Stephanie sat in Doug Crandal's kitchen, sipping a cup of kick-ass coffee that Doug had insisted on lacing with whiskey. She hadn't protested too hard--her nerves were shot. The policeman sitting across from her was going over the details of the statement she'd given him, and once again he asked, "You didn't see anything that might help us identify him, Miss Bradshaw?"

She said wearily, "I told you--no. It was dark, and he came at me from behind. Hell, now that I think about it, I'm not even one hundred per cent sure it was a he. They whispered--it could have been a strong woman."

The policeman looked doubtful, "It's possible, I suppose, but not likely. These crimes are usually committed by men, unless there's some previous history."

"I told you that they were after my niece." "You said they were whispering. Isn't it possible that they were asking about something else? Perhaps they were demanding to know where you kept your jewelry."

"I told you..."

There was a knock on the front door, and Doug (who had till then been an ardent defender of their local police, but now wasn't so sure) went to answer it. A moment later, a little wide-eyed, he came back to the kitchen. "Stephie, you were expecting someone, weren't you?"

"Yes, I..."

Acacia brushed past Doug. She flicked a scornful glance at the policeman, then went directly to Stephanie. "Hey, lady. I'm Acacia, Milda's big sister, and I'm here to take care of you." She squatted down beside her, taking her hand. "Did the asshole give you a hard time?"

The girl's hand was cold *Does bad circulation run in her family?*, but the concern in her eyes and voice was warm. Stephanie drew a shaky breath. "I'm okay."

"Yeah?" Acacia glanced significantly at the now crusting gash on her calf, then glared at the two men, who began fidgeting. "You positive you don't need a trip to the emergency room?"

"No, it's shallow. It looks a lot nastier than it is."

Acacia looked over at the policeman. Her voice was much colder than it had been when she addressed the woman. "You guys through over at her place?"

"Yes. My partner took fingerprints, and Miss Bradshaw can give us a list of anything that's missing tomorrow. I'd advise you to sleep elsewhere till you can get that deadbolt repaired, Miss Bradshaw."

"Oh, gee whiz, thanks, Officer Friendly. We never would have thought of that on our own."

His expression stiffened. "Look, Miss..."

"I done anything illegal? Last I heard you can't be arrested for attitude." She gave him a pointed smile. "Not legally, anyway."

The officer's expression became even tighter, but he didn't respond. Instead he just handed Stephanie a piece of paper with her report number on it. "Please check in soon, Miss Bradshaw." He left.

Doug Crandal said, "You can stay here, Stephie. I'll fix up the spare room."

"That won't be necessar, Pops." Acacia stood up. "She'll be coming with me. She needs a safe place to stay."

"Now, look here, Missy! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of her."

Acacia glanced at the huge, gleaming gun laying on the counter, the bullets beside it. She cocked an eyebrow at the old man, and there was a grudging respect in her tone. "I suppose you could, Daddio, but she's my client, so she's my obligation. You understand duty, right?" She'd chosen exactly the right tact to take with Douglas, and he nodded agreement.

"Stephie, are you up to going back over to your place to pick up a few things? I think you ought to stay over at the house for a couple of days at least."

Stephanie squared her shoulders. "Yes, I think so."

Douglas picked up his gun and started loading it. "I'm going with you. I can't let you two ladies walk in there unprotected."

Now Acacia seemed amused. She was flexing her fingers. The other two were too pre-occupied to notice, but needle sharp claws were sliding smoothly in and out. "Hey, sure, if it makes you feel better."

They had to go in through the back again, since Stephanie had left her keys in her abandoned purse. She reached in and turned on the light before they entered. Acacia eyed the sprawl of spilled groceries, then said matter-of-factly, "Good thing you didn't buy eggs." She bent down and picked up a can of green beans. Showing it to the other woman she said, "Was this your weapon?"

Stephanie examined it, finding a dent in its side. "I think so."

"Good choice. Easy to use and heavy and hard enough to do some damage." She grinned. "I had a girlfriend once who had a pervert come in while she was pricing groceries at a convenience store. He slapped his willie up on the counter, and she grabbed a can of creamed corn and... well, creamed him." That got a startled laugh from Stephanie, and a wince from Doug. "Yeah, he was still on the ground, clutching himself when the cops arrived. Steph, do you have a picture of Bethany that we can use in our inquiries?"

"Oh, of course." She led Acacia through the house, turning on lights all the way. Doug followed, peering around suspiciously and checking every closet. There was a portrait on Stephanie's bedroom dresser, and she took the picture out of its frame handing it to Acacia. "This was taken last year, when she graduated from college."

Acacia studied it. The young woman had long, curly, light-brown hair spilling out from under the ridiculous mortarboard she wore. There wasn't anything remarkable about her--she was neither ugly, nor very pretty, but there was something appealing about the shy, proud smile. "Nice looking kid. I'll be careful of this. We can run off some copies. Why don't you point me toward Bethany's old room, and you can get packed while I have a look at it?"

"All right," Stephanie led her across the hall. "But it won't do much good. she pretty much stripped it, and..." Her words died into a gasp as she opened the door.

The room was as much of a shambles as it was possible for it to be when there weren't any personal effects to toss about. The mattress had been dragged off the bed. All the drawers of the dresser and vanity were either standing open or on the floor, and a lamp, still glowing, was laying on its side on the night stand.

Acacia said, "I'm going to assume that you didn't leave it like this?"

"Of course not. I haven't been in here for days, and I know I didn't leave that lamp on."

Doug examined the mess. "Steph, maybe that cop was right. Maybe he was looking for something to steal."

Acacia snorted. "He tears up an empty room and leaves the master bedroom alone? Don't think so. Nope, he was looking for something that might tell him where Bethany went." She looked at Stephanie, who was biting her lip nervously. "Don't worry, he didn't find it. Otherwise he wouldn't have been waiting for you. Would you have any of Bethany's clothes--something that hasn't been washed since she last wore it?"

Doug looked interested. "Are you going to use dogs?"

Acacia wrinkled her nose. "Not likely. I doubt the beasts could pick up a trail at this late date."

"Then could you explain...?"

"I could, but I won't."

Seeing her old friend frown, Stephanie said hastily, "I don't think there's anything left. She even emptied the laundry hamper."

"I'll still look. It's hard to get everything when you've lived somewhere as long as she did here. Go on and pack." She looked at Doug solemnly. "You better go keep an eye on her, mister. That sucker could always come back." Crandal knodded firmly and followed Stephanie out. *And now you're both out of my hair.*

Acacia closed the door and stood in the middle of the room. She closed her eyes, lifted her head, and sniffed. The overwhelming scent was simple staleness--the room hadn't been aired since Bethany had left. There were the personal scents of Stephanie and Douglas, but she ignored them. That left two scents.

The first was the stronger of the two. It was more of a reek--heavy with anger and anxiety. That had to be the intruder--the one who had almost certainly killed Bethany's parents. In fact, the smell was so distorted by the hormones that had been pumping through the assailant's body that Acacia doubted she'd be able to recognize the asshole's scent unless they were in nearly the same state.

The second scent, the one that had to be Bethany's, was much more pervasive. It was layered--it permeated the room. Acacia turned slowly, scenting the air. When she found a direction where the scent seemed stronger she followed it toward the bed.

Acacia frowned. *I could understand getting a hit on the mattress--after all, she slept directly on it. But the frame?* She considered it for a moment. *Mm. Maybe if she's like me--not real good about moving furniture to clean.*

Acacia pulled the bed out a few inches from the wall and peeked into the crack. "Aha!" She bent and fished down by the floorboard, coming up with a pair of panties. "Oo, black lace!" *Bethany, I never would have guessed you might be wearing something like this under those funky grad robes.*

She stuffed the underwear into the pocket of the mini jumper she was wearing. *Might be better if they don't know I'm taking a pair of your used undies, doll. I don't want them to get the wrong idea and think I'm stalking your butt instead of trying to save it.*

Doug promised to see to having Stephanie's back door repaired and was persuaded that he didn't need to escort the women to the car waiting at the curb. As they buckled in, Acacia noticed Stephanie admiring the car. "Like my ride?"

"It's fantastic."

Acacia shrugged, starting the engine. "I'd rather have a sports job--they're better for picking up girls," she sighed, not noticing the other woman's startled look, "but Naresha is a car snob. Well, I'm about to let her have this one." She grinned. "I've found the coolest car! It's a '66 Mustang, and it's cherry--sunshine yellow with a black interior. I'm gonna look g-o-o-d in it."

"You look a lot like your sister," Stephanie ventured, "If it wasn't for the hair I'd think you were twins."

"Milda? Yeah, I've heard that before."

"But the hair... Her's is pretty, but yours is so unusual. I've never seen such beautiful shading. I hope you don't mind my asking, but who does your hair?"

"God." Acacia chortled when she saw Stephanie's expression. "Man, I love saying that. I'm the real deal, sister. What you see is what you get."

"I didn't mean..."

Acacia waved away the apology. "Forget it. Look, normally I'd take you to our safe house, but we have someone there now who's a little shy of people she doesn't know. You'd be, too, if your dad had been pimping you since you were eleven. While you're staying at our place we have to have a few house rules. I'm not much on rules myself, but these are gonna be for all our benefits, dig?"

"I understand."

"Okay. Now, it's not like you're gonna be restricted. Heck, you have a life--you need to work. Nana will take you wherever you need to go, and pick you up, too. I guess that POS in your driveway was your car?"

"POS?" "Piece of shit."

Stephanie's voice was wry. "A crude but accurate description."

"We'll see what we can do about fixing you up with something a little less likely to disintegrate into its separate parts."

"I can't afford it right now."

"You can if you go to Akuji Motors, and I can guaranty you won't be screwed over. Next, when you're at the lair you don't open the outside door--ever. If one of us isn't there, and that won't happen often, just pretend you aren't there." She glanced at Stephanie. "I'm not bullshitting about this one, Steph. There's always a chance that something nasty might come a'callin."

"You mean one of your client's psycho ex-husband?"

Acacia's lips twitched. "I know it's hard to believe, but there are things out there even nastier than that. Don't drink Milda's tomato juice out of the fridge, but you're welcome to open a fresh can. Don't poke in the freezer, and stay on the ground floor unless someone invites you to another part of the house. It's not that we're anti-social, but we need our privacy. Okay?"

"More than reasonable." *Though I have to wonder about that 'don't peek in the freezer' caveat. I hope I haven't fallen in with the Chainsaw Family.*

At the warehouse, Acacia took Stephanie's bag and led her to the door, then leaned casually on the bell. In a moment a voice came over the intercom. "Acacia, don't try to tell me that you've forgotten the code."

Acacia winked at Stephanie. "Got someone with me, remember? Wouldn't do to let her learn our secrets."

Stephanie heard a snort. "You're just lazy." There were a few electronic beeps, and the door opened. A pleasant looking woman in her late middle age stepped back to allow them entrance. She smiled at Stephanie as she shut and locked the door. "Hello, you must be Stephanie Bradshaw. Just call me Nana--everyone does."

Acacia handed over Stephanie's bag and headed toward the stairs. "Take Steph into the kitchen and get her some tea or something, huh, Nana? Something nice and hot--her throat may be tender from that shit grabbing at her. She also has a cut on her leg. I'm gonna send Milda down to help her out."

"Come along, dear." Nana led her back to the kitchen and seated her once again at the table. As the older woman prepared tea Stephanie reflected that if her life hadn't been in such an uproar she could easily get to feel very at home here.

She was sipping hot tea laced with honey when Milda came in, juggling a handful of items. She dropped them on the table, saying, "Casey told me what happened, Stephanie. Let me have a look at that cut." Stephanie had peeled off her ruined stockings back at Doug's house. Milda crouched down, her granny dress sweeping the floor, and took Stephanie's foot into her hand. "Nana, could you bring me...?"

"On its way." Nana was running hot water into a basin.

"Stephanie, have you had a tetanus shot recently?"

"I stepped on a tack about four months ago and got one then."

'Good, you won't need to go in for one." She took the cloth and soap Nana brought and used the hot water to gently wash Stephanie's wound. Her touch was firm but gentle. "You won't need stitches." She opened a small, unlabeled jar, then hesitated. "Stephanie, this is my own concoction. It soothes and sterilizes, and I have another that will minimize the chance of scarring. If you prefer, we have an emergency supply of over-the-counter antiseptic, but this is just as effective, if not more so."

"You girls run a pharmaceutical company, don't you?"

Milda nodded. "Besides the more mainstream items we have a line of all natural cures that I've formulated myself."

Stephanie extended her leg. "I trust you."

Milda smiled. "That's good. It will make it so much easier to help you." Milda dressed and bandaged Stephanie's wound. "Now, Casey told me that you have a picture of Bethany? I feel so silly that I didn't ask you for one when we first met. I'm sure you must carry one in your purse."

"Oh, yes." Stephanie took the photograph she'd removed from the frame and handed it to Milda.

Milda studied the picture, then said softly, "She has old eyes." She handed the picture to Nana. "They look as if they've seen much more than a girl that age should have, but I suppose that's understandable, after what she's been through. Do I have your permission to reproduce that so we can distribute them to our people?"

"Yes, of course. Milda, I'm even more worried than I was. If that man was desperate enough to come into my home..."

Milda patted her shoulder. "I seriously doubt that he has the resources that we do, Steph. I believe we'll find Bethany before he does. The problem is, for Bethany to stay safe, we're going to have to find him, too."