turned to Angie.  “Actually, it’s her that I came to kill, but, since I can’t have any witnesses, you’ll both have to die.”

Angie studied the man.  Blond and brown-skinned, he looked nothing like the picture she had conjured in her imagination of the figure in the alley.  “Is this about what happened in the alley?” she asked, trying to stall for time, hoping that Rollie would think of something.  “I couldn’t see anything.  It was too dark.”

He paused for an instant, then, “Well, even if that were true.  I simply can’t have little loose ends like you dangling about.  Things like that tend to come back and cause all kinds of problems for people in my line of work.”  The killer slowly walked toward them, keeping them both covered.

Rollie moved a few feet to the right, pulling her along with him.  The killer responded by changing his angle of approach.  Again Rollie moved, backward this time, causing the killer to take a couple of steps farther forward.  Angie was wondering what Rollie was doing when she noticed what was on the floor just in front of the killer.  It was a mark, a tiny chalk X in the cement.  Careful to keep her face from showing her excitement, Angie took another step backwards with Rollie.

“All right, just hold it right there.  There’s really no place you can run to, you know.  It is a shame to kill you right away, though, pretty thing.  You’re quite a fox.  But business is business.”  The gun, which the killer had been aiming back and forth between Angie and Rollie steadied upon Angie.  He took a final step toward them.  “Sorry, sweetheart, nothing personal.”

Reality seemed to slow to a crawl.  She saw the man’s finger tighten on the trigger.  But, in the instant before the gun went off, she heard Rollie scream a denial.  As the gun’s report filled her ears, she was pushed violently to the ground by the Aussie.  The gunshot was followed immediately by another kind of explosion.  The tiny charge on the cables holding the pallet of bricks detonated, apparently having been triggered by Rollie.  Looking up at the sound of the explosion, the killer was just in time to see his death falling toward him.  He had time for a single, short scream before the pallet and its contents crushed him to the floor.  The gun flew through the air to land near Angie’s feet.

“Rollie, you got him!”  There was no reply.  Angie twisted around to where she thought Rollie should be.  He was there, lying on the floor only five feet away.  His back was turned toward her.  “Rol?”  No answer.  With a sick fear building inside her, Angie scrambled over to him.  She turned him onto his back.  “Oh, God.  Oh, God, no!  Please, no!”

A red stain was quickly spreading across Rollie’s chest.  His respiration was coming in short, ragged gasps.  His face was drawn and deathly pale.  Trying not to panic, Angie grabbed her PDA and hit the telephone icon.  She dialed 911 and told the calm, female voice at the other end of the line that they needed to send an ambulance and the police NOW!  As an afterthought, she told the woman to contact Detectives Mira Sanchez and Francis Gatti.  The woman began telling her to stay on the line, but Angie was already disconnecting.

“Rollie?  Rollie, hang on.  Please hang on.  The ambulance is on its way.  Everything is going to be all right.”

Rollie’s eyelids fluttered open.  Slowly, his eyes turned to her.  They fixed upon her with terrible intensity.  Angie saw the horrible pain in those eyes and choked back a cry.  She took hold of his hand.  Weakly, he held on.

“You’re going to be okay, Rollie.  Do you hear me?  They’ll be here any minute now.  In a couple of days you’ll be back on your feet, complaining about all the time that was lost.”  She listened to her own voice, high-pitched and desperate.

Angie wanted Rollie to answer, to tell her to calm down, to say that he was fine.  But he didn’t speak.  He just kept looking at her, his eyes trying to tell her something she could not understand.

Then, as Angie watched in horror, Rollie’s eyes grew glazed and distant.  The grip on her hand loosened.

“No!  Don’t you die on me, Rollie!  Don’t you dare die.”  The last word was choked off by a sob.

But Rollie couldn’t hear her pleas.  Slowly, his eyelids slid shut, and his body went limp in an awful, final way.  His chest stilled.

“Noooo!” Angie screamed, anguish ripping her heart to shreds.  “Noooo!”  Sobs of overwhelming grief racked her body as she gathered into her arms the only man she would ever truly love.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY -- . . . AND LIFE

A black, all-consuming grief filled her mind as Angie cradled Rollie’s still body in her arms.  Again and again she screamed--a ragged, sobbing cry torn from her very soul.  She felt as if her heart was being crushed to powder.  The pain was more than she could bear.  How could she live without him?  How could she go on knowing that she would never see his face, never hear his voice ever again?  She wanted to die.  Only death would bring an end to this terrible torment.  Angie looked over at the gun lying a few feet away.  It would be so easy.  One shot and it would be over.  Angie’s hand started moving toward the gun, then stopped.  She looked down at Rollie’s face.  He wouldn’t want her to do this.  He would want her to live, to carry on.

“Rollie!” Angie cried, her voice calling out in hopelessness to the best friend she would ever have.

It was at that moment that something happened, something beyond her understanding.  Deep inside her mind, she heard a voice--a wonderful, achingly familiar voice--call her name.  In wonder, she looked down at Rollie to see the fingers of his hand slowly move.

“Oh, God!  You’re alive!”  Hardly able to believe it, she watched in growing joy as a shudder passed through Rollie’s body.  He took a single gasping breath, then another, and another.  Afraid to believe, Angie watched the rise and fall of his chest.  Her eyes moved up to his face.  “Rollie?” she whispered.  Her friend’s eyelids fluttered open.  Tears flooded Angie’s eyes anew.  Laughing and crying at the same time, Angie brushed a lock of hair from the Aussie’s forehead.  “Rollie, Rollie,” she murmured over and over.   Just then, she heard the sound of sirens approaching.  Moments later, two cops came rushing onto the set with a couple of EMT’s on their heels.  Angie looked back down at Rollie and suffered a moment of panic when she saw that the Aussie’s eyes were again closed.  But the faint rise and fall of his chest assured her that he was still alive.

Angie was forced to move aside as the EMT’s got to work on Rollie.  There was an intensity to their movements, to their voices and the expressions on their faces, that caused her terror to return.  Could life be so cruel as to take him away from her again?  ‘No!  It can’t be.  It can’t!  He’s got to live!’

Angie hadn’t realized that she had begun to tremble until she felt a pair of steady hands take hold of her shoulders.  She looked into the grave face of Francis Gatti.  He spoke not a word.  He merely stood there, giving her strength with his silent presence.  Her hand crept up and grasped his.  Just then, Mira arrived.  She paled when she saw Rollie’s blood-covered chest and white-skinned face.  Turning to Angie and Frank, Mira walked over and took Angie’s other hand.

Together, they watched as the EMT’s fought to keep lit the flame of life within Rollie Tyler.  Angie heard one of the EMT’s tell the other that they wouldn’t make it in time in the ambulance.  The other man called on their radio for a rescue helicopter.  A voice on the radio gave an ETA of five minutes.

Five minutes and two centuries later, the helicopter landed outside.  In a rush of motion, Rollie was loaded into it.  Angie pleaded to be allowed to come with them, but was told that there would be no room for her.  Just as the helicopter door was being closed, she heard one of the EMT’s call out something in an urgent voice.  Then the door was closed, and Angie couldn’t hear anything more.  She cried Rollie’s name, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of the rotors.  As the helicopter flew off, carrying away the man she loved more than life, Angie wondered if she would ever see him alive again.

By that time, half a dozen uniformed police had arrived.  With them was Captain VanDuran.  Knowing how valued Rollie Tyler’s work with the NYPD had become, someone had chosen to call him.  He’d rushed right down.  The captain took one look at the faces of Angie, Mira, and Francis and told them to go on to the hospital.  Questions and reports could wait.

On the drive to the hospital, Angie sat alone in the back seat, her arms wrapped tightly about herself.  Francis kept turning in his seat, looking back at her, but she kept staring straight ahead, not really seeing anything.  Her mind was filled with the image of Rollie’s white, unconscious face as they loaded him into the helicopter.  In her ears she could still hear the words the EMT had spoken just as they were closing the helicopter door.  “His pressure’s bottoming out!  We’re losing him!”

Angie felt as if she was losing her mind.  What if they arrived at the hospital, only to be told that Rollie was dead?  What would she do if he was dead?  A tiny moan escaped her lips.  Suddenly, a hand was grasping hers.  She looked into Frank’s eyes.

“You listen to me, Angie.  How many times has Rollie Tyler made it through things that would have killed anybody else?  How many times?  When he was poisoned with that snake venom, he should have been dead within twenty minutes.  But he didn’t die.  He fought it with everything he had.  He didn’t give up!  So don’t you give up on him, you hear?”

Angie looked at Francis, knowing he was right.  Rollie had survived things that would have killed any ordinary man.  But Rollie wasn’t ordinary.  He was the strongest, bravest, smartest man she had ever known.  If there was anyone on the planet who could live through this, it was Rollie Tyler.  Angie squeezed the detective’s hand, silently thanking him with her eyes.

At last, they arrived at the hospital.  Mira went to the ER admitting desk as Angie and Francis anxiously waited.  The look on the woman’s face when she returned was not promising.  Angie couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask the dreaded question.  She was having a hard time breathing.

“Rollie was rushed straight into surgery,” Mira told them.  “They couldn’t tell me anything more than that.  They said that a doctor would be out to talk to us as soon as they had any news.”

“He’s still alive,” Angie whispered.  She felt suddenly faint as a wave of relief washed over her.  Both Mira and Francis reached for her and helped her to a chair.  Angie took several deep breaths, trying to regain control of herself.  She looked down at her trembling hands clasped together in her lap and realized, for the first time, that they were covered with blood, Rollie’s blood.  Her blouse was also stained crimson, a crimson that would slowly turn to brown as the blood dried.  “This was always one of Rollie’s favorite blouses.  He said the color suited me.”  Realizing that she was losing control again, Angie quickly got up and headed for the restroom.  Almost frantically, she washed the blood from her hands and arms.  She stripped the blouse off, not caring who walked in to see her almost half-naked.  In vain, she tried to wash the stains from the blouse.  Blood-filled water splashed out of the basin, running down the sides of the sink to make pink puddles on the tiled floor.  Angie started to cry again.  She had to get the blouse clean.  It was Rollie’s favorite.  She wanted to be wearing it when she saw him again, when he woke up and told her he was going to be okay.

The door behind her quietly opened.  Angie looked into the mirror to see who had entered.  Mira’s dark eyes met hers.  The detective was holding a blouse in her hands.

“I borrowed this from one of the nurses.  I thought that you might. . . .”  Then, without another word, she opened her arms to Angie.  With a sob, Angie went to her and was enfolded in a warm embrace.  Tears welled forth, and Angie let it out, letting all her fear and grief pour out of her.  Mira stood, stroking her hair, comforting her.

“I thought I’d lost him, Mira.  I really thought he was dead, and all I kept thinking was that I couldn’t live without him.  I never told him how much he means to me, Mira.  I never told him.”

“Shh-shh-shhh.  It’s all right, Angie.  He knows.  And, if he doesn’t, then you can tell him when he gets better.”  She looked over at the soggy mess in the sink.  “And don’t you worry about the blouse.  We’ll find another one just like it, okay?”

Angie smiled through her tears, grateful to have a friend like Mira.  Angie put on the borrowed blouse, then, with Mira’s help, cleaned up the mess, throwing the ruined blouse into the trash.  The physical activity helped to calm her.  Back in the waiting room, Angie sat with the two detectives on either side of her, awaiting the arrival of the doctor and word of Rollie’s condition.

Hours later, Angie saw Doctor Mark Langford walking toward them.  The tall, distinguished, grey-haired man was well known to both Angie and Rollie.  He had treated Rollie on several occasions in the past, including the incident with the snake venom, as well as Angie herself when she was injured by the car bomb that had been meant for Rollie.

Angie stood up, watching the familiar figure approach.  The man’s face was drawn and haggard, and there was a look in his eyes that made her throat constrict painfully.  With every step that drew the doctor closer, Angie’s fear increased.  ‘Please, God, please don’t let him be dead,’ she silently pleaded.

At last, Doctor Langford reached them.  He took Angie’s trembling hands in his large, strong ones, looked into her eyes, and spoke three words.  “He’s alive, Angie.”

Once again, Angie felt as if her legs were going to give way, but she held fast, fighting to be strong.  “Then . . . he’s going to be all right?”

The doctor’s eyes left hers for a moment.  “Let’s sit over here.”  His voice was soft and gentle, the voice of a man who did not have good news.  They sat on the couch.

“What is it?  How. . . .”  Angie swallowed the lump in her throat.  “How bad is it?”

Doctor Langford sighed.  “There’s really no way I can tell you this except to come right out and say it.”  He tightened his grip on Angie’s hands.  “Angie, Rollie was shot in the heart.”