WFOL 2021 SEASON 3 ROUND ROBIN

WFOL 2021 SEASON 3 ROUND ROBIN

(From February 2021 - Reformated with chapters in the correct order and reposted on 29 November 2022)

1

Mel

 

Diana heaved the large duffle bag onto the freshly laundered quilted red blanket. "Is that all you brought, Alex?"

Her niece, Alex, plopped a dark green backpack on the bed beside the duffle. "And this too."

Diana's blue gaze briefly studied the bedroom. While she kept it clean, the room was normally sparely furnished; most nights, she could barely check the clock on her nightstand before collapsing. But this time, she had taken to decorating it with pictures and children's books. The ten-year-old could have spent the week with various cousins and aunts and uncles who would have spoiled her. Instead, Alex had chosen to spend it with her spinster Aunt Diana.

Diana smiled to herself as she recalled her sister Susan's words. Alex was certainly the most independent of her generation in the Bennett family. Except for her black hair, she also resembled the Bennett women with her pale skin and dark blue eyes. The eyes of a seer, Diana's grandmother would have said. A gift Diana was said to have inherited given her sensitive nature and line of work. If she wasn't careful, the girl would follow in Diana's footsteps. And until recently, Diana had been content with her single, spinster lifestyle.

Diana smiled to herself at how big her niece had grown. Ten years old, time flies.

It still amazed her how much her life had changed and yet stayed the same. Working on cases of criminal masterminds, murders, and thieves most weeks, but also finding comfort and solace in the most secret of places right below the streets of NYC. Most cases she worked on, she was thanked for her service, and that was the end of, at times, months of work and with no further communication. Vincent and the world Below were the exception.

A growling stomach brought Diana back to the present. "Are you hungry? Your mom told me you like mac and cheese. And despite what she says, I can cook."

Alex nodded, following her aunt back into the main loft area. Her eyes settled on the blank blue board Diana used for work. "That's good. So, are you really off the whole week?"

"Yup, I'm yours all week. Do you want to catch a movie tonight or just-"

A sharp buzz from the intercom broke into her thoughts. With one last look around the room, she went to the buzzer and pressed the button. "Susan, Alex is fine-"

"Diana, it's Joe. I know you have the week off, but I need to see you."

Diana frowned at the intercom. How many times would her vacation get interrupted before it even got started? And yet, it was unlike the District Attorney to come in person to her apartment building on a Saturday. Maybe he just needed a lead on some case before he handed it off to his staff.

"Make it quick."

Diana turned and did a quick scan of the loft. Everything was set for her niece's stay. It still amazed her that Alex wanted to spend a week here, but then her sister was going out of town for her work. The rattle of the old gates in front of the elevator opening drew her attention as Joe stepped out.

"Hi, sorry-"

"Diana!"

Instinctively, Diana bent and scooped the little boy into a hug. Sandy blonde hair scratched her chin a moment before she pulled back to inspect him for any injuries. Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a simple red shirt, the child looked like any other. Only his jacket gave one pause with its frayed edges at the shoulders.

"What are… how did you get here?" Diana asked, staring into the child's blue eyes. "You're okay, right?"

Jacob nodded, taking a calming breath. 

Diana watched him a moment more. She didn't know the science or exact nature of the bond the child and his father shared, but she knew Vincent could feel Jake's calmness whenever he was near someone he knew. The last thing she needed was Vincent jumping over the city skyscrapers to reach his son. A feat Diana knew would happen in an instant if he sensed Jacob in any true danger.

"The kid said he wanted to see you," Joe said.

Diana glanced up at the edge in Joe's voice.

"Who’s that, Aunt Diana?” Alex asked.

Introductions were quickly made before the children settled in front of the TV. The chatter of Nickelodeon characters played in the background as Joe and Diana stepped over to her empty workstation.

The District Attorney tugged at the cuffs of his gray suit. His dark eyes shifted between the kids and Diana, suddenly uneasy.

“Joe, what is it?” Diana asked. “I told you I’m not taking a new case this week.”

“I know. Diana, how do you know this kid?”

“I rescued him and helped reunite him with his father; why?”

“Hm, I don’t remember that case.”

“I don’t only work with the DA’s office, Maxwell.” She swallowed a smile at those words. Maxwell had been the one who brought her attention to Catherine Chandler’s murder case, to begin with. Without him, who knew where Jacob, Vincent, and even Diana herself would be.

“Relax, Bennett, I was just saying my memory’s horrible. And I met him in the lobby just now, but this is the third time this month someone’s found this kid just wondering in Central Park.” He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “If this keeps up, I’ll have no choice but to call child services.”

“No, Joe, that’s not ness…”

“I don’t have a choice, Diana. The kid’s parents clearly don’t care.”

“That’s not true. His father fought like hell… heck for him after his mother…” Diana swallowed down the rage and bitterness. Over the years, she had tried to convince Vincent to share Jacob with Joe, but Vincent had been adamant that Joe would simply take his son if given the chance. His wounds from six years ago at the hands of Gabriel hadn’t left him unscarred. Even without a bond, Diana knew how tense Vincent became when his son left his sight.

Diana tried again. “I know the kid’s dad, Joe. He’s a wonderful man, but he likes to keep to himself. He has friends who come and help. You know the saying it takes a village? Well, that’s the approach he takes.”

“Is he…disabled?”

“No… like I said, he just likes to keep to himself.”

Joe took a breath. “If this happens again, I might have to speak to his father.”

“I’ll let him know, Joe. Trust me; the dad won’t let this happen again. Now was there something else you needed?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, Jenny and I wondered if you and Alex might enjoy a concert in the city this Tuesday night.”

“Who's playing?”

“It’s a special holiday program. All the favorites in Central Park.”

Diana raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you have another couple you can go with?”

“All of them begged off,” Joe smiled, teasingly. “Come on, Diana. It could be fun.”

Diana tapped her fingers against the desk in thought. “Not really my thing, but Susan might like Alex getting some ‘culture’ while she’s with me.”

Joe stuffed his hands into his pockets. “That’s the spirit. So, pick you guys up around 6:30??”

“I’ll let you know. Thanks, Joe.”

Diana led him back over the elevator.

Joe closed the gate and looked at her. “Just remember what I said.”

Diana nodded. Her hand rested tentatively against the grate as the elevator descended, and her mind raced. Joe couldn’t have been further from Vincent's truth, but there were still several questions unanswered. Why and how had Jacob become ‘lost’ for a third time when out in the city? Even when she journeyed Below, Jacob was always surrounded by an entourage of adults and children of various ages. While never given voice, Diana had long suspected the community had taken it upon themselves to keep Jacob safe. He was the rescued prince of the fairy tales Diana’s sister had loved as a kid.

“Is everything okay?” Alex asked.

Diana turned back with a smile. “Yeah. Hey Alex, can you go unpack some more? I need to talk to Jake alone, okay.”

Alex shrugged and went into the bedroom while Diana sat beside Jacob.

“Jake, how did you get here?” Her loft, unlike his mother’s apartment, was nowhere near the park.

“Climbed up the hole and then walked.”

“Alone?”

Jake nodded.

“Do you realize how dangerous that is?”

Jake shrugged.

“And your dad…how and where is he?”

Jake looked up at her. “He’s…okay. Sad sometimes.”

Diana studied the child for a moment. No matter how hard Vincent tried to hide his pain over the love of his life’s death, there were moments when the pain was too great. Could… the notion seemed too silly, but in Jacob’s innocence, could he have thought worry over his child was better than the pain of loss? Or, like his father, did Jacob feel at times stifled even by those he loved and needed to get away? Vincent took himself deeper into the earth or roamed through the shadows of night, but Jacob could walk the streets with little concern.

“Jake, have you been going out to Central Park by yourself?”

“No… got lost from the group.” His face lit up, recalling something. Jumping off the couch, he ran and retrieved his backpack. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

Diana took the tri-colored candle from his outstretched hand. Had it been a year already since the last Winterfest?

Jacob smiled. “Dad would like you to come. It’s this Friday.”

“Jake… I would like to, but I already have plans.”

“Work,” Jake said. 

Diana’s grin matched Jake’s teasing face. How was it that he knew her usual excuse by now? Though her heart did quicken its pace at the thought of seeing Vincent again. Her heart ached to realize it had been three months since she had last seen him.

“No, you silly. Alex is staying with me for a week and won’t leave until after Winterfest,” Diana said.

“But you have to come. Dad has this…” Jake pouted and pointed to the candle. “You just have to come, Diana.”

“Maybe next time, Jake.”

Jake pouted but made no further comment. 

“Cheer up, buddy. Alex, come out here,” Diana called. “Who wants some mac and cheese for lunch?”

 

Tap, Tap.

Diana glanced up at the rooftop window, where she could see a silhouette. She glanced at the clock and sighed. 1:30 am. Carefully, she roused Jake and led him to the roof.

Despite the lay of the roof blocking the worst of the chill, Diana tightened her jacket around herself. Her fingers briefly tightened around Jacob’s small hand as if to make certain he didn’t disappear from her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow shift and step forward.

Even after six years, it took a split second to recognize Vincent as he emerged from the shadows. The gentle breeze teased the ends of his long golden mane, his large, powerful body hidden beneath the large cloak he wore.

“Jake’s fine,” Diana said.

Vincent nodded and stepped forward to reclaim his son. Despite his size, Jacob still seemed like the slumbering infant she saw in his father’s arms during his naming ceremony. How was it possible so much time had passed?

“I think he got lost from the group delivering the Winterfest candles,” Diana continued.

Vincent’s sharp blue gaze rose to hers, confused. “Diana, we never deliver candles more than a few days in advance. And as I understand it, your niece is staying with you, isn’t she?”

Diana nodded as her gaze shifted between father and son. Why would Jake lie about something like that? And the candle had looked freshly made.

“Is… everything all right, Vincent?” Diana asked.

“Of course. Jacob might have gotten the dates wrong. He’s still learning, why do you ask?”

Diana turned and looked over the city. The twinkling lights a poor substitute for the stars their electric light hid in the night sky. Only the half waxing moon could be seen. And even that held no answers.

“Joe Maxwell came by earlier.” She turned back to Vincent. “He said Jake has been seen wandering around Central Park on his own. Why isn’t anyone with him?”

“Is he certain it’s Jacob?”

“Enough that he threatened legal action against the father. Vincent, why can’t we just tell him the truth?”

“Do you think he would allow me to raise Catherine’s child?”

“You wouldn’t know unless you try.”

Vincent watched her for a moment. Diana stood her ground even as her body felt like squirming beneath such an intense gaze.

“And there’s something else I wanted to ask,” Diana said.

Vincent nodded for her to continue.

“You’ve been avoiding me these past two months.” She peered over at him. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No.” He paused; his eyes flicked to the ground. “I’ve just been busy.”

Diana sighed. She could admit that they both tended to become obsessed with whatever task they had. They were both guilty of canceling plans or just not showing up if something more important came up.

“Well…Jake said you wanted to see me. So, what do you need to…” Her voice trailed off as Jake yawned against Vincent’s shoulder.

Vincent shifted his son into a more comfortable position. “I should go. Jake needs his rest, and you do too. I’ll come to see you soon.”

Diana offered a small smile. “Good night, then, Vincent.”

“Good night, Diana.”

Diana followed his retreat until father and son had vanished into the darkness. 

 

Sunlight streamed in through the long row of windows. Diana stretched and pushed stray pieces of red hair from her face with a frustrated sigh. Vincent’s late-night visit hadn’t gone as well as she had hoped. Why would Jake lie about Winterfest? He clearly thought his father wanted to tell her something, but what? And what was the reason behind Jacob’s escape acts? None of it made any sense.

Rolling onto her side, she blew out a breath of frustration. How could she get into the minds of the most deranged and sick criminals but have not a clue where to start on this puzzle? One thing at a time, she told herself.

“Morning, Aunt Diana,” Alex said.

Diana swung her legs over the bed. “Morning, Alex. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, the bed was comfy.” Alex eyed the pullout bed Diana had slept in. “Did you?”

“Yes.” Diana patted the mattress beneath her. “I’ve certainly slept in worse places. Now, how about some breakfast?”

Together, aunt and niece tucked the pullout bed back into the couch, and Alex grabbed the remote. She flipped through the channels as Diana got up and went over to the kitchen area.

“Do pancakes sound good?” Diana asked.

Alex’s head popped over the couch. “Yum, with blueberries?”

“And maple syrup, coming right up,” Diana said, smiling. “Anything else?”

“No, but…” Alex’s eyes scanned the opened loft. “Will Jake be joining us?”

“Ah, no. Jake’s Dad came and got him last night.”

Alex propped her hands on the back of the couch and pointed upward. “Is that who you were talking to up on the roof last night?”

2 

Allison

 

"Yeah, I'm sorry if we woke you. Jake's dad came to find him when he didn't return with the other children. He was getting worried and wasn't sure if he was here, but this was the first place he thought of after checking where he usually goes and not finding him. Come on, you wanna help me make these pancakes?"

Alex nodded, and they set about getting their day started.

 

Across town, Joe was in his office, going over some paperwork for the Mitch Denton appeal that was coming up in a few weeks. There was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called without looking up.

He heard footsteps come closer to his desk after hearing the door closed. He looked up into the vivid blue eyes of Talia Winters, 5'8, dressed in a black business suit, her long blonde hair framing her lovely face.

"Miss Winters, what can I do for you?"

"I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed for the Nolan appeal," Talia answered as she took a seat across from him.

"Yes, Catherine Chandler was very thorough when she prosecuted the original case. Your notes regarding Jonathan Nolan's injuries and his home life helped her win that case."

"I'm glad I could help." Talia smiled a small coy smile.

"Can I ask you a question?" Joe inquired.

"Sure," she replied.

"Have you had any reports of a little boy, about five or six years old, wandering Central Park on his own?"

"There have been several reports.  But nothing we can substantiate. We really haven't been able to locate him or his family in order to investigate further. All the reports said was that the child was about five or six, clothes look old but clean, and not ragged. He looked to be well-nourished—no visible bruises. Every time someone saw him and tried to get close enough to restrain him, he'd run away. He didn't seem to run to anyone, just vanishing into the trees. When they went to check, he was nowhere to be found.  Why?"

"I happened to run into a young boy at a colleague's place last night. Dressed exactly as you described. She told me his father dropped him off to see her. I didn't make too much of it since she seemed to know the child." Joe tried not to look too guilty, telling the white lie to her.

"Can you tell me this colleague's name at least so I can ask her some questions to make sure the child is okay? I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't check this out to see if this is the same child."

"Diana Bennett," Joe told her.

"Thanks, Mr. Maxwell. I appreciate the information."

"Please, call me Joe. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, I must get back to my office. Like you, the work never waits."

"So true, Miss Winters, so true."

"Talia, please."

Joe and Talia rose at the same time. She extended her hand, and as Joe clasped it, a little electric shock shook him. He held her hand a moment longer, then let go. Escorting her to his door, he held it open.

"Nice meeting you, Talia."

"Likewise, Joe."

She shyly slipped past him, and he watched her as she walked down the hallway. Shaking his head in reproach for his thoughts, he returned to his desk and again started poring over the paperwork in front of him.

 

Talia returned to her office and started pacing. How can I defuse this situation with the DA's office? Talia thought. I've got to think of something and get a message to Vincent to keep an eye on little Jake.

Talia composed a message. Soon, it was on its way with Benny to be delivered to Vincent via the Helpers network.

"That's all I can do for now. I'm sure I'll be hearing from Mr. Maxwell again," she said aloud. 

She then returned to her desk, where she called her secretary and asked her to pull all the recent reports on a child seen in Central Park. The secretary returned a few minutes later with a thin folder. Talia quickly looked through it and then put the file into the bottom drawer of her desk. 

 

Diana and Alex finished eating their pancakes and were cleaning up the kitchen after the batter fight they had while making them, laughing and giggling along the way.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Diana asked.

"Can we go to the park? Maybe Jake will be there." Alex said as she put the towel back in the door handle of the refrigerator.

"We can go to the park, but I'm not sure Jake will be there. He may have chores to do, and he may be in trouble for showing up here yesterday on his own." Diana grabbed her army field jacket and helped Alex into her denim jacket.

"Oh." Alex pouted a little.

The short time Alex had spent with the child made her wish for a little brother. She thanked Diana and ran to push the button for the loft elevator. "Come on," she insisted.

Diana laughed and went to join her. They rode the elevator to the ground floor, and together they went out into the bright sunshine, ready to start their day.

 3 

cb mcwhorter

 

Vincent watched his little boy inhale a bowl of oatmeal. Beside him, Father chuckled.

“You were like that at his age. Voracious.”

“I thought that was when I was a teenager?”

Father chuckled again. “You were always voracious. It just took more to feed you when you were bigger.”

“I see.” Vincent finished his muffin and contemplated having another, but the conversation made him self-conscious, and he decided against it. He went back to staring at his son. “Jacob.” He finally said.

The boy smiled at him.

“Why did you go to Diana’s yesterday?”

“I wanted to see her,” the boy said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“If you wanted to see her, Jacob, you should have said something to your father or to me,” Father said. “You know that you shouldn’t just leave home like that.”

“I know the way,” Jacob said.

“I’m glad you do,” his father said. “But son, you don’t leave the Tunnels alone. You don’t leave the Hub without permission. Those are rules for all the children, and you’ve known them since you could talk.”

“You go Above,” Jacob said, sounding rebellious now.

Vincent nodded. “But I didn’t when I was your age. Do you have any idea how worried Mary was when we couldn’t find you?”

“That wasn’t a kind thing to do to Mary,” Father said.

Jacob frowned about that until he thought of something. “She wasn’t there.”

“That’s right,” Father said. “You were with Samantha. And nowhere near an entrance to Above.” He leaned across the table. “You’ve done this several times now, Jacob. You’ve put yourself and our community at risk. Do you know what that means?”

Jacob looked uncertain.

“You’re old enough to know that our world stays safe by staying secret. No one goes Above without making sure someone knows where they are, not even your father. And we do not do anything to draw Topsiders’ attention to us. The police have noticed you walking in the park alone.” Jacob looked at Father with alarm. “Yes, they have,” Father said. “the man you met in Diana’s lobby knew that. He’s a lawyer for the police, and he was very stern with Diana.”

“Why?”

“Because, up in the city of New York, only bad parents let their little children wander alone.”

“Daddy’s not bad!” Jacob cried.

“No, he’s not. He’s not the one breaking the rules.”

Jacob reddened. “I was.”

“No bedtime stories for a week,” Father said sternly.

“NO!” the little boy started to tear up. “Daddy!”

Vincent shook his head. “I was ready to make it two weeks, but your grandfather talked me out of it.”

“No!” Jacob wailed.

“You should know that you’re not the only one in trouble,” Father said. “Samantha was the one who was supposed to be watching you lot and keeping you safe. She lost track of you. She didn’t do her job.”

“No! Grandpa, wait!” But Father had risen from the table and was walking towards Samantha. “Don’t!” Jacob whined, to no avail. Father tapped Samantha on the shoulder and motioned her to follow him out of the dining chamber.

Jacob sniffled.

“You should know that the decisions you make have an effect on more people than just yourself, my son,” Vincent said. “Good and bad.”

“But it wasn’t Samantha’s fault,” the boy said.

“Of course, it was. She should have known as soon as you left. She should have kept you out of trouble. You’re still little. You were her responsibility.

“Were you trying to go see Diana the other times you went to the park?”

Jacob shook his head. “One time, I wanted to see the carousel.”

“And yesterday?”

“I wanted to see Diana. I wanted to tell her to come see us.”

“Why?”

“Because I miss her as much as you do, Daddy!”

Vincent sat back, reaching for his tea to cover the look on his face. It was a futile gesture, really, to try to hide his feelings from his son. The boy knew them no matter what he said or what expression he schooled onto his face.

“Why are you keeping away from her, Daddy? She loves us.”

Vincent looked at him sharply. “She’ll be here for Winterfest. Which is not this Friday. You told her a lie, Jacob. You’re having a bad week.”

Red-faced, Jacob stared at his hands. “I should tell her sorry,” he muttered.

His father nodded. “When you see her next. But you must not leave us again.”

“No, Daddy. I promise.”

Moments later, Samantha came back into the dining chamber, cheeks flaming. As she walked by Jacob, she bent to hiss in his ear, “Thanks a lot, Jacob!”

The little boy startled and watched her walk away. “Where’s she going?” he said.

“Probably kitchen duty,” Vincent said.

Jacob hung his head and cried. 

 

They started at the Park entrance near Strawberry Fields, where Diana was surprised to learn that Alex actually knew the song. She knew the whole album, in fact.

“You know how Dad is about the Beatles,” she said.

Well, yes, Diana knew, but that didn’t mean she expected Alex to listen, really.

They rented bicycles and toured most of that end of the Park. They returned the bikes and wandered down the street to find lunch in a little café that had sandwiches but specialized in pastry.

Diana had a thought over her coffee. “Hey,” she said. “What did you bring to wear to a concert?”

Alex licked whipped cream off her spoon. “I didn’t bring anything like a skirt.”

“Nice slacks?”

“Probably not nice enough that Mom would approve.”

“I guess we go shopping,” Diana said.

Alex put her wrist to her forehead. “It’s a sacrifice I guess I have to make.”

“When did you start liking shopping?”

“Since Mom started letting me make some of my own choices.”

Diana laughed. “You are SUCH a Bennett!” 

 

Kipper looked up to find a pair of blue eyes staring through the gap in the stone he was supposed to be monitoring. He jumped up, feeling guilty. The eyes backed away as he approached the peer-hole. “Oh!” he said, smiling. “I didn’t hear you!”

“Gotcha!” Talia said. “What are you reading?”

“Biology. Algae. It’s cool enough, I guess.”

“Only ‘cause it’s slimy.” They grinned at each other. “I’m here to see Father and Vincent. Should you announce me?”

“I can if you want.” He shrugged.

“I guess you should follow the rules. We don’t need a grumpy Pascal.”

“Definitely not. It’s good to see you.”

“Take care!” she said. As she walked down the passage, the pipes began to ring.

Father was waiting for her. “My dear girl!” he said as she hugged him tight.

“How are you?” she said.

“Talia,” she heard from behind her.

“Vincent!” she spun and hugged him.

“So what brings you here?” he asked. “You sent a message.”

He held his hand out for her coat and waved her to a chair. She sat and happily looked about her. “This room never seems to change,” she said. “And yet, every time I come, there are more books.”

Vincent eased into a chair across from her. “We have given up trying to control Father’s addiction.”

She giggled. “I’m sure he can stop whenever he wants.”

Father harrumphed. “That’s enough out of you two.” As he passed by her chair, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Mind if I have a look?”

She tilted her head to the side so he could inspect her neck. She had her hair yanked up into a ponytail, a look she never allowed herself up Top. But she was going home this evening, and everyone there knew her from when the burns looked much worse. Father lightly ran his finger down her throat, ignoring the little frisson of energy that came with touching Talia.  “She got it so smooth,” he marveled.

“I know,” she said. “I admit that I had my doubts, but this is amazing. I mean, after all these years…”

“I assume you use makeup to even out the color change?”

“Yeah. She said it will always be paper white. But she also said that there’s such a thing as a therapeutic tattoo.”

“What’s that?” Vincent asked.

“Instead of drawing pictures, the artist colors the skin to match the rest.”

Father blinked at that. “Why has no one thought of this before?” he said. “There have been tattoos for … ever.”

“Are you going to do that?” Vincent asked.

“I think I might.”

“Could be painful,” Father said.

“Not there. No sensory nerves, remember?”

Father smiled ruefully at the lovely young woman before him, remembering the viciously burned little girl he’d first met. “I wish I’d had those tools then,” he said softly.

She squeezed his hand. “You had the tools for the healing I needed most,” she said. “Me and Mom.”

Father sat and started to pour tea. “So what information have you brought us?”

She took a cup and sipped appreciatively. “The District Attorney has interested himself in a little boy he has seen in the Park. And whom he met at a colleague’s apartment.”

“Diana’s,” Vincent said.

She looked at him in surprise. “He mentioned a Diana Bennett. That’s your Diana?”

Vincent stopped himself from denying Diana was his. It opened a line of thought he preferred to avoid. “She loves us,” he heard his son say.

“Diana rescued Jacob from his kidnapper,” he said.

And the child’s mother’s killer. Every Helper knew the story. “I’ll have to talk to her,” she said. “I told Maxwell I would.”

“Does Mr. Maxwell live near the Park now, since he’s there so often?” Father mused.

“Not really,” Talia said. “He goes there because Catherine used to walk there so much. He always scolded her for walking there, and now he goes himself.”

The men looked at her for a moment. Vincent shifted in his chair. “That’s good to know.”

“It wouldn’t do to run into him, would it?” Father said.

Vincent shrugged. “He wouldn’t see me.”

“What else did you learn?” Father asked.

“I think he’s subconsciously registered a similarity between Jacob and his mother. It makes him feel protective.”

“What does he want with Jacob?”

“Nothing other than to be sure he’s safe and well. He feels he’s abandoned Catherine’s baby.”

“Anything else?” Father said.

She shook her head. “I only shook his hand for a moment. I think it’s useful that those were his most prominent thoughts. I might get more if – when – I talk to him on the phone.”

Vincent shifted again, staring at the threadbare rug under his feet.

“You’re fretting,” she said. “It will be OK.”

He cast her a beleaguered glare. “Get out of my head,” he said.

She laughed. “That’s not from contact with you,” she said. “That’s from interviewing bazillions of worried fathers. You look just like one.”

“Well, Jacob has promised to stop solitary trips Above,” he said. “He became upset when Samantha got in trouble for losing track of him. Hopefully, he won’t seek to find a way to escape without getting someone else in trouble. I don’t know what’s gotten into the boy.”

“He’s school age, now,” she said. “He’s starting to think in terms of independence. It will take a while before he entertains adolescent rebellion, though.”

She grinned as Vincent threw his head back and groaned. “Don’t even mention it!”

“Do you have anything as prosaic as a phone number for Diana?” she asked. “She and I need to talk.”

“I actually do,” Vincent said.

“What has she said of this?”

“She thinks she should tell Joe the truth. At least some of it.”

“You don’t like that.”

“No,” he growled.

“What worries you about that?”

“He’s a powerful man,” he said. “If he decides to take Jacob away, what would stop him?”

She blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected that. “The law,” she said flatly. “You don’t just interfere with other people’s parental rights.”

“He already threatened to call child services,” Vincent reminded her.

“The distance between those two steps is enormous. And Maxwell has a well-earned reputation for respecting the law. I see no need for you to worry about that,” she pointed out. “Also, Diana and I can put our heads together and find a way to reassure him about the child in the Park.” She accepted a refill of tea from Father. “Thing is, he’s still in pain over Catherine. I think the unresolved guilt over the baby is in the way. But word is that he’s dating someone. He’s trying to move on, which is good.”

She grinned. “Speaking of dating, what’s this I hear about a handfasting for William and Su?”

Father grinned and launched into plans for a ceremony at Winterfest.

“Wait, who’s cooking for Winterfest if William is getting married?”

Father rolled his eyes. “William is, of course, and there’s no talking him out of it.”

“Actually, it’s an ingenious plan for him to get out of clean-up,” Vincent said.

“And how’s Chris?” Father asked. He relished her dreamy smile. After five years, still dreamy. Good.

“Doing great!” she said. “Graduating soon!”

“I hope we’ll get to help celebrate that?” Father said. 

 

Vincent stood over his sleeping son. The boy missed Diana. As much as Vincent, he said. Unfortunately, it seemed unavoidable that he sensed his father’s heart just as Vincent could sense his. And it seemed increasingly likely that Jacob could sense Diana.

“She loves us.”

Vincent knew she loved them. Every day, he felt her love more and more. He quailed in guilt every time he thought of it, and he spent a fair part of his day feeling guilty. How could he betray Catherine like this? Given a choice, he would never entertain any feelings for any other woman. Ever.

But it seemed that his heart, or his psyche, or whatever part of his being governed his formations of attachment had overridden his choice.

He’d taught young Talia how to live with her inborn talent. How to detach her own feelings and thoughts from those she read from people she touched. But apparently, he hadn’t learned much about controlling his own gift.

But it wasn’t someone else’s feelings he was fighting against, was it?

The last time he saw Diana, it was all he could do to refrain from touching her. He felt how much she wanted to touch him. He felt her mortification at her own yearning and wanted to ease her mind. But what did that say about him? Why should she want someone who could be so faithless?

Father had turned to Devin’s mother when his world went dark, and he suffered guilt over that lapse for the rest of his life. In his self-castigation, Vincent discounted the cogent facts that at the time, Margaret had still been alive, and Grace dead during childbirth and Father felt guilty for losing Grace as well as for cheating on his wife. And he never once asked himself what Father would advise him to do.

He had hoped that staying away from Diana would ease both their yearnings. All he’d succeeded in doing was cause pain. And somehow, his son had acted on all these feelings and gotten some very inconvenient strangers involved.

And he needed to talk to Diana about this. Talia seemed to see Maxwell as less of a threat than he’d thought. (Had she nearly laughed at him?) Maybe Diana had more insights to offer.

So, he needed to go Above. It was late enough that young Alex should be asleep. 

 

He jumped down to the terrace and looked through the skylight. Diana was in the pull-out bed, apparently asleep. He took a deep breath and tapped on the window.

She sat up at once, and the wave of hope that met him nearly choked him up. She smiled up at him as she retrieved shoes and a coat from its hook, and then she was through the door.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry for the hour,” he said.

She gave him quite the sardonic look. “How’s the adventurer?”

“Chastened, I think. He’s promised to follow the rules.”

She chuckled. “For now.”

“Not very reassuring,” he said. She waited. “Has Talia Winters talked to you yet?”

“She left a voice mail, but I’ve been all over town with Alex. Which has been even more fun than I thought it would be.”

Which he knew, but he wouldn’t hint at that. “What have you been up to?”

“We actually went to a concert tonight. Me, a concert, would you believe?”

“Did she like it?”

“She actually did, and actually, so did I. We decided that we’d been prepared for it by all those old Looney Tunes cartoons.”

“How so?”

“They used classical music for a lot of their background music. And Bugs Bunny actually adapted some opera for the characters to sing.”

“Really?”

“Chasing a wabbit…” she sang under her breath before she blushed and stopped. “I’ll have to show you sometime.” She cleared her throat, and he decided that her embarrassment was adorable. “Anyway, I’ll call her back. Wait. How do you know about her?”

“Would you believe she’s a Helper?”

She gave a laugh. “You guys have ins to everything, don’t you? You should use your powers to run the city. It would be better.”

“Perish the thought.”

By this time, they were leaning on the wall, looking down at the street. She shivered, and he mightily restrained himself from wrapping his cloak around her. He used a turn to face her as an excuse to take a step away. “Talia seems to think that Joe Maxwell is still mourning Catherine. That he feels guilty about not making sure her child is well.”

“How does she know this?” Good Lord, did he say that out loud to a social worker?

“Talia has … a gift. If you don’t want her to know every thought in your head, don’t touch her. He shook her hand.”

“And the first thing she saw was his love for Catherine?”

“His guilt for abandoning her child.” Vincent stopped so suddenly that Diana turned away from the lights of the street below to question him. She realized that he was staring past her shoulder just as she heard the scrape of slippers on the tiles.

Oh, no.

“Wow,” said Alex from behind her. “You’re beautiful.”

Diana spun around. “Alex…”

The girl shrugged. “It’s too late, isn’t it?’ she said. “I’ve seen him.” She ignored her aunt’s glare. “I mean, that’s why you’re meeting up here in the cold, so I don’t see him, right? You’re going to have to hypnotize me.”

“It just so happens I know how to do that,” Vincent said.

“How do you know we aren’t meeting so no one overhears our conversation?” Diana said, before shock at Vincent’s comment set in.

“Cool!” Alex squealed. “Can you show me how? And you’re not working, Aunt Diana, so he’s not here for work.” She stuck a hand out towards Vincent. “I’m Alex.”

He gravely shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard much about you. I’m Vincent.”

“I wish I could say I’ve heard about you.”

Diana sighed. “I guess we might as well go in, since it’s, um, cold out here. And you’re up,” she glared at her niece some more. The niece ran to the door to open it for them, bowing as the adults passed by.

“I’ll put water on for cocoa,” Alex said and ran to the kitchen.

The adults sat in the chairs flanking the tousled bed. “So, does she have a suggestion about what to do about Joe?” Diana asked.

“Actually, she agrees with you,” he said miserably.

“She had to have said more than that.”

“She thinks that the two of you can come up with enough to satisfy him about the boy he saw here at your place. That maybe you can disconnect him from the sightings in the Park. And that at some later date, you can tell him more about Catherine’s child.”

Alex appeared with a tray of mugs, handing one to Vincent before perching on Diana’s chair to hand her another. “Who’s Catherine?” The adults glanced at each other uncomfortably. “Uh oh,” Alex said. “Did I put my foot in something?”

Vincent sighed. “Catherine is Jacob’s mother.”

When he said nothing more, she said, “And you’re his father.”

He nodded.

“Good,” she said. They looked askance at her. “What?” she said. “People should have good parents.”

“You think I’m a good father?” he said.

Alex glanced at her aunt. “Isn’t he?”

“Actually, he’s awesome.”

“So what’s the big?”

In spite of himself, Vincent chuckled.

“And what does Joe need to know about Jacob for?”

“Do you know Joe Maxwell?” he asked.

“We went to the concert with him and Jenny tonight,” Alex said.

Diana shot Vincent a wry look.

“Jenny?” he asked.

“Yes. He’s dating Jenny Aronson.”

“Catherine’s Jenny?”

“Why Catherine’s Jenny?” Alex asked.

“She and Catherine were best friends,” Diana replied.

More awkwardness. “This is a really long story, isn’t it?” Alex asked.

The adults nodded. “And you’re not going to tell me, are you?” Alex persisted.

Diana sighed. “I’ll tell you a little. Later.” She shrugged at Vincent when he raised his eyebrows. She was going to have to say something. The kid was too persistent.

“You can practice on her for Joe,” Vincent said.

“Is Joe her best friend, too?”

“He was her boss,” Diana said. “And that’s all for now.”

Alex sighed dramatically. “I’ve just about finished my cocoa, anyway. I guess I’ll take myself back to bed before I’m sent.”

Vincent smiled. The kid was irresistible. “It was a pleasure to have cocoa with you.”

“Likewise. And I’m guessing I don’t get to tell people I’ve met you, do I?”

“Would anyone believe you?”

She pondered. “In that case, I could tell people everything, and they’ll just call me imaginative.”

“We’ll talk about this,” Diana said repressively.

Alex grinned and kissed Diana on the cheek, leaving behind her cocoa mustache. She skipped to the bedroom. Diana rolled her eyes and wiped her cheek.

Vincent chuckled and shook his head. “Is she anything like you were?”

“Way too much.”

“What do you plan to tell her?”

“Bare bones about Catherine. Bare bones about you and how you stay out of the public eye.” Sighing, she put her mug down. “But then she might search things on the internet until she learns far too much.”

“What could she find?” he asked nervously.

“There might be newspaper articles about how Joe became District Attorney, and she might find Catherine, and I’ll figure it out from there. If all she gets is what’s on the Net, it’ll be easy to deal with.”

“What else would there be?”

“This I do not know. I haven’t checked lately. I’ll take a look.”

He finished his cocoa and waved the mug. “This isn’t as bad as one would anticipate.”

She laughed, and he felt an inner glow. He’d made her laugh. It felt good.

“I’ll think about Joe. Between you and Talia, you’ve made me feel sorry for him. If anyone knows what it is to love Catherine, to mourn her… I am his brother in that, I suppose.”

“There’s so much more to consider, though,” she said.

“Are you backing off, now?”

“Just anticipating your next argument.”

He shook his head. “I’m bedeviled by people who are much too perceptive. You and Talia and your niece is well on her way to following in your footsteps.”

“God, I hope not. There are other uses for this gift. Sometimes I wish I’d looked for those, instead, myself.”

“Forgive me for saying I’m glad you didn’t.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. He thought of pointing out that without her, he’d never have found Jacob, but if he were honest with himself, it wasn’t what he meant this time. He felt his cheeks warm, and he looked down into his empty mug. Talia talked about Joe’s inability to move on. Did his friends talk about his own inability to move on? He gave himself a mental shake. Too much for one night.

He looked at Diana. She’d collected herself. “I think we’ll need to talk some more about all this,” he said.

She made a face. “Yeah. We’ll figure it out. We always do. The main thing is to keep Jake out of the spotlight.”

“Let’s hope that’s not a tall order.” He stood. “He wants to see you.”

“Alex goes home Saturday afternoon.”

“Sunday, then? Lunchtime?”

Her smile lit the room.  “I’ll come to the Park entrance.”

 4

T'Mara

 

Diana did not find much sleep that night. She had a lot to think about. Alex, for instance. She would have to talk to her niece in the morning and give her some explanation. But what exactly should she tell her? How much of the truth could a ten-year-old be trusted with? And how much of it all was suitable for such a young girl? After all, the whole affair surrounding Catherine's abduction and death, little  Jacob's birth, Gabriel, and his minions, all this had been a traumatic experience for herself as well as for Vincent and everybody else Below. How much of it could and should she reveal to her niece?

Diana tossed on her bed. How much might Alex find out on her own? How much of all those events had transpired to the public? How much could still be found on the internet? Definitely the part about Moreno's demise and Joe Maxwell becoming the new District Attorney, but had the news back then reported a connection between that occurrence and Catherine Chandler's death? What about Burch? The fire at the Burch Tower, the explosion of the “Compass Rose” - had any of these events been presented as even remotely connected to the Chandler case?

Diana was not sure anymore. Too much had been going on back then; she had not really had time to follow the news. True, she had checked it out later, once Gabriel had been dealt with, and Vincent had safely returned home with his son. But of course, she had scanned the reports mostly to make sure they contained no hints that could lead to the discovery of the world Below and had not paid much attention to other details. She would have to check the old news again, preferably before she talked to Alex, in order to reach a decision about how much – or how little – she could tell her.

Diana got up. Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, now was as good a time as any to have a look at her computer. Carefully, so as not to wake Alex again, she picked up her laptop and moved to the kitchen.

Once she’d searched all that was relevant, Diana found it difficult to concentrate on what she found. Sure, the part about Catherine, her relationship with Vincent, Joe, and Jenny, was part of what she must tell Alex, but that was only half the story.  Since her niece had met not only little Jacob but Vincent as well, Diana knew she would have to reveal at least some details about Below.

Diana bit her lips. That was the trickiest part of it all and the one she felt most uncomfortable about. In all those years since she first had met Vincent, she had never before talked about Below to anybody other than a Helper. Now she would have to give her niece some information about Vincent's world.

She was reasonably certain that Alex was able to keep a secret if she was made to understand that the safety of a large group of people depended on whether or not she talked about what she had learned – or better: who she had met - at her aunt's loft, but still. As much as she trusted the girl, Alex was only a child, smart for her age, true, but a child nevertheless. And could she really ask Alex to keep whatever kind of information she would give her from her parents? Wouldn't it be fair to share all that with her sister and brother-in-law as well in order to spare her niece the conflict of keeping a secret from her parents?

There was also the fact to consider that Alex and Jacob had seemed to bond the other night. Even before she knew that there was some mystery involved, Alex had hoped to meet Jake again the day they had been to the park. She had obviously genuinely liked the boy. Wouldn't she beg Diana to take her Below, once she learned about this World, not just out of curiosity, but also to meet her little friend again, especially, since given the current situation, it was unlikely that Jake would be allowed Above any time soon?

Diana sighed. And what about Jake? Would he want to see Alex again? What if the two kids wanted to stay in contact? Was there a way that could be arranged without actually taking Alex Below?

One step at a time, Diana decided, and she once again tried to concentrate on her screen. She would worry about that later. Now she needed to decide how much she could tell Alex and what topics or names she could safely omit. According to the news available on the internet, they did not seem connected to Catherine in any way.

It was close to 8 a.m. when Diana finally had a rough idea of what to tell Alex. Joe was, of course, a different case. Once – if – she and/or Talia would tell him about Jake, they could not be quite as vague. After all, he had played a role in the investigation of Catherine's death, he knew too many details. He had even met Father! But the talk with Joe could wait; Alex was the problem at hand.

Diana shut down her laptop and decided to get ready for the day. Alex would wake up soon... 

 

Diana emerged from the bathroom after a long refreshing shower to find Alex sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Storytime!” the youngster yelled excitedly.

“Breakfast first,” Diana tried to stall for time. Even though she now had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to say, she was not looking forward to this conversation at all.

Alex jumped up, took a bottle of milk from the fridge, and started to rummage through the kitchen cabinet.

“Where do you keep the bowls?” she asked moments later, victoriously waving a carton of cornflakes. “Breakfast is coming up right now, and you can tell me while we eat!”

“Okaaaay,” Diana knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable any longer. She quickly put two bowls and spoons on the table and sat down with her niece.

“You know, I thought about it a bit last night,” Alex began. “I think I have figured out a few details.”

“Oh, have you?” Diana teased her. “Then why do you need me to tell you the story?” She decided to listen to Alex's theory first and to take it from there.

“Yeah,” Alex began, “there are a few things I already know, like you know Joe from work, Catherine – Jake's mother, and even though said it, I think she is dead – anyway, this Catherine worked for Joe. Vincent is Jake's father, but obviously not close to Joe or Jenny, who was Catherine's best friend, since he did not know that the two are dating.

“Okay, okay,” Alex continued after quickly catching her breath, “I get it. Apparently, I was not meant to meet Vincent, and maybe Catherine was like you and did not want her acquaintances to meet him, am I right?”

Diana nodded. “As you can imagine, it might not be safe for Vincent if too many people knew about his existence,” she explained. “Scientists, doctors, genetics experts, etc., would have a field day, using him for all sorts of experiments. That is also the reason why I must ask you to keep his existence a secret.”

Alex frowned. “It would practically make Jake an orphan if his dad were carted off to some research facility, wouldn’t it?” she asked, “Since his mom is already dead.”

“It most definitely would be devastating and very traumatic for Jake,” Diana agreed. She was touched by her niece's concern for the boy.

“But what I don't understand, how did you meet Vincent, if he’s such a big secret?” Alex continued. “It can’t have been through Joe or Jenny since they don't know. Was it Catherine? Did you work on a case with her once? Did she tell you? But why would she have told you if she hadn't even told her best friend, Jenny? And how did she get to know Vincent?”

“One question after the other,” Diana interrupted Alex's ramblings. “First, Catherine met Vincent when he saved her life. She had been assaulted, and he found her lying injured in Central Park and brought her to a place where her injuries could be treated.” That had to be enough for the moment. She was not going to start this conversation with talk about Below.

“I never met Catherine, but I investigated her murder,” she therefore quickly jumped to another one of Alex's questions.

Alex's eyes grew as big as saucers, and her jaw dropped. “Murdered?” she gasped. “Jake's mom was murdered? I thought maybe she had been sick, or maybe there had been an accident... Does Jake know?”

“Jake is still too young to know all the details,” Diana mumbled. Truth be told, with the connection between the boy and his father, she was not exactly sure how much Jake – albeit probably subconsciously - already knew.

“How old was he when...?” Alex suddenly felt reluctant to say it out loud.

“He had just been born,” Diana explained. “He never had a chance to meet his mother.” She gave Alex a short overview of what had happened approximately six years ago. How Catherine had disappeared pretty much without a trace while investigating an assassination attempt on Joe, how a couple months later her body had been found in her own apartment, and how during the autopsy it had been revealed that she had given birth shortly before her death.

“And Jake?” Alex was now listening with bated breath. “Where was he?”

“Patience, my dear, I am getting to it! Anyway, that's where I came in,” Diana explained. “I was put in charge of the investigation. It was a very complex situation, and it took a while to figure it all out, but while working on that case, I met Vincent.”

“Or rather, I stumbled across him,” she added with a smile, recalling how she had found an injured and feverish Vincent lying on Catherine's grave. What a strange coincidence it had been that she had chosen that very night to go to the cemetery! She had suddenly had a feeling that maybe visiting Catherine's grave could give her some insight into the case. But from the moment she had found the injured man – Catherine's lover – her life had taken a whole new turn.

Diana stared at her cornflakes, unable to speak, momentarily overwhelmed by the realization of just how strong her feelings for Vincent had become over the past few years.

“You are blushing!” Alex smirked.

“What? No, I … I mean, I was just thinking....”

“Sure you are blushing,” Alex insisted. “You like him, don't you? And him? Does he like you? Are you two dating? I mean, since Catherine is dead, he is available, right?”

A thought suddenly struck the girl. “That would be so cool!” she exclaimed. “If you and Vincent married, Jake would be my cousin!”

Diana laughed, a slightly embarrassed laugh. “Well, I have to disappoint you, my dear, but Vincent and I, we are not dating.”

Alex gave her a strange look. “Can't fool me,” she thought. She knew her aunt well enough, and she was absolutely certain that Diana and Vincent were very close. After all, Jake obviously had been here before, and for such a young boy to find his way to Diana's loft, it was clear that he must have come here very often. Also, Vincent had mentioned that Diana had told him about herself, Alex. If Aunt Diana discussed her relatives with a man, she must have a very close relationship with him. No, Alex was certain that Vincent and Diana were more than casual acquaintances. But she also realized that she would not get a confirmation of her suspicion out of Diana right now. So she thought it best to change the topic – and to keep her eyes and ears open.

“So you met Vincent while working on that case,” she stated. “But where was Jake at that time?”

Diana knew that she was treading on thin ice here. That was the part of the story that had not been covered too well in the news, and she did not want to reveal too many details about what had happened back then.

“Well, the people that had abducted Catherine had somehow found out about Vincent and wanted to get their hands on him,” she explained. That was technically true, even though it was only half the truth. She did not want to tell Alex that Gabriel had planned to turn Vincent into a killing machine and to use him as breeding stock for blood-thirsty monsters. Let her believe that whoever had abducted Catherine had wanted Vincent only for scientific experiments.

“They used Catherine as bait. It took Vincent a long time to figure out where they held her, and when he finally found out, she had just given birth. The kidnappers were afraid that the police might have found their traces and left. They could not take Catherine, who was weakened by the birth, with them, but feared she might be able to tell the police a lot about them, so they injected her with a deadly poison and left her to die. They kept the baby as bait for Vincent.”

“And you met Vincent, and together you found Jake?” Alex asked.

“Well, yes, that's more or less what happened,” Diana agreed, glad that she did not need to provide any more details. “Though we did have some help,” she added. Now was the time to hint at Below. “Joe did play an important role, as did some … friends. Father, for instance.”

“Father?” Alex looked puzzled. “Your and mom's dad died years ago!”

“No, not my dad,” Diana explained. “Vincent's dad, everybody that knows him calls him Father.”

“Vincent's father?” Alex was excited. “What is he like? Does he look like Vincent? And have you met Vincent's mom as well?”

Diana laughed. “No, Father is just an ordinary elderly gentleman, and he is not really Vincent's father; he just raised him. You see, Vincent is a foundling; he was abandoned as a baby, and Father took him in. And before you ask, we know nothing about his real parents or why he looks the way he does.”
Alex nodded. She could imagine that parents would be scared if for one reason or another, their baby looked like Vincent and that they might have wanted to get rid of such a child.

“But it must have been hard for this Father-person to raise a child like Vincent,” she mused. “What did the neighbors think, and where did Vincent go to school and all that.”

Diana nodded. “There were, of course, some problems, like whenever Vincent got sick, for even though Father is a doctor, he could never be certain how Vincent would react to treatment or medication. But schooling was never a problem since Father taught Vincent himself. And as to neighbors... well, they live in a secluded community, where everybody knows the other. Since Father is something like the leader of the community, Vincent was easily accepted.”

“So there are a lot of people that know Vincent,” Alex quickly had found out the weak point in Diana's story. “Are they all keeping their mouths shut about him? How come none of them has ever had a slip of the tongue when talking to friends or co-workers, and what about visitors to this community, or repair people like plumbers or electricians?”

Diana inwardly cursed her niece's sharp intellect. That kid was far too perceptive for her own good.

“They have very little outside contact,” she began, “they do not need outsiders for repair; they can do it all themselves. None of them works outside the community; therefore, they have no co-workers to whom they could inadvertently reveal Vincent's existence.”

At that moment Diana's phone rang.

“I'll quickly see who that is!”

Glad for the interruption, Diana jumped up to answer the call. Alex could overhear only Diana's part of the conversation, but she had a feeling that this was important.

“Oh, Talia,” Diana said, “yes, I did get your message, and I am sorry for not calling back sooner, but I am off duty this week since I have my niece staying with me … yes, Jake was here... I know... no, not Joe, our other mutual acquaintance has told me… yes, that, too... yep, and we agree about Joe. Look, Talia, I think we definitely should meet and talk about how to proceed. We have to make absolutely sure how much Joe can be told... yeah, probably Jenny as well… believe me, I know what I am talking about... I am dealing with a similar situation right now... next week... how about Chinese... okay then, see you on Monday!”

“Who was that? Someone you work with? You talked about Joe? And Jake?” Alex asked innocently once Diana had returned to the table.

“Somebody I will have to meet next week to discuss how we can make sure Joe believes us that Jake is not a neglected child,” Diana tried to evade the question.

“Does this person live in Vincent's community since she knows Jake?” Alex questioned her.

“Not really,” Diana explained. “She is more like me, an outsider who knows them.”

“Okay,” Alex thought carefully about her next question. “Since I am now also an outsider who knows them... just like you and the person you just talked to on the phone… can we now go and visit? It can't be too far away, since Jake could walk here on his own...”

5

Cindy Rae

 

“I said ‘no,’” Joe repeated into the phone. Mitch Denton’s folder was in his hand. “No parole for Denton. Not so much as a short week or time off for Christmas. His own father thinks he should stay in jail. Who am I to argue?”

Joe listened to the argument coming through the receiver, then shut it down again.

“Good behavior? You gotta be kidding. He’s a mob enforcer. He shot Cathy Chandler in the back. She carried the scar until the day she…”  He bit his lip, stumbling over the next phrase. “…the day she died,” he concluded.

Joe closed his brown eyes over an image he couldn’t get rid of, mentally. If he lived another hundred years, he’d never forget the sight of her in her coffin. Catherine Chandler. Beautiful Catherine.  Radcliffe. His Cathy, once upon a time, and in their own way.

The man on the other end of the line had continued speaking. Joe let him say his piece.

“Tell him he can try again in two years, and be happy we didn’t press for the max, the day he turned himself in,” Joe replied.

He hung up the phone and shut his office door. Pulling down the darts he kept pinned to the board, he began throwing those. Hard.

The day she died. After being held for how long, exactly? How scared she must have been. How terrified.

Two darts hit the bullseye. One bounced off triple twenty. He collected them all and stepped back farther, making the target harder to hit.

Terrified. Pregnant. Dear God. And here I stand, throwing darts at a board, while Mitch Denton wants time off for good behavior. I’m sorry, Cathy. I don’t think I did anything right by you, some days. I never even found your kid.

His mind then did something the investigator in him had trained itself to do, almost without volition. It ‘clicked’ on the last six-year-old child he’d seen.

Jake. Bennett says she knows the father, that he needs a lot of help, raising him. Well, don’t we all need that?

He swung hard but let go late. The dart buried itself into the black rim, out of range of any point. Two more bad throws followed it. In the points, but nothing good.

 Jenny says I have to stop obsessing. That she ‘senses’ Cathy’s in a better place, that she even dreamed about it, once. Wish I had her sense of closure. Wish I had… anything.

Joe sighed and ran his hand under his collar, massaging a tight neck muscle there. Joe Maxwell carried his own scar, an unsubtle parting gift from the night Pat Hanlon’s car had blown up and sent him to the hospital. A burn mark was hidden under his dress shirt, one that began on his left shoulder and crept up one side of his neck. It wasn’t large, but it was “there.”  He knew he’d never have it “repaired.” He carried it as a reminder of all he’d lost the night he’d told Catherine Chandler to get a certain book out of his belongings at the hospital.

He rubbed the neck muscle until it loosened some, then gave the dartboard a dismissive glance. Throwing darts against the board wasn’t going to make this day any better. He focused on the things in his life he thought he could control.

I need to find out about that kid. I need to make sure he’s okay. And I need to make sure Mitch Denton never sees daylight.

The desk phone rang.

“Maxwell,” Joe said shortly, snatching it up off its cradle.

He listened, only for a moment.

“And you’re hard of hearing. I already told your office, Mitch Denton stays locked—“

Harry Bundy, Mitch Denton’s designated representative at his parole hearing, spoke into the phone: “Mr. Maxwell, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear. I’m not calling to discuss terms, just to pass on a message, before Mr. Denton’s parole hearing. It’s from Mr. Denton himself, and he says it’s only for you.”

Joe pulled a wry face. “If you’re passing on a threat, I love it. I’ll add it to the list of why Mitch Denton should stay in jail.”

“The thing is, it’s er… it’s not a threat, sir. At least I don’t believe it to be. Mr. Denton was most emphatic that he needs to speak with you prior to his parole hearing. And he said… he said it’s about Catherine Chandler.”

Joe grew angry. “You tell that maniac I said he keeps Cathy Chandler’s name out of his lying mouth!”

“He says… he says he might have information about the father of Catherine Chandler’s baby, Mr. Maxwell, perhaps even information about the child itself. And it’s information he’s willing to trade. He said he thought that might be of interest to you. Don’t shoot the messenger. I’ll just tell him you don’t want to—“

“Wait,” Joe said, raking his hair a second time. How in the hell does Mitch Denton know anything about who Cathy was seeing? What kind of lie is he making up? And why… why after six years… try to trade on it?

He looked at the darts on the wall; stared at the one that had missed its mark. After six years of missing the mark, when it came to figuring out what had happened to Cathy Chandler, to her child, now he had what might be a lead.

From the least trustworthy person on the planet and in the circumstances where that person was most likely to lie.

It would be a fool’s errand to go see Denton. Joe knew it.

Nothing ventured…

“Tell Denton I will meet with him. Tomorrow. For five minutes. And if he wastes my time, I’ll ask them to add a year onto his sentence.”

The man on the end of the line was clearly surprised. “I’ll pass that along.”

--

“Go away, Jake,” Samantha said, adding a peeled potato to the pile.

The little boy stood his ground on the uneven floor of William’s kitchen. “Can’t,” he said, watching her jerky movements. Peeling potatoes was Samantha’s least favorite chore. “Can’t, when you’re mad at me.” He pulled over a stool and grabbed a peeler from the container of kitchen tools. He then picked up a potato and began working on it.

“What did they give you?” Samantha asked, relenting. It wasn’t her fault he’d gone up to the park. But it was her fault that she hadn’t kept a closer eye on him.

“No bedtime stories. For a whole week!” Jacob complained.

In anyone else, the remark would have been almost trivial, compared to Samantha’s punishment. But she knew how much Jacob loved storytime with his father and grandfather. All things considered, they’d got off about even.

“I got vegetable peeling duty. It’s carrots after this.  And I have to help set up the wedding.”

Jacob kept his eyes on his chore. “Wedding. William loves Su.”

“Yeah. He does.” She finished with one potato and grabbed another.

“She thinks he’s handsome,” Jacob commented, scraping the brown peel off one end. “It’s weird.”

“How do you know that?” Samantha asked a touch of laughter in her voice. There were many ways to describe William. “Handsome” wasn’t necessarily the first one that came to mind.

Jacob shrugged. “Just know.”

Jacob often did that. He often seemed to “know” how people felt, sometimes almost what they were thinking. Considering who his father was, Samantha didn’t find that all that odd.

“So… why’d you go up?” she asked.

Jacob shrugged again. “I miss her. Daddy misses her. That’s all.”

“Da-- Vincent misses Diana? Nah. They’re just friends. I can’t think of the last time she came down,” Samantha replied offhandedly.

“Grandpa’s birthday. She got him a new chain for his pocket watch,” Jacob said, without missing a beat.

Samantha cast him a sidelong glance. That such a young boy would remember such a detail said something. She just wasn’t sure exactly what. She decided to explore that a little.

“Father’s birthday. I remember. We should have had it in the Great Hall, it was so crowded. Diana looked pretty.”

“She was okay,” Jacob allowed, recalling a vivid blue blouse that had made her azure eyes look even more lovely. “Daddy liked her. Then felt sad.”

“At the party?” Samantha asked, trying to remember the scene.

“After. She loves us.”

Shrewd, teenage eyes grew more interested. “Diana does?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“Yep.” He set down the completely peeled potato and reached for a big one to show Samantha how sorry he was.

“She should say it, then,” Samantha concluded easily. “Su told William she loves him.”

Jacob considered that. “Maybe. Maybe Daddy should say it.”

Samantha’s hands stopped their motion. “Jacob… are you saying Vincent loves Diana?”

Jacob looked down at the vegetable. It was sometimes easier to plumb the secrets of the big boy books he couldn’t quite read yet than it was to understand the complexities of what his father was feeling.

“I think so. Sometimes. Then he gets sad. Like I said.”

Samantha set down her chore and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Grown-ups are stupid, sometimes.” Adolescence had taught her as much. That, and that she was very fond of the little boy sitting beside her.

“William’s not sad when he thinks about love with Su,” Jacob observed.

“William’s got other things on his mind. Like how the soup’s gonna be late if I don’t get a move on.” She squeezed his shoulder again, then picked up the half-peeled potato. “Thanks for helping.”

Jacob’s expression brightened. “You’re not mad anymore?”

“Nah. But no more sneaking Topside. Especially when it’s me watching you,” she warned.

“Promise,” Jacob said, crossing his heart with the potato peeler.

 6 

Stace

 

“I know Mitch Denton is a lying sack of-“ He cleared his throat.  “I know he’s a liar, and he’s made of lies!” Joe said, exasperated. “But half of me wants to hear what he has to say.” His gut seemed to say there was skeptically, something. His gut wasn’t generally entirely wrong. “I don’t know; I think maybe there’s something there.”

Edie kept plinking away at the keyboard. “Which half?”

Joe looked blankly at her. “What?”

She stopped clicking keys and looked up from her monitor. “Which half of you wants to hear from Mitch?”

“What do you mean?” Joe bristled defensively.

“Is it the half that can't sleep wondering about her child, or the half that isn’t through making people pay because Cathy’s gone?”

Joe just blinked. Was that fair? He didn’t want to admit that was a legitimate and fair question. But he was sure it probably was because he wasn’t sure he positively knew the answer. “Little of column A, little of column B?”

“C’mon!“ Edie threw up her hands. “I mean, that’s fair but, it’s still Mitch-I’m-a-Mob-Lackey-Denton! Why would we really care what Denton has to say about anything- and can he even be believed at this late date?” 

A heavy sigh as Joe swirled his coffee in its cup. “They say… he says he might have information about the father of Cathy’s baby- maybe even about the child itself.”

Edie was about to interject a thought when she glanced up and recognized the sadness in his eyes.

Joe peered into his coffee cup. “Just knowing there’s her kid out there somewhere and I need to – I need to find him. I need to know he’s safe and keep him safe. I couldn’t do it for Cathy; maybe at least I could do it for him.”  

With a furrowed brow, Edie pursed her lips and softly sighed in thought. “But doesn’t it seem weird that he’s chosen to spit this out now instead of over six years ago?” Her tone was a bit more gentle than before, even though still tinged with sarcasm. “Maybe like when it would have been more relevant and much more valuable information to trade? Like he just now thought of it? It ain’t like they don’t get the Times and TV in jail.”

Joe shifted uncomfortably. He’d thought the same thing earlier. But he did feel a little called out now. “Well, I know what you mean. But what if he did know something about the father of Cathy’s baby?”

Edie clicked away on her keyboard and raised an eyebrow. “I mean, really, Joe, what could  Denton really know about that baby’s father that’s actually useful? Even if he did -he’s one of them that’d throw someone under the bus if it’d benefit him or even just out of spite. It’s not like Cathy, and he were acquaintances, much less friends before and certainly not after her hauling him in.”

“I know,” Joe walked over and topped off his coffee. “Edie- I mean, between the timing and the content, I know it’s a lead from the least trustworthy person on the planet- next to Moreno- for sure.”

“I mean, Think about it, Joe. What if your roles were reversed, and Miss Cathy Chandler was in your position right now, after everything that happened on that case. Do you think she’d have any stock in what Mitch Denton had to say?” Edie continued her thought as she gathered up her things. “What would Cathy do?”

Edie replied, checking her watch. Comparing it to the office clock, she scrunched her nose. “Now, if I’m gonna get lunch, I better scoot, or all the good push-button-sandwiches will be gone.” Grabbing her shoulder bag, she slung it over her shoulder, smiled, and headed out the door.

Joe watched Edie head off to lunch. He wasn’t hungry (again) and went back to his office. A bad habit learned from Cathy. Sometimes because he was toeing the line too much, and sometimes because he wasn’t toeing the line enough. Sometimes the lesson learned was too late, or in hindsight. I’ve had to learn that the line isn’t static, and things too often aren’t always black and white, even though we’d like them to be.

What would Cathy do? He smirked. Maxwell walked out and returned to his office a few minutes later with a fresh push-button-coffee latte.  He took a sip. Not bad. He could see Radcliffe’s fondness.

What would Cathy do?

After everything that happened on that case, Joe was pretty sure that she wouldn’t have walked across the street to spit on him and wouldn’t have peed on Mitch Denton if he was on fire. Hypothetically.

Furthermore, if their roles were reversed, Cathy would probably keep looking until something panned out. She was pretty stubborn that way. She would have solicited help and advice from Edie because that woman was the backbone of the department. He was already doing that right, at least. She was the tenacious researcher that would find the information you asked for or needed one way or another. Edie also had an in with the IT department and could almost always hook you up with the right technician.

What would Cathy do?

At the next available opportunity, she’d have something really smart and clever to say to Mitch. He put slipped a pocket memo in his trousers- he was going to have to work on that. It’d be something insinuating she’d sorted out exactly what she wanted without his input. Plus, a warning to not try playing her again- unless he’d like to be put away longer than he’s already going to be locked up for.

That’s what Cathy would do.

He picked up his phone by the cradle and tucked the handset under between his jaw and shoulder. Half sitting on the only corner of his desk that wasn’t a file folder or paper minefield, he peered at Bundy’s office number. He punched the number into the keypad and waited for an answer. Nada. He waited for the tone and left a brief message about how he was suddenly tied up and couldn’t make it today and hoped to reschedule before plunking the handset back into the cradle.

Maxwell’s mind kept coming back to his previous thought: How the hell WOULD Mitch Denton know anything about who Cathy was seeing? Even IF he did, what could he know about her baby?? What was he playing at anyway, and how does he even know about this? Could he be saying whatever out of spite?

He took a thoughtful swig of his push-button-latte. Yes. Spite for Cathy or the Dad- maybe both.

Maybe he’d run it all by Bennett and tap her intuition – which almost always seemed to be on the right track, if not just outright on the nose. He’d let Denton sweat a little bit instead of impulsively running over there on short notice.

Joe knew to follow his gut- because there was always some tasty chocolate-covered cheese-nugget of truth. As he’d gotten older, he realized that idealistic, impulsive young Joe sometimes made a mess of things. He ran his hand thru his hair. It seemed like this might be one of those times when he should slow down and buck his own impulsiveness. Denton’s hearing wasn’t for two more weeks. He could wait.

On the other hand, Bennett was meticulous, tidy, and her every move at work seemed to have a surgeon's precision. Diana’s method was unorthodox by his standards, and he wasn’t the only one that thought that. But they did things differently in 210- or at least she did- and she seemed to get results, where others have tried valiantly and failed.  

He found that out on Cathy’s case. Diana promised results then didn’t or couldn’t deliver, and he didn’t like her lack of justification. He was impatient. Joe pulled all her files and took her off the case. She clearly worked it on the side anyway, and it might have gotten her killed. It was irritating, but Diana was right about Elliott. Gabriel. The Goyle case. More cases than he’d be willing to count, much less the ones he wasn’t privy to. He didn’t work with Detective Bennett that frequently, but whenever he did, you could be sure that class was in session. Which to him was often an additional unwanted lesson in patience.

“Patience wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t take so long and wasn’t so damned slow,” Joe said out loud to the unimpressive dartboard.

Maxwell walked back over to his desk. Edie was probably right about lunch. “But you know what sounds good… and better than a dang push-button-sandwich?” He said aloud to himself. “Coney dog.” 

He jammed down the button for the front desk intercom and told them to hold his calls.  He was going to be out of his office for a bit. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door. Yeah, I’m out on lunch. Denton and Bundy can eat their own heads. He mused to himself as he headed in the direction of the best Coney Dogs on this side of town.

7

 Rusty Hough Bader

 

Father sat rereading an old friend of a book. He reread the same page five times when he tut-tutted and slipped the bookmark between the worn pages and dropped it to the table beside his chair. He watched Jake on the carpet before him, connecting wooden tracks for a small railroad. The hills and valleys created the movement for the simple toy. Ah, such is life, Father ruminated. You rise, you fall. There would be no cloud-nine days without rock-bottom moments left below. Jacob Wells was not one to curse, but under his breath, he shook his head, Isn’t that the damn truth.

Jacob looked up at either his grandfather’s words or his dropping the book to the table. He rose from a scuffed knee and ventured towards the man. Sometimes he appears to be afraid of me. It’s that same sensitivity he shares with his father. “Jacob, come here…”

The boy twisted his fingers and cocked his head as he examined the worn carpet between them. “Are you still upset with me?”

“No, Jacob. But you know you’re in my heart just as your father is in my heart. I worry.”

As the boy made slow steps toward his grandfather, his face brightened. “Worry is something fierce. People who love other people worry a lot.”

Father extended his arms for the boy to stand between his knees; he was almost too tall to hold on his lap. “That is an interesting point. Did your father tell you that?” He brushed tawny hair off the boy’s forehead. He has Catherine’s determination for uncovering things.

“Diana told me.” He nodded assuredly. “She worries every time my dad visits. She says I need to stay Below so ‘Vincent doesn’t have to run all over’ looking for me. I think she … likes him quite a bit.”

Father rested his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “So you say? Tell me more, how many times have you snuck up to Diana’s loft?”

Jacob turned away slightly and blushed furiously. “Awe, you and Daddy will just be more upset with me. But sometimes I feel her …” He faltered for the word. “Daddy calls it aloneness. I feel that from Diana, and I feel her happiness when she sees me, just the same as when dad comes to get me, and we’re together. When it’s just the three of us up there, she makes food and stuff we don’t have here, and it’s like a different part of life. It’s cool…”

There was the sound of soft boots outside Father’s chambers and a swish of Vincent’s cape as he rounded the archway. “There you are, my runaway.” The boy broke away from his grandfather to hug Vincent around the waist. With a swift lift, the boy was in Vincent’s strong arms, and they peered eye to eye. “I’m going to ask you to pack up your train, and then, you and I are going for a walk.”

Jacob jumped down and hurriedly pulled together all the wooden toys, dropped them into a sack, and slung them over his shoulder. “Grandfather, see you later?”

Father waved with a nod and watched them leave. He pulled out the Walkman and the cassette Diana gave him for his last birthday and listened to Placido Domingo.

 

 

Jacob skipped half-ran beside Vincent’s long strides. “When it’s dark, can we go to see Diana? Her niece is so much fun… she …”

Vincent stopped short and knelt beside his son. “No, we will wait until Diana is alone. You know my reality. We’ve talked about this.”

The word reality rolled off Jacob’s young tongue in syllables like a hated word. He dipped his chin and turned away from his father. “She misses you, don’t you feel it? I feel it.”

Vincent embraced his son, tucking the young boy under his bristly chin. With gentle clawed hands, he stroked his son’s hair. So much like Catherine, I’m so blessed. “You feel this, too?”

Father and son peered into each other’s eyes and nodded together. “Sometimes with we miss each other we can send notes, or make small gifts, let's work on something for Diana…”

Vincent rose and took his son by the hand into the corner of his chamber. A wooden crate held scraps of leather and tools to stamp designs. “Why don’t we make her something we can send up with Samantha?”

Jacob busied himself digging through scraps of all sorts of leather, some stiff like his shoes, some soft like his father’s cape. “But if Samantha delivers our gift, we won’t see Diana’s happy eyes when she sees it.”

His son’s words stopped him in his tracks. “A very wise woman who began her life with so many strikes against her, Helen Keller, said, ‘The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched but just felt in the heart.’ We must rely on feeling things we cannot see.”

Jacob shrugged, and Vincent knew the sentiment was lost on one so young. “What color will we pick, Daddy? This is the color of your hair.” Jacob held up a cinnamon color piece of soft leather. “We can make a change purse, and when she pays for things, she can think of us.”

Vincent examined the piece of leather, and they began the careful task of cutting, stamping, and assembling something precious for their friend.

 

Joe Maxwell paced, waiting for Denton to be led into the meeting room. Good thing wired glass was between them. Denton swaggered in like he owned New York, pushed the chair with his foot, and lowered onto it. He gave a diffident sneer over his shoulder at the guard as the man gave them their privacy.

They picked up the telephone receivers and mutually sneered at each other.

“You got my message, Joe. Curious, aren’t you? Your golden girl, the one who could do no wrong…”

Joe shook a pointed finger at Denton. “You’ve got stones to talk about Catherine like that. You tell me what you know about her child’s father, and I’ll think about whether it buys you any leverage.”

Denton’s head slanted from side to side indecisively. “Yeah, about that, I need your promise before I … open the book on what I know. You think Disney has some stories? This one is a real fairy-tale of … leonine proportions.”

Joe narrowed his eyes at Denton. “Cut the tease. Are you claiming her son is yours?”

Joe shook his head as Denton reared back on two legs of his chair and roared with laughter. “Me? She wouldn’t let me touch her with a lacrosse stick, but she has a thing for beasts. The kind that could tear me up bad.”

So she liked bodybuilders, big guys. After the story Catherine told Joe about her attack, it’s a wonder she didn’t want Mr. Universe.

“Denton, you expect release with that kind of line?”

“Awe, no, Joe, you promise me my wings, then I tell you where you can dig up the love of her life.”

“Dig up? Is he dead too?” Joe leaned into the question ferociously. “I swear, Denton, whatever you have to do with this…” The guard from Joe’s side approached Joe and shook his head at his emotional outburst. Joe settled back and nodded and then turned to Denton. “Why do you think your info is important enough to get you out?”

“Because where Vincent lives… let’s say it’s a den of the underworld.”

The smell of the leather, the vivid warm brown color, and the bright green ink dried perfectly on the shamrock shape stamped on the flap.

“Samantha says this means good luck…” Jacob pointed to the gift they worked on all afternoon.

Vincent chuckled softly as he read the job in Jacob’s sense of accomplishment. “That’s a four-leaf clover you’re thinking of…” Vincent considered the hidden meaning of the shamrock. Its symbolism was derived from the legend of St. Patrick, who used it to explain the concept of hope, faith, and love. Vincent wanted to wait a while to explain the concepts of the symbol until he could express himself to Diana. When would that be?

 

8

JessicaRae

 

Joe Maxwell sat on a park bench in Central Park in the darkness, his mind mulling over Denton’s cryptic words.  Den of the underworld.

He had not been able to allow himself to stoop low enough to barter the man’s freedom for the provision of more information, and Joe had left the sneering inmate, with no sympathy in his heart. The man had played his last card, in Joe’s eyes. He would have gladly ripped his smirking eyes out f their sockets at the lack of respect the man had for his Cathy, but he allowed the anger and fury to drive his feet along the sidewalk, fists clenched in his jacket pockets, until he finally came to himself in the middle of the park. It was dark now, and he would have scolded Cathy for being out in this park at this hour. But right now, he couldn’t allow reason to enter his swirling emotions. The rush of adrenaline had left him exhausted, and he sat there, leaning forward, his fingers still twitching in eagerness to erase the sneering eyes of his tormenter emblazoned in his mind’s vision.

Den of the underworld. Fairy tales. Leonine proportions.

Those words echoed in his mind again, and he sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. What kind of information was all that? Catherine Chandler wouldn’t have been two-faced enough to have gotten herself hooked up with a guy on the wrong side of the law. Denton had to have been playing him. There just wasn’t another way.

He clasped his hands together again, eyes closed against the beauty of the landscape around him. He saw her again in his memories. Brave. Bold. Someone that he secretly admired and looked up to both as a colleague and a friend. Now she was gone. And he had done nothing to make it right for her.

“I’ve tried, Cathy,” he spoke softly, resting his chin on clasped hands, his elbows digging into his knees with a pain that grounded him to reality. “Damn, Cathy, I tried. I couldn’t save you, and I can’t find your son. What kind of investigator am I?”

He shoved himself to his feet, the anger coursing through him again. He picked up a rock at the side of the sidewalk and threw it as hard as he could against a tree to his left. His heavy steps carried him home, no closer now than he had been. The visit to see Mitch Denton had done nothing for his hopes, and he cursed himself for having thought anything good would come from the confrontation. He had been looking for answers, clues, anything for so long. And now, his fragile hopes were crushed again. As he disappeared into the darkness, his only desire for something strong to numb the ache and a soft bed afterward, he had no way of realizing that he had actually been given the most important clues of the entire investigation, the clues that would bring rest to his heavy heart.

 

In the shadows, two figures had watched the man’s obvious turmoil.

“He’s the man I saw at Diana’s. But he seems sad.” Jacob whispered, leaning close to his father to stay out of sight. Vincent’s heartbeat quickly as he watched the man walking out of the park, shoulders bowed.

“He is, Jacob.”

The young boy half-turned to look up at the taller man. “Should we cheer him up? You always cheer me up when I am sad.”

Vincent raised a hand and rested it on Jacob’s shoulder. “No, Jacob. He needs to solve his own sorrows. It is not something that we can help him with. A man must find his own way when burdened by a grief that great.” How well he knew this himself!

Jacob tilted his head, an understanding crossing his wise-for-his-years face. “Then let’s tell Diana about it. When we see her tonight. He knows her; maybe she can cheer him up.”

Vincent felt his throat closing up slowly as he tried to register in his mind what the man on the bench had said in his moments of frustration.

He was Joe Maxwell.

Vincent knew who he was. Catherine’s boss. He had sensed the loss in the man’s actions, and he knew that Diana had been right about the man’s obvious guilt about not having found Catherine’s son. Instinctively, his arm tightened around the boy at his side. He felt pity for the man, so desperate in his search, but fear also wound itself around the father’s heart, and he could not relieve the man’s suffering without potentially causing himself sorrow as well.

“I will talk to Diana about this when she is alone,” Vincent spoke slowly, listening for the last fading footfall of the man that threatened his world. “Not a word to anyone that we have seen him. Have you brought the gift? We will leave it by her window.”

Jacob nodded quickly. “Safe, here in my pocket.”

Vincent sighed and took his son’s hand. “Come then, let us be quick and quiet.”

“Samantha, what are you doing, child?”

Jacob Wells was walking past the kitchen when he noticed Samantha in a small heap on the floor studying a white piece of paper flattened on the floor, with various canned items holding down the corners.

“Working on the wedding layout,” she replied, looking up with a smile. “William wants to make sure there is ample room for everyone. I told him we needed to make a plan.”

Father raised one eyebrow and nodded at the drawings neatly spread across the homemade blueprint. “Well done, Samantha. Do we need any more chairs?”

The girl’s eyes brightened at the opportunity to have an adult conversation and perhaps slightly make up for her earlier mistakes.

“No, I have counted out all the invitations, and we have enough. Doctor Peter is bringing lemonade and something ‘stronger,’ as he put it. Mary and I have examined the food plans, and poor William has quite outdone himself. But we do have a surprise for him, Father, please don’t be angry.”

Jacob Wells raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Be angry? Whatever for?”

A moment’s hesitation made him wary as Samantha finally made up her mind and scrambled to her feet. “Oh, you’re going to be mad. They’re in here.”

“They?” Father followed the girl out of the kitchen and down the passageway to the candlemaking room. She headed for a tall object in the corner with a sheet of burlap tossed over it. Carefully, she reached for the edge of the covering and pulled it back. Resting inside were two grey pigeons.

“What on earth?”

Samantha sighed and lowered the cloth. “Told you that you’d be mad.”

Father’s mouth hung open incredulously. “Samantha, I am not – mad – I am not quite sure how to respond to this – discovery.”

She nodded matter-of-factly. “Then you’re mad.”

Jacob smiled wryly. “Yes, maybe so, but Samantha! What are they for?”

“Well, it started when Kipper and Jamie and I were talking to Mary about weddings. She said that When she was young they sometimes release doves. Well, we couldn’t find doves, and these two wandered in from one of the upper tunnels, so Kipper brought them down, and we are feeding them and keeping them here, then we will release them at the wedding.”

Jacob simply stared at the girl for a moment, his mind’s eye imagining birds flying among a hundred candles and guests and people running everywhere and chaos and pandemonium –

“No,” he stated flatly. “No birds at the wedding!”

Samantha’s shoulders sagged. “It was a romantic idea.”

Jacob’s eyebrows raised again, and he pressed his thumb and forefingers to his eyelids in a moment of struggle to keep his composure. “Romantic, dear child, maybe, but practical, no.”

He looked down at the solemn eyes, and he felt a twinge of sadness for the children’s plans being unsuccessful. An idea came to him.

“Here, how about we let the birds go and find their home in the park. I have an idea.”

Samantha nodded woefully, and Jacob patted her arm. “Chin up, Samantha. Come to the library when you are done; that’s a good girl.”

He turned and moved as quickly as he could to the library. Going straight to a box on a shelf, he pulled it down and set it on the table. The top was dusty, and he carefully blew off as much as possible before pulling the sides open. His gaze fell upon a stack of old newspapers contained inside the cardboard shelter. A wistful gaze altered his typically firm jaw, and he carefully lifted them from inside. Feelings flowed over him, memories from long ago.

“Jacob, I brought tea down. Was making some cookies for the children and thought – you could - use some - too,” Mary’s kind voice trailed off, and a clink behind him indicated to his ears that she had set a tray down on the chair. He felt her at his side, and she looked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. A hush came over her voice as she acknowledged what he held.

“Jacob, aren’t those the newspapers from your investigation?”

“Yes,” he replied shortly, a little too carelessly.

She rested a soft hand upon his elbow. “You saved them all this time.”

“Yes,” he nodded, still just as curt as before. Mary noted the slight tremor in his hand, and she moved hers to rest on his.

“What do you have them out for?”

“The wedding,” he replied with forced cheerfulness, tossing the papers back into the box. “Something old and something borrowed, see fits two out of the four. Cut that picture of the bank advertisement out, and you’ll even have the blue as well.”

Mary nodded, her smile soft as she looked into the eyes above her, wrangling with emotions.

“If they mean something to you, Jacob, we can use something else.”

“They don’t.” Jacob laughed harshly. “That’s just it. I have no idea why I have them. They remind me of hatred and darkness, of lies and deceit. I do not wish to save them anymore. The children were going to release two pigeons at the wedding. Thankfully, Samantha brought it to my attention before such a tragic thing occurred.”

Mary laughed at the idea. “Yes, a good thing indeed. What do you wish for the children to do with the papers?”

Jacob Wells shut the box with a thump, dust poofing into the air, and held them out to Mary. “Shred them. Destroy them, cut them into tiny little pieces, New York Times confetti. When William and Su step out of the Great Hall, the children will be ready to throw the confetti into the air. The wind will  carry it like snow, and the children will be delighted.”

Mary playfully smacked his arm. “You are getting soft in your old age, Jacob, babying the children like that. Now, come get your tea.”

Jacob frowned. “Old? Did you say I am old?”

 

Vincent climbed the last few feet to Diana’s rooftop, lifting Jacob from his strong shoulders and safely setting him down on the solid surface. “Silently, Jacob,” he admonished softly. The boy nodded in understanding and crept to the window, withdrawing his package from his pocket and placing it carefully in such a way that the wind would not take their careful project away.

He moved quickly back to his father’s side, and Vincent took his small hand in his larger one. For a moment, he hesitated, the nearness of Diana making him long to just tap on the glass, for just a few words from her lips to fall on his ears, to feel the hope that sprang to life each time she anticipated seeing him when he knocked. He could feel it, feel it all.

“She loves us,” the little voice spoke beside him, and he looked down at his son. “I can feel it,” Jacob whispered, his eyes gazing intently up at his father.

Vincent considered, the turmoil in his heart ringing in his ears. Love was a dangerous thing. But how he desperately wanted to knock on her window, feel the happiness blossom inside her kind heart when she dared to think that it was him outside. He wanted to grasp her hand, as a noble knight, as she stepped from the room beyond as a princess meeting her prince. He would hold the fragile hand, so pale and soft, and pull her close beneath his cloak so she would not feel the chill of the night. To remain in each other’s presence until the first rays of sun peeked above the grey clouds of dawn.

There was only one thing, in his mind, that stood between himself and Diana’s love.

Joe Maxwell’s guilt.

9

Janet Rivenbark

 

Diana was up early, considering it was a Sunday. She walked out of her bedroom, yawning and stretching as she went. She put the coffee pot on and leaned against the counter as she looked up at the skylight. Something was sitting in the corner of one of the panes.

She hurried up to the roof to retrieve whatever it was. As soon as she saw it, she knew where it had come from. It was wrapped in the well-worn remnant of a brown paper bag.

Back in the kitchen, she quickly poured herself a cup of coffee, then carried it and the small package to the couch.

When she removed the paper, she was delighted to find a small coin purse. It was about three inches square, and the bottom and side pieces were pleated. The top opened like an envelope, and it was held closed with a snap. She turned it over to find a bright green shamrock stamped into the golden leather.

The stitching was meticulous and strong, and she knew right away it had been a Father-Son project. She loved it!

She looked at the clock. Lunchtime couldn’t come quickly enough. 

 

Both Vincent and Jake met her at the park threshold

“Did you get our present?” Jake asked her as he enthusiastically wrapped his arms around her legs before she had a chance to bend down for his hug.

“I did,” she said, looking at Vincent. “I love it. It’s perfect and just what I needed.”

“I knew it!” Jake said with a grin as he grabbed her hand and started pulling her through the door.

Vincent pushed the lever, and the door closed, then Jake grabbed his hand too and started pulling them along.

“Are you hungry, Jake?” asked Diana.

“Yep. William is making something special for lunch,” he informed her.

“He is? What is it?” Diana asked.

“I don’t know, but it sure did smell good!”

Diana looked at Vincent, who shrugged.

“It does smell good,” he agreed. “But I don’t know what it is either.”

They arrived at the dining chamber a few minutes later, and it was obvious that the whole community agreed. There was a line out the door.

“I hope they leave us some,” said Jake worriedly, as he stretched to look around the people in front of them.

There appeared to be more than enough food for everyone, and all three of them got generous servings of chicken and dumplings with their choice of sides. They joined Father and Mary at a table. They had just finished dinner and were enjoying peach cobbler for dessert.

“I didn’t see that,” Jake protested as he watched Father and Mary eating their cobbler.

“Don’t worry about dessert right now,” Vincent told him. “Eat your dinner first.”

“William said that there is more cobbler in the oven,” Mary assured him. “He’ll have some of his kitchen helpers serve it when it’s done.”

Not long afterward, everyone was groaning and complaining that they’d eaten too much.

“I know you don’t always eat like that down here,” Diana commented as the three of them headed back to Vincent’s chamber.

“No, we don’t, but William has agreed to take some time off after his marriage at Winterfest on Wednesday. He’s still doing all the usual preparation for Winterfest and all the extras for the wedding, but Father had to all but order him to take some time off to spend with Su after they get married.”

“Where does one go for a honeymoon down here?” Diana asked. “Or are they planning to go somewhere Above?”

“No, they are staying Below. We have a chamber that is off the beaten path, as they say. It has everything they will need, including a small kitchen, and maybe William will let Su cook for him for a change.”

“How long will they be gone, and who will do the cooking while he’s gone?”

“Father wanted him to take two weeks, but I don’t think he’s going to last more than a week. Vincent chuckled. “His staff can handle it while he’s gone. He’s trained them well, but he thinks we will all waste away from hunger if he stays gone too long.”

They were almost to Vincent’s chamber, and Jake darted ahead. By the time they entered, he was already dragging out the huge set of Lego’s she’d given him for his birthday.

“Let’s build something!” he demanded. The two adults looked at each other and shrugged before joining him on the floor. 

 

A couple hours and one large Lego city later, Vincent reminded Jake of storytime in Father’s study.

“You know you love the stories, and your week of punishment is over,” Vincent told him.

“But Diana’s here,” Jake protested.

“I’ll still be here when you are done,” she told him. “You go on and enjoy the story. I wanted to talk to your father about something anyway.” She climbed to her feet and started helping Jake put all the Legos back into the basket he kept them in.

“You’re sure?” Jake asked.

“Positive! I promise I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

That seemed to satisfy Jake, and after he put the basket back in his chamber, he left.

“What did you want to talk about?” Vincent asked as Diana sat on the side of his bed, and he moved his chair to face her and sat.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m meeting Talia tomorrow, and we are going to try to come up with a way to placate Joe and convince him that everything is fine. I’m pretty sure he’s somehow, maybe not consciously, but somehow made the connection between Jake and Catherine. It might just be that he feels bad about never finding Catherine’s baby, and he’s projecting that onto Jake, but then again, he might somehow know that Jake is Catherine’s son.”

“He does look a lot like her when she was a child,” Vincent commented.

Diana nodded. “But unless Joe has seen pictures of Catherine from that time, I doubt he would consciously make that connection.”

“But he saw a lot of her things during the investigation. I think if you saw it, then we can safely assume that he probably did too,” Vincent pointed out.

“All the more reason Talia and I need to come up with a way to find out from him just what he thinks, or knows, without giving up too much information ourselves. But when it comes right down to it, I guess I need to know just how much you are willing to let Joe know.”

“I’m still not convinced that letting him know anything beyond what he suspects is safe,” Vincent said dubiously.

“But that could have even worse consequences,” Diana pointed out. “I realize that lawyers aren’t famous for imagination, but if his should take over, he will feel as if he has to do something.”

Vincent was quiet for a moment. He could see what Diana was saying, but…

“Is there a way… something that would convince him that Jake is well taken care of without telling him that he’s Catherine’s son?”

“I don’t know. I think he’s already half convinced that he is,” Diana speculated. “If that is the fact…”

“Ask him point-blank what interest he has in the child he met at your loft,” Vincent suggested. “Find out what he suspects.”

“That might work, and I think Talia and I should talk to him together.” Diana paused. “But, again, just how much are you willing to let Joe know about you if it comes to that.”

“Can you tell the story without telling him where we live and what I look like?”

Diana chewed her lip for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I think Talia and I can come up with something convincing,” she finally said. 

 

They joined the children in the study, and ultimately Diana wound up staying for dinner too. Once Jake was asleep, Vincent walked Diana back to the threshold. She was surprised when he exited with her.

“I won’t let you walk through the park alone in the dark,” he told her. “It’s not safe.”

She didn’t argue and enjoyed his company all the way to Strawberry Fields.

“I’ll stay here,” he told her when they stopped in the shadows, “and watch until I see you get a cab.”

“Thank you,” she told him as she turned to face him. “I enjoyed the day, and I’ll be in touch as soon as we’ve talked to Joe.”

“And you’ll be down for Winterfest on Wednesday?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t miss it!” She stretched up on her toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she promised before she darted out to the street, where she was quickly able to flag down a cab.  

Vincent touched his fingers to his lips and smiled as he melted into the shadows and headed toward home. 

 

Diana was up early again on Monday. Talia called and suggest that they meet at Henry Pei’s restaurant for lunch at one since they both knew it, and neither one of them was likely to run into anyone they knew, except, maybe, another Helper.

When Diana arrived, the hostess led her to the back of the restaurant where Talia was already seated. She offered Diana tea from the large pot on the table.

Diana warmed her hands around the cup and closed her eyes.

“Cold out, isn’t it?” Talia said with a laugh.

“It is December, but it just seems colder somehow today. I bet it will snow. This is just the thing. I never drank much tea until I met our… mutual acquaintance.”

“As you can probably imagine, I was raised on the stuff. There is nothing that a good strong cup of hot tea can’t cure.”

They laughed then gave their orders before they got to the subject they were there to discuss.

“Did you get a chance to talk to Vincent?” Talia asked.

Diana nodded. “Yesterday. He had some ideas, but I what to know what you think?”

“Just for the record, I have the file with the reports of the child seen in Central Park alone. There isn’t much in it, but I keep it in my briefcase along with some of the other files I’m working on. If anyone asks about it or sees it, I can just say I had it so I could investigate,” Talia said. “But as far as Joe is concerned, I need some idea of what he might do. I don’t know him as well as you do.”

“One thing I know about Joe is that he’s like a bulldog. Once he gets something between his teeth, he’s not letting go until it’s resolved. He was like that over Catherine Chandler’s case when she disappeared,” Diana told her.

“Then we really should come up with something for him. Convince him somehow that the kid is all right,” Talia mused.

“Yeah, and I have a feeling that he’s somehow connected that kid with Catherine’s child… It’s not much, just a hunch, but my hunches are usually right.”

“Have you talked to Vincent about this,” Talia asked, thinking back to when she’d met Joe and got the same feeling.

“I did, and he’s still not sure how much we can safely tell Joe. He’s not afraid of much, but he’s scared to death that Joe will try to have Jake taken away from him.”

“I told him that parental rights are put at the top of the list,” Talia said. “And I don’t see how Joe could legally have Jake taken from his family.”

“You really did live Below too long,” Diana said with a snort. “Look at it from the point of view of anyone who has lived above all their lives and has never been Below. They live in caves, they eat and use the cast-offs of society up here, and Vincent doesn’t exactly look like your ordinary guy on the street.”

They paused while their meals were served then Talia spoke.

“All right, you have me there,” Talia said with a smile. “But I think you might have just hit on something… the part about someone who has never been Below. What if we take Joe Below?”

“Father would never agree,” Diana began.

“What if we don’t ask?” Talia said with a sly smile. “What if we, or maybe it would be better if it was just me, just take him down? It’s always easier to get forgiveness than it is to get permission, especially where Father is concerned.”

Diana thought for a moment, then grinned.

“What about taking him to Winterfest? It would be the ideal time. He wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb with all the Helpers there. And it would show the world Below at its best.”

“You have a point,” Talia agreed. “I could take him, and you could go ahead early and prepare Vincent.”

“What are you going to tell him to get him to go with you?” Diana asked.

“The truth?” she suggested. “I’ll tell him everything I know about Jake, but if he still needs to see it for himself, then I’ll tell him that I want to take him somewhere to prove to him that the little boy he met at your place is loved and well taken care of. There is a deli, about a block from the park, that is owned by a Helper. He has a threshold. We can go Below from there. It’s only a short walk to where everyone is meeting to go down to the Great Hall.”

“You do realize that we are going to have just about everyone mad at us if this doesn’t work out,” Diana said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll prepare him and make sure he promises that he won’t make assumptions or jump to any conclusions or tell anyone,” Talia assured her.

Diana was usually the one to take risks, but as far as she was concerned, if it put Vincent, Jake, or the community Below at risk, she wasn’t going there. But she felt as if she could trust Talia. What Vincent had said about her abilities had a lot to do with that. If what Vincent had said was true, then all Talia would have to do was touch Joe to know if he was sincere when he promised not to talk.

Based on that, she had to agree.

“So, what do you want me to tell Vincent?” she finally asked.

“Don’t tell him too early,” Talia warned. “everyone is supposed to start meeting to go down to the Great hall at seven. I would just go a little early and fill him in on what I’m going to do. Don’t give him time to stress about it.”

Diana nodded. “I’ll send him a note telling him that I’m coming down a little early and ask if it’s convenient for us to talk before he goes down to the Great Hall.”

“That should work,” Talia agreed. 

 

When Talia left the restaurant, she went straight to Joe’s office before she lost her nerve.

“Miss Winters,” said Joe, rising from the chair behind his desk and walking around it to greet her. “It’s nice to see you.” They shook hands, and Talia was able to verify that Joe really was happy to see her. “Have a seat,” he said. He indicated the sofa on one wall. Talia sat on one end, and Joe seated himself on the other end.

“I thought I’d update you on the case about the child that has been seen in the park,” she said, as she pushed her coat off her shoulders. She picked up her briefcase and pulled out the file.

“What have you learned?” Joe asked, leaning forward a bit.

“Well, I’ve met with the child’s father, and I can assure you that everything is fine. The boy’s mother isn’t in the picture, but the father has plenty of help. They live near the park, and the child’s caretakers often take him there to play. The time you saw him at Detective Bennett’s was a fluke. He intentionally gave the young woman looking after him the slip and went to Bennett’s. His father said he knew the route because he’s taken it in his company several times.”

“At his age?” asked Joe. 

“Jake’s, that’s the boy’s name, father says that all Jake has to do is walk a route once or twice, and he has it committed to memory.”

All that Talia had just told Joe was true; now she watched as he digested it.

“And you’ve come to these conclusions based on meeting the kid’s father one time?” Joe asked. “I don’t think that is enough to base anything on.”

“It’s been more than one meeting,” she assured him, and again that was true. “I’ve met the rest of his family and the sitters, and they are all good people.”

“I don’t know,” said Joe, who got up and started to pace. He reminded her of Vincent when he did that. “I just have a feeling about that kid.”

“What kind of a feeling?” she asked.

“I can’t seem to put my finger on it. There is something almost familiar about him. We had a case. Cathy Chandler handled it. A child was killed. There was a history of abuse, but it had been covered up because the father was wealthy. No one who knew the man would have ever dreamed that he’d abused both of his children. Whenever I think of that kid, that case pops into my mind.”

“I can assure you that Jake isn’t abused. He is his father’s life. There is nothing in the world more important to him. And when he found out that Jake had been seen wandering in the park alone and had walked all the way to Detective Bennett’s, he was punished.”

At the word punished, Joe whirled and looked at Talia.

“How was he punished?” he asked.

“Severely, I can assure you.” Talia knew she had him, now.

“How severely?”

“No stories for a whole week,” she said with a grin.

“No… what?”

“It seems Jake adores being read to and listening to his grandfather’s stories. To deprive him of that is a very severe punishment.”

Joe had to smile, but he quickly sobered. “Is there a way I can possibly talk to the kid’s dad?” he asked as he sat back down on the couch.

“Is this in an official capacity or as the DA?” she asked.

Joe hesitated before he answered. “I’ll have to say personal since as DA, I can’t do much unless Child Protective Services or the police do something about it.”

Talia reached out and put her hand over his. She had to get a read on him to know if he was telling her the truth and what he suspected.

She quickly knew he was telling the truth and that Diana had been right. Joe was beginning to suspect that Jake might be Catherine’s son, but even he couldn’t figure out why he suspected that.

“Is there some reason beyond just worry over a child’s welfare that you are so concerned about this?” she asked. She patted his hand then removed hers.

“A hunch,” he said, using the same terminology that Diana had. Well, she had heard that he’d gone to college and law school while working as a cop. “It’s like there is something I should know or do know about this kid, but maybe I’m afraid to admit it to myself.”

“And why would that be?” she asked.

“Because it would mean that I’d well and truly failed someone who meant a great deal to me.”

He’s begging to make the connection, consciously, she thought to herself. “Who?”

“Cathy Chandler… Is there any chance that the kid could be hers?” he asked. It was clear that he’d thought about this… a lot… but had never voiced the question before.

“What do you think?”

“Hell, I don’t know what to think. That’s why I’m asking you.” He was back on his feet, pacing again.

“I think that is a question that you’re going to have to ask Jake’s father yourself,” she told him.

“Can you arrange it?” he asked, turning to look at her.

“I think I can,” she said after she appeared to give it some thought. “Are you available on Wednesday evening, about 6:30?” At his nod, she continued. “Meet me here.” She scribbled the name of a deli and an address on a scrap of paper and held it out to him. “I’ll take you to meet him and the rest of his family.”

Joe took the paper and looked at the address. “A deli? Meeting in a public place?”

“Just a jumping-off point, so to speak,” she said as she stood and picked up her coat and briefcase. “Just one thing I want you to know. Everything you see on Wednesday night is a secret.” She held up her hand when he started to speak. “It’s not illegal, as far as I know, but it is a secret. If you don’t promise to keep it, then I won’t be able to take you to meet Jake’s father.”

He nodded his understanding. He wanted to know badly enough that at that moment that he was willing to agree to almost anything.

Talia shook his hand before leaving, and she picked up on that thought.

Exactly where I want him, she thought as she walked to the elevator.

Once she was back in her office, she called Diana and filled her in on all that she’d learned. 

 

Diana went over at least half a dozen scenarios in her head between Monday and when she left her loft to go Below for Winterfest, and she still hadn’t settled on one by the time she found Vincent. He was getting ready to go down to the Great Hall, where he would meet everyone else in about an hour.

“Can I walk with you?” she asked him.

“Of course,” he said with a smile.

“Where is Jake?” she asked after they had gone a little way.

“He will be going down with the rest of the younger children. They are all so excited that they are all but bouncing off the walls. Mary was speculating about how she could get them all down the stairs safely.”

“Is that an issue?” she asked, concerned.

“Not really. The older children are usually assigned one of the younger ones, and they keep a tight hold on them and make sure that the little ones walk on the inside. We’ve never lost a child on the stairs,” he joked.

“I should hope not,” she said with a laugh.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Diana wondered if this had been a good idea. How were they ever going to talk in the howling wind? But Vincent surprised her when he took her hand and pulled her into an alcove to one side of the bottom of the stairs. It was suddenly quiet.

“That’s better,” she said with a smile.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Vincent asked.

“Yes, there is… When I asked you how you wanted to handle Joe and how much you wanted him to know, you suggested telling the story without revealing to him where you live and what you look like. I talked to Talia about it, and I think she thought that Joe wouldn't be satisfied with half a story, and I agree.

“Right after she and I talked, she went and talked to Joe. She says that he came right out and admitted that he suspects that Jake is Cathrine’s son. Before that, we had decided that the best way to handle it would be to tell Joe everything. She’s bringing him to Winterfest tonight as her plus one.”

“She’s what?” Vincent all but roared. “She’s going to put the entire community in jeopardy by doing that! What is she thinking?”

Diana reached out and placed her hands on Vincent’s cheeks and made him look at her.

“Please, hear me out.”

It took him a moment and several deep breaths to calm down. “All right. Tell me,” he finally said.

“This will introduce Joe to the community and to all of you when you are at your best. It will show all of you in the best light. He won’t see the main chambers, won’t have any idea where they are. He will meet everyone, residents, and Helpers, and he will see that Jake and all the children are loved and well taken care of.”

“And what if he’s already made up his mind. What if he exposes everything, and we not only lose all our children but our home as well?”

“Both Talia and I trust Joe, and I think you are just going to have to trust us on this one, Vincent. She said she told him that nothing he sees here tonight must ever be exposed, it’s a secret, and he promised. I’ve never known Joe to break a promise.”

“I don’t know, Diana,” Vincent said dubiously. “Father is going to be very upset, and we are all libel to be banished.

“I doubt that,” she said. “I have faith that it will all work out.”

 

Joe walked into the deli expecting to join Talia and some unknown man at a table where they would discuss Jake’s welfare over Reuben’s and cream sodas.

He was surprised when Talia met him at the door then led him through the kitchen and down into the basement. In the back of the basement, she opened a door in the back wall and motioned him through.

“There are stairs on the other side, so be careful,” she said as she handed him a flashlight. “And you’ll need this,” she said, giving him an orange, yellow and white candle.

He went down the stairs, and she lagged behind to close the door. He was staring at the candle when she reached the bottom.

“Cathy had one of these,” he said. “She had it in a chest where she kept a lot of keepsakes. Diana found it when she was going through her things, looking for clues. She also found references to someone named Vincent. Are we going to see him?”

“We are,” Talia said, noncommittally. “We should get moving, it’s a short walk, and we don’t want to be late. You are really in for a treat,” she added with the first smile he’d seen since he walked into the deli.

It didn’t take long, and he was surprised when they joined a large group of people. He recognized Peter Alcott, Cathy’s family doctor, the guy who played the sax on the street not far from the Criminal Courts building, and the magician he often saw performing in the subway or the park.

There was an elderly gentleman who looked very familiar, then he remembered… the man he’d met, who had given him information, during the investigation of Cathy’s disappearance. It seemed as if everything was connected. The whole thing was getting more interesting by the moment.

The elderly gentleman was looking around, greeting people when his eyes met Joe’s. Joe gave him half a smile and nodded. He heard Talia beside him.

“Uh-oh,” she whispered. “I was hoping he wouldn't notice you until we got down to the Great Hall.”

The man walked up to them. The first time Joe had met him, he’d been wearing a 1950s style suit and a fedora, but now he was dressed like a medieval monarch, and the scowl on his face matched.

“Mr. Maxwell,” he said with a nod, then he looked at Talia. “Talia, what is the meaning of this?”

“Look, Father,” she said, pointing. “Everyone is starting down. We need to go too.”

The man she called Father looked back at the crowd then at her. “We will talk about his later,” he said, then he worked his way through the crowd to the front and led the group out.

“That man is your father?” Joe asked.

“You know Father?” Talia asked at the same time as they fell in at the back of the group.

“I met him during the investigation of Cathy’s disappearance. He had information,” he told her.

“Be careful on the stairs,” she warned as the group moved onto the windy stairs. “There is no rail… and no, he’s not my father, but everyone calls him Father. It’s a title of respect. But he has been like a father to many.”

Moving and the wind precluded any conversation on the stairs, but after a while, they stopped. Joe leaned close and spoke into Talia’s ear.

“Do all these people live down here?” he asked. He’d heard the stories about people living under the city; he’d just never taken them seriously.

“Only about half,” she told him. “The people who live here have friends and Helpers Above, and once a year, they have a celebration to thank their Helpers.”

“Is that how you know about them? You’re one of these Helpers?”

“I am now. But I used to live down here. It’s a long story… I’ll tell you sometime.” She pointed to the bottom of the stairs. “Shh, it’s starting.”

Joe looked to where she was pointing at huge wooden doors that were held closed with a heavy wooden beam. There was a large man in front of the doors. He had his back to the crowd, and all Joe could make out was clothing similar to what about half the people in the crowd were wearing and long golden hair.

He watched in amazement as the man lifted the beam that had to weigh at least a couple hundred pounds as if it weighed nothing. He put it to the side, then with the help of another man, they opened the double doors before going into a dark room.

The entire crowd filed in quietly, and he and Talia found places to stand near the bottom of the long T shaped table.

Talia watched Joe as he watched the ceremony unfold before him. He could tell the instant that Vincent’s candle was lit and his face was illuminated… Joe’s mouth literally fell open.

Joe didn’t speak until the chamber was completely lit, and he lost sight of Vincent. He turned to Talia.

“That’s him, isn’t it. That’s Vincent… Jake’s father and Cathy’s… lover.”

Joe looked stunned, and Talia needed to know what was going on in his head, so she put her hand on his arm, right where his sleeve met his hand, and she was staggered by the mix of emotion and thoughts. There was so much: he was impressed and amazed, interested, relieved, and more than a little bit uncomfortable. There were no real thoughts, just feelings.

“Come on,” she told him, patting his arm. “You need to meet Vincent.”

“I guess that is what I’m here for, “he agreed hesitantly.

They detoured to a table where some teenagers seem to be in charge of coats. They left their coats with them then Talia guided him across the table toward where he could see the golden head above the rest of the cloud. When they got closer, he saw Diana standing on Vincent’s right side and little Jake standing on his left. He had his right arm around Diana, and his left hand rested on Jake’s shoulder. They were all watching the magician intently.

“Diana too?” he whispered.

“Diana met him while she was investigating Catherine’s case. He says she saved his life, and then she helped him find his son. Now she’s a Helper.”  

Before they had a chance to make their way over to where Vincent and Diana were, the man Talia had called Father had stepped up onto a dais at one end of the large chamber. The music stopped, and he was calling everyone’s attention to a rather rotund, bearded man and a tiny Asian woman who stood on the dais with him.

“As you all know,” he said, looking around at everyone in the crowd, “William and Su have decided to be married, and they wanted to share their joy with all of you, and it was decided that the best place to do that would be here at Winterfest. So, without further delay…”

William and Su took their places facing each other in front of Father. They joined hands and smiled at each other.

“Su, I love you,” William said with feeling. “You came along at a time when I thought that there was no one for me, that I would be living the rest of my life alone. I had built walls to protect myself, but you battered those walls to dust. You loved me, and you wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer. You are my partner, my true helpmate, and I will be forever proud and grateful to call you my wife.” He raised her left hand and slipped a tiny plain gold band onto one of her fingers, then he kissed it.

“William, I love you so much.” Su smiled up at him. “I, too, was beginning to think that I would spend my life alone. When my family came here from Korea, we were a very traditional Korean family. We didn’t associate much with people outside our small Korean community. I didn’t even learn English until I started school. But I didn’t really fit in. I was too independent, too outspoken, too American, but you love me despite that. You say that it’s actually part of why you love me. I am proud to be your partner and helpmate. And I’m thrilled to call you my husband.” 

Su slipped a much larger gold band on Williams's left ring finger, then she stretched up on her toes, pulled his head down a bit, and quickly kissed him.

Father placed his hands over their joined hands, smiled at each of them in turn, then said. “I now declare you married, and may all here be witness and accept you as such.” He kissed Su’s cheek then shook William’s hand.

The couple turned toward the crowd as everyone cheered and applauded.

Joe found himself applauding too. When he looked over, he saw Vincent and Diana making their way toward him and Talia. Diana waved and pointed to a table next to the side wall. Talia nodded and guided Joe toward it.

They all arrived at the table at the same time, and Joe and Vincent stood, sizing each other up for a moment before Diana spoke.

“Why don’t we all sit down,” she suggested as she pulled out a chair and sat. Talia sat across from her, while Vincent took a seat to Diana’s left, and Joe sat across from him.

“What did Father have to say,” Vincent asked Talia when they were all settled. “He did see, didn’t he?”

“That he did,” she told him. “Just before we all started down the stairs. He’s wasn’t happy, but that is all the more reason we need to get all this resolved. I think if I can present it to him as a done deal, he might forgive me.”

“You can hope,” said Vincent. Then he looked across the table at Joe. “What questions do you have for me?” he asked, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

Joe unbuttoned the button on his suit jacket and relaxed against the back of his chair before he asked his first question.

“Are you Jake’s father?” he asked.

“I am,” Vincent said evenly.

“Biological?”

“Yes.” Vincent’s brow furrowed, and he wondered where Joe was going with this.

“But he’s nothing like you?”

“He’s more like me than meets the eye, Mr. Maxwell,” Vincent told him. “His eyes are the same color as mine, as is his hair. But there are other, less visible traits. We have the same blood type, and it’s a very unusual one. He’s stronger than a child his age or size would normally be. His heart rate is slightly lower than usual. His body temperature is a little higher, and his stamina is far exceeding any of the other children down here. They refuse to race him as he can run farther and faster than any of them. Father has speculated that his bones are probably denser than usual because he’s taken some falls that would have broken bones on any other child. And he is empathic, as I am.”

“Empathic?” asked Joe. “As in sympathy pains and such?”

“A little more than that,” Vincent explained. “I can explain mine better. I can sometimes sense what a person is feeling, either or sometimes both physically and emotionally when I touch them. Sometimes I can just be in the same room and get a sense of what is happening if emotions are running high or if someone is in great pain.

“Jacob seems to have the same sort of sense but mostly with me, but lately, I’ve noticed that he seems to have connected with Diana too.”

“And your empathy had something to do with Cathy,” Joe stated.

“It did. She was the only person I connected with that I didn’t have to be touching or even in the same room with. I once sensed a threat to her when she was in California.”

“And Jake is Catherine’s son.” Again a statement.

“He is,” Vincent answered simply.

“So you two were married?” He used his thumb to point back over his shoulder to the dais where the ceremony had just taken place.

“No, we never got to that point,” Vincent said sorrowfully. “I didn’t know she was pregnant when she disappeared. If I had and she had agreed, we would have been.”

Joe was quiet for several moments before he spoke again.

“So when Diana told me ‘it takes a village,’ this was what she meant.” He waved his hand to indicate the people in the room. “All these people help you take care of your son.”

“They do.” Vincent looked across the table at Joe. “We are a family, Joe. These people were Catherine’s family too. This is where she came to heal after her father died. Catherine told me that you have a mother and sisters and that you all take care of each other. You know what it is like.”

“But why down here?” asked Joe.

“Because although none of them look like me, we are alike in some ways. We were cast off by or cast out of society above. As a newborn, I was left to die near the trash behind St. Vincent’s Hospital. We have several children who were just abandoned on the streets or in the park by parents who either couldn’t take care of them or didn’t want an imperfect child. Runaways have found their way to us when they fled abusive homes. Women with their children fleeing abusive husbands. People who just cannot face the world Above any longer.

“Some come here for a brief time, a respite while they regain their equilibrium before going back Above, and some like me, Father, and a few others either choose to stay or have no choice but to stay.”

“So you have your own little city here, below the city,” Joe mused.

Vincent smiled at the memory Joe’s words evoked. He’d said the same thing to Catherine the first time he explained it all to her.

“And we are safe and warm, and we live as best we can, with the help of the people you see here tonight.”

“What kind of people are they?” Joe asked. “I mean, I know Diana, Dr. Alcott, and now Miss Winters, but what about everyone else?”

Vincent looked out over the crowd and started naming the professions of people as he saw them.

“Cab drives, deli and restaurant owners, street musicians and entertainers, grocers, city employees, police officers, doctors, lawyers…”

“Any Indian chiefs?” asked Joe with a chuckle.

Vincent looked around the room until his eyes landed on a man talking to William not far away. He pointed him out to Joe.

“That is Hunter Oxendine. He’s from North Carolina and is a member of the Lumbee tribe… but I don’t think he’s a chief,” said Vincent, picking up on Joe’s more relaxed mood.

That was when Joe finally relaxed completely and laughed.

“Okay. I think you’ve nearly convinced me, but to tell the truth, I’d like to get to know everyone a little better before I am totally convinced. But don’t worry,” he rushed to add. “Your secret is safe with me. And if the DA’s office can ever help with something, don’t hesitate to call me. I’ll do whatever I can.”

Everyone around the table relaxed, and there was a general sigh of relief, just as Father walked up.

“Talia, I must talk to you… NOW!”

“Father,” Vincent interceded. “Everything has been resolved. Mr. Maxwell is well on his way to becoming a new Helper.”

 Joe grinned at that. He felt as if he’d been accepted into some exclusive club.

Father looked at Joe, the at Talia. Then he sputtered a bit before he got any coherent words out.

“So everything is all right?”

“Just fine,” Joe said. “I was just concerned for the boy. I had a hunch he had something to do with Cathy, and my hunches are usually pretty accurate. But he’s where he needs to be, with his family… I’d just like to ask one favor.”

“What is it?” asked Vincent.

“When he gets a little older, let me take him to a ball game once in a while. My dad used to take me, and I loved the game. Since you can’t exactly take him to a game, maybe I could help out in that area.”

“I’m sure he’d love it,” agreed Vincent. 

 

Talia had taken Joe back Above after the closing ceremony, but Diana had stayed to help Vincent supervise the teenagers carrying all the leftovers back to the kitchen. Diana didn’t think they would ever find places to put all the leftovers, but they had managed.

“Goodness, but these past few days have been stressful,” she said as Vincent walked with her back to the threshold in the park.

“It would have been less stressful if you had seen fit to take me into your confidence,” he pointed out.

“Ah, but would it have gone off half as well if I had? I think that the element of surprise for both of you went a long way toward resolving the issue. And I really do think that it helped that Joe met you this way, on as neutral ground as possible, and in the least threatening way, for both of you.”

“I may have to concede that point to you,” he admitted as they reached the metal door at the end of the tunnel.

“I should hope so,” she said with a grin. “Now we can concentrate on more interesting stuff.”

“Such as?” he asked, arching a brow and looking down at her.

“Like us!” she said. “I mean, if you want to; if you’re ready.”

Vincent surprised her by taking her into his arms and holding her. After a few minutes, he looked down to find her looking up at him.

They both moved at the same moment, and when their lips met, there was nothing sweet or innocent about the kiss this time.