Part 4 - Ronnie Roche (Chapters 26-30)

  Chapter 26 - She was Wily.

  Lately, she called herself Amadahy when she was among friends. When she was with strangers, she would make up a name. Frank called her Coyote and said she was wily. She was long, but not too slim. Her dark straight hair hung loosely on her shoulders. Her dark eyes could be very haunting if she did not like you. Her blouse was bright red. She wore her buckskin fringe jacket and boots defiantly. Frank had known her for a very long time. She had told him once that he had liked her for even longer.

  Kenny had been given instructions on where to find her. He asked for “The Coyote” at the counter. The waitress pointed to the far corner. The men in the room didn't like that very much. She waved him to her table at the end of the diner. Before he sat down, he gave her the note. “Little Sister thanks you.”

  She read the note, and she looked up at Kenny. “His note is very short. What is your middle name?”

  “Ruben.” He replied. “And probably very cryptic.”

  “Yes. Follow me.” She left the diner as she said, “I will give you a list of what you need to buy. Some medicine you cannot buy. We will get this now.” She walked over to a Chevrolet pickup truck and opened the driver's side door. She was playing a part. She did this for people she didn’t know.

  Kenny scanned the old rusty pickup truck. “1970’s?”

  “Come on.” was her reply.

  Kenny complied.

  A few minutes later, she turned off the highway onto a dirt road. “Tell me, Mr. Sullivan, why did you come?”

  He answered, “It's part of the job. I was hired to come.”

  She quickly glanced at him and said, “Mr. Sullivan, this is true. But that is not the answer to the question. I believe he has done something for you. I want to ask you about this.”

  Kenny said, “Sure, that's fine. Could I call you something other than Coyote? You don’t seem like a coyote to me.”

  She smiled and replied, “It is a joke among friends. You can call me Wiley.”

  He said, “Sure, Wiley? What do you want to know?”

  She started, “Did you know him before?”

  Kenny understood that she meant before he helped him. “No, it was when we met, or maybe how we met?”

  Wiley replied, “Maybe it is why you met? It was the same for me. Do you want to know?”

  Kenny returned, “Yes, I think I do. I don't know what to make of him.”

  The truck slowed. Her words were slower and more meaningful than normal, “It is hard for me to talk about this. One night, I camped by a fair. Several men came for me. They grabbed me and pushed me into my tent. This was when he came. He came for them. She was with him.”

  There was a long break.

  She continued. “It may be hard for you to understand. He had great joy in what he had done. Not in hurting the men. The joy was in helping me. And in being with her. He came because she said that she liked me. That was the only reason he needed. They knew me before. We were friends. He did not need this as a reason. Her request was enough. It was very funny. They were very bad men. When the police came, I did not want to leave the tent. But when I did, I saw them. They were all in their underwear, tied to a tree.” The sadness left her face.

  Kenny retorted, “He probably could have done a lot worse to them.”

  Wiley nodded. “Yes, that is my fear. That is the reason, I tell you this story. What story do you have?”

  Kenny asked, “Would he have helped you if she didn’t ask?”

  Wiley replied, “Yes, but he probably would have killed them.”

  Kenny said, “My story is almost like that. I was cornered in an alley. The guy had a knife. I couldn't get to my weapon. The guy had friends, and I was alone. He stopped me from getting knifed. It didn't really seem real. Maybe it still doesn't.”

  She shook her head from side to side. “He had no joy? In helping you?”

  It sounded like a question. Kenny knew it wasn't. He said, “No, I didn't see any joy. Not that he wanted me to get hurt. I mean, he probably was glad that I didn't get hurt. But there was no joy. Might have been a little darkness.”

  Wiley said, “Yes, this is my fear. He has lost his joy. At first, he grieved for her, then he grieved for him. Now he grieves for the whole world. He grieves for everything that never will be and for everything that is lost. He must help the little sister, or he will walk in the darkness. He will need his friends. You see, Mr. Sullivan, the world has failed him.”

  She stopped the truck. She exited it and walked towards the cabin. She stated, “We must guide him back to it. The medicine is in here, Mr. Sullivan.” She held back her tears.

  Kenny walked out of the cabin with a wooden box. In the box were pint Mason jars filled with brownish golden-green liquid and several sheets of folded notebook paper. He said, “Ms. Wiley, I have to know. What was with the middle name? At the diner.”

  Wiley said, “It is the same reason I didn't bring this to Frank. To catch me would be the same as catching Frank. I had to be sure you were not from him.”

  Kenny surmised, “Eddie Murphy? That's why I got the stink eye from everybody at the diner. They were protecting you?”

  A smile flashed across her face as she spoke, “Yes. They also want to sleep with me. I was friends with the white-haired man's daughter. He saw me with her. He saw me with Frank. If I am dead, I cannot help anyone. Despite what Frank thinks, I am not a warrior. I can do him more good here than I can out there.”

  Kenny said, “I can't disagree with you.”

  She said, “You will need to go soon. I will bring you to your car.”

  Kenny surprised himself by giving out information. “Yeah, I have to meet them in two days. They should get Emma tomorrow.”

  She answered, “Yes, Little Sister. Emma, she is lost.”

  Kenny nodded.

  Wiley cautioned Kenny, “Mr. Sullivan, Frank and Eden defied the white-haired man. This made him very angry at them. He is still very angry with her. She is dead now, and he has tried to kill Frank. He is still angry with her. If you help, he will be angry with you.”

  Kenny stated firmly, “Well, Ms. Wiley, that will make us even.”

  Chapter 27 - All Things.

  It was a small wood frame church. The exterior was white. Slim wood slats covered the exterior. The sides were dominated by windows. They weren't made from stained glass. The glass was plain. Over time, it had grown hazy. Framed imitation stained glass hung on their inside. Two rows of short pews crowded the interior. The aisle down the middle of the church creaked under the weight of the attendees. The structure was beginning to show its age. The aisle ended in a low stage. On this platform was the pulpit. Despite the recent rain, everything seemed dusty.

  Behind it was an equally unimpressive house. A short distance from the house stood an old barn. Its main use had been the hold a horse and buggy. Before it fell into disuse, it housed a dairy cow. The time of the cow had long since passed. Now it held a dead 20-year-old Buick and an idle Model T. Despite all of this, the barn was impressive. It had a newly acquired coat of red barn paint. A new layer of tin covered the old roof. None of the congregation knew the reason for this. No one asked any questions. No one was aware it had been bought by a nameless shell company.

  Services were over. It was now time for a potluck fellowship. The adults would stand, eat, and chat as the children ran and played. The congregation was made up of farmers, craftsmen, salespeople, and exurbanites. The majority of the women there were housewives, but that was changing.

  Sunlight broke through the clouds. A glorious beam of light struck the side of the barn. A cool breeze blew across the green fields. Spring was here in full force. Signs of hope were all around. Three young girls ran through the grass. Their striking red hair made them stand out from the other children. The oldest was a newly minted teenager. She sported a brassy head of strawberry blonde hair. The other two were her younger sisters. The middle child's hair was Auburn and at times unruly. The youngest’s hair was darker but noticeably red. The two young girls had much lighter skin than the oldest. The middle child's face was marked with freckles. The youngest child was by far the most energetic.

  Her knee length tweed button front sheath dress was one of the most stylish at the gathering. Not to be outdone, his dark tan corduroy bell bottom, wide lapel suit was at the peak of men’s fashion. The congregation knew very little about him. They did know his wife. She was known to be a hard worker. People found her trustworthy. She often could be found helping others in the area. Most of the mothers in attendance liked their children. The oldest child was known to be a bit bossy. Nearly all the men at the gathering were addressed by their first names. The exceptions being the Reverend and Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy liked it this way.

  The youngest daughter’s dark hair, light brown eyes and pale skin made her the most striking of the three girls. She was also the most mischievous. She was friendly and held no malice towards anyone. It was her habit to say silly rhymes or talk continuously about the things around her. This bright spring day was no exception. This was in stark contrast to her oldest sister. She was the prettiest, but she lacked any of the redeeming qualities of her younger sisters.

  The churchgoers called the young lady with the striking long red hair in the tweed dress Mrs. Helen. She was the proud mother of the three young girls. The youngest of her girls now circled her. She had snuck up from behind. Her tiny body slid on her mother as she sang to herself. “Sister, sister’s kissing a boy. Sister, sister’s kissing the boy....” She continued to sing and hum as she circled her mother.

  The tall man in the tan suit leaned over. “Get all of your daughters here right now!” He angrily growled in a loud whisper. He continued speaking, but the words were lost to everyone except the woman.

  Mrs. Helen leaned over and calmly spoke to the little girl. “Emma, go tell your sisters that their daddy wants to see them right now. Hurry up. There you go.” She continued speaking as a child ran off.

  A short time later she spotted her middle child with two preteen girls. She waved for her to come. The youngest returned at a gallop. The middle child serenely skipped towards them. Then she spotted her oldest. She solemnly and angrily stomped onward. The world would have to wait for her.

  The tall, light-haired man bent over and spoke to his youngest daughter. “Did you see your sister kissing a boy?” His voice seemed calm and even. It hid his seething anger.

  “Yes, Daddy.” She said cheerfully as she pointed at Ellie, her oldest sister.

  The middle daughter's head shifted slightly to the left. She did not understand why she was summoned. She stayed here in her place. She believed her answer would come soon. It was a pleasant day, and she had done no wrong.

  The strike was so fierce, so fast and so powerful, nothing could have been done to stop it.

  Eden lay on the ground. She was stunned but aware. Pain tore through her little body. Her nose was broken. Bits of flesh were torn from its tip. Blood stained her dress. A dress that was lovingly made by her mother. For the first time in her short life, she knew fear, anger, and hatred. She didn't know how long she had been crying. She only knew that she cried.

  Emma had fallen backwards in the grass. This was due to the shock and fear that encapsulated her. Involuntarily, she crawled backwards like a crab fleeing the event. She fled her father for striking out. She ran from her mother for not protecting her or her sister. She ran because she was scared. She ran because this was her life now.

  Ellie stood there, smiling. She had heard the conversation. She knew what she had done. She looked at her sisters, then she laughed. She pointed and laughed.

  Many years later, Brent spoke. “Ms. Emma is in that house. There's another woman in there and five men. The dealer is gone. Most of them are strung out. What are we going to do?”

  Frank said, “Go get her. We do it like we planned.”

  Brent inquired, “Frank? Do you ever wonder what they think about when they're like that?” He pointed at a woman sleeping between the houses.

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  “No.” Frank rocked a shell into the chamber of his pump shotgun. “It’s more about forgetting than thinking.” He understood that everyone had their nightmares.

  Chapter 28 - Betrayal Comes.

  It was a dark blue Buick Century. Four masked men surrounded the car. Frank and Brent were in the house. Hopefully, Emma would be exiting shortly. At the car, there was a different problem. A problem that was being taken care of.

  It didn't take long for the man sitting in the driver's seat to realize he had a gun to his head. He quickly noted the three other men. They were all armed. A dozen things he could do came to mind. All of them would get him killed. He quickly looked around. This was not a normal carjacking. These men wanted something else.

  The first masked man spoke, “Slowly move your hands through the window. Keep them where I can see them.”

  The driver glanced at the shotgun through the rearview mirror. It was pointing at him through the back glass. He wondered if it was loaded with buckshot or a slug. His brain quipped at him. Maybe the dumbass loaded it with birdshot? He put his hands on the frame of the side window. He didn't want to find out. He did what they asked. Eventually, he got out of the car.

  The driver didn't remember what he started to say. The pistol butt to the side of his head convinced him to stop talking. He stood beside the car. He had attempted to speak again. The man with the shotgun took a step towards him and raised the shotgun butt. He gingerly nodded his head. It was clear that he was better off not speaking. After all, he had not been hired to fight. He had been hired to deliver the girl. Murphy only wanted the girl.

  The first masked man approached him with a roll of sticky gray tape.

  The driver thought. Zip ties were bad enough. “Not duct tape.” He was sure that the masked man smiled.

  The masked man said, “Don't worry, you'll still get to your destination. Only where you’re going to ride has changed. The shape you're going to be in when you get there? Well, that depends on your cooperation.” He pointed to the back of the car. The driver understood the earlier threats now. They were about control and compliance.

  The driver said what he was thinking. “The trunk? Not the trunk.” He shuffled to the back of the car.

  The masked man said, “Scream and shout. Nobody around here will care. It will give me a reason to stuff a rag in your mouth and duct tape it shut. You'll probably be dead before you get to your destination. I'll leave it up to you. Your other choice is to get in and go for a ride. It is roomier than a lot of trunks I've seen.”

  The driver mumbled, “Sounds like you've done this before?” He wondered why he was allowed to speak. This thought quickly went away. Control; they knew what he would do.

  The man said, “Do you get in? Or do I help you? You won't like it, if I help you.”

  The driver got in. He was no longer the driver. He thought they should call him the trunk man. He sighed. Someone would probably call him that. If he was lucky, he would live long enough to find out. At least his mouth wasn't taped shut. He knew why they hit him. They wanted him to know the threat was real. It wasn’t about talking at all.

  The men removed their masks. “Benny looked at the other men.

  Kyle, you're up. You're almost the same size. Keep your gloves on. Watch out for the big man. I don't think he can be trusted. If the shit hits the fan, listen to Frank. He may be a little crazy, but he's good. Remember what we came here for. We stay alive, and we get the girl into treatment. Here's the driver's gun. Consider it a throwaway. Use it if you have to.” Benny started to hand Kyle the nine-millimeter pistol.

  Kyle said. “I understand, boss. I got this.”

  Benny released the pistol. He signaled to the other men. They flanked the house. Benny took up a position behind a nearby car. Kyle sat in the driver's seat. Now the men were ready for Brent, Emma, and Frank’s exit.

  Brent exited first. His left arm was wrapped around Emma’s upper thighs. Her chest rested on his shoulder. Her head leaned down. It slowly bounced as he walked. She hovered somewhere between conscious and unconscious. This was how they found her. He carried her cautiously. He didn't want to knock her on the door frame or anything else.

  Frank exited carrying two pistols he had found. One was in someone’s waistband and another in someone's hand. They wouldn't need them anymore. The shotgun hung from its sling. Frank wasn't in a hurry. He wasn't looking forward to what he had to do next.

  They were surrounded as soon as they approached the car. Brent looked around. He wondered how far Frank was going to take this. There were too many to fight, but he might have to. He did owe Frank an explanation. If allowed, he would give it.

  Frank said, “Put her in the front seat, Brent.”

  He gently laid her in a ball on the seat. Then he buckled her in. “Sleep well, Ms. Emma.” He patted her lightly on her right shoulder. He stood up and faced Frank.

  Frank inquired, “Tell me about it.”

  Brent spoke, “Mrs. Helen knew Mr. Murphy was going to do this. I was going to play along with it up until the last minute. I want to find out everything I could.”

  Frank stated, “To hell with everyone else? It was Murphy's driver. How are we going to get away from him? And what about the rest of us? You we're going to lead us right into a trap?”

  Brent started to explain. “I was going to take care of the driver and get us away from Murphy. I just wanted to see what I could find out. I have to protect Mrs. Helen.”

  Frank spoke sternly, “You were going to kill the driver as soon as we hit Murphy's territory? What about after that? Were you're planning on letting the girl detox without any help? Or maybe, you're going to find something else to shoot her up with? Or you could give her to Murphy? I'm sure he could get her a fix. That wouldn't protect Mrs. Helena. That would only give Murphy one more thing to use against her. And against us. What am I going to do with you? You can't serve two plans, just like you can't serve two masters. Brent, you jeopardize everything. The only thing you've proven is that you can't be trusted. You can't stay with us, Brent. You limited your choices. Is it Murphy or Mrs. Helena? Stay and you fight us.” He closed the car door.

  Brent nodded. “Mrs. Helen needs me.”

  Frank shook his head in disappointment. “I guess, I can't trust her either then. I’ll have to take care of this without you two.”

  Brent’s nod was barely noticeable. He walked away.

  Chapter 29 - Accountants.

  They were in South Boston. The building appeared to be abandoned. It was one of the buildings that belonged to Mrs. Helena. It was not abandoned. An accountant worked on the computer. Two men watched over him. Newly released from prison, it was the only work he could find. On the curve lay a man. His last job was as a driver. He was covered by a dirty blanket stolen from a drug house. Duct tape bound his arms and legs. He was surprised to be alive. He was told to deliver a message. It was clear, but he did not understand its meaning. “Don't worry, you're safe. It's not your time.” The three men would find him soon enough.

  He understood that the next few hours weren't going to be any better than the car ride. He had an angry Mr. Murphy and the big, mean blonde guy to look forward to. He had failed. The girl wasn't with him. The car and its passengers were gone. When he followed their instructions, they kept their word. In many ways, he would rather be in the trunk. If he was free of duct tape, he would rather go hide.

  Kyle drove them to Boston. Benny took over after they left the package. Emma rested in the back next to Frank. The rest was not peaceful. She had awoken several times during the ride. She's not been able to eat or drink anything. Her eyes would open. She would look around empty eyed. Stay awake briefly. Then return to sleep confused or frightened. The next few hours would only get worse. Soon she would wake up, and the cravings would come. If she was lucky, they would come without pain. They always seemed to come with restlessness and agitation. They always came with need.

  After a long silence, Benny spoke. He nodded towards the girl. “So, is she married to Ronnie or Ronnie?” She talked in her sleep.

  Frank answered him, “It’s Ronnie. She was engaged to Robbie before Ronnie. Daddy scared Robbie off, and he married someone else. She was doing good with Ronnie until daddy showed up again. If Brent's information is right, it went bad when daddy threatened Ronnie. It was the same thing that happened to Robbie. After, she just went nuts.”

  Benny returned, “I'm not sure I want to believe that guy.”

  Frank mused, “On this, I think he's telling the truth. The old woman may be the closest thing he has to a mother. Emma is like his little sister. He's just not used to taking care of anyone else. I don't think he knows how.”

  Benny said, “He may be big, but I don't think he's that tough. I mean, he don't seem like a thug. Seems kind of reasonable?”

  Frank spoke clearly, “Benny don't push him. Once he gets started, he can't be stopped. He's not scared to kill everyone in the room.”

  Benny's cell phone rang. He nodded while he spoke on the phone.” We got a hotel just north of Boston. Two adjoining rooms. Kenny’s been to the drug store. He got all the stuff you wanted. He wonders, if maybe you could explain some of it to him?”

  Emma slouched over towards the middle of the seat. She smiled and empty smile. Her eyes blankly gazed at Frank. “Hey. Don't I know you? I think, I remember you? Do you remember me? Did you know that you're kind of cute? For an old guy.” She tried to wave. She spent the next few minutes staring at her fingers. Then she smiled again. There was no happiness in that smile. “Hey, don't I know you? You're her wild man?” Her body involuntarily jerked. She heaved up an unknown liquid on the car floor. The liquid included a few sedatives she had been given to keep her calm on the ride. She fitfully fell back asleep.

  Benny said, “Oh shit.”

  Kyle replied, “Hey, it's not our car. And we have less than an hour to go.”

  “A present to the next owner.” Hallucinogens, Frank thought. He disliked dealing with other people's bad trips. He wondered what else she was on. The next time she awoke, things would start to get rough. Her high was starting to wind down. The hotel seemed very far away. An hour is a long time when you are holding a broken little person. An old song drifted through Frank’s head. He didn't speak again for another hour. He hummed along with the memory. He could almost hear Eden singing.

  Benny had his focus on the task ahead. The man liked barking orders. He spoke as he turned towards the back seat. “OK, we're here. We're going to stay in the car until Kenny comes. Me, you and the girl will go. Kyle here will lose the car. Make sure it is clean. Hopefully it'll be a while before Murphy finds it. The longer it takes for him to find it, the more time we have to move.”

  Kenny's light jacket wasn’t related to the weather. The comfortably warm temperature was expected at this time of the year. Even so, a group of men in summer jackets would not be noticeable. Kenny counted on this. He approached the car. He had other hidden eyes watching the area. Still, his eyes constantly scanned his surroundings. He tapped twice on the passenger side window. He signaled for someone to come.

  Benny rolled the window down.

  Kenny said, “I don't think you were followed. Everything is in the room. I have a wheelchair coming. Kyle, you’ll meet Jerome. He'll help you take care of the car. You know where?”

  Kyle nodded.

  A young woman in her twenties with brown hair and brown eyes arrived. She pushed a wheelchair.

  Kenny spoke again, “This is May. She's going to help today.” Then he looked at the woman as he pondered what he was going to say next. “She has helped sick people before.” Kenny didn't know if this was true. Wiley had told him to get May.

  She smiled weakly and gave a short nod.

  Frank replied, “All right, let's go.” He thought. Just another person on the redemption train. I guess it will be fine.

  Emma was moved to the chair, and Kyle drove away.

  Chapter 30 - Gifts.

  It was a hotel or maybe a motel. There were four one-story buildings arranged in a “U” shape. The name didn't matter. Its exact location was unimportant. The color scheme was inconsequential. It could have been tan. It could have been burgundy. It wasn’t. It was some god-awful rendition of sky blue. Three of the buildings had already been condemned. The last functional building was rented out for cash. Room by room. No questions were asked. No stories were told.

  It was the same here as it was in many similar places. You paid your money, and you got in. You paid a little more money, and everyone kept quiet. If the police weren't called, no one cared. This place had one difference. Kenny Sullivan knew the owner. The staff took special care to look away. It wasn't like they cared anyway.

  This was where Emma would detox. It happened here without her planning, choice, or convenience. It just happened to be her place and time. Luckily, May was there to help. She understood the process. She knew what Amadahy and Frank needed her to do. She had learned this from Amadahy, the hard way. It might not have been the best way to learn. But the hard way was a powerful teacher. May hope she had learned enough.

  Kenny walked over to Frank. They stood by a debris filled hole in the ground. Kenny leaned against the rusty chain link fence surrounding the hole. “I don't think I'm going swimming in that.” Kenny said as he pointed to the pile of garbage. “Wiley the coyote? Really?”

  “She is very crafty. And I don't mean just artistic. She has a shrewdness about her.” Frank replied with a sense of pride for knowing her.

  Kenny spoke, facing the ground. “Yep, I noticed that, and she's very pretty too.” He thought about what Wiley had said to him. There was sadness in his thoughts.

  Frank replied, “Yes, she is.”

  Kenny asked, “What about this other woman? May?”

  Frank returned, “Mr. Sullivan. I'm afraid that I will need you to ask a more specific question.”

  Kenny stated, “I don't know anything about her. Wiley just told me to go get her. She said we would need her. And that you would understand. She wouldn't say anything else.”

  Frank explained, “She's here to watch Emma's detox. Nothing Emma usually takes should be life threatening during a detox. I didn't want to take that chance. She'll know if something's going wrong with the detox. She'll tell us when we need to get her to the hospital. I was told she could do this, and I should trust her. That's what I'm going to do.”

  Kenny said, “So, you don't know her? And you're just going to let her do her thing?”

  With a deep, slow voice, Frank answered Kenny. “Yes. Wiley believes in her, so I believe in her. Her history does not matter to me. Her right here, right now, matters. The people that are here now matter.”

  He paused for a long time. He waited for his sadness to pass. Then Frank spoke again. “I think you would be more at ease if we spoke to her. I think we will do that. People do seem to like putting garbage in abandoned pools?” He gestured toward the trash, then he turned.

  Kenny frowned.

  Frank ambled towards the room and May. “Mr. Sullivan, I would like to speak with her alone, first. Would that be acceptable to you?”

  Kenny didn't like it. He nodded.

  Frank knocked on the door.

  She opened the door and peered through the crack. May said, “She's in the shower....”

  Frank cut her off. He gently said, “It's alright. I've seen her without clothes before.”

  May didn't resist.

  The door swung open. Then the door quietly closed with them in the room. A look of concern covered May's face.

  Frank inquired, “May, I don't know much about you. I do know the lady who sent you. This is enough for me. This may not be enough for the others. They grow concerned. I was wondering if there was something you could say to set them at ease. Hopefully it’s something not too personal or too injurious.”

  “Not too injurious?” She paused and looked away. “What a way to put it? What could I possibly say that wasn't too injurious? It seems like you know everything already.”

  Frank explained calmly, “Everybody has a history. I don't need to know yours. I don't need to hold your deep, dark secrets. I'm not asking you to tell anyone that. I'm asking you to reassure them that you have this knowledge. That you have some experience or training. It doesn't have to be personal.”

  She looked directly at Frank. Exhaled and spoke, “Mariya Kovalenko? Have you ever heard of her? That's who I was. Now I'm May Koval. Mariya was a nurse, a wife, a mother, and a drug addict. May isn’t any of those things. May is an unemployed substance abuse counselor. The only reason May is alive is because of our friend. Whatever the hell she's calling herself this week. So, is that enough training and experience for you and your people?”

  Frank said, “Ms. May Koval, I am sorry for your troubles and pain. I will tell Mister Sullivan that you were a nurse, and you are a substance abuse counselor. Plus, you have been trained in helping people detox safely. And you are employed.” He smiled comfortably.

  May said, “I'll talk to Mr. Sullivan myself. I'll tell him that I was a nurse, and now I’m a therapist. Do you think that'll be good enough?”

  Frank answered, “Yes, I think so, but he is a curious kind of guy. He might ask questions. You can add that you've been endorsed by Wiley. I think he likes her.”

  May murmured, “Is that what she's calling herself? Heard her use that one before.”

  Frank said, “Who knows? Who can keep up?”

  May grinned. Then she nodded in agreement.

  The sounds of angry frustration came from the bathroom. Emma was starting to wake up. Reality was beginning to creep into her world.

  Frank inquired, “All right, May, let's get down to business. Tell me about Emma.”