May 5. I'm so tired of being the celebrity on campus. If it weren't soclose to the end of the semester, I'd quit. I can't take much more ofthis. have to go down to the courthouse tomorrow and make yet anotherstatement to the prosecution. How many different ways can I tell thesame stupid story?

July 6. Trial postponed.

August 14. Another postponement. Got to make a Killer Smile decisionabout registering for fall semester.

September 23. First day of testimony. God help me, I have to be in thesame room with him.

December 2. It's been almost a year since I met him and I'm finallyfree. I just wish Mountain Point Hospital weren't so close to campus.

December 23. Other girls get nice presents for Christmas. I get afour-page spread in the Sunday supplement. Newsmen are such vultures.

Jack closed the book. Poor kid. No parents, crazy boyfriend. It's awonder she's not totally screwed up.

Ellen shifted in her seat, and Jack fought his guilt as he hid thenotebook at his side, hoping she wouldn't see it. How could he explainhis voyeurism?

How could he justify snoop' rag in her diaries and read' rag re-marksshe'd probably never meant for anyone. else to see? He'd violated herprivacy.

He was no better than the news reporters she called vultures.

Jack replaced the notebook and pulled out a novel at random. The wordshe read had no meaning to him, and he began to get a twitchy feeling ashe closed the book.

You shouldn't be just sitting here, boredom whispered. You don't have time for a vacation, guilt reminded. You have a job andresponsibilities, duty chided.

Jack ran a hand through his hair. What job? What do I do? Who am I?

The words began to whirl in his mind, circling, blend JobResponsibility.

Snooping. Vultures.

I'm a reporter. 4 goddamn reporter. Looking for material for anotherSunday supplement.

"Whereire They Now ?" An investigative reporter. Investigating. A KillerSmile A Killer Smile Investigator. Just like MacGuyver. Looking forclues, evidence, information, locations--hidden locations, hard-to-findplaces and hard-to-find people. Like Ellen.

Why would I be looking for Ellen? No, I'd have a client. Someone whowould hire me to look for Ellen. Who' would want to find her?

The questions were vague and rambling but the answer was singular andclear-cut: Hank.

Jack swallowed hard.

"Ellen.. ?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Do you think Hank would go so far as to hire someone to find you?"

She thought for a moment before answering.

"No. All during the trial, he kept arguing he could do a better job thanhis lawyers. He always believed he was the best at everything. Betterthan his doctors, better than any expert. Hank would never hire adetective. He'd be sure he could do the job him. nell He'd do the jobhimself. That should make me feel better--but it doesn't.

Jack found the photo album and carried it back to the bed. His heart andhis feet both felt like lead. Propped up against the headboard, hestarted at the front of the book.

She was all freckles and teeth. A tomboy in jeans and-a youngheartbreaker in ruffles. School photos gave a year-by-year report on hertransition through puberty. Her chubby face grew angular, turning from apretty little girl to a classic beauty. Ellen in the school play, Ellendressed for the prom, Ellen in cap and gown.

Then he found the picture of Hank that Ellen had shown him earlier.

The camera had captured a split second of innocence on the young man'sface.

Hank Bartholomew looked like any other average college student,convinced of his own immortality and out for a good time.

But somewhere along the line the convictions became corrupt, and Hank'soverly fertile imagination emerged as a liabiljack stared at the picture until his eyes refused to focus. The colors swirled together like paintsmixed on a palette. His eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

SHE WORE PIIVIL.

Pale pink taffeta that rustled when she walked. Frtth her hair pulled upand the neckline sufficiently low, it was the stuff to fuel a boy'sdreams for nights to come.

For one special night, however, it was a dream come true. The hall wascrowded, full of laughter and music, but we had eyes for only eachother.

Every song was played for us. Every star shone for us.

When the dance was over, we sat out in the quad. Talking, laughing,kissing and making plans for a wonderful future. Only a dorm curfewcould put an end to our heaven on earth.

I stood on the steps, holding her hand until the last minute when shehad to go inside. Only a thin piece of glass separated us, and sheplaced her hand against the pane. I matched her gesture, then watchedher fade into the darkness. Racing around the side of the building, Ikept a close watch on her window, waiting for a light to flare.

Her silhouette on the curtain. Patience would persevere, and one day itwould pay off. There would be two silhouettes on the curtain for someoneelse to watch. Then the intertwined shadows would slowly sink out ofview .

A Killer Smile SHE WORE RED.

I laughed about how she matched the tablecloth and she pouted until shesaw the contents of the picnic basket. "Then, she forgave me.

Bread, cheese, grapes. The dining hall cook had reassured me this wasstandard make-out fare.

"You stick with the simple foods, son," he'd lectured. "A womanpreciates the classic things in life, like roses. Now, you don't forgetthe roses if you want to impress her. Act like a man and treat her likea woman. Then you'll learn why we call lt a make-out basket."

SHE WORE BLACK.

A serious, sympathetic color. I didn't like how it made her look paleand drawn. It was the sort of dress she might we. dr to a funeral.

But this wasn't a funeral. Or was it? Instead of burying a body, we werethere to bury a relation. ship. To make it official.

Splitsville.

She'd said she loved me . Lies. All lies.

And I hated her for making me believe in myself. Our love had given me areason for istence, and without her what good was I? Without love therewas no justifwation for life. I wanted to die. Right then and there.That would show her.

Death was the ultimate lesson, they said. "..

As srm Gw DROWSY, Ellen fought the sensation until it began affecting her work. Shifting the drawing out of the way, she decided she could

afford a few moments to rest her eyes. Folding her arms, she rested her head in the crook of her elbow and closed her eyes.

Immediately a dream caught her in its clawing grasp.

A Killer Smile 1Z5 I WORE WHITE.

It was tradition, and I was never one to flaunt an established practice

in society, even if this wasn't a conventional wedding.

I wore all the obligatory accessories.

"Something old" --my great-aunt's antique brooch.

"Something new" --my dress. The minister's wife lent me a yellowed veil

for "something borrowed." For "something blue" The ring felt heavy on myhand, knocking my entire balance off. Maybe it was the weight of thecommitment it signified that actually threw me off kilter. After all, itwasn't a rock, just a simple, microscopic sapphire burled in a cheapsetting. But to me it was the Hope diamond for what it. represented inlove and commitment. And since the stone was blue, it full riled thelast duty of tradition.

The minister began.

"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to

hold, for richer or poorer, in good times and bad, until death do you part?"

Jack squeezed my hand.

"I do."

I answered with equal conviction when it became my turn.

"With the power vested in me by the state, I hereby pronounce you man

and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

After a long, soul-searching kiss, we broke apart, still holding hands.

I stared at Jack, mesmerized by the love I felt.

The minister cleared his throat.

"Let me be the first to congratulate you" -- he glanced down at the

marriage license "--Mr. and Mrs. Hank Bartholomew."

Wearing an icy smile, the man I had called Jack 'tightened his grip on my hand.

"Didn't I tell you, sweetheart? I got my memory back. I know exactly who

I am."

" A Killer Smile A Killer Smile ELLEN JERKED AWAKE, propelled by some hidden self-defense mechanism that wouldn't let the nightmare go on any

longer. After a few moments of blind confusion, she realized she'dfallen asleep at her drawing board. She stretched, then smoothed out thepaper she'd crumpled in her sleep. Glancing toward the rocker, shediscovered Jack had fallen asleep, as well. He flipped restlessly on topof the covers.

"Jack?"

He didn't answer, at least not with words. Before she could cross thecold floor to the bed, she could see the fine sheen of perspirationcoating his face. Evidently caught in the throes of a dream, he mutatedsomething incomprehensible I hope your fantasies are better than mine.She touched his cheek.

The fever was back with a vengeance, setting up a spiral of fear withinher.

What's wwng with you? Why do you seem to be fine, then get sick again?She pushed a stubborn curl of hair off his forehead.

"Oh, Jack ..."

HE OPENED HIS EYES, instantly aware of the knife of pain that, split thetwo hemispheres of his brain. Ellen sat beside him on the bed, dabbingat his forehead with a washcloth.

"Welcome back."

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"I've been gone?"

"In a manner of speaking, You've been delirious for almost twenty-fourhours. You were awake. part of the time, but I wasn't sure you knewwhere you were." She stopped to run e tips of her fingers along hisfledgling beard.

"Jack, I've been so worried about you."

"It's over now." He tried to get up, but the fireworks display whichexploded behind his eyes convinced him to lie back again.

Ellen reached over and tucked the quilt around his chest. "No, you'renot well at all. The weather's gotten much better, and I think I oughtto go for help. You need medical attention."