A wicked grin spread across Mike's face. "Take your time writing your note, Chief," he said. "I'll have him exiting the building in no time."

Mike faded away and the receptionist came back with a paper and pencil. "Here you are," she said.

Bradley smiled at her again. "I feel a little awkward asking this, but have we met before? You look so familiar. Or maybe," he began and then stopped and stared at her. "Have you done professional modeling before?"

She turned a lovely shade of pink and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, I was the Holstein Queen in last year's Dairy Days Parade."

Bradley's smiled widened. "That must have been where I saw you."

Mike reappeared in his uncle's office. The room was large and filled with nice furniture, compared to the metal desks and chairs throughout the rest of the station. Chuck had his leather office chair reclined backwards, as he casually flipped through the internet on his laptop and sipped on a cup of coffee. The office walls were covered with photos and framed articles about Chuck's various accomplishments in town. Sheesh, no wonder Dad couldn't stand him.

Mike glided over to the wall facing the desk. "So, Uncle Chuck," he said, as he tilted a photo, so it hung at an angle on the wall. "Are you still OCD?"

He moved further down the wall, and switched a few more. "Used to drive you crazy when things were out of whack," he continued. "I remember moving around your model car collection, just enough to set you on edge. Yep, those were the good old days."

Mike glided around the room and stood behind his uncle's chair. He picked up a paperclip from the mahogany credenza behind him and flipped it over his uncle's head to land with a ping on the desk.

Chuck's feet dropped to the floor and he looked around the room. "Who's there?" he said.

Then his eyes rested on the wall in front of him, his photos and pictures hanging in every angle imaginable. "What the h.e.l.l? Did we have an earthquake?"

Bradley leaned over the counter and continued to scribble nonsense down on the sheet of paper. He paused several times and tried to make it look like he was thinking about some important information, even pulling out his phone and looking something up on the Internet.

"Don't you love these new smart phones?" he asked the receptionist. "They can do everything."

"Well, you know, I bought one and it just didn't work for me," she said. "It was darn right stupid."

She giggled at her own clever remark.

Bradley acted intrigued. "Really? That's odd. Where did you buy it?"

"Online at one of those electronic stores," she supplied. "It was supposed to be a 3G phone or something like that."

"And which carrier are you using?" he asked.

"Carrier?" she repeated, looking confused. "What do you mean?"

"You know, phone provider, like Verizon or Sprint or AT&T," he said.

"Why would I need one of those?" she asked, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "I didn't buy the phone from them."

"So you can connect your phone to a network and access other phones," he suggested.

"You think?" she asked, puzzling over the entire concept.

He shrugged. "Well, you know, it's worth a try."

Giggling again, she nodded. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Bradley shook his head and smiled at her again. "I just can't imagine."

Chuck rolled out of his chair, walked around the desk to the wall and painstakingly repositioned each frame, so they were all hung in perfect order. But before he could take his chair again, he turned and realized the first photo he repositioned was askew once again. He quickly straightened it and stepped back to check it.

Mike leaned back against the wall, chuckling. He lifted his hand and pushed the frame up, moving the photo before his uncle's eyes.

Chuck rubbed his eyes with his hands, leaning forward to study the photo.

Mike grinned and pushed up on the opposite edge of the photo, so it straightened and then tilted in the other direction.

"Freaked out yet, Uncle Chuck?" Mike asked. "Wait until you see this."

Mike lifted the frame with his hand and lifted it away from the wall, holding it out three feet. Then he turned it around and hung it backwards.

Chuck backed up, nearly falling over his desk, and kept his eyes glued on the photo.

Mike laughed out loud as he flicked each of the other photos with his finger, sending them rocking back and forth on the wall.

Eyes bulging and skin pale; Chuck rushed from his office out into the main area of the station.

"Oh, Chief Richards, you are in your office," Bradley said. "And here I was just writing you a note. I guess this won't be needed any longer."

He ripped the note up into several pieces and turned to the receptionist. "Thank you so much for your help," he said. "Chuck, where would you like to meet?"

Chapter Thirty-four.

Mary stood in her bathroom with one leg planted on top of the toilet seat while she searched for slivers and pulled them out with her tweezers. The small chips of wood embedded in her calves and thigh were nothing compared to the monster sliver she had pulled out of Ian's hand, but she wanted to be sure she got them all.

She took a good look at her leg. In her medical opinion, it was a mess. Good thing Linda's wedding wasn't for another week and good thing the dress she found was calf-length. She found another sliver and pulled it out. Ouch! That's the last time she'd use a tree as an escape route. Next time, she decided, she wanted a helicopter to fly her to safety. That wasn't too much to ask, was it?

A half hour later she was showered, slathered with lotion and dressed in her favorite Chicago Police Department sweats and thick wool socks. She came about halfway down the steps and leaned over the banister. "Ian," she called out, "are you down there?"

Ian walked around from the kitchen. "Aye, darling, what do you need?"

"Is Rosie here?' she asked.

He shook his head. "No, she's not. Why?"

Mary continued the rest of the way down the stairs. "She doesn't think I should wear my sweats anymore," she said, "especially now that I'm engaged."

"Ah, she wants you to look more..." he paused expectantly.

She sighed. "More feminine, I guess," she said, pausing at the bottom of the stairs.

Ian looked over her, smiled and shook his head. Her damp hair hung in curling tendrils around a peaches and cream complexion that needed no make-up to enhance her natural beauty. Her eyes sparkled with a humor and warmth that drew people to her. Her oversized sweats made her look like a pixie out for a bit of fun, but in no way hid her very feminine curves.

"Well, just for the record," he said, "I think you look charming and very feminine."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, Ian, you always say the nicest things."

"It's me s.e.xy Scottish accent," he replied, wagging his eyebrows at her and then he paused. "Although very recently I was compared to Scrooge McDuck."

Laughing, she patted his shoulder, as she pa.s.sed him on the way to the kitchen. "Poor you," she said. "Who would have been so insensitive to say something like that?"

He followed her into the kitchen and sat on one of the stools next to the counter, while she picked up the kettle and filled it with water for tea.

"Oh, a young man at the lake," Ian said, reaching over for the cookie jar and helping himself. "Ronny Goodridge."

Mary placed the kettle down on the counter and turned to him. "Oh, Ian, you found him," she said. "What happened? What did he say?"

"I can tell you that I've never, in my life, had the urge to find and do harm to another human being as I did after Ronny told us about what happened to him," he said, shaking his head. "Mary, the man was an animal. No, worse, for even an animal wouldn't have done what he did to the lad."

"Oh, Ian," Mary replied sadly. "How...how is he doing?"

A half-smile appeared on Ian's face. "If nothing else, working with you, meeting these ghosts, has taught me that the human spirit is indomitable," he said. "I left Ronny and Timmy at the lake, chasing each other about and hunting for coyotes. They were laughing like little boys at play."

The smile disappeared and he met her eyes. "I told them to come here, when they were done at the lake," he said. "But you need to know... his appearance."

"Was he hurt badly?" she asked.

"His face was pushed into the mud, probably suffocated, after he was brutally beaten," he said. "It's a frightful sight. I suggested to Timmy he not bring Ronny around to Maggie's."

She nodded. "Thank you, that was very wise. How did Timmy react to Ronny's face?"

Shrugging, Ian thought for a moment. "Once they started talking, he didn't seem to notice it anymore."

"He saw past it, to the child beneath?" Mary asked.

"Aye, he did," he replied.

Mary picked up the kettle and put it on the stove to heat up. "Was he able to tell you where he was buried?" she asked, walking over and sitting on the stool next to him.

He handed her a cookie and nodded. "He was dumped into the lake," he replied. "Ronny remembers it being dark and cold when he died."

Mary put the cookie down on the counter, her eyes filling with tears and she wrapped her arms around herself. "The ghosts and the things that go b.u.mp in the night aren't monsters," she whispered. "It's the people who drive around during the day, pretending to be someone they aren't, and taking advantage of those who are weaker than they. Those are the monsters."

"Mike found his body," Ian said, "towards the middle of the lake. He asked for a few minutes before he could talk about it, but then we got busy with a fire..."

She turned towards him. "And here we are," she said.

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Aye, here we are, helping those little boys find their way home," he said pointedly. "There are monsters out there, Mary. But there are also angels and they come in all shapes and sizes. And sometimes we get to be an angel and sometimes we get to help an angel."

She nodded and took a deep breath. "And sometimes the angels get to kick the monster's b.u.t.t."

He grinned. "Aye, and that feels great."

Chapter Thirty-five.

"So, we met in the records room," Bradley recounted with a grin. "He said his office was too crowded."

Mike laughed. "You should have seen the look on his face when I set all of the photos rocking back and forth on the wall. It was priceless."

"That was brilliant," Mary said. "You both did an amazing job!"

"Well, I had the easy part," Mike admitted, sending a grin to Bradley. "I didn't have to keep the over endowed receptionist occupied."

Mary stopped laughing and turned to Bradley. "Over endowed?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"She was the Holstein Queen during last year's Dairy Days," Mike added.

"Udderly beautiful?" Ian asked.

Choking, Mary slapped Ian's shoulder. "Stop that," she laughed.

Bradley chuckled. "She was harmless," he said. "And she happily made copies of all the records we needed."

"Yeah, and she told Bradley if he needed *anything else' he should call her," Mike added.

"I'm sure she just meant records," Bradley said.

Mike turned to Mary. "He smiled at her and winked. She was a goner as soon as he walked in the door."

"You flirted with her?" Mary asked, astonished. "You actually flirted?"

Bradley shook his head. "No, I pretended to flirt," he said. "Big difference."

"And she melted," Mike added. "Putty in his hands."

"We really need to discuss the case," Bradley insisted.

"Yeah, we can talk about the babe later on," Mike said, "when Mary's not in the room."

Exasperated, Bradley turned to Mary. "Mary, I promise..."