Geoff smiled at me wolfishly.

I laughed. "Silly."

"I'll cook dinner, what do you want?"

"You'll cook. This I have to see," I replied.

"I'll have you know, woman, that I can cook quite well."

"So, why haven't you ever cooked for me until now?"

"I don't know. You got started cooking for us when you invited me to dinner the

first time. Somehow, you just seemed so comfortable cooking that it was a joy to watch you."

"s.e.xist," I charged. "You have a streak of s.e.xism in your nature a mile wide. You liked having me in the kitchen because it suits your ideals to have a woman in the food preparation role."

"You could have asked if I knew how to cook. Instead, you simply a.s.sumed that I was the stereotypical helpless male." I smiled wryly as I rolled over on my side to face him. "What can I say? You're right. I should have asked."

Geoff smiled at me and shook his head. "I can cook. But, it isn't my favorite activity. Frankly, as long as you were willing to do it, I wasn't going to raise the issue."

I chuckled. "That's just like a man," I complained.

Geoff raised one eyebrow. "Good. I'd hate to be just like a woman."

I laughed.

"It's good to hear you laugh, 'Licia," he told me. Then he became serious. "I

wondered if I would ever hear you laugh again when we took you to the hospital on Sat.u.r.day. Honey, I was so scared." "We won't talk about that Geoff. We just won't talk about it. We can't change it. Why dwell on it? Let's just leave it behind us and go on." "Okay, honey. Whenever you change your mind, I'll be here to listen. Know that." "I know that." I a.s.sured him. Then I smiled slightly, "You said something about food? Or was that an unfounded rumor, Counselor?" I sat in the kitchen watching Geoff cook. In spite of his statement that he could cook, I had a.s.sumed that "cook" was a relative term he maybe applied to opening a can of soup and toasting a cheese sandwich. I wasn't prepared for the boneless chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s in a tarragon, nutmeg, green onion, and orange marmalade flavored cream and white wine sauce with seedless flame grapes. Teamed with "instant" brown rice, steamed broccoli, and a bottle of Chenin Blanc, the meal was certainly more than acceptable.

At the end of the meal, I sat back replete, with a smile. "I think that I will turn over the cooking duties to you," I teased.

Geoff looked horrified.

I laughed boldly at his expression. "Okay, we can share them."

"Since I cooked, you can do the dishes," Geoff replied with a smile.

But, we both did the dishes.

The clock rang off 10:00 when we entered the living room after dinner.

One of the night bodyguards, Mike Krumpt, was hovering in the background. But, I was doing my best to ignore him.

Picking up the chess set, I asked, "Want to give me a game, Geoff?"

Geoff looked at me. "You don't have to try so hard, 'Licia," he told me.

"Is that what I am doing?"

"Isn't it? You are so busy trying to prove to everyone that you are just fine that you haven't given yourself time to mourn the baby."

I placed the chess set down on the table where I had gotten it. "Maybe, just maybe, I've cried too many tears, Geoff. I'm sick of feeling so scared and weepy all the time. Hernandez wants to hurt me. He's succeeded. He wants to destroy me. I'm not going to let him do that," I said. "And I have to be strong if I am going to fight him. 'And' I am going to fight him. He's had too many victories. I'm not giving him any more."

Geoff smiled at me. Then his expression became cautious. "There's a difference between being strong and becoming hard. Don't grow a harsh crust over your emotions, honey, please."

I tilted my head slightly. "Is that what I am doing?"

"I don't know. I am afraid so."

I sighed. "I'm not trying to shut you out, Geoff."

Geoff nodded in acceptance. "I know that this is difficult for you. It's not easy for me, either. I hate this stress, this not knowing where the next disaster will strike."

"I know."

"Still want to play chess?" Geoff offered.

"Unless you would rather do something else."

He smiled at me with a mock leer.

I laughed quietly. "Geoff," I remonstrated. We both knew that I was in no physical condition for the type of activity that he had in mind. And neither was he, for that matter. His ribs were still, judging from the way that he moved, quite painful.

"I know. Behave."

"Please."

"I'll set up the board. Would you light a fire?" he asked.

"Checkmate," Geoff said after about an hour of playing.

"So it is." He was the only person by whom I had ever been defeated in chess.

"Another game?"

"I don't think so, Geoff. I'm tired. I shouldn't be this tired. We slept for most of the late afternoon and evening."

He nodded. "Have you talked with Colleen Kelly about this?"

"My Jungian mother confessor?" I teased.

He laughed as he reached out and stroked my face. "What did Colleen say?"

"That excessive sleep was a sign of clinical depression. But since I was having so little real rest at night because of the dreams, she didn't seem to think that my sleep habits were all that out of line."

"Was that all Colleen had to say?"

"She is fascinated by my dreams. I think that she is writing a book about them from the notes that she keeps taking."

Geoff laughed. "If she publishes without permission," he teased, "we'll have her license yanked so fast that her head will spin."

I giggled.

"You need rest. Why don't you go on up."

"I think that I will."

"I'll be up shortly."

I was on the landing at the top of the first flight of stairs when a solid, police style, pounding sounded from the front door.

Mike answered the door.

Geoff stood at the doorway connecting the living room to the entry hall.

I stepped around the corner so that I couldn't be seen from the door.

"Chief Mallory," Mike greeted as he opened the door.

"Phil," Geoff echoed, strain in his voice. Then his voice became considerably more agitated, "What the h.e.l.l is wrong, now? Haven't we been through enough?"

"May we come in?" Phil asked.

"I'm almost tempted to ask if you have a warrant," I replied from the top of the stairs.

"No, Al. I don't have a warrant. But, we do need to talk with you," Phil replied.

"Then come in, Phil. Who's with you?" I replied as I started down the stairs.

"Sam Ulrich, Doc," Sam answered, as he stepped into the light.

Geoff looked at me. "Are you sure that you are up to this, sweetheart?"

"It doesn't look as though I have any choice," I said. "Gentlemen, won't you please take seats in the living room?"

"Okay, what's up?" I asked, once we were all seated.

Phil sighed. "There's been a break-in at Jencomp," he told me.

"My lab or the duplication facility?" I asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

"The lab," Sam Ulrich replied quietly.

I bit my lip in an effort not to say what was on my mind. The words that immediately came to mind would have not at all been constructive. My eyes closed for a moment as I tried to find my composure.

"'Licia, honey," Geoff asked in concern.

"I'm okay, Geoff," I said, my voice sounding as though it came from a long way off.

Then I opened my eyes and looked directly at Phil. "A break-in?"

"I hate to ask. But, we need you to come down and a.s.sess the damage. It isn't pretty, Al. I'll warn you that," Phil replied.

"Somehow," I said, "I didn't expect otherwise. I'll get my purse and be with you, presently."

Geoff and I went to the lab in Phil's car with Sam. Mike and the other night guard, a bodybuilder named Peter Cross, remained at the house.

I stood at the outer door to my lab. Looking in, the only sign that anything was amiss was that the video surveillance camera lay on the floor, broken into several large pieces and many smaller ones.

"What." I started to ask, then found that I couldn't piece together a sentence. "How long ago was this found?"

"I've had a patrol come round about every couple of hours and check the place. There was a power outage in this section of town about two and a half hours ago. Strange thing. It took out only the center of town," Phil answered.

"What caused the outage?" I asked sharply.

"Should have known that you would pick up on that. A pair of racc.o.o.ns in a transformer at the substation. They won't bother anyone again," Sam replied. "I'm getting a little paranoid. But, is there any way of determining whether the animals were alive or dead when they came into contact with the transformer?" "Not hardly, Al. But, the question had crossed my mind as well. I'd say that you have every reason to feel persecuted. Every reason," Phil said. "Don't be shocked by the amount of damage. It's pretty bad. And I only looked at the main room."

"The place has been photographed, finger printed, and whatever else you had to do to it?"

"Yeah. You don't have to worry about touching anything, Doc," Sam said.

"You've been inside, Sam?" Geoff asked.

"Come on, Al," Phil urged. "We need a damage a.s.sessment."

"I'm not sure that I want to do this, Phil," I responded, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice.

Geoff took my arm, gently urging, "Come on, darling. The sooner we get it over, the sooner that we can get past it."

They had warned me, I told myself. Yet, I hadn't been prepared for this level of destruction.

Scrawled in black spray paint on the block wall from ceiling to floor to the left of the door was "Once a gal from Chicaga, over her computers went gaga, soon you will see, she is no longer to be". On the right was "Roses are red, violets are blue, your business is dead, soon you will be too."

"Hardly likely to win awards with that poetry," I remarked.

"The paint was still tacky when we found it," Phil replied.

I spun around sharply and began looking through the room in detail.

Electrical cables lay coiled in a jumbled mess like some ancient reptile against the cream quarry tile floor.