"Now we all know that's a lost cause," Nixon chimed.

Ari had kept the battery charged and the truck in good condition. In spite of how he treated Asher, part of him always felt like Grant would return to collect the truck. Part of him never felt like Grant had truly died.

What a hypocrite he was.

Ari climbed in and was just about to put on his seatbelt when, without warning, Nixon slammed the truck in reverse and barreled backward out of the garage. The truck came to a sudden complete stop and he was thrown forward into the back of Kennedy's seat. Pulling himself off the floorboard, he caught the devious look on Nixon's face.

Stomping on the gas, Nixon slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, and Ari flew back onto the seat. The truck bounced over the snowy unplowed drive and Nixon shouted like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. Finding the seatbelt, Ari put it on before he could do something else foolish. Lying back Ari removed his ball cap, and rested his head on the headrest.

"Well," he mumbled, "at least it's a four-wheel drive."

"Yeah baby and the snow is bitchin!" Nixon sang.

Ari shook his head and catching movement in a second floor window, realized that it was Asher standing in the office window watching them leave.

"I think it will become clear to you that you've had reason to hate me all these years."

Chapter Eleven.

The Fighter Reading to the kids in the *I Read' book club gave Elle Ison a chance to break the monotony in her otherwise unpromising day. She was different around the kids. Around them, she could let her guard down. She could laugh and be herself and because she was good with them, no one ever asked to take her place. Elle turned the page and showed the wide eyed children the picture of the wolf. They seemed to especially like the stories about humans shifting or morphing into animals.

Hatori Matasuto's manga book series was their all-time favorite. The children called the shifters in his book ani-shifts. The little girl on the end seemed especially interested this day, even though she appeared to be much older than the other children gathered around on the alphabet patterned rug.

The children tended to be the same group every Thursday. But Elle didn't know this little girl. Being the central library in the heart of downtown Indianapolis there was a variety of ethnicity and socio-economic levels, from the affluent to the poor that utilized the libraries services. Elle had seen and witnessed many things. Still, she was quite positive that this particular little girl was the saddest, the most unusual and pathetic looking child she had ever beheld.

The girl didn't gasp in surprise like the others when the man in the book transformed into the wolf. She didn't laugh or even tweak out the slightest of smiles when Elle talked in her baby voice, or made big booming noises to demonstrate the sounds a bear would make when walking through the woods. The children adored Elle, but this little girl looked at her with such strange questioning eyes. There was something forlorn about her, something that aged her beyond her childhood years.

She was an exceptionally pretty child that much was true; near Hollywood appealing. But she was also very noticeably dirty, almost to the point of repugnance. Elle wasn't the only one that noticed. The other children scooted away from her and every now and then, she had to ask them to stop whispering and making fun of the girl.

Two pages from the end of the book, Elle noticed that the girl was crying and so did her boss, Francis, the head librarian. She had been warned about scaring the children. Elle knew that she sometimes got carried away in voice and actions, especially if she had a bad night with Julio. However, even if she was sporting a new bruise on her cheek, Elle was positive that it wasn't her bitterness toward him that was coming out this time, and instead it had to be Anthony's pig sounds.

Still, she toned down and hurried along. Only when she uttered the ending words, did Elle look again to see if she was correct in her assumption. Yes, the little girl had been crying, but now the tears were nothing but smudges across her dirty cheeks. Francis was really frowning now. In a flurry of arriving parents and children embracing her in gratitude for the story, Elle lost track of the girl. When she did spot her again she was sitting alone at a table in the children's section assembling a wooden puzzle, but Elle became distracted by Francis.

"Miss Ison. I thought I told you to choose stories that wouldn't upset or confuse the children. Why is that such a hard task?"

"But the children like these stories and-" Elle stopped midsentence. She had felt the need countless other times to argue her point, but this day her words were mislaid for other grounds.

A man suddenly appeared out of nowhere and squatted down next to the little girl. By mere reaction alone, Elle knew that the little girl did not know him. Anthony's parents were divorced and only his mother or grandmother was allowed to pick him up. She also knew that Karen's grandpa was newly released from jail and her mom feared he might try to contact her. Elle was supposed to make sure all the children were safely picked up by their parents-all of them, even dirty little girls that no one seemed to care about.

"That little girl there, the one at the table," she said to Francis, "do you know her name?"

"Miss Ison, what have I told you about getting information on the children? We could be liable if something happened to one of them."

"I can't get information if I've never seen them before," Elle argued. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I just looked up and there she was sitting with the other children."

"Well," Francis scoffed, "I find that hard to believe when she's been here before among your group." Francis didn't believe her because she thought it was just another one of her excuses.

Lately, Francis had been getting on her about being sloppy, but so what if she had put up a few books where they didn't belong, or twice now she had failed to put the requested books on the proper hold shelves. If the work wasn't done, Elle had no choice but to leave.

The other employees could stay over or work up until the last minute because they had cars to drive and busses to catch. But every day, Elle was forced to walk home because Julio didn't trust her with a car, and he refused to give her money for a bus. Elle didn't like walking home in the dark and staying over meant getting home late, and Julio knew exactly what time to expect her to come through the door.

"I don't want to argue with you, Miss Ison, as you are so prone to do with me. The fact of the matter is, no matter what excuse you were planning to use this time, you should be more careful with evaluations coming up. Now, while her father is here, I would ask him to fill out the necessary paperwork. You can do that, can't you?"

Elle tended to avoid the opposite sex whenever she could. Julio liked to show up unexpectedly and he often accused her of things when the matter could have been something as simple as showing a male customer where he could find a particular book. Just thinking about it made the cut tingle on her lower lip from the big fat ring Julio wore on his ring finger. He had accused her of flirting with the mailman when, despite the fact he was cute, all she was doing was explaining that he had delivered mail to the wrong apartment again.

Breaking from her troubled thoughts, Elle saw that the little girl was gone. Moving over to the table where she'd previously been, Elle picked up a wooden alphabet piece and stared blankly at the letters the girl had lined up above the puzzle board, which clearly spelled out the word, help. Adrenaline pumping, Elle wildly looked around. She heard her, Elle was sure of it, a small muffled attempt of a scream from somewhere in the direction of the fiction section.

Dropping the puzzle piece, she took off at a fast pace. She could see him in between the spaces of the bookshelves pulling the little girl by the arm, with one hand over her mouth toward the back exit.

Spotting Sandra near the movie section with a cart full of DVDs gave Elle an excellent, however impulsive idea. Grabbing it, she wheeled the cart as fast as she could to the end of the row and turned quickly on purpose, causing it to overturn, contents and all, directly in front of the unsuspecting man. His shins hit the metal sides of the cart and he fell over it, setting the little girl free in the process, while DVDs slid in all directions upon the floor.

Rolling over quickly, the man glared up at Elle and she saw something flash in his eyes. She was sure she saw a yellow light. Then a strange almost eerie blank expression crossed his face. The look totally baffled her. It was as though he recognized her, when she clearly did not know him at all.

Turning away from him, Elle looked toward the fleeing girl. She saw her slip on a copy of the X-Men, fall to her knees, and then get up and continue on. Jumping to his feet the man quickly did the same. Whether he knew her or not, he obviously didn't plan on sticking around long enough to chat.

Elle looked over her shoulder as the back door clicked shut, and then turned around to await Francis. Her knack for getting on her boss's bad side had just taken a severe turn for the worse, but as the little girl's blonde head disappeared among the rows of books, Elle realized she didn't regret helping her at all.

The sky above her was dark and just as dreary as her soul as Elle started for home. On Friday's she always stopped off at the Ace Cash Advance to cash her check, so she could take every last cent home to Julio. He usually wanted the money badly enough that he never said anything about her running late on paydays. But this night, her time spent in Francis's office learning just how much of a looser she really was, caused her to run even later. On top of that there had been a long line of people waiting to cash their checks when she arrived.

She thought about calling Julio to pick her up, since he was more than likely just a few blocks over at the bar, but calling him was considered an intrusion on his private life, and Elle didn't want any more trouble. Not this night and especially not from him. She moaned longingly. She really did like that job. Julio seldom came home anymore and it wasn't that she cared one way or another, but the loneliness was really starting to wear on her.

She thought about all the wonderful places she had read about, and wondered if she would ever have a chance to experience life apart from the poverty-stricken slums of the east side. As she passed the window of a bookstore, she slowed. Today was the day that Hatori Matasuto's latest book was due to be released, and she had so wanted to buy it. The book was there, just as she figured it would be, right in front, displayed on a gold plated easel like an artist's masterpiece.

Julio wouldn't let her watch the kind of programs she liked on the television, but every now and then, she found a discarded newspaper in the employee break room. According to the entertainment section the reviews weren't the greatest for Hatori's latest book in the Tale of the Two Brother's series.

Apparently the author had ended things on a dark note and critics didn't understand his reasoning. Nevertheless, she had waited a year for the book to appear on the bookstore shelves and she still longed to read it. The book wouldn't be in the libraries for another month, and it's not like she would be able to visit one to check it out anyway. Other than working and occasionally walking to the grocery store, Julio seldom let her go anywhere. On impulse, Elle went inside. The clerk was closing up, but she just had to ask.

"How much is Hatori Matasuto's book?"

Elle cringed when she heard the clerk rattle off the price of $17.99 as though that were nothing. Truthfully, she couldn't recall spending that much on anything as frivolous as a book. Not too long ago, Julio allowed her to make a trip to the Goodwill Outlet store to purchase work clothes, but she had to practically beg him to let her do that. Lately, even asking for the needed quarters to wash laundry was becoming a hassle. Elle never minded his controlling personality before when it meant keeping a roof over her head, but things were really starting to get ugly. She longed for so much more.

In a moment of rebellion, Elle nodded. "I'll take one, then."

She pulled a twenty out of her pocket and handed it over to the clerk. Only when she started for the apartment, did the nervous juices in her stomach start churning. Julio would know when she handed him the cash that she had shorted him. Even though she had never given him cause to distrust her, he always asked for the paycheck stub as a comparison. She had no reason to believe that this night would be any different.

A flock of blackbirds gathering on a park bench startled her when they suddenly flew away, and began circling above her in the sky. The birds were becoming a nuisance, feeding off discarded food and popcorn left behind on the streets from the corner theatre. Birds always fascinated her, but right now her interest lay elsewhere.

Stopping on the street corner, she pulled out the book from the plastic sack and examined the front cover under the glow of a street lamp. Her eyes took in the silhouette of a wolf howling in front of a full white moon. Hatori's main character, Pain, was a wolf ani-shift. From an early age, Elle loved reading about the fantasy world, especially of the paranormal nature. This last book in the manga series was titled Evil Angel.

Without her even hearing footsteps, a man suddenly stood at her side. Downtown Indianapolis teemed with nightlife, especially on the weekends. The corner was a busy intersection, even on such a cold, dreary night, so she didn't think much of it. Along with the Art's Garden, the Circle Center Mall and the Repertory Theatre, there were numerous restaurants and clubs to hang out in, but Elle didn't know anything of that life. The man looked down at the book in her hands and a strange sensation swept over her.

"Well if it ain't the bookworm."

Glancing up, Elle took in the same leather clad man that she had seen in the library trying to take the little girl. Without thinking, she rushed into the street before the light could properly change. At the sound of a honking horn behind her, Elle hurried to the safety of the office building across the street. Going through the revolving door, she didn't look back until she was safely inside and standing in front of a security guard's desk.

She saw no signs of the man, but that didn't mean she wouldn't once she stepped outside and headed home. Elle asked the guard if she could use the phone, knowing Julio always kept his cell on him for business. The very second she heard his voice speaking loud over the sound of music in the background, she knew she would live to regret the call.

Elle hit the floor hard. The bottom of her toe stung, her mouth was bleeding again, and her hip hurt from where Julio threw her into the bathtub. She told herself to stay on the ground, to let the comment fly right on by, but Julio knew that she didn't like to be called ugly, and that's exactly why he did it. Just as she was going to retort something just as ugly back, he threw the book at her and struck her in the stomach, sucking the comment and her breath right out of her.

"Julio, I can take it back and get the money," she panted. Had she just walked home, she could have hidden the book before he had a chance to see what she spent the money on, her money. Elle didn't understand. She never bought anything for herself and she always did what she was told.

"No. I want to see you burn it."

"I won't Julio," she responded. He was angry for having to pick her up and now he was going to make her pay. Elle wondered which skanky stripper he had to put off till later. She told Julio about the man, but of course he believed she did something to cause him to follow her-an invitation to bed no doubt. He didn't believe her about the little girl either.

Everything was always her fault and Elle was tired of being treated so poorly. Swiftly rolling over, she grabbed the book and sent it back with equal force as he'd thrown it at her. Taking him off guard, book four in Hatori Matasuto's series hit Julio right between the eyes. She felt like cheering in triumph, but as the shock wore off and his dark eyes narrowed on her, Elle realized she had only proceeded to make him angrier.

She had to think of something fast. Quickly taking to her feet Elle waited for him to get just inches from her and then she spit in his face. Surprised, he stopped in mid-swing and she took advantage of the distraction. He had meant to punch her in the stomach, but instead she balled up her fist and punched him in his.

A startled gasp escaped Julio's lips as her knuckles made impact with his soft stomach muscles. Her attempt made Julio laugh and that made her furious. She pulled back her hand to slap him, but he caught it before she could do any damage. As she fought him with everything she had, he dragged her in the direction of the bedroom. She begged him to leave her alone but he never listened.

"You have no choice. Don't ever forget that. No one would ever want you. You're trash. Your life is here with me, forever."

Mary lay in bed, heart and nerves refusing to calm. Countless times, she'd seen pictures of missing children, whether on the bulletin board at Wal-Mart, on a flyer in the mail, or on television, and each time she had told herself that she was smarter, that she would never get into such a situation. In the bleakest of neighborhoods and the worst of mother's boyfriends, Mary had learned to play it safe. She knew how to be quiet, make herself scarce and how to avoid trouble, but then no one had ever told her that they knew her father before.

Things went so much better when mother wasn't drinking. There was food to eat and she didn't have to worry about moving because there wasn't any money to pay rent. Mary wanted to go to her, tell her what happened at the library with the man, but she knew mom wouldn't listen, so she stayed in her dark room haunted by things she didn't understand. The small room off the kitchen was in reality a pantry, but a coat of pale blue paint, the color of the summer sky, and some remnant carpeting taken from a dumpster had turned it into the closest thing Mary ever had to a real bedroom.

Some of her fondest memories were spending time with mother, visiting secondhand shops and yard sales looking for things to make the place feel like home. Whenever mother had a boyfriend, Mary was all but ignored. Burly, mother's newest boyfriend, had made it all too clear that he didn't like children. Whenever he was around, mother made her go outside to play, or sent her to her room to read a book.

That was why she had taken to following the lady upstairs to work every day, and stopped taking baths. Sooner or later mother would notice that she was gone. Sooner or later, mother would have no choice but to notice her.

Up until a few seconds ago, Mary had been lying quiet and still, every fiber of her body tuned to the sounds of the argument brewing to a hostile level in the apartment above, but now everything was quiet, and she was glad. The air blowing in through the cracked kitchen window was cold, but Mary liked the window open. She would rather burrow under her comforter for warmth than inhale the cigarette smoke drifting in from the living room.

Mother and Burly had put in an old war flick an hour ago, sitting down with popcorn and two full bottles of Jim Beam. But the last time Mary had gotten up to go pee, she saw that Burly had passed out on the couch and mom was watching the movie with the sound turned down. The last bottle was her mother's alone, and she was no longer using a shot glass. Instead, her mom was tilting the bottle skyward and drinking it straight without Coke, taking several big gulps at a time.

Mary closed her eyes, longing for sleep. Before long she began to think of the moon, full and white lighting a blue-black sky. She felt peace whenever she thought of the moon. Often, a wolf, silver grey with blue eyes, visited her thoughts and dreams. And just as it did now, it led her through thick woods and played with her in a field of wildflowers; but soon those images began to change into something scarier. Mary dreamed of mother sitting in the worn green chair, bottle tilted and Burly standing above her with a knife ready to plunge into her chest.

Mary bolted upright in bed. A steady stream of perspiration had beaded on her forehead and was now dripping downward along the bridge of her nose into her eyes. She blinked, trying to think, trying to reason and then the scream frightened her again. It took several seconds to realize that it wasn't coming from the living room at all, but instead from the apartment above.

Sometimes for hours, the arguing would rage until eventually one or both would cave, often resulting in the slamming of a door. Sometimes the boyfriend would drive away in his fancy hotrod, squealing the tires and yelling out the window as he went. Miss Ison never left though, except to go to work.

Something heavy thudded against her ceiling and she knew that the fighting couple above was in their kitchen. And she also knew that this time, the boyfriend planned to hurt her, possibly even kill her. Mary had seen her a few times on the stairs and once on the fire escape with a bag trying to leave, but he always caught her, and then the fighting would start all over again. Mary realized she must have been trying to leave again. Mary jumped out of bed searching the floor for her lost slipper.

Dropping down, she fumbled under the cot until she found it next to a shoebox of Hot Wheel cars that she had stolen from a boy at school. He was rich enough that Mary figured he would never miss them. She had just sat down on the bed to put on her slippers when mother pushed aside the dark blue shower curtain with the big yellow moon on it which separated her room from the kitchen. Mother's eyes were bloodshot and glazed over.

"Do you hear that?" mom asked. "Maybe we should call the police?"

Mary nodded, surprised that her mother had woke from her drunken stupor long enough to notice or care.

"I'll call." Knowing they didn't have a phone, Mary started for the door. Mother's last boyfriend had liked to call dirty numbers and until the bill was paid, the phone company wouldn't give them service. Mother didn't ask where she was going. She was aware that it was Mary whom genuinely took care of things.

Scuffing back to the living room, mother plopped down in the green chair. As Mary slid the many chain locks on the front door, her last image of her mother was her tilting the bottle at a steep angle to drain the last few drops of whiskey into her gaping mouth.

The wood felt rough and cold under Mary's knuckles as she pounded on the door. Mrs. Overton was old and had trouble hearing. Mary highly doubted that she would get up to answer anyhow. People hid behind locks and slept with guns in her neighborhood at night. Suddenly hearing footsteps on the stairs, Mary ran back inside her door, leaving it open just a crack to see out. She saw him-Miss Ison's boyfriend, in a flash of baggy jeans and white muscle tee, as he passed by.

The door slammed below and Mary tiptoed out into the hall to the stair railing. Through the glass double doors of the entrance to the building, she could see him getting in his car and within seconds he was squealing out of the parking lot in his usual manner. Mother called him a thug and said for her to stay away from him because he was no good. Mary thought that was funny since she considered Burly a thug too. Hurrying up the stairs before she could change her mind, Mary saw that the door was left open, so she crept and peered in.

A coffee table lay on its side and there were noodles spilled on the carpet. A lamp lay broken, several books lie in random places as though they had been thrown-covers open-pages peeled back. A shattered mirror was by the door. At the sound of crying, she crept carefully inside. It wasn't hard to find the bedroom. The apartment was the exact same layout as hers. It was just at the end of the hall and to the left.

The room was messy with clothes scattered all over the floor and things strewn across the dresser top, but Mary got the impression that it was always like this. A striped blue and green sheet was tacked to the window as a curtain. Unlike the rest of the apartment the bedroom had a dusty mildew smell with a hint of men's cologne lingering on the air.

On the bed, Miss Ison sat, and what little she had on in the way of clothing, an oversized tee-shirt with a bear on the front was torn and falling down off one shoulder. Her mouth was bleeding, her eye swollen and red, and there were long red scrapes across her right shoulder.

"Are you okay Miss Ison?"

Gasping, she looked up at Mary, wild panic and fear causing her eyes to fly open in surprise. Mary thought she had pretty eyes, when they weren't blackened and puffy. Her eyes were blue like the sky. When she was done up just right, Mary thought she looked a little like a movie actress. Miss Ison was definitely too pretty to be with someone like her thug of a boyfriend.

"You...!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here...in my apartment?"

"My name is Rosemary but my mom calls me Mary. I live downstairs."

Again, Miss Ison's eyes widened. Her tongue flicked out to lick at the blood on her lip. "You...live...downstairs. Well...if that don't beat all."

"I heard the fighting and since the door was open, I thought I would see if you were all right."

"Just great, that guy's an idiot. I told him that I thought someone might have been following me home after work, so what does he do? He leaves the front door open so anyone can walk in." She got up slowly as though every muscle in her body ached and Mary followed her to the living room.

Miss Ison stepped over the broken lamp, stopped to pick up a book and proceeded to shut the door. Once all the locks were in place, she turned around and glared at her. Suddenly, Mary felt small and frightened.

"So, if you live downstairs, why haven't I seen you around before?"

"My mother and I haven't lived here long."

"Wait, is she the skinny bleach blonde with the Harley biker for a boyfriend?" she asked. Mary nodded. She knew what she thought. Mother looked bad. Whenever she was back on booze, she seldom stopped to eat or take care of herself. Her hair always looked uncombed, her clothes wrinkled and dirty. But she could be pretty when she wanted to be.

"Yeah, the idiot likes to take Julio's parking spot," Miss Ison said. "And Julio just loves it when someone gives him a reason to use his blade." She squatted down and shook her head at the shattered mirror. An odd expression took over her countenance as she picked up a sliver of glass. "This mirror belonged to my grandmother. Aah, what does it matter now? I don't need a mirror to know that what Julio says is true. I am ugly."

"You're not ugly Miss Ison."

"It doesn't matter what you think. After what Julio did...I feel ugly on the inside and that's what counts." For several long seconds, she stared at the sliver of mirrored glass-eyes traveling back and forth between the sharp point and her wrist.

Mary cleared her throat to let her know she was still there. Snapping out of it, Miss Ison pulled down the tee-shirt and inspected the long red scratches, and what appeared to be teeth marks on her shoulder.

"I can't believe he clawed me like a girl. What a wimp," she sniffed. "The good side of that is your mamma's boyfriend might not have anything to worry about after all."