They don't believe me, of course. Why should they? It's pretty unbelievable. But the doctors and nurses don't want to upset me, so they're not pushing it. Paramedics are always so nice to you. One of the male FBI agents tried to insist on riding down with me, and they banned him. Hurray. He was rougher than he had to be when he cuffed Lally. I think he was pissed because Ron and Jerry were gone.

The woman FBI agent, Madeiras, rode in with me. "Miss Mozelle, I know you're feeling kind of shaky now, but anything you can tell us will help. You want us to catch the men who did this to you, don't you?"

I stared at her as if she was speaking Swedish. "I don't understand. Didn't you catch him?"

Her eyes went sharp. "Catch who, Miss Mozelle?"

"James. I never knew his last name."

She frowned. "Scribe, he was the one responsible for us finding you."

"Oh? Well, yes, he knew where I was, didn't he?"

"He's at the hospital right now, pretty badly injured."

"Will he die?" That was a mistake. I couldn't keep the eager edge out of my voice. I know she noticed it.

But she said, "Probably not. He'd lost a lot of blood by the time he got to town, and his shoulder will probably be messed up for a long time, but he isn't likely to die. He's going to testify."

I made my expression bewildered. "I thought a criminal didn't have to testify against himself."

"No, Scribe. He's going to testify against Ron and Jerry Bellewood."

"Who?"

She didn't say anything for a little while, she just studied me while the paramedic kept check on blood pressure and pulse. Every now and then he would murmur to me reassuringly, and I'd smile at him. He was a nice young man.

Finally she said, "Scribe, he tells us you were kidnaped in the course of a robbery in your hometown in Texas. That Ron and Jerry Bellewood returned to Colorado with you, and that Jerry Bellewood held you more or less as a sex slave the last two months."

I let my eyes go round. "He said that?"

"You don't remember it?"

"I remember the robbery. And..." I touched the blue mark on my face, and the dark splotches growing on my arms and above my bosom. "I remember that he's the one who did this to me."

Her eyes sharpened. "Are you sure about that?"

"Small man, dark blonde hair, sharp features, bright, bright blue-green eyes, and a greasy attitude."

Her lips thinned, as if she were trying not to smile. "That's a pretty accurate description of him." She reached out, and laid a hand gently on my belly. "Did he do this, too?" she asked quietly.

I blinked. "Do what?"

"Scribe, they said you're pregnant. You look pregnant."

"I don't think I've had much exercise lately." She was shaking her head. "It would explain why I haven't had my period in so long. But I figured it was just menopause. Don't you suppose if I'd gotten pregnant, I would remember how it happened?"

"Yes, I do." There was an obvious unspoken statement in her tone.

"I wouldn't be able to hear a heartbeat over the engine, but we'll have some tests when we get you to the hospital," the paramedic soothed. "We'll find out for sure then, and the doctor's and counselors will help you, whatever the situation."

I folded my hands carefully over my belly, under the watchful eye of Special Agent Bonita Madeiras. "That would be lovely."

Special Agent Michael Collins POV

They shouldn't have used the sirens, dammit! Who the hell screwed up and let the freakin' local 911 jockeys send up a meat wagon full of paramedics before WE could get there? They must've heard us coming a mile away. Shit, more than a mile away, with the way sound carries in that thin air.

They got away, of course.

Well, most of them did. The important ones, anyway. The ones who's capture would have looked REAL good on an agent's record. We got there, and all that was left was a bunch of women and kids. Damn, when we got 'em down the mountain, I let the local boys herd them into the station. I didn't want the news crews catching me shepherding a tiny blonde and a skinny brunette, both of them in cuffs and looking about as dangerous as Sara Lee cheesecake. Not all that great for the old public image.

I would have rather had a photo op with the hostage, but the medics wouldn't let me anywhere near her, and Madeiras wouldn't use her juice to over ride them. Fat freakin' lot of good she was.

Special Agent Bonita Madeiras. Yeah, she had more seniority, and she'd worked bank robberies and kidnaping before, but I still say she had to have some sort of connections to get the head on a case this big. There's been a lot of publicity about the Mozelle kidnaping. It was a plum assignment, and she blew it.

Well, maybe not her technically, but they have to have someone to blame the mess on, and her name is at the head of the list. Mine's a little way down, thank God.

If we'd gotten one of the men involved it would have been all right. But somehow, God help me, I'll never understand how, somehow they got off that mountain, and they seem to have disappeared into thin air. We don't know what the hell we're going to do about it.

The prosecutors are so pissed. If we had gotten either of the Bellewood men, we could have gone for armed robbery, aggravated kidnaping, imprisonment, assault, terroristic acts, all kinds of good felony shit. They're trying like hell to load as many charges as possible onto the women, but... Well, it probably won't amount to much except failing to report a crime, failure to render aid, maybe accessory after the fact.

They've been trying to get the women to turn state's evidence, hoping that one of them could be persuaded to deal for no jail time, and turn over the other and give us a more solid case on Ron and Jerry Bellewood, when and id we catch them.

No go. Clams are blabbermouths compared to these two broads. We thought we had a chance with the mother. We figured that holding her kids over her head might be an effective bargaining chip.

Might have worked, too, if someone hadn't kidnaped the little rug rats right out from under Social Services.

It happened a week after they'd been placed. The two boys were in a group home, and the baby girl was with a couple who were already talking adoption if the court would sever parental custody. The father (who may have given us the shout, but was still a shit in my book) had no objection. The mother, Justine, laughed in Madeiras's face when she mentioned this to her. I can't help but think that should have told us something.

The two boys were playing outside at the group home. The older one just took the little one by the hand, walked out to the street, and they both climbed into a van that had just pulled up. By the time the pea brains in charge realized what was happening, it was gone, and no one had gotten a plate number, of course.

At approximately the same time, across town, there was a knock on the door of the foster family. When Dad opened the door, he got hit in the face with a blast of mace. While he was yelling and trying to claw his eyes out, he was locked in the cellar with Mom. Then the two men who had come in gathered up the baby and her things, and left. They were found about two hours later, when they didn't answer the call from the authorities that was going to warn them to be careful.

Dad and Mom said the men were real quiet. The only time they said anything was when one of them apologized for having to be so rough.

So, what did that leave us with? Miss Scribe Mozelle herself.

I have to tell you, she didn't look all that rough for someone who'd been held captive for over two months. I guess they didn't keep her chained to a wall or locked in a closet, or anything. The worst was some rather nasty body bruises, and a black eye. Oh, and the pregnancy.

She wouldn't talk on the ride down the mountain. At least that's what Madeiras and the paramedics said. Just kept giving them blank looks, and saying she didn't remember. She's in a bank, and the next thing she knows it's two months later, she's in another state, she's naked, she's pregnant, and she's bleeding, and she doesn't know what happened? Why do I have a hard time believing that?

In the hospital, they looked her over, took blood, took photos of her injuries. They were all very fresh, and fairly respectable. She refused a rape exam. Just kept shaking her head. "No. If it happened, I don't want to know. Why should I want to remember something like that?" I wanted to push so damn bad, but by the time I knew she had refused, they'd already let her take a shower, so there wasn't much point.

I didn't get to her till they were doing the sonogram on her, and I had to sneak into the room at that. The doctor and Madeiras were hunched up near the screen, while the doctor pressed a wand looking thing on a cord to Mozelle's belly, which was bared by a draped sheet.

"Well," the doctor said, obviously unsure of what tone of voice she should be using. "There it is. Just about the size of a lima bean. Looks real healthy, heart's pumping away like a champion. And there hasn't been any more cramps or bleeding?"

"No." She looked serene.

"Then I think this pregnancy is in no danger, but I'll want to keep you a day or two to be sure, so we can put you on labor blocking drugs if anything starts."

"Fine. As long as someone tells my mother I'm all right now. Can you tell what the baby is going to be? Don't tell me!" she said hastily. "I don't want to know. I just want to know if you know."

"Not yet, Miss Mozelle. Maybe in a week or two."

"All right."

"You look like you're only about eight or nine weeks along."

"Shit, he must've got her the night he got her to the cabin," I blurted. Oo, you never saw such a trio of nasty stares.

"Collins," Madeiras growled. "I'm sure Miss Mozelle would like some privacy."

"I don't particularly like it, but I don't particularly mind, either," she said mildly. "You folks have to do your job."

The doctor said, "I'd really like a little privacy to have a discussion with you."

"Oh, I don't think we need to run the nice agents off. My life is pretty open. At least, I'm given to understand it has been, for the last couple of months."

The doctor cleared her throat. "As I said, the pregnancy seems stable. But you are still well within the first trimester. This leaves you certain options."

"Options?"

"If you decide you don't want to continue the pregnancy. There are a couple of methods open to you."

"Excuse me, are you talking about abortion?"

The doctor didn't quite wince. "In the case of rape, termination is often considered an option."

Her voice was cold. "It isn't in this case."

"Miss Mozelle, any decision this important shouldn't be made in haste. You should consider."

"Isn't that what you're supposed to say if I want to rush into the operating room right away? Wouldn't taking time to think make a termination more difficult and dangerous?"

"Well, theoretically, but you need at least a few days to speak with a counselor and your family to decide."

"Excuse me. No one is making a decision about this except me."

"I understand your feelings, but..."

"No, you do not understand my feelings. I know you mean well, but there is no way in hell you can understand how I feel."

I couldn't hold back. "I thought you hated James. If it's his baby, why don't you want to get rid of it?"

She turned cold eyes on me. "If we killed every child in the womb when their father was worthless, some people would never have the chance to reproduce, Agent... Collins, was it?" I turned red. Victim or no victim, this was a smart ass.

She continued talking, as her hand stroked her belly. "No. If I'm pregnant, like you say, then as far as I'm concerned, this child is a gift from God. I've wanted children all my life, and just never found anyone I wanted to have one with. Well, it looks as if the decision was taken out of my hands. And that's alright by me."

"You're not thinking clearly," I argued. "What are you going to tell the kid when it's old enough to ask about it's daddy?"

She looked at me like I should be wearing one of those I'm stupid signs that country comedian talks about. "Agent Collins, though I expect this child to be very intelligent, if not brilliant," she glanced down fondly at her stomach, "I don't expect it to begin talking for at least a year and a half, and I don't expect it to reach the age of reason till several years after that. I am not a stupid woman. I will have thought of something by then. I may even have found her a daddy by then. Now..." She settled back on her pillow. "Will you go away, please? You make me tired."

Crap. There's something hinky about this whole thing, but I can't put my finger on it. And I won't get the chance to. The brass were not pleased with how things went, and I've been put on another case: counterfeiting in Jersey. I'm going to keep my ears to the ground and see what happens to Madeiras. They're going to need a scape goat, and I'm kinda looking forward to whatever happens to her.