Roswell Fanatics

It was 5:28 PM and late in the day – especially for some of those in the group who had been up most of the preceding night. The group that was scheduled to meet in two minutes didn't have a formal name although if it had it would have been something like the Liz Parker attempted murder task force.

At the head of the table were two people – Deputy DA Al Mariscal, and Deputy Pembroke. The other members wandered in just before the appointed minute and took their seats. Two were from the lab, one was Deputy Fred Hufnagel. Deputy Pembroke called the little group together.

“For those of you who haven't heard, the Evans kid was released into his mother's custody. We have him under surveillance and we have Miss Parker under surveillance. As I'm sure you must realize, that stretches the detective unit pretty thin, even with the uniformed officers covering the Evans kid. I know you've been working your tails off, but we're going to all be getting a lot of overtime if we don't crack this. Arnie,” he said, nodding his head toward the ballistics guy, what can you tell us about the rifle?”

“Well, got some good news and some bad news there. The rifle was sold to a dealer up in Colorado originally – but that was decades ago. We don't even have a record of whoever the first buyer was – let alone how it wound up in Roswell New Mexico. It certainly isn't a common gun and actually has a certain collectible value besides its value just as a high powered long distance varmint gun. Unfortunately, none of the collectors I contacted knew of any such rifle being lost or stolen. That's the bad news. The good news is that the ballistics are a dead match. I can state beyond any reasonable doubt that the bullets that impacted in the girls room have been fired from this rifle. I can also state that the bullets are consistent with the ammunition found in that Jeep. I'm about 99% sure that they are from the same lot number, but I've sent off samples to the FBI lab and they'll do a neutron activation analysis on them. If both check out identical in trace impurities that'll tell us beyond any reasonable doubt that the bullets taken from the girl's room were swaged from the same material stock as the ammunition found in the jeep. My guess is that they are.”

“What's the bad news?” asked Pembroke.

“The bad news is that there were over seven sets of latent prints on the gun plus – I think – three partials. None of them match the Evans kid,” replied Erni Silverman - the other lab guy. I'm sure there are people in the faculty and administration of the high school who DIDN'T touch that rifle – but not just a hell of a lot of them.”

“Still, the fact that we found it in the boy's locker….,” started Pembrose. Al Mariscal just shook his head and finished the sentence for Pembroke, “...means not one damn thing, not when the chain of custody is this fouled up and not when the kids own prints aren't on the rifle. Even if I could get a grand jury to indict – and I most likely couldn't – the case wouldn't last two minutes in court.”

“We are trying to save a girl's life here,” said Pembroke.

“Which we won't do if we get the case thrown out – maybe even dismissed with prejudice – if we try to hang the kid based on anything that flimsy,” finished the assistant DA.

Pembroke started to argue, but was cut off by the fingerprint guy from the lab clearing his throat.

“That,” he said, “...was the bad news. There is some good news,” He held up a plastic evidence bag with an aluminum can visible inside it. “This Pepsi can that was retrieved from the grain elevator. It has a positively beautiful set of latent prints of one Maxwell Evans.”

Pembroke looked at Mariscal. “Come on, Al, that's GOT to be enough...”

Mariscal just looked at the lab guy. “How do you know that can is the same one that was picked up in the grain elevator? It's not IN the grain elevator.”

“But we have a perfectly valid chain of custody from the grain elevator to here,” protested the lab technician.

“Yeah, but you have no idea how it got from Max Evans' hand to the grain elevator. The Pepsi can is not the weapon – it's not incriminating – anyone can have his fingerprints on a Pepsi can and it doesn't mean anything.”

“It means he lied about never being in the building,” protested Pembroke.

“Or that someone picked it up and put it in the building to incriminate the boy.”

“I thought you were on our side on this, Al...”

“Do not start that crap with me. You know what Diane Evans is going to say about the rifle – that it was placed in the boy's locked for the purpose of incriminating him. There is nothing about a Pepsi can with the boy's finger prints being on a pop can in the shooter's roost inconsistent with that claim. If Diane Evans can make the jury believe that someone put the rifle in the kids locker – which she can - and the ammunition in the kid's car – which his sister swore to us was not there when they went in to the building – and she can make them believe that too – she is going to have no difficulty making the jury believe that someone found a pop can in the trash that the kid had discarded and used it to frame him. We have not caught the kid in a single lie.”

It was apparent that Pembroke was tired and angry and – about to lose it. That's when Hufnagel raised his hand.

“Well I've got some bad news and some good news too – about those security tapes.”

Pembroke nodded for him to go ahead.

“The bad news was that the security system in the halls wasn't designed to do anything but document who started fights and how the faculty went about breaking them up. The lighting at night – when the Evans kid would have had to have hidden the gun – was so bad that it quickly became apparent to me that those tapes weren't worht looking at. That gave me more time to look at the door tapes and – on the door near the science labs – I found this.”

Hufnagel hit the remote control in front of him and the conference room screen showed a figure leaving the school in the early morning. The figure was clearly Max Evans.

“Got him,” said a smiling Pembroke. He looked at a somber-faced Mariscal. “What's the matter, Al? Don't tell me THIS isn't enough?”

“No. We need to wait until the transcriptions done – then run it out to the Evans place. As soon as he signs it we'll have him on an open and shut case of obstruction of justice. On that alone we can lock him up. Tomorrow I'll take this to the Grand Jury and – I'm sure – they'll indict the kid for attempted murder.”

“Well why the long face, then? You can't possibly want the kid to get off?”

“No....no, I don't. I was just thinking about Diane Evans. She's... well, she's a good person. I always sort of hoped she'd run for Superior Court judge. She'd make a good one. I thought maybe – once her kids were off to college. Damn, she really cares for her kids – both of them. This is just about going to kill her.”

“Well, the Parker's are going to sleep a whole lot easier tonight, that's for sure. So are the guys who have been staking out the Parker home, too,” said Pembroke with a cheerful smile.

It was almost 7:30 before dinner was finished. After getting back home with Max, Diane had a rather lengthy telephone conversation with her husband who had been caught up in Albuquerque on an appeals case when his son had been arrested. They'd talked at some length while Isabel and Max had prepared dinner – and whispered between themselves about the events of the day – and Diane and Philip had decided it would be best if they got an additional lawyer for Max – someone who specialized in criminal defense – with the two emotionally involved parents playing only a support and research role. It wasn't the gun possession charge that either one was worried about – of course – but allegations of attempted murder were nothing to be trifled with. It was better to have a disinterested lawyer who might be less emotional and more inclined to be objective about how the jury would react toward Max. The two of them obviously weren't. He was their son after all, and neither of them really believed he could be involved in anything illegal, but it was clear that Max's recent behavior – the school fight and the depression he had been going through was clearly related to the young Parker girl. The fact that it had preceded the now public news that Liz was pregnant told both parents that Max knew more than he was telling. Diane's plan was to sit the young man down after dinner and have a very serious parent-child talk.

“Isabel, would you please pick up the dinner dishes? I need to have a word with Max in the den.”

Isabel's eyes went to her brother – Diane wasn't sure what the expression on her daughter's face was. Clearly it was mostly sympathy... but it seemed more than that. Not for the first time she shook her head. Sometimes it was almost as if those two had a body language all their own – practically reading each others mind with just a casual glance. Isabel looked back to her mother and nodded – but the trip to the den never happened. The doorbell range first.

Diane answered it and found herself looking at Deputy Pembroke and Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Mariscal, with Pembroke holding a sheaf of legal-sized papers. The deputy looked at her and held out the hand holding the papers.

“We brought by the transcript. If you and your son would review it – make any corrections, additions or deletions you believe necessary, and them have him initial each page and sign the signature block, we'll be on our way.”

As much as she wanted to get to the den and have that discussion with Max, Diane was a lawyer. She took the documents into the home office along with the two men and Max. She read each page, reviewing in her mind just what Max had said as she did so. The transcipt appeared accurate, and after reading each page she would hand it over to Max who would also proofread each one – then initial it in the right bottom corner. Finally, she completed the last page. Max read through it – initialed it – and signed. it. Dianne handed it to Pembroke who smiled and nodded.”

“Thank you very much for your cooperation, Ms. Evans,” he said, before turning to Max and drawing out his handcuffs and reading off a card.

“Maxwell Evans.... you are under arrest for obstruction of justice. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you? ”

“What is the meaning of this?” Diane demanded of Al Mariscal, but her eyes were on the deputy who had her son up against the wall and was already putting on the handcuffs. Mariscal at least had the good grace to seem embarrassed by the whole thing.

“We got a ballistic match. The rifle is the weapon that fired the bullets at Liz Parker. Your son's fingerprints were identified on a soda can found in the room in the grain silo of the feedlot where the shots originated.”

“It could have been planted, Alejandro, just like the rifle was planted....”

“I'm sorry, Diane. Your son lied about not being in the high school last night. We have him on a security camera leaving the building – as plain as can be. I know you better than to think you were actually aware he was giving false information at the interview but – well, he clearly obstructed justice by giving false information. We'll be holding your son until the grand jury looks at the evidence, but I rather imagine your son will be indicted for attempted murder. We'll do the processing as quickly as possible and not interview him until either you or your husband can get there – but I'm afraid your son is in very big trouble.”

No lawyer likes to be lied to by a client – but when the client is your own child it is particularly difficult to take. As she watched the police car drive off, Diane sat down unsteadily on the sofa, her mood a complex mix of hurt, anger, anxiety and loss.

“He deceived me!” she exclaimed – not to anyone in particular – but Isabel was the only one in the house.

“Mom – he's not himself. He's been so frightened about this thing with Liz he hasn't been sleeping – he's hardly been eating. - not for weeks. He... he almost isn't rational right now.”

“I know your brother has been upset and I figured that this probably had something to do with Liz Parker going to that football party. He certainly hasn't been himself since – and I guess I realize that finding out that someone at that party got her pregnant would upset him even more - so guess I can even excuse the fight with the football players.... but how he could lie to his mother...and does he even begin to realize the trouble he's in now?”

Isabel didn't quite know what to say to that. She and Max had been lying to their parents their whole lives and now scarcely seemed like a good time to explain that to Mom. Unfortunately what she did say in defense of her brother did NOT have the desired effect – and then it went rapidly downhill from there.

“Mom, he doesn't know what he's doing. He's freaked out. He's crazy with guilt about that night.”

“That night? What night?”

“The night of the football party. The night that he got Liz pregnant.”

“Max got Liz pregnant? It's Max's child?”

“Yes, it's just that...Max is confused about that night.”

“Confused? What precisely do you mean... confused.”

“I told you, he doesn't know what he's doing. He somehow got the idea that he raped her...”

“Max raped her?” said Diane in disbelief.

“No he didn't. He just thinks he did. You see, Liz had been drinking...”

“Liz hadn't only been drinking, she was legally drunk, Isabel. She lacked the capacity to consent. Since Max had sex with her in that condition – it WAS rape, even if she didn't resist. Even if she didn't actually say no. My God, that poor girl. How COULD he do something like that. And he lied to me about her carrying his baby, too.”

“I told you, Mom, Max DIDN'T rape Liz. He would NEVER do something like that. He said something about blacking out – I don't know if he somehow got drugged or what – but when he woke up – well he said it was obvious that Liz and he had ...you know. But Max would NEVER do anything to hurt Liz and he would certainly never rape her.”

“Isabel, you weren't even there … were you?”

“No, but I don't have to be. I know my brother – and I know how much he has always cared for Liz. I ought to, I was the one who tried to keep them apart..”

“Well, I thought I knew your brother too. Of course, that was before he lied – to me which was bad enough – and to the police investigation which is a crime. And I have to ask myself what else he was lying about? Was he stashing that rifle in his locker? Did he actually take a shot at Liz? Did she refuse to get an abortion so he decided he'd scare here? Or was he really trying to kill her? Damn, I'm such a complete idiot. You could tell the poor girl was frightened half to death … and getting no support from the bastard who got her pregnant. I'm surprised she had anything to do with me at all.”

At sometime in every teenage girl's life she really gets into it with her mother – it's a mother-daughter thing that is as old as time. Sometimes it is the daughter's need to assert independence, sometimes it is triggered by conflict over rules of conduct, sometimes it's just some issue that comes up. With all the stress on both Diane and Isabel it was probably inevitable that it would come up right now.

“How can you even ask something like that about Max? I told you, Max would never hurt Liz!” said Isabel, suddenly eye to eye with her mother. Perhaps Isabel wasn't – biologically – Diane's child, but she had studied under her for a decade and was just as fiercely loyal to her brother as Diane was – normally – fiercely loyal to her children.

“Well that's just great, Isabel. I'll put you on the stand and you can testify that Max couldn't possibly have shot at Liz – despite the fact that he wanted to shut her up about being raped and was upset with her for not aborting the baby – which is exactly what the prosecutor will be telling them – because Max's sister's opinion is that he would never hurt Liz. Now why would a jury believe that?”

“Because it's the truth,” screamed Isabel, “... and you of all people ought to know that – you're his mother!”

And deep in her heart Diane didn't want to believe that Max would have done something like rape Liz – but the lawyer spoke before the mother's heart had time to form the words.

“The jury doesn't want your opinion, Isabel, the jury only wants facts and you have no facts to give me that would convince a jury that Max didn't take a shot at Liz with that rifle.”

“Dammit Mother, if Max had wanted to kill Liz – or anyone else – she'd have been dead about three seconds later, and he wouldn't have needed a rifle to do it,” she said as she stormed out the back door.

“So that's what I'm supposed to tell a jury? That if the defendant were REALLY guilty, he'd have just killed the victim with his bare hands? It's a good thing YOU aren't defending him.”

Isabel knew she had to get away – before in her anger she said something even worse – something even more revealing. Max wouldn't have – couldn't have – raped Liz. Nothing would ever convince her that he had. And while she loved her mom, she needed to get away from her right now – needed to give them both a chance to cool off. She needed comforting and reassurance and.....Alex.

As she heard the jeep drive away Diane had her hands over her face and was sobbing. She loved her kids. She had been frightened and hurt and … and she knew Isabel was right. No matter what her mind thought or feared, her heart told her that her son would have never done something like that. And the way she'd taken it out on Isabel....'God Diane, what have you done? Any other client you would have given benefit of the doubt – why couldn't you do that for Max? And what you did with Isabel....'

The pain of remorse was immediate. Diane wanted to run after her daughter – to find her and just hold her close. But the jeep was long gone and Diane didn't know where and - in any event - she needed to go down to the county jail. She needed to talk to her son.

Deputy Pembroke had delivered the Evans kid to the jail for booking. They'd already had the paperwork prepared - just hoping that the kid would sign that transcript and not dispute it - so that process went more quickly than usual. This process, however, he was worried about despite having Deputy Prosecuting Attorney Alejandro Mariscal at his side.

Deputy Pembroke would have actually liked to have used another judge - one that was known to be sympathetic toward the police - but that one was not available. What was worse, the one who was on duty was a known social friend of the Evanses. It had been Mariscal's suggestion - the elderly judge had been brought back to the bench for the very purpose of avoiding conflict of interest with the local judiciary over the Sheriff's son and the Evans boy in their altercation in the school. While he was still in town and empowered to act - well, at least Alejandro had assured him it was a good idea.

Picking the kid up and putting him back in the slammer based upon what amounted to perjury had been a little aggressive but not out of the question. To have actually searched the boy's house - the house that incidentally happened to belong to Philip and Diane Evans, two prominent and well respected members of the bar - based on the charge that their teenage son lied under oath would NOT have been legally acceptable and to use the real reason - that they wanted to search for any evidence that might support what was still - Alejandro assured him - a not overly strong case of attempted murder, they'd actually need a warrant from a judge. Which is why they had gone to Judge Roberts.

The Judge read over the paperwork and sighed.

"Boys, I'm going to give you your warrant - but I'm also going to give you some advice. I'm going to give you your warrant because - well, I'm only human and I might be wrong - and most any judge you would show this to would say you have probable cause - but I don't really think you are going to find much. Oh, you might find something embarrassing - a hidden pile of Playboys or Penthouses or one of those newer - and even more graphic magazines. Hell, you might even find some condoms or something like that - the kids only human, nobody ever said he was some sort of a saint. But I don't think you are going to find anything to indicate the Evans kid is any sort of a domestic abuser.

Oh, I think he loves that little gal. If there isn't anything going on there it sure isn't because he doesn't wish it could. I don't know if that little one she's carrying is his - or if it belongs to someone else, but I saw the look in his eye when that Brigham lad came in to the court. He hated that boy - and it took a lot of hate for him to whup the butt of someone that big. Hate enough that - I guess - under the right circumstances the Evans kid MIGHT have actually killed Brigham."

"Well, that fits the pattern," said Pembroke. "She jilted him - got pregnant by someone else - and he went wild."

"Except when the boy confessed what he did - said he was wrong - and he was sorry - all that hate just sort of bled right out of him. The kid loved her or he wouldn't have done what he did - and if he knew it was the truth about her before he actually saw the sign on the water tank - well, he already knew she'd done whatever she'd done when he was still defending her.

No, I understand what you did. You maneuvered him into getting caught on some lesser charge and destroying his own credibility and - I have little doubt - the grand jury will give you an indictment. But my suggestion to you is that you don't get too excited about locking this young man up. I'll give you the warrant, but I'll be greatly surprised if you find anything with it."

Pembroke and Mariscal left the judges chamber. Mariscal was the first to speak.

"I was thinking - what the judge said - do you think that maybe you should reconsider dropping surveillance on the girl? What if the judge is right? What if - despite the evidence - the Evans boy really isn't the one?"

"Alejandro, don't go getting cold feet on me now. You said yourself you thought the boy did it - and that Diane Evans was going to to plead diminished competency or maybe even flat-out insanity based upon the kids mental health history, didn't you?"

"Well, yes. I have to admit the evidence is getting overwhelming. But if someone WAS trying to set the kid up..."

"But who would want to set him up? You've seen his records. The kid is a non-entity. He popped up out of nowhere and hasn't been in any conflict of any kind until that fist fight in school."

"Well, who would want to go after the girl? She's harmless enough."

"I don't have any idea... but the fact is that someone HAS gone after the girl - three times. Two of those before the boy was even on our radar, and either one of those could have killed her. The target HAS to be the girl, not Max Evans..."

Alejandro nodded. It made sense. Liz Parker clearly was the target and Max was really the only suspect. Whatever relationship the two had up until last year, it had clearly fallen apart, and that was the only conflict anywhere in Liz Parkers life. It HAD to be the boy - it was the only thing that made sense.

"Besides," said Pembroke, "...just like you said, if we didn't pull the surveillance off her now, his mother could use that against us in court - to undermine our case by saying we had no confidence that the boy was the real perp..."

Alejandro nodded again. He'd seen things like that happen with Grogan defending a client. Somehow he just couldn't picture Diane Evans doing that though.

"But still....," he started - only to be cut off again by Pembroke.

"What I'm REALLY afraid of is that the Parker girl is not all that cooperative even right now. She refuses to admit that the boy could possibly be the one - and apparently he has her on some guilt trip thinking even if he was the one, that she'd somehow deserve it. It's a classic sort of emotionally battered domestic violence situation - and if Diane Evans gets to her and starts trying to get her to go publicly on record that her son couldn't have done it we are going to wind up with a totally tainted juror pool. Roswell isn't all that big you know."

"I am afraid of that too, but if Diane is the girl's lawyer, it's hardly like we can do anything about her talking to Liz Parker, is it?"

"Well, WE can't, no .... but maybe her father can...."

It was two hours after her whole world had started falling down around her - two of the most miserable hours in Diane Evans entire life. Intellectually she might have acknowledged at some level that these two kids did not have a lot of her DNA in them, but that didn't mean they weren't really her kids. Not to her mind that had grown to love them more with every passing shared experience of the last decade-plus, and certainly not to the heart that had somehow bonded to them irrevocably when she'd first seen them on that road. But being open to love means opening yourself to being hurt - and tonight Diane Evans was hurting as much as she'd ever hurt in her whole life.

The scene with Isabel had been horrible. The girl had only been defending her brother - but a frightened and angry mother had unloaded on her. Diane would have given anything to have been able to find her daughter and make it right - she'd have searched for her the entire night if necessary. Unfortunately she had an even more necessary - and painful - task to accomplish. She had a son she loved too, and he was even more in need of her than her daughter. She was - at least until they found a specialist in criminal law for him - her son's lawyer, and she needed to help him get through this. She'd told him at the very start - as soon as the guard had left - that he needed to be absolutely honest with her this time. And he was being honest - telling her the truth as he saw it - and if he still held off telling her the WHOLE truth - perhaps it was only because the truth he was telling her was bad enough - and because he loved her just as much as she loved him, and didn't want to make it any worse than it had to be.

"I've never understood just why I felt the way I did about Liz. Even in the third grade - as I was stepping off the bus - even then I was drawn to her. Isabel sensed it - warned me - but it was like I was never really in control of myself. As we got older the nature of my feelings toward her....changed. Liz never really realized what kind of .... of a monster lurked inside me. Last year she said she wanted to start dating this year - boyfriend girlfriend stuff - and I knew I couldn't. I couldn't control what I felt about her if we got that close. We had never really had that sort of a relationship - just lab partners - but I thought I was going to die when I couldn't be with her any longer. Even so, I knew it was for the best - the best thing for Liz - and I kept myself busy with other things - I think hoping someday I would be able to forget about her.

The night of that football initiation I knew she was going to be partying with Kyle. I tried to lose myself in what I was doing at school but it really didn't work. I thought about her incessantly. Then she turned up at the lab.

It wasn't to see me - just to run a specimen on the Spectronic 20 - but when I did see her.....

Liz had been drinking - I don't know - maybe she'd gotten in to some drugs too. She wasn't really herself - you know, the 'perfect Miss Parker,' we argued - about the breakup I think - she threw something in my face. I should have just walked away - gotten out of there - but....O God, Mom, I swear ... I really don't know what happened. It was like I was just completely overcome by emotion - I don't even remember doing it. But I remember afterward - looking up from the mat in the gym - the mat where I had raped her.... I was still fuzzy at first, but not when I saw her look back down at me - me lying naked - Liz clutching her clothes to her to hide her own nakedness - but the look in her eyes. The pain that I saw - the guilt.... the shame that what I did put in those beautiful eyes..."

The tears came down Diane's cheeks. She loved this young man - and the guilt he was feeling was killing him. That didn't justify what he'd done - although her lawyer's mind had already figured at least three ways to mitigate his sentence - or get him off altogether. Of course none of those would undo the agony that he was in - or that he'd inflicted on Liz Parker.

"Max, I can help you get through this...." she started.

"I don't want to get through this, Mom," he said. "I'm a monster - I'll always be a monster. Only a monster would hurt someone like Liz. The worst part is when I found out she was pregnant. I went to her - I'm surprised she'd even talk to me - and I told her that she ought to get an abortion - that I'd help her economically - that the last thing in the world she wanted was to lose her life by having the offspring of a monster growing inside her. You know, I actually had to argue her into getting rid of it?"

"Getting rid of it? You mean an abortion?"

"If you want to call it that. I call it scraping a monster out of her - the get of a monster at least - and giving her back her future. At least I was able to accomplish that much. It doesn't atone for what I did to her - nothing ever could..."

Diane held her son and felt his body wracked with sobs and - for a moment - he seemed once more like that little lost boy by the roadside. She had no idea how his life had gone so dreadfully wrong - how he'd hurt Liz Parker and hurt himself so much when so many people cared for him - even Liz Parker despite what he'd done to her. A lesser woman would have thought to herself that he was just a bad seed - and someone else's seed at that. Diane never considered it. She cuddled her child - no matter that he outweighed her and was two inches taller than her - no matter where his DNA had come from - he was her child and she tried her best to sooth him - just as any biological mother would soothe her 'own' child.

"Max, we'll get help. We'll get Liz help with the emotional support she'll need to get through this, and we'll get you legal help and mental health help. It doesn't have to end like this, you'll get through it. We'll get you out of this jail and...."

"NO! I don't want to get through this. I don't care if I ever get out of this jail. It's the best place for me. At least here I can't hurt Liz... or anyone else. I don't deserve your love, Mom, I never have. I've never been the kind of child you thought I was. But if you do love me - if after this there is any love left - please help Liz. I didn't shoot at her but I can't go near her - I'm afraid what would happen if I did. Have the police watch her better - or have Isabel watch over her -..."

Diane watched her son pull away from her and look off in the corner of the room, shaking his head as tears streamed down his face,...

"She's been hurt enough by me .... you can't let anyone else hurt her. Promise me that..."

Diane didn't understand what was going on - but Isabel was right. Max cared too much for Liz to have actually done what he'd claimed to do ... unless he had gone totally insane. But even if he was insane - a possibility that had begun to seem ever more probable - Diane still didn't believe he would have attempted to kill Liz. And there was so much she didn't understand - even about what Isabel had said. She needed to talk to someone else who'd been there the night of the alleged rape and find out the real truth - and there was only one other person who might be able to tell her. Liz Parker.

"OK, Max. I'll go talk to Liz and her folks....talk to the Sheriff's department to. We'll keep her safe. But tomorrow I'm going to have a doctor come in and talk to you. I want you to cooperate with him, understand?"

Usually being sprawled beside him on a blanket looking up at the stars - talking about the constellations - was all it took to make Isabel feel happy and contented. Of course usually wasn't when you'd just had a blow-up with your mother, or when your brother was under arrest, or when he was - perhaps - going insane. Even if she wasn't altogether human, Isabel was human enough. Human enough that she wanted - needed - a respite from those thoughts. She wanted desperately to lose herself in something that would take her mind off all of those things. When just talking about the stars hadn't been enough she'd tried something else. It seemed to be succeeding.

This kiss had been a gentle one at first - but it had become demanding - insistent as her tongue pressed against his lips as if begging for entry. Resistance - if any - had been brief. For a moment the feeling of her closeness - her desirability - blotted out everything else. He lay on his back feeling her body pressing down against his as he felt her press ever closer against him. Then as she pushed away and sat up - straddling him - he saw her face outlined in the moonlight. There was passion in it - but a desperation as well - as he felt her hands unbuttoning his shirt. He tried to get the words out but as she closed her eyes and grabbed the neck of the camisole shirt to strip it from her his words failed him as he saw the beauty the shirt had hidden. Even the lacy bra couldn't really conceal her perfection. Gazing down at him with the same desperate look in her eyes, Alex watched her start to reach behind her for the clasp.

'I,' he told himself, '... am probably going to hate myself in the morning...'

"Isabel, no."

The words by themselves probably wouldn't have been enough, but he also grabbed her forearms and brought them slowly to his chest and his face looked up at hers. She could see the love in his face there in the moonlight - and it broke the spell at least long enough for her to hear his words.

"You know, I think I've loved you since seventh grade? I've dreamed about you almost every night - dancing with you - just being your friend. That's all I aspired to - all I really believed possible. Well, OK, sometimes I had my fantasies about us someday really being a couple - but until the last few weeks I never believed it could possibly come true.

But I've always thought that whoever I wanted to be my wife - well she should be my best friend, Isabel - and friends don't let their friends make mistakes like this - to do something this important for the wrong reason. I guess I'm grateful - hell, amazed really - that you would even consider doing something with me like you seemed to be getting ready to do - and I don't want you to think that I wouldn't..... the thing is, Isabel, I can't let you make love to me because you are mad at your mother or upset about your brother. That wouldn't be fair to you. Hell, it wouldn't even be fair to me."

Isabel sat there - straddling him and looking down at his eyes. Suddenly he saw tears in hers.

"Alex," she said, her voice seeming to flutter with emotion, "... was that a marriage proposal?"

"Well, yes, sort of...," said Alex sort of warily.

"Oh crap." said Isabel.

"Not EXACTLY the response I was looking for," he said.

She looked down at him with a smile, and seemed to chuckle .... and blush. She reached for her shirt and put it on, then stood up. She reached her hand down and offered it to him.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

She shook her head like she couldn't really believe she was doing this.

"I'm taking you home."



Back in town, Diane was facing Nancy - through a door about six inches open and held there by a security chain.

"Mrs. Parker, it really is urgent that I see her."

Nancy looked at Diane Evans. She seemed a nice enough woman - and she had helped Liz - but Deputy Pembroke had made it plain that their chances of actually getting Max Evans convicted - and keeping Liz safe - depended on not letting her do the sorts of lawyers tricks that would get the boy off with a short term or even a suspended sentence - that would free the boy to once again put Liz's life at risk. That was why Jeff had left two hours ago - to go up to the ranch to keep Liz safe there until the Grand Jury had returned their indictment. No, it was hardly HER fault that her son was a sociopath. The woman was a good woman - perhaps the boy had been irretrievably fouled up before the Evans couple had ever adopted him - but she couldn't allow the woman to put her daughter at risk.

"Liz isn't here. She decided to go visit my sister in Florida - until things calmed down," she lied, "She won't be back for two...maybe three weeks."

Diane looked at the woman. She knew what she had said was a lie. No way would the deputy prosecutor have left her leave the state - not when the Grand Jury might insist that she testify. Of course, it was obvious that they'd scared Nancy Parker.

"Can I get a telephone number for her?"

"I'm sorry - my sister has an unlisted number and doesn't want anyone to have it. I will call her though and tell Liz you want to speak to her."

"That's fine," said Diane. 'Liz can't be in the house. Nancy's talking too loudly,' "I'll be waiting for her call."

Except she wouldn't be waiting - she'd have to - somehow - figure out where Liz was being kept, and go to her. Certainly the Sheriff's office wouldn't tell her. Diane nodded at Nancy, "Good night Mrs Parker, and turned around and left."

“Daddy, I still don't understand. If the police think they've caught the guy, why do we need to hide out here at the ranch?”

“Liz, I'm not all that knowledgeable about this criminal law stuff. I'm just doing what the deputy suggested,” said Jeff,”... and that is keeping you out of the public eye. The deputy said it was something about not wanting to taint the jury pool. We need to keep you handy – in case the Grand Jury needs your testimony, but what we don't want is for you to get a lot of publicity. Because of that you are supposed to be keeping sort of a low profile.”

“If I'm going to be testifying before the Grand Jury do I need to have my lawyer – Mrs. Evans – with me?”

“Well, I don't know that you actually WILL be testifying before the Grand Jury – that's only a maybe – but I don't think you are allowed to have a lawyer with you anyway – not according to what the deputy said. Besides... you aren't the one that they are going to indict, Liz,...it's hardly likely they are going to think you attempted to shoot yourself from a building half a mile away from where you were standing,” said Jeff, knowing that the last thing Deputy Pembroke wanted was for his daughter to get together with Diane Evans.

Now that they had finally caught the kid – and the evidence to Jeff was pretty overwhelming – he didn't want Liz to do anything that was going to make it more difficult for Deputy Prosecuting Attorney Mariscal to put the Evans boy away for as long as possible. Mariscal had been honest enough that with the previous psychiatric history of the boy – and the formidable legal skills of his parents – the kid was as likely to serve time in a mental hospital as a real prison.

“Who did they say they DID catch – I mean – do I even know this person?”

“I don't think they want to give out the name until they have the indictment, dear,” said Jeff, not quite lying to his daughter. “I suppose we'll know as soon as the Grand Jury releases the indcitment – but don't worry, they have him on an illegal possession of a weapon charge and also some sort of perjury charge. He's going to be in custody until after the Grand Jury meets – and likely for years after that.”

Liz looked thoughtful – always an indication she was turning the problem over in her mind. Jeff knew he needed to change the subject. If he didn't Liz would keep going on this until sooner or later he would let something slip and then there would be hell to pay. Just why she had such unreasoning trust in the Evans boy, Jeff had no idea, but if she did find out – well Pembroke had made it clear – the attempted victim being a character witness for the alleged perpetrator had a rather powerful effect on a jury.

“How soon will you know about the results of the biopsy?” Jeff asked, knowing that had occupied most of Liz's thoughts during the early part of the day. She took the bait pretty readily.

“Ms Huntington said that the preliminaries are pretty quick – you know, the number of chromosomes and gender and everything – the biochemical tests aren't too long, because most of them are pretty automated. The genome testing is pretty manpower intensive and depends on how many other things the lab is doing. I got the impression that a lot of that Dr Bernstein actually does herself.”

Liz looked down at her lower abdomen with longing eyes – and Jeff knew he'd succeeded. Liz was now mentally walking down a different decision path – perhaps one equally painful. But at least it was one that wouldn't result in that terrible Evans boy walking free and putting his daughter at further risk.


In the meantime, 200 miles to the north, Dr Rachel Bernstein was laboring late in her lab – far later than she normally would have been working. She'd been sort of intrigued by this one. The villus sampling had been from a multi-gestational pregnancy in Roswell and the paternal DNA was from someone who allegedly had a familial inheritance abnormality that the pregnant woman – a teenager – had been unable to describe in any sort of detail. The chromosomal studies had been normal enough and under the usual circumstances Dr Bernstein would have just plugged away at the genome work a few hours a day. But one of the biochemical screening tests had been abnormal – in both of the villus samples. That particular test was included in the screening only because the particular instrument those screens were done on was a common lab multitest screener. To the best of her knowledge, that particular test had never been low on any fetal villus sample, and on these two samples it had been completely absent. Dr Bernstein had no idea what that meant – she'd never seen it before. But then, nobody else ever had either.

Theoretically that particular absence would not harm the developing fetuses but – since it had never been seen before – she'd been worried that it was he harbinger of a more serious abnormality in the genome itself. Except she wasn't seeing it There appeared to be some rather unique appearing areas inn the so-called 'junk DNA' of the specimens and one of those areas seemed to overlap a regulator gene for production of an enzyme- which explained the observed abnormality. But otherwise – well – so far the rest of the genome was totally clean.

Rachel looked up at the clock – it was already after midnight. 'What the hell,' she thought, her husband was in Berlin at a human genome conference and her cat was probably already asleep in their bed. She might just as well work through the night and finish this. Then she could give the terrified young lady from whom these samples had been taken a definitive answer one way or another.
That way at least the young girl involved could get a good night's sleep tomorrow night -Linda Huntington had implied that the young lady was worried sick about this. So far, though, it looked like a unique and interesting but relatively harmless anomaly.


It was the third time that Abernathy had driven by the Crashdown.
The good news was that the surveillance the police had on the Crashdown now appeared to be gone. The bad news was that the Parker's car seemed to be gone too – even though there was a light on in the master bedroom window. 'Butthead' wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it was worth a call to the boss at least. The phone was answered on the second ring.

“Yes?” said Arthur Williams after first taking a look at who was calling on the cellphone display.

“Boss, I don't know if the surveillance of the girl is over, or if she's just not at home?”

“I rather imagine both. I dropped by the County courthouse an hour ago. The Evans boy is in jail, and I overheard someone saying that the are convening a Grand Jury investigation tomorrow to indict him. My guess is that her father has taken her up to the Parker Ranch to keep her away from the boy's mother and father. I want you to – very carefully – drop by there on the way back to the ranch.”

“If she's there, do you want me to whack her?”

Williams winced at the very thought. Abernathy and McCarthy had already had their chance and proved themselves to be not sharp enough tools for this particular job. He'd supervise this himself so he'd know for sure that nothing would go wrong.

“No. Just carefully take a look from that small peak just east of their ranch – don't even go on their property. All I want to know is if the car is there and whether or not you see any law enforcement people. Once I know that I'll come up with a plan for the three of us to go take care of our little problem.”



It was obvious to Alex that wherever she had taken him it was nowhere near his home. Hers either. So OK, he knew he was no Lothario but he'd lived in Chaves county his entire life. He knew – at least by reputation – the usual make-out spots. This wasn't one of those either. It was, in fact, the hell and back off road and even with the full moon he'd been surprised that Isabel had found her way so quickly through the darkness. The real question wasn't where they were though – he could probably find his way back to a familiar road if he had to – the real question was what Isabel thought she was doing.

Granted, that hadn't been the most gracious way to propose to someone – it had been sort of.....uh....extemporaneous.

Extemporaneous, hell,' the voice in his head told him, '....it was bumbling and ridiculous.'.

It had been crazy to think Isabel would have really been interested in marrying him. I mean, sure, she'd been upset about Liz – really upset about Max being in jail. Her coming on to him had been temporary insanity – just driven by stress – and he certainly couldn't take advantage of her when she was like that – but the whole unlikely scenario had shocked him into his own mental state and triggered what had always been a real fantasy in his mind – Mrs Isabel Whitman - and he'd come off looking like a fool. He couldn't even really blame her for the- curious – way she'd rebuffed his stupid proposal. What he couldn't figure out though was just what she was doing now.

'What are you doing, Isabel?' something deep in her mind asked her.

Actually, she knew WHAT she was doing – just wasn't sure if it made sense or not. She'd sworn to herself that she would never – ever- do this. So why was she doing it? She cast a surreptitious glance at the gangly young man in the passenger seat and sighed. Why hadn't he been ready to settle for just a roll in the hay? Inexperienced in such things as she was – Isabel still figured it would have done them both a world of good.

He was – she knew – her best friend, and she would have happily settled for just that – until he made that bumbling but incredibly sweet proposal. THAT she hadn't been able to accept because she cared too much for Alex to do that – to allow Alex to make that sort of commitment – and for Alex it would have been a lifetime commitment – in ignorance of what he was getting himself in to. Unfortunately, she couldn't get it out of her mind either.

She took another quick look at the young man beside her – his face lit by the moonlight – and sighed again.

Five minutes later the Jeep stopped, and Isabel looked at him and shook her head – apparently in disbelief. She came around to the passenger side and grasped his right hand.

“Come on – I need a walk”

She was incredibly beautiful in the moonlight and the sky was ablaze above them away from the lights of Roswell. For a moment he didn't even fault himself for making a fool of himself back there proposing to her. Well, she hadn't brought the blanket along this time – which was just as well. He wasn't sure he'd have had the will power to say no a second time, and Isabel deserved better than someone taking advantage of her while she was so obviously stressed out and – just not herself. Even if she HAD accepted his proposal under those circumstances it wouldn't have been right or fair either. The fact was they came from two different worlds – the computer geek musician and the Ice Princess. He should have known that it couldn't possibly have worked out between them and never deluded himself that it might be otherwise.

“Isabel.... where are we going?' he asked, as he came to the face of the small cliff before them. He'd meant it metaphorically, of course. As in where was their relationship going? As in could they still be friends after the events of this unique and bizarre night. When she looked at him she seemed actually frightened of him.


Isabel couldn't believe she was doing this. She'd sworn that she never would. But sometimes you had to give up one sacred vow if you wanted another one – a better one.

Alex saw the fear in her eyes – saw it become resignation – and then he saw her put her hand against the face of the cliff.

“I told you, Alex, that I was taking you home.” she said as the rock glowed beneath her hand and an entrance suddenly appeared before him. “This is home - where it all started - and if you are really crazy enough to want to be my husband – well, you at least ought to know what you are asking to marry you. Once you know – well if you still want to propose - I accept. If you don't I hope we can still stay friends....”

It was 2AM and Diane was already having an exceedingly bad day. To start with her son was in jail because he'd lied both to the law and - worse - to her. Oh, he'd admitted what he'd done - well not all of it certainly - but she didn't know that. Nor did she need to know that. What she did know was bad enough.

Then there was the fact that Nancy Parker had lied to her about Liz being off to Florida. She had wanted desperately to speak to her client about what her son had confessed to. She couldn't actually believe Max would have done what he claimed he had done - and the boy was clearly out of his head with guilt and remorse - but frankly she had no explanation. Perhaps if she could talk to the girl - the girl who apparently had aborted Max's child - she could actually find out what was going on. But she had struck out on that.

She couldn't even keep her promise to her son that she'd see to Liz's protection. She'd gone to the desk officer on duty who had only called Deputy Pemberton. She'd talked to the man and he had as much as told her that her concern for Liz was little more than a ploy to undermine the state's case against her son. Had Pemberton actually been physically present, she would have no doubt been incarcerated herself - charged with throttling an obnoxious and condescending young deputy.

Her call to her husband had led him to seek a continuance of his court case so he could join her. The judge of his case - which had been pending for over two years and which had required numerous difficult to schedule witnesses - had flat out refused to either give him a continuance or to let him drop from the case - for fear of a mistrial. Philip had promised as soon as he could tie up the case to get right home to help her, but in the interim he was under what amounted to house arrest in Albuquerque. It seemed to Diane like she was suddenly carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

And the worst thing - because she really did blame herself for it - was that she'd had a fight with her daughter. It was a fight she'd instantly regretted, but the girl had driven off in the Jeep with fire in her eyes and had not been seen since. That scared her more than she wanted to admit. It hadn't helped that the same officer on the desk had rolled his eyes at her and said that he wouldn't even take a missing persons report on her until 24 hours had passed. The only good news on the Isabel-is-missing situation was that Alex Whitman's folks had called and asked if she knew where he and Isabel were - they'd apparently left the Whitman place together. She had been hoping for the last two hours that Isabel and Alex were somewhere safe - perhaps merely making out - or worse - rather than out in the desert underneath an overturned Jeep laying there dead.

You know you're having a crappy morning when you are actually hoping that your daughter is getting it on with her boyfriend to spite you rather than lying dead somewhere.

A woman who was less caring - less capable - less devoted to her children would have probably been curled up in a fetal position in bed right now with the covers drawn over her head. Diane Evans was made of sterner stuff, though. She was not going to allow what she couldn't do - the things that she couldn't control - to stop her from doing the things she could control. That's why she had spent the last 90 minutes on the computer learning everything she could about Jeff, Nancy, and Elizabeth Parker.

The county assessors website had been a long shot, but it had paid off. The Parkers paid taxes on a 160 acre parcel - not a hell of a lot of taxes for a parcel that size, it had to be little more than scrub brush and desert - but it listed a ranch house valued at $11,000 dollars built sometime in territorial days. The place had no address given, but cross checking the parcel number with the planning commission master plan map showed her how to get to it. She decided to drive out there at first light.

In the meantime, she looked again at her watch. It was now 2:30 AM.

'Where in the hell is Isabel and what is she doing,' Diane asked herself. Chances are in her wildest dreams she wouldn't have guessed.

Isabel had explained it to him - given him every detail - showed him the very pod she'd broken out of as a naked little girl. Told him everything she'd kept hidden from the whole world - excepting Max and Michael - for her entire life. She'd laid the whole think out and stood there frightened half to death - waiting for his verdict. Was he going to turn her in? Would he still be her friend? Could she ever hope for anything more than just friendship? Boy had she ever worried unnecessarily.

"Of course I still want to marry you. Why would THIS change anything?"

"but... I mean .... well ... I mean we re different - that is - I'm different."

"You're still Isabel. That hasn't changed. I knew you were the most beautiful girl in the world. The only thing that changed is I now find out that you are the most beautiful girl in two worlds. And if Liz is carrying Max's child .... I mean we can't be all that different except of course you are female and I am male and.....," Alex started to blush, "uh... you did want kids, didn't you? I mean eventually ... not this moment of course."

"Yes, Alex, I do want kids ... and I guess not this moment but .... I still find it difficult to believe that you can take all this in so easily..."

"Isabel, I'm a geek. You are so out of my league and you not only want me but .... look at all this great technology you come with..., " Alex said. "Do you understand any of it?"

"No," Isabel said, shaking her head and smiling at him as if in disbelief. "I can show you what we think is the instruction manual if you'd like, but none of us have ever been able to figure it out."

"First things first," said Alex, slipping down on one knee. "Isabel, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? The ring is an heirloom. My great-grandmother was given it by my great grandfather. She wanted me to have it to carry on the tradition. She passed away about ten years ago, but if she were here she'd be overjoyed to have you take this. I don't think she actually thought that I was ever going to find a girl - let alone a fiance' I'm pretty sure she knew I was a geek even when I was eight."

"Alex, that's not fair. You are NOT a geek, and I would be honored to marry you," Isabel said with a broad smile.

She was lying of course - Alex WAS a geek - but a pretty good kisser too it turned out. It actually took about a half hour of kisses and caresses before the subject of the 'instruction manual' came up again, but eventually she brought Alex to a crystalline screen with an ornate border. Every three of four seconds it would show a scene - a spacecraft - a planet - a solar system - the pods themselves - even small embryos inside the pods. In the right upper corner - in the same spot for each picture - there was a small triangle.

"Over the years we've watched it for hours, trying to figure out what it was telling us to do. It seems to document key parts of our own creation, the voyage here, the ship that brought us - but it doesn't really tell us how or even why it was all done. It's always in the same order, but there is just no logical progression to it. Michael stayed out here one weekend and kept track of the images. He swears he went through two thousand and forty-eight of them before they started to repeat, but it was all just kind of random shots without any underlying story."

Alex looked at the screen then shook his head. "Two thousand and forty-eight images? He was sure of that number?"

Isabel shrugged her shoulders.
"He says he's sure. Exactly how he kept track of that many I'm not sure. Michael does stuff like that .. like counting the dead and wounded in Braveheart. Why do you ask?"

"Because I don't think the pictures are an instruction manual," said Alex.

"What else COULD it be?"

Alex's finger went to a stud down in the lower right corner of the frame and softly pushed inward. There was a gentle 'click' and the stud popped out and became a stylus.

"I think," said Alex, "... you've been watching a screen saver."

"A screen saver?"

"Pictures playing on a monitor for - what - at least a half century. You'd want a lot of them to keep the screen from burning in with any one image. If I'm right... THIS ought to do something," he said as he pressed the tip of the stylus to the area of the triangle. Instantly the pictures dissolved and the screen was filled with a rectangular box with two buttons in it with symbols on them, one of them was highlighted.

"What is THAT?"

"A dialogue box I think. This is a graphic user interface of some kind. It's waiting for input."

"What kind of input?"

"Select the default - probably the one that's highlighted - or select the other option."

"What's the default? And what't the other option?"

Alex shrugged his shoulders.

"Your guess is as good as mine - these aren't the symbols of any language I know."

"So what do we do now?" asked Isabel.

Alex shrugged his shoulders again.

"Take a chance - Columbus did..."

"I guess you're right. We have no way of knowing - we might just as well guess. Pick the highlighted one - the default."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah ... just one more kiss first - for luck."

Alex touched the highlighted button in the dialogue box. Instantly the door to the podchamber slammed shut and the lights dimmed as power was diverted. Isabel heard the words in her mind even as they were flashed up on the screen - in three languages whose symbols she couldn't even recognize as well as French, German, and English.

{Artificial Intelligence Reboot in progress} came the thought. On the top of the screen the message was apparently repeated in six languages. On the bottom of the screen a line formed - slowly changing color from left to right. Real slowly.

"Looks like we have at least several hours to wait," said Alex. "Hope I didn't just destroy the planet."

"Well, if you did, the condemned man could still have a hearty breakfast," said Isabel.

"I am tempted but - somehow I feel that somewhere up there my great granny's probably watching."

Isabel looked down at her left hand.

"It IS a beautiful ring. I guess we could wait until it's official. A scorned woman is going to need a little compensation though," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up into his eyes with a smile on her face.

"Well, I guess Great-granny Whitman wouldn't object to a few kisses.... or something."

"I'm sure we can find something interesting to do to kill the time," said Isabel. "Kisses certainly, AND most assuredly .... something."

What does a worried mother do - all alone in her house on one of the most frightening mornings of her life? A morning some hours after she had fought with the daughter she loved and her daughter had angrily stormed out and was still missing, her son was in jail on suspicion of attempted murder, and her husband was away - struggling to get back home? If you are most women, you sit in a rocking chair and weep. If you are Diane Evans, you do research.

She needed to find Liz Parker. Liz Parker needed to be within a reasonable distance of the Chaves county grand jury. Nancy Parker knew where ... but wouldn't tell. Jeff Parker was - most likely - with his daughter.

Diane had blocked out the pain - blocked out her fear - blocked out her guilt from the fight with Isabel - and started to do research. The moon was high in the sky by the time she'd hit paydirt. It was a program in the Chaves County Assessors office website that showed tax parcels.

Property taxes were a matter of public record and the assessor had them posted to allow comparisons of assessment rates. That's where she had found tax parcel 2873-22, 160 acres including three structures valued at $62,500 - obviously mostly desert at that assessed valuation - and most likely an old homestead judging by the acreage. The name on the assessor's roles was 'the Zebediah Parker Trust, but the currently listed trustee was Jeffery Parker. It was nearly two hours drive from here - almost to Lincoln County, and that was a long drive - but not too long - close enough to be available for the grand jury.

So at 2AM, Diane Evans was leaving a note for her daughter, another for her husband, and starting a four hour round trip that could very possibly be a wild goose chase. It was simply the only lead she had.

2AM was also busy on the Williams Ranch:

"You are POSITIVE you saw just the one car?" asked Arthur Williams.

"Yessir, Boss," said McCarthy.

"And no evidence of a police vehicle?"

"None at all. I left Abernathy up on the ridge line where he could keep watching them, but I'm 99% sure that it's just the girl and her father."

"Ninety-nine percent is NOT good enough. We need to be absolutely sure. We'll head out there at first light and make certain, but if it IS just Parker and his daughter, this could be better than we could have hoped. I can see it in the newspaper already... local businessman's daughter get's pregnant ... they argue about who the father is ... he kills her in a fit of rage - then commits suicide himself in remorse. Shit like that happens all the time."

"Is that what we make it look like once we know it's just the two of them?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure just yet. We'll just have to see what the morning brings. Get some sleep. We'll need to be on our way to the ridge to talk to Abernathy by 5AM."

"OK, boss..."

It was 4AM and Abernathy - sitting off to the side of the road on the ridge line overlooking the Parker ranch - was struggling to remain awake. He'd gone through a six-pack of caffeine-loaded energy drinks throughout the night and succeeded only in perfecting his ability to pee while drowsy. In desperation he reached for his pack of cigarettes - hoping THAT would at least keep him going until sunrise, when both McCarthy and Williams would be joining him.

Diane had been driving for two hours, stopping twice to call home in hopes that Isabel would answer. But there had been no response from her missing daughter and Diane knew only too well how useless it would be to report her daughter to the police. Until Isabel had been missing for 24 hours, they'd pay no attention in any event, and since Isabel had stormed off after a fight with her mom, it'd probably be even longer. And now as she looked at the faceplate of her cellphone which for the last half-hour had indicated 'no service' - not all that uncommon in the wide open spaces outside the few decent sized towns in New Mexico - she knew that even if her errant daughter did return home, she wouldn't be hearing from her anytime soon.

That hadn't kept her from replaying the fight she'd had with Isabel in her mind over and over. Some of the things she'd said - granted they were in anger, but even so... It got her to wondering just how much she really did know her daughter ... and her son. OK, the two had always been close, but for Isabel to take Max's side when he had done what hhe fully admitted HAVING done......

Diane just plain didn't understand. Max had essentially admitted that he really had raped that poor little Parker girl. And yet, Liz as a client had never said a word to her about Max's guilt - even before the girl knew her relationship to Max. She had, in fact, taken all the blame ... and responsibility ... onto herself. It just didn't make a damn bit of sense.

'And what Isabel said about Max...,' she wondered, '... that if Max had REALLY wanted Liz dead, she'd have been dead three seconds later...' Was Max somehow more violent than his mother had ever imagined? Someone who could not only do THAT to a sweet girl like Liz, but then so intimidate her that she'd feel guilty and blame herself for what happened? Was Max really some sort of a monster? But then the last time she'd seen him he seemed so ... vulnerable. Her son had been so guilt-stricken about Liz. She couldn't have been so wrong about that. Was Max.... insane?

'No,' she told herself. 'I don't know what's going on, but I simply CAN'T have misjudged my children so badly. Not Isabel... not Max... not either of them.'

Diane knew she needed answers and right now the only one that MIGHT be able to give them to her was Liz Parker.

She' drove by the little used entrance to the Parker ranch - barely noticing it - but as she rounded the corner she saw up on the ridge line a flash of light as someone lit a cigarette.

'Someone parked in the middle of nowhere at 4AM?' she asked herself. The answer came to her quickly. They were staking out someone - or guarding them. The logical thing, of course, was that was a sheriff's deputy up there, which made the inconspicuous driveway she'd just passed the Parker Ranch.

Diane didn't hit the brakes or even take her foot off the gas. As happy as she was to know that Chaves county's finest were still watching over the girl, Nancy Parker had made it plain that the Parker parents - most likely with the firm endorsement of the Chaves county sheriff's office - did not want her talking to Liz. They couldn't really stop that from happening - once she actually got to Liz - unless Liz herself chose not to speak to her own lawyer, but they could certainly have her arrested for trespassing and forcibly removed from the premises if Liz wasn't aware they were doing it. And that was why Diane continued driving the speed limit until she was out of sight of the ridgeline.

There was almost a full moon above the clouds and Diane pulled off beside the road and extinguished her lights, waiting until her eyes adjusted to the moonlight filtering down onto the desert road Fifteen minutes later she put the car back in gear and crept down the desert highway. There was a group of small trees and brush on the opposite side of the highway from the driveway that - Diane fervently hoped - led to the Parker ranch. She concealed the car as best she could among the brush, then got out. She had a calf-length dark cape-like coat in the car. She put it on and put the hood up, then crossed the road and started down the long driveway, being careful to keep as much of the scanty brush as possible between herself and the ridge line where - she assumed - the deputy providing secuity for Liz Parker was watching.

'If I can get in the door and talk to her,' she told herself, '...maybe this whole situation will start to make sense.....'