Officially For Sale!

The SubVersion Complex is now officially for sale on Amazon as a Kindle eBook! You can buy it here. Oh, and don't forget to leave a review once you're done reading, reviews are like gold for me! Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Release Date Announcement!

Well, it's official! I am biting the bullet and announcing the release date for my book, so that I am unable to procrastinate on the editing process.

The SubVersion Complex will come to Amazon's Kindle ebook store on Halloween, October 31st. The paperback version will either be available to order on the same day or at some unspecified day soon after, if all goes well.

The book (and the whole trilogy) is about rebirth from darkness to light, from horror and madness to light and sanity, so I felt like Halloween was an appropriate choice.

Final Cover Design

Thank you all for your input on the cover designs I have submitted over the past months! It has been quite helpful.

The final cover may not bear a close resemblance to the previous iterations, but the design evolved out of all the suggestions I received and from my own ideas of how the book ought to be reflected on the cover.

When I have a review blurb for the book, it will be going below the title in small text. Until then, though, that part of the cover must remain a great big empty space. Sigh... :-)

See if you can read the word in the shadows...

First Draft is Finished!

Sorry for not posting this last month...

 

Major milestone of my life reached: The first draft of The SubVersion Complex was born at 7:11 on the morning of the 24th of August, weighing in at a whopping 123,200 words/237 pages. It is 32 chapters long, two chapters longer than my original projection, and it took just about ten months to reach this point from late October last year to August 24th of this year. Before October of last year the idea for this story didn't even exist, but ever since then it has been the haunt of my fevered imagination. And now the first draft is here!

Many thanks to my ever-patient wife Elizabeth for putting up with my odd hours and frustrations in getting these ideas out, and for believing in my book when I didn't. Also, many thanks to those who have commented on the blog versions of the various chapters. It was all constructive criticism and/or encouragement, and it shaped the final product for the better in ways you probably don't know.

I will let everyone know the official release date once I know it. It has tentatively been set to Halloween of this year, that dark day being the eve of the day of all that is holy, and the book being about transforming from darkness and violence and despair to hope and grace and love.

Let There Be Life!

A Teaser of Future Chapters...

Teaser quote:

[Anna] looked Tamika in the eye. “What's it like? Being a mother, I mean.”

Tamika's face softened and she thought in silence. Her hands moved to her belly again and she held them there pensively, feeling the baby kick from the outside. “It's terrifying,” she finally said quietly.

It wasn't the answer Anna had expected. “How is it terrifying?”

Tamika continued watching her belly. “It's like when you were a kid and you kissed a boy for the first time, but a thousand times more so. Terrifying, but also wonderful. Terrifying because you're so vulnerable, and yet wonderful because of what you are doing. I'm making a person inside me. I've made four other persons inside me, and I love them so much my heart breaks. The responsibility is terrifying, but I want it. I want it so very badly.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Is that really true? I mean, at HomoGen we made real people too, or so I thought.”

Tamika looked up and Anna saw teardrops suspended in her eyes like twin diamonds about to fall. “A machine makes people at HomoGen. There is no love, and if there's no love, then what's the point?”

-- The SubVersion Complex, Chapter Twenty-One

The SubVersion Complex, Chapter Eighteen

More surprises, as usual. Let me know what ya'll think, I love getting feedback on the new material.

Here is Chapter 18 of The SubVersion Complex. This book is intended for a more mature audience, so be advised.

╗ EIGHTEEN ╚

FATHER

Daniel glared at Mr. Vickers. “I only ever did to her what I told you,” he snapped. The older man glared back.

“Which was quite enough, if I recall. I never authorized you to blackmail this woman or anyone else for that matter!”

Anna's head spun as she tried to process what she was hearing, but in another moment she knew her knees were going to give way from beneath her and she fell into a nearby chair without being asked. Mr. Vickers knelt beside her and pulled a quilt from the sofa. “Here, wrap up in this, your teeth are hammering.” He tried to smile at her.

Daniel, now agitated, knelt on her other side and looked her in the eye. “You said you had some success with my numbers.” When Anna nodded he continued with more passion, “Well? Did you find them? Both of them?”

Anna nodded but couldn't say anything. She opened her mouth to explain but her voice died and she was left to move her jaw in vain. Daniel moved closer to her; Anna could again feel that masculine warmth and dangerous tension near her face and she retreated into the chair. “What did you find, Anna?” he asked. “Tell me!” Mr. Vickers attempted to pull Daniel away but the younger man shook him off violently. “Let me do this, Father!” he growled.

“Father?” Anna finally managed to blurt. Daniel ignored her and repeated his question.

“Tell me, did you find them?”

Anna nodded.

Daniel's voice rose. “The woman? You found the woman too?”

She nodded again, wilting.

“Is she alive? Dammit, tell me she's alive!”

Anna began to tremble from head to toe. Her breathing quickened, her heart pounded in her ears. “No,” she gasped out in a hoarse whisper.

A fearful transformation overtook Daniel. It was as if a bright fire in his eyes had been quashed and all that remained were the freakish charred remnants. His breathing turned ragged, and she could see him fighting back hot tears. “You're lying,” he whispered.

“I watched her die,” Anna replied weakly, her eyes filling with her own tears. “She was thrown into an incinerator and was burnt up.” Her heart felt near to bursting with grief for the poor man. “She's dead.”

Even Mr. Vickers was taken aback. He and Daniel exchanged appalled looks, then Daniel looked away, fighting a powerful maelstrom of emotion. Finally the younger man stood and paced the room while Anna and Mr. Vickers watched him warily, unsure of what to expect next.

“Are you sure she's dead, I mean could there be some mistake?” Daniel stammered brokenly. Anna shook her head.

“There was no mistake. Neville found her and sent her to the incinerator,” she whispered back. “He said she had been frozen one too many times to be of any more use . . . “

Daniel clawed at the air. “Neville, that sickening beast,” he exclaimed. Then he turned on her with a fierceness that truly frightened her. “And you did nothing to stop it? You were right there and you did nothing?”

Mr. Vickers turned to him. “You don't know that, Daniel.”

Daniel waved him away. “Let the bitch speak for herself, Father.”

Mr. Vickers stood, and his old frame shook with anger. “That's quite enough, Daniel.”

“Like hell it is,” Daniel replied. He pointed to Anna. “She's the reason for all of this, don't you see? Her work is what industrialized all of this horror, the Versions and the SubVersions and all of it!” His demeanor turned suddenly calm, but Anna knew better than to relax. She was proven correct when Daniel pulled his own pistol from his belt and dispassionately held it against her head. She stifled a scream and shied away.

“This whole damnable business is her fault, it's on her head. Would it not be just to take her head for it?” Daniel remarked coldly. “Eh, Father? You're always spouting about justice and mercy, you tell me what you think! Then perhaps I'll decide not to pull the trigger.

Anna saw to her surprise that Mr. Vickers had slid between her and the barrel of the gun. “Daniel, this woman is special to me. But even if she wasn't I would still stand between you and the commission of a grave crime against your own soul and this woman's body. She deserves to be shot just as little as you do.”

Daniel threw up his free hand in exasperation. “Is there no justice in this world? What would be so wrong about blowing her away for her crimes?” he cried. “She is HomoGen! She is the enemy!”

“Daniel.” Mr. Vickers voice was soothing but firm. “You are grieving. But you will not grieve with a gun in your hand, nor will you threaten Annalise with any more violence. You will not.”

Suddenly Anna found herself exasperated with Daniel. She astonished even herself by pushing Mr. Vickers aside, grabbing the gun and placing the muzzle against her forehead. “No, it's all right Mr. Vickers. Go ahead and kill me, Daniel. Go on, do it. Pull the trigger. Talk about me like I'm not here and have no say, blow my brains out. I am the cause of all your problems, I am sure. I'm not sure why I care to live anyways, go ahead!”

Daniel was taken aback even in his rage. “Why?” he asked.

“Because I've seen enough today to make me doubt there is anything good left here or in you or anywhere else. So pull the trigger!” Anna's voice exuded desperation.

“That's enough, both of you!” Mr. Vickers said, quietly but in a voice of authority. He gently grasped the gun and pointed it away. To Anna's dumbfounded surprise Daniel let the gun drop completely into the older man's hand and then walked away towards the fireplace.

She watched Daniel grasp the mantelpiece and put his forehead against the wood. What was passing through his mind she couldn't know, but she did see several tears land on the hearth below and her heart again went out to him. Her anger had been brief, and all the feeling she had left for him was sorrow. She then remembered Sonya and her pulse intensified. All was not lost. She cleared her throat. “Daniel?”

He turned slowly to glare at her. Nothing daunted, she continued. “Your daughter, Sonya. She's alive. She's alive, and I spoke to her.”

A change occurred immediately. Hope visibly returned to the grief-stricken face and he approached her cautiously yet with unmistakable excitement. “You spoke to her?”

Anna nodded. “After a fashion.” She swallowed. “They -they're using her for an experiment.”

Daniel stood still, waiting. Whether it was patience or pent-up fury that kept him rooted to the floor she couldn't tell, but he waited nonetheless. Anna continued fearfully. “It's the project that they originally hired you for, the reason they took your brain scans. They built a system that used your scans to interface with other human brains via a special computer. Except,” she swallowed again, “that the heart of the transfer computer is a person.”

“Go on.”

“Sonya. She is the computer. And I spoke to her through the interface.”

Behind the mask of his face Anna detected a hint of dismay, and Daniel stood for a full minute with his arms crossed, breathing slowly. He then roused himself, rounded the bend to the hallway and shut himself in the nearby bedroom with a slam.

Anna shivered and sighed a long sigh of relief. He was gone, at least for the moment, and now that she could relax a powerful exhaustion seeped into her bones. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair, pulling the quilt closer around her clammy body for warmth. The quilt smelled good, a kind of delightfully shabby grandmother type smell, and she buried her face in it and breathed slowly.

“That was my wife's,” a voice said, and Anna felt a warm hand on the back of her head. She tensed, then relaxed at Mr. Vicker's touch. Somehow his was the first touch today that she trusted, and she let his hand rest where it lay until she turned to look up at him.

“I'm sorry she's gone,” she whispered.

“And I as well,” Mr. Vickers replied, sitting down in the chair opposite her. He looked even older than usual today. He folded his hands in his lap and looked at them for a minute, then his eyes flicked back up to her face. “I can only guess the kinds of questions you have for me right now, and you deserve the answers to them.”

She did have questions, and they threatened to jumble together as she tried to decide which to ask him first. However, she decided to save the most obvious one for second and ask him the more burning one first: “How did you know?”

Mr, Vickers' brow furrowed. “How did I know what?”

Anna's pride suddenly threatened to choke off her explanation, but she forged ahead despite her discomfort. “You said . . . you've warned me for years that I would regret what I did one day.” She paused, hesitant. “Because I- I do regret it.” She stared back at him, straight into his soulful eyes. “How did you know? How did you know that . . . that I was not happy?”

Mr. Vickers looked back at her mildly, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest. Anna almost thought she saw a smile brewing deep inside him. He cocked his head at her and rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “Annalise,” he began, the smile that she suspected beginning to curl the edges of his mouth, “Annalise, I am old. I've watched many people grow and change, I've grown and changed myself. And if I've learned anything from my observations of people, young and old, that would be that I know when they are unhappy. When someone is unhappy it isn't usually difficult to find the cause, as long as one takes the time and the care to get to know that person.”

Anna frowned, unsure if he had answered the question. “But- but how did you know? Specifically?”

The full-blown smile appeared. “Because HomoGen's work, and Central Admin's work, are fundamentally untrue. You cannot be happy following that which is untrue.”

The concept was so foreign to her that she sat silently, trying to let the words penetrate. Untrue? Why was it untrue? Before she would have laughed in his face at such a suggestion, but now something in her soul resonated to the concept, though she didn't know why.

Mr. Vickers leaned forward towards her and he took her hands in his. “If you really want to know how I know, all you have to do is look around you, and think. You are unhappy because you know deep in your soul that what you do and what you've seen are troubling things. They are not good, they are untrue.” He released her hands. “There is no love in what HomoGen does, and there never will be. And you desire love. I see it with you and Jesse, I see it with your devotion to your job, I see it in everything you do. You want to love and to be loved.”

Anna's breath caught in her throat. One part of her demanded she rebel against his words, that she drive him away. She felt her desire for her work, her memories of HomoGen being pulled away from her and her body screamed that she resist. Then suddenly she heard the Secretary's words again: There is no love in this entire process, and it's about time the charade was dropped.

Adam knew that what he was doing was untrue.

The other part of her found itself listening to Mr. Vickers. “Jesse doesn't love me,” she blurted out. “He never did.”

“Probably not,” Mr. Vickers agreed.

“Did you know the SubVersion complex existed?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“We had a pretty good idea that the part you saw did indeed exist, and of course Daniel is familiar with a certain portion of it. But we weren't absolutely sure what was going on there until this afternoon. You'll have to give us the rest of the details later of course,” Mr. Vickers said, leaning back again in his chair. “Which leads to your next question: why is Daniel in my house?”

Anna nodded.

Mr. Vickers shrugged. “He is Verité. So am I.”

Even though she had already begun to guess, the revelation still shocked her. “How could you be Verité?” she demanded.

“Because Verité was my idea.”

Now she truly gaped at him. “Your what?”

“Verité is the brainchild of none other than myself, your father, and your mother,” Mr. Vickers continued. “It exists now partly under my supervision and guidance.”

Anna's head spun. She struggled to hold her rising ire in check and she sat up straight, the quilt falling away from her shoulders. “You run Verité? And my parents used to as well? Then how in the world did Verité justify killing my parents? What sort of rationalizing did they have to do, did you have to do?”

Mr. Vickers shifted in his seat, less with discomfort it seemed than a kind of disappointment. “Annalise, why in the world would we have killed your parents? They were our biggest allies.”

Confused and faltering, Anna continued: “But- it was all over the news! It's what I've been told for ages, the Secretary even corroborated it!”

“And you believe everything the media and Central Admin put out?” Mr. Vickers eyed her. “The Party Secretary, he is a trustworthy and honest man? He has never lied to you before? Annalise, Central Admin denies that the SubVersion complex even exists. Their mission from the first day of Verité's existence has always been to discredit and destroy us, by any means possible. Back in the day a warning came to us, that someone from Central Admin knew that your parents were with Verité and within that same week your parents were dead.” He stared hard at Anna. “Killed with a weapon we didn't even possess at the time. I assure you, we had nothing to do with it. It wouldn't have made any sense.”

Anna shook her head; all of this new information was almost too much to bear. She felt a new anger now, the horrible thought that everything she had ever known was a lie and that she would never know the truth. Mr. Vickers' story rang true, but she felt afraid as her old opinions crumbled to pieces around her. Suddenly her anger could center on no one but herself.

Her next question surfaced and she decided to change the subject again. “Daniel called you 'Father.' Are you his father?”

Mr. Vickers smiled. “In a way, yes. I am a Catholic priest.”

The SubVersion Complex, Chapter Seventeen

We are finally back to new content again! We left off of course with Anna in the hallway outside the incinerator chamber, vomiting her guts out. We pick up with what immediately follows that incident and continue from there.
 
You all are in for a couple of big surprises coming up, and the end of this scene contains one of them. So without further ado, here is Chapter 17 of The SubVersion Complex. This book is intended for a more mature audience, so be advised.

╗ SEVENTEEN ╚

THE WAY HOME

Her whole body heaved and shuddered, attempting to eradicate the images from her imagination and the contents of her stomach from her body. Tears streamed from her eyes in racking sobs, her soul raw and straining for some sort of release from the horror in her mind. She pounded the floor in her torment and tried to make sense of it all, but strangely only Mr. Vickers' words would come to her.

Giving up the devil's work or simply transferring to another post to do it more efficiently?

She shook her head feverishly, again engulfed in a flood of guilt as she realized the gravity of her mistake. So this is what HomoGen really did. Adam was right, this had nothing to do with love. She cried out and leaned back against the wall, clutching at her hair and weeping harder. She suddenly saw the image of that lesbian couple the previous week who had come to HomoGen to order their Version. They would indeed get their Version, and Neville would receive the two to eight SubVersions created at the same time, to defile with his sickening hands and his even more sick mind. Those SubVersions would be experimented on, frozen, hacked up, and eventually cast into the same furnace that had just destroyed Daniel's lover.

The limp form of that falling woman once more possessed her, and the awful guilt followed. She could have stopped them, couldn't she? She could have saved her, could have rescued her from that horrible fiery destiny. Or perhaps she could not have done a thing.

She heard the door open again and someone entered behind her. The noise of the furnace beyond had not died down a whit, but instead seemed to be gaining strength. She turned and saw Neville standing there.

“I did warn you, I really tried,” he opined. “It's not a sight for everyone, only the hardiest should really be allowed to see that. But shall we continue?” He bent down to help her up.

Anna's entire being swelled with enraged terror, and without thinking she rose up and struck him across the face. “DON'T TOUCH ME!” she screamed. She pulled her gun from its holster on her back and aimed it squarely at Neville's head. “Let me out of this place now,” she gasped, almost incoherent.

Neville startled and took a step backwards. His hands rose into the air of their own accord and his voice assumed a conciliatory tone. His face was white. “Now, Miss McLean, let's not be hasty, there is plenty more to see that we haven't even gotten to yet.”

“You will let me out of here now or I swear I will kill you.” She couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth; she felt out of control of her actions. The only thing that mattered any more was getting out of this dungeon, and with every passing moment it felt more and more as if the walls would close in on her. Holding a steady bead on Neville's forehead, she repeated her request.

Neville slowly backed up to the console on the wall and tapped the button. “Captain James, Miss McLean says that she is finished down here and would like to go back upstairs. Come to the south exit and escort her out please.” He released the button and turned frightened eyes back to Anna. “Satisfied?”

“Almost,” Anna stammered. She could feel her tears returning and sincerely hoped Captain James would show up before she was blinded by them. With astounding quickness the door at the far end of the hall opened and Captain James appeared.

Anna holstered the gun and ran. James watched her fly out the door, then turned to Neville in a rage. He grasped the white clad man by the front of the shirt and lifted him almost off his feet. “What the hell did you do to her?” he demanded.

Neville twisted and choked, but his smile made a reappearance and he tried to sound unconcerned through his gasps. “I did nothing she didn't want me to do. Weak stomach I suppose.”

Disgusted, James threw the man onto the floor and followed Anna out the door. She had already made it out to the elevator and was pounding at the button desperately trying to make the elevator come faster.

He grabbed her by the shoulders in concern and tried to turn her around but she fought his grasp. “Get away from me!” she screamed again, wrenching herself free. James let go of her, just as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Anna raced inside and he followed. She slapped the button for the parking garage level and the elevator began to move.

When the doors slid open an ashen-faced Anna emerged into the cavernous garage followed by a troubled Captain James. As both of them raced across the concrete Anna vaguely noticed Officer Terry Garnham walking to her own car. Terry gaped in surprise and dismay as she saw traces of vomit on Anna's clothes and the tear stains on her face. But it was Anna's expression that alarmed her the most.

“Anna,” she breathed with concern, “what happened?”

“I have to go,” Anna blurted out, the gurgle in her throat suggesting she was not finished disgorging her previous meal.

Terry persisted. “What's wrong, Anna?” She looked closer and saw the chaos raging in Anna's eyes, and her concern grew sharply. “What in the world happened?”

“I am going, I need to go,” Anna replied sharply, shoving everyone aside and rushing for her car. As she disappeared around the corner Terry turned to Captain James and silently asked “What?”

James shook his head. “I wasn't there, I have no idea what she saw,” he said, “but whatever it was, it's bad.”

“What was bad?” Terry asked, confused.

“The Secretary sent her to visit with Neville.”

Terry turned white. “Oh no . . . “

₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪

Anna never knew how she got home that day. She somehow stumbled to her car and programmed it to get her back to her address, but much other than that remained a blur. She was dimly aware that her car had emerged into the dim light of a tremendous late evening thunderstorm and that rain and wind began to lash the vehicle in powerful rolling buffets. With the rain came her tears again, and she found she could not stop them no matter how hard she tried. Wretched grief boiled inside her to overflowing and all she could do was ride the cresting wave of her own emotion.

After an eternity had passed, her home appeared and the car dutifully parked itself in the driveway and cut the power. Anna automatically moved to exit, but as the door opened her foot caught and she fell almost prostrate with a splash onto the soaked concrete.

She noticed the rain, realized it felt good pouring onto her head and limbs and back. She stayed motionless for several long moments, feeling the water droplets strike her and split into fragments, listening to the deep thunder roll in the background. It felt . . . cleansing. Her hair rapidly grew saturated and limp around her face, her wet dress clung to her body and her shoes filled with water. She didn't care; she didn't care about much at that moment.

She shut the door of her car and slowly began to crawl towards her front door. It seemed so far away. She tried to stand and walk but as she did so she heard a sound from the street and stopped to look.

It was Jesse's car, and as it halted at the curb under a blazing streetlight Jesse himself jumped out clad in a business suit, an umbrella in tow. Anna gaped at him uncomprehendingly. Why is he here? She tried moving faster towards the door but her own condition and a cry from Jesse halted her.

“Anna!” he shouted, running up and shielding her from the rain with the umbrella. She blinked the water out of her eyes and looked at him like she didn't know him.

“I like the rain,” she said stupidly.

“What are you doing out here in all this?” Jesse shouted over the downpour and thunder. “Let's get you inside.” He grabbed her arm and began to haul her to her feet.

“Don't touch me!!” she screamed, recoiling from him and stumbling backwards. Jesse stared in surprise but tried to lift her again. Again she repulsed him and backed away.

“What is wrong with you, Anna? I'm here to help you!” he barked, gesturing in frustration. She still backed away, finally reaching the door and fumbling to unlock it with slippery fingers.

“I don't want to see you right now,” she whispered. “I don't want to see you ever again, not ever. Please leave.” She backed into the house away from him. He suddenly strode up to the door and pushed it open.

“No, Anna, for some reason you're not thinking straight, now tell me what's wrong.” His presence was overpowering as usual, his scent and overbearing attitude made her shrink deeper inside herself. For the second time that day she reached behind her back and pulled out her weapon, pointing it squarely at his stomach.

“I said leave,” she cried desperately through her tears.

Jesse's eyes nearly popped out. “So they did give you a gun,” he breathed, putting his hands uncertainly into the air. Anna pushed forward, and he reeled backwards out of the doorway. She grabbed the door and slammed it shut, locking it and resetting the alarm. Then she sank to the floor inside against the wall and wept again.

What to do? She couldn't go to Adam, he would wonder too many things. Terry was no good either, and Anna had just threatened her only semblance of a friend with a gun and forced him back out into the rain. With sudden clarity she realized that she had no friends, no real friends anyways, no one she could call or go to and spill herself out. In that moment of despair she glanced over at an end table nearby and saw a bottle of her best brandy sitting on top, next to the familiar framed picture of her parents smiling back at her.

Sonya's plea for her mother came rushing to Anna as she saw the face of her own mother staring back at her, and for the first time in years she really felt the festering wound of their death on her heart. She wanted her mother, her father. She wanted them back so badly. She reached over, grabbed the bottle in her frustration and hurled it against the paneling of the far wall. It disintegrated with a loud crash and she watched the brown liquid spill down the wall and onto the floor. Then, through her tears, a thought came to mind.

Mr. Vickers. He had been a friend of her parents. She could call him.

No, he hates me. I've hated him for so long that he would never want me. Or maybe he doesn't . . . In the midst of her musings she pulled out her commex, ironically glad that they were built to be waterproof, and was about to dial his number when she remembered she didn't even have it. Had she never even bothered to get his number? In her frustration she tossed her gun to the floor and pulled her knees up to her chin. So there was nothing that could be done, and she despised herself.

Then the reason why all this trouble had been heaped on her came back in a flash, and she practically ran up the stairs to her room and dropped to her knees in front of her safe. She unlocked it and pulled out the commex that Daniel had given her and powered it on. It came to life without a fuss and displayed a single icon in the center of the screen, a button cheekily marked “Push Me.” Gritting her teeth, she tapped it and put the device up to her ear and waited.

The line rang once, then twice, then a click. “Who is this?” It was Daniel's voice.

“It's me, Anna.” She licked her lips. “I . . . I have what you want.”

A long silence. Then: “You will meet me in person, and you will leave your personal commex in your bedroom, turned on of course.”

Anna frowned. “Why do I need to leave it behind?”

“Your house is being monitored, at this very moment,” Daniel's voice crackled. “I watched two trucks follow you in, no doubt from Central Admin. Your commex is being geo-tracked by them, and you need to leave it at home.”

In confusion and sudden panic Anna raced to the window and looked up and down the street. At the very end to her left she could make out two parked black trucks. A chill shot through her entire body. “Am I in danger?”

“I don't know, but I do know they definitely saw that stunt with your boyfriend and your gun.”

Anna stiffened. “You saw? Where are you?”

“Come out your back door, close and lock it and set the alarm from your remote key. Then cross backyards to your next door neighbors' house. The divider fences and the rain and twilight will keep you out of sight of the trucks.”

Anna was confused. “Which next door neighbors? The ones to my right?”

“No, your left. You know him as Mr. Vickers. Come to his back door and knock three times. Daniel out.” The line went dead.

Mr. Vickers? Anna couldn't fathom what Daniel would be at his house for. Then a horrible thought occurred to her: Perhaps Mr. Vickers is being held hostage? But why? She placed her commex on her bed like Daniel asked, then flew down the stairs and to the back door. She locked it and set the alarm, then proceeded across the back lawn towards Mr. Vicker's back door.

The rain still fell in sheets and she was forced to take off her heels and step barefoot in the soaked grass, keeping her head down so as not to be seen from the street. The rain did not feel half so pleasant or cleansing now, but dribbled in cold rivulets down her back and legs. By the time she reached Mr. Vickers' back door she was shivering and her teeth chattered. She stepped up onto the back stoop and rapped three times on the door.

The door swung open and Mr. Vickers himself emerged. He stared for a long moment at Anna's bedraggled form, then reached out to her and gently took her arm, pulling her in. “Come in, Annalise, come in out of the rain, you're soaked.” She watched his face darken with anger and he turned to the doorway of the next room. “Daniel! Get in here now.”

Daniel's tall and wiry form appeared from around a corner and stopped short. The befuddlement evident in his face matched in intensity the bewilderment that she felt. He turned to Mr. Vickers but had barely opened his mouth when the older man turned on him.

“What in the world did you make her do?” Mr. Vickers' tone was ice.