But first, you and I must come to an agreement. It is a simple matter of business now. As of this minute, you no longer control your son. I hold the deed. I hold all responsibility. My son is, well, one of my most prized possessions. I protect all my possessions and, sometimes, people. Take me on as an assistant and I promise you can see your son again. You only have to cooperate with me." "I need to see him before anything. I'm getting him an attorney first thing Monday." "Oh, come on now, you really think anyone will believe you've had any involvement in any of this when you were in bed with a stranger. Look, you have a chance now to come clean. You need to consider my offer. It is more than fair, in my opinion." Diane heard the other man mutter a curse under his breath, the same words, over and over again. Then, she heard a faint rustle and saw the two men approaching her. She watched the moonlight make them three-dimensional, the one-eyed man seeming to float above the other. She watched them take her son from the wheelchair and walk out of sight. She saw them return a short while later. The two men were dragging her son's corpse. They dumped him in the chair and the other took her from the room. The two followed behind. Diane heard the two lock the door to her son's room. They had locked her in. She walked around the room for a while. She listened for the click of the lock to open the door. She walked over to her bed and sat down on the edge, staring at the light coming through the window. She closed her eyes. She held the boy's hand. She watched a door of light appear before her. She closed the door behind them as they passed through. She turned around and saw the boy's mother in a hospital bed. She saw the tears in her eyes, as her wife and husband spoke to the medical staff. Diane remembered the hospital personnel saying their words were all jumbled. Diane remembered the doctor's hand on her arm, as he tried to reassure her. She remembered the boy's parents coming toward her, their faces full of fear and uncertainty. She remembered everything. The door came up and Diane walked out. "Mom?" "Yes, sweetheart?" Diane looked over her shoulder, startled. "You're home." Diane spun around and saw her son standing at the door, wearing pajamas and a bathrobe. "I heard you talking to Dad," he said, "and I wanted to see if you were okay." "It's okay, honey, just go back to bed. I'm just going to sit here and work for a little while, okay?" "All right, Mom." She watched her son turn and leave. She wondered if she was doing the right thing. Diane looked down at the desk. She picked up the telephone and dialed the number to her husband's office. "She'll only talk to you." They sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the phone ring. They heard the switchboard pick up, then the familiar voice of Sally. "Yes, Sally?" "She only wants to talk to you, Mr. Adams." "Thank you, Sally." After a moment of silence, she heard a click on the line. "Hello?" "Hello, Daddy," she said, softly. "Hello, honey." "What's going on?" Diane's voice sounded more like a girl's. "Is everything okay, Mommy?" "I am in the safe place now." "I know, Mommy, but what's taking so long? It's been days since I saw you. Are you going to leave me again? Are they coming for you again?" Diane looked at the knife. "No," she whispered. "This time, I'm making sure that I don't run away." "Okay, Mommy." "I love you, Daddy, and you know that." "I love you, too, Mommy." "I have something for you, Daddy." "What?" "I made you something. It's in my purse." "In your purse? You want to give it to me?" "Yes, Daddy, give it to me." She put the receiver to her ear and listened to the hiss of the dial tone. She hung up the phone. She left it on the cradle and walked out of the kitchen. Diane walked over to the purse she had brought into the kitchen with her. She saw the two men sitting on the floor. One held a knife and the other a revolver. "Oh, my God." "We've been waiting for you." "Get up, both of you." "I don't think that's a good idea," one of them said, looking up at her. "You know, you're dead if you leave. I mean, maybe you don't understand, but this place is a hell of a lot worse than a psych ward." Diane sighed, walked over to the table and pulled the bag out of her purse. She started to unzip it when she heard a noise from the back door. She turned around and saw a tall man entering the kitchen. He was carrying a gun in his hand. He sat on the opposite end of the table from the two men. Diane recognized him. He was the assistant the lawyer had called. He was staring at the two men on the floor. He looked back at Diane. "Who are these people?" he asked. "They're both very bad people," she replied, her eyes remaining locked on the gun in the man's hand. "No, what they're is very frightened. They are not doing anything now. They do not want to be hurt. They are just two frightened people who are scared of dying, like most of us. The woman has a husband who is also trying to make things better for her. You have heard of a lawyer named Peter James McQuade?" The man, who was about the same height as her, nodded his head. Diane glanced at the other two men. "Your lawyer sent someone over to ask my son some questions." The man nodded. "So," the man said, "you want these two men put in jail?" "Yes, I think you should put them in jail." "Well, you know what? Your son has helped the police solve a number of crimes. I can't let you put them in jail. It's for your own good." "I think you are very misinformed, sir. He has done nothing but harm them. They are both very sad. They just want to be loved, I'm afraid. You understand, don't you? They just want to be loved." "Well, that's not really in my job description. You see, I know how you feel, but, as a private investigator, I have an obligation to keep you safe." "I think you're making a mistake." "Perhaps you're right. I will need to take you back with me. I have to make sure you don't make another scene. I do so want to help you, so I can protect you, but this is really my job." "You know, sir, I'm really tired. I would like to get some sleep." "Of course, of course," he said, nodding his head. "That's good. You go with your son. I will find you later. You will be safe in your room." Diane watched the tall man stand and leave the kitchen. He walked over to the man holding the knife and held his gun up to the back of his head. He pulled him up, causing him to fall over, and sat him down in the chair. The other man tried to stand, but the tall man held him down with a firm hand. Diane watched the man walk over to her. He stopped in front of her, blocking her way. He held out his hand. She saw a gun in it. "Put that away, baby," the man said to her, "or I will have to hurt your son." She watched her son stand up and walk over to her. "I love you, Mommy," he said. "We will see each other again, darling," the man said to Diane, nodding his head at her son. "Let's go to the living room." Diane noticed her son's feet lift off the ground for a moment as the man dragged her son behind him. She watched her son stumble down the hall and enter his room. "Let's go, baby." The man turned her around and led her out of the kitchen and out the front door. She stopped walking and turned around to see him standing on the steps with her son. They had him over his shoulder. She walked up the steps behind them. The man placed her son's wheelchair next to her son and he stepped away from the wheelchair. "I've got to get some things," the man said. "You stay