Jennifer sat at the bar at the Ritz Carleton, staring into her empty wineglass. Her loneliness seemed to grow more acute with each passing hour, and she longed to go back home tomorrow. She hadn't been able to bring herself to call Jonathan, as much as she had wanted to. Disturbed by her conversation with Amanda and Kelly, she knew she had to make sense of his sudden change in personality.

Bill Stockton walked up behind Jennifer and hugged her gingerly from behind. Jennifer smiled and swung around to greet him.

"Thank you so much for meeting with me, Bill," she said getting up, her navy Donna Karon suit fitting her perfectly.

He grinned broadly. "Jennifer, it's my pleasure. Although, I must say that I was a bit surprised."

They walked into the restaurant and were seated. Bill was quite chivalrous in his ways, and Jennifer enjoyed the attention. He walked behind her. He pulled out her chair. He bestowed every nicety that gentlemen of that era know. Bill knew that Jennifer was the type of woman that commanded it - not in any pretentious way, of course. It was her femininity, her elegant sophistication that beckoned the attention. Maybe it wasn't that she commanded it - she deserved it.

"Well," Bill said, putting down his menu, "it's too bad that your business trip didn't coincide with Jonathan's last week." He was hesitant to say more. He wasn't sure how much Jennifer knew about Hart Industries.

Jennifer shifted in her seat. "Yes…I wanted to talk to you about Jonathan actually." Bill leaned forward, waiting to hear more.

"Bill, when you called a few days ago about Jonathan, I was very interested in what you had to say. You see, he's been very different since he came home. It's hard to describe, but he just isn't himself. He's very distant, very preoccupied." Jennifer paused, her eyes becoming moist.

Bill leaned forward, wanting to console her. He could tell she was genuinely disturbed. "I could tell something was wrong. Has he been to a doctor?"

"No, he refused. Said I'm worrying over nothing. That's why I wanted to talk to you, Bill. I'm trying to figure out if something happened to Jonathan when he was in Boston," Jennifer said.

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure," Jennifer said, blushing slightly. She was reluctant to tell him her theories. "I thought you might have some ideas. You've known him a long time. He trusts you. Did he say anything out of the ordinary?"

Bill took a deep breath. "Well, Jennifer, I suspect that you don't know this…but, Hart Industries dropped their contract with Jemson."

Jennifer's eyes widened, and then squinted in confusion. "I'm shocked," she said.

Bill nodded his head soberly. "Me too. When we met, he had this laundry list of problems that he said he was concerned about. You know, about his dissatisfaction with the way we've been doing business. It was completely out of the blue. I told him I'd look into all of his complaints, but before I could even get back to him this week, I got a formal letter from him announcing that Hart Industries would not be renewing their contract with us. It just so happens, the contract expired this very week."

"What company did he contract with?"

"A new company called Dunco Manufacturing - a start up, barely on the open market. I have no idea why Jonathan has confidence in them. They have very little experience."

Jennifer drew in a heavy breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry, Bill. I don't know what to say. It's just as curious as everything else he's done this week."

Bill reached across the table and squeezed Jennifer's hand. She smiled sadly at him.

"Do you know who else he met with while he was in Boston or any other places he visited?" Jennifer asked.

Bill thought for a moment. "I know he had dinner the night before at Tortellis in the North End … we were making small talk. Said he might go back there again before he left for L.A."

"So, that was the night before your meeting with him, which would have been the evening he arrived in Boston," Jennifer thought aloud, remembering the night well… the night when she had waited for his call.

"Yes," Bill said, taking a drink of his scotch. "Maybe they'll remember something?"

Jennifer nodded, her mind reviewing the chronology of events.

"Bill, I know a place where they make a Tiramasu that's out of the this world. Would you care to join me for dessert?"

Bill smiled. He was thinking the same thing.

 

Jonathan watched as Martin's eyes began to glass over. Every moment that passed seemed to tick away in his head.

"Ah, man…I'm stuffed," Martin sighed, leaning back on the tattered, brown sofa wedged up against the cement wall.

Jonathan grunted in agreement and lowered his head onto the table in front of him. His thoughts turned to Jennifer. It had been almost two weeks since he had seen her last. He remembered their passionate good-bye…and his promise to keep her in his dreams.

And that he did. On the handful of nights that his body succumbed to REM sleep, he dreamt of nothing else but her - Jennifer lost in one end of a maze and he at another, neither able to find the path that led to each other. He would hear her voice calling him, but couldn't reach her.

Another night, Jonathan awoke with a start after dreaming that he was making love to her. He felt her breath in his ear, and he could feel her soft, warm breasts pressing against his chest. And then, suddenly, she began screaming, forcing him away, looking at him as if he were evil.

Jonathan was not a religious man, but tonight, as he formulated his plan to escape, he prayed that Jennifer was safe and unharmed, and that he would be able to make it back to her.

 

 

 

The man drove Jonathan's Bentley convertible along US 101, headed toward Ventura. Freeway sat next to him, clearly anxious about this unannounced trip with the stranger next to him. His round eyes peered out between straggles of hair, hoping to see familiar territory. There was none to be found. The man looked down at the mutt and smiled.

"Well, old buddy, I know you're supposed to be man's best friend, but you're not turning out to be too friendly. You know, if you had just shut your mouth, everything would have been fine."

Freeway scowled at him.

The man continued, "Look, you're lucky I'm not going to just drop you off in the middle of the freeway. I just need to get rid of you. You're making the whole thing harder…"

He turned off the freeway down toward the beach boardwalk. It was teaming with young people - skateboarding, cycling, roller blading, or heading for the surf. The man parked the car at the far end of the lot.

"Now, get lost, mutt," he said, cutting off Freeway's collar with a pocket knife. Freeway whimpered, his sorrowful eyes searching the man's face for compassion.

"I said, get outta here," the man commanded, trying to keep his voice low. He got out of the Bentley, opened the door, and picked Freeway up. Adjacent to the parking lot was a small cement building. The man walked over behind the building and deposited Freeway onto the pavement.

"Good riddance," the man muttered, as he peeled out of the parking lot and headed back to Bel Air.

 

 

 

Charles Dunning walked into the Ritz Carleton lounge, ready to begin celebrating his accomplishments. The stock in Dunco Manufacturing had soared - he was becoming rich very fast. He had planned on meeting Dr. Menlo here to run up a bar tab at the most exclusive hotel in the city. After all, he could afford it now.

Justin Menlo spotted Dunning immediately, and joined him at a private table.

"So," Dr. Menlo grinned broadly, "our plan is working nicely, I see."

Dunning inhaled his cigarette smoke in one long breath. "Exactly. It's going so well that we're going to speed things up a bit."

"How so?"

"I don't think it's necessary to hang onto Jonathan Hart any longer. The stock is soaring, the contract with Hart Industries has been signed," Dunning said.

Menlo nodded. "So, what next?"

"I'm going to have our imposter fly back to Boston, have him go out sailing on the Charles River, kill the real Jonathan Hart and dump his body in the river. We'll make it look like an accident. We'll have them trade places. You'll need to make some surgical adjustments to his appearance."

"Okay, but don't forget that I get - ," Menlo began, and then stopped in mid-sentence.

Dunning looked at him curiously. "What's wrong?"

"It's her. She's here. Look over to your left. It's Jennifer Hart!"

"What?" Dunning said, turning to look at her, just as she was walking by with Bill Stockton. "Oh, no…"

"Don't get spooked now. She's probably having an affair with that guy. Poor Jonathan Hart didn't know his gorgeous wife was screwing around on him," Menlo chuckled.

"No…that's Bill Stockton, CEO of Jemson Manufacturing - the very company that we just took Hart Industries' contract from. This can't be good. I better go call Gary so he can fly out Tuesday night after the Board meeting, and I'll call Martin and tell him to get things ready for Hart's departure."

Dunning got up immediately and followed Jennifer to the lobby. As she exited the hotel, he strode up to the pay phones.

 

 

 

The man came to the phone after Max had called him. He was staying in his bedroom, trying to keep his distance from Max. He had not taken the news about Freeway lightly, and he suspected that he didn't believe his story that Freeway had just taken off on him.

"It's for you," Max said gruffly.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know," Max said, as he left the house in hopes of finding Freeway.

"This is Jonathan Hart," the man answered, taking pleasure in his new identity.

"It's me. Are you alone?" Dunning said.

"Yeah…why are you calling me here?" he said, annoyed to have his private space invaded. He was really enjoying being a rich, powerful man.

"Well, for starters 'Mr. Hart', did you know your wife is in Boston having dinner with Bill Stockton?"

The man hesitated. "I know she's in Boston. She said she had a writer's conference or something. Maybe she's just friends with him."

"Well, maybe. But, I'm not taking any chances. I want you to fly back to Boston on Tuesday right after the Board meeting. We're going out on the Charles River to do some sailing and get rid of Jonathan Hart. Menlo will take you back to his clinic for some alterations after that."

The man frowned. "So soon? Are you sure you don't want to make some more changes at Hart Industries?"

"I'm sure. Be in Boston by two o'clock. Meet me at the usual place," Dunning said and then hung up abruptly. He did not want to give him any time to appeal his case.

The man hung up the phone slowly. Only two more days to be Jonathan Hart. He thought of all the money he could spend, but the one thing he most wanted was…Jennifer. He wanted to have sex with her - he wanted to dig himself into her and show her the man he really was. He wanted to make her cry out for more of him. Yes, he wanted to hear her beg for more. He thought, if there was one thing he was going to reward himself with before finishing his assignment - it was going to be the prize of Jennifer Hart. He didn't care what Dunning had told him. After all, the real Jonathan Hart would be dead soon after, so it wouldn't really matter. Now, he just had to wait until Jennifer returned home tomorrow evening.

 

 

 

Martin slowly sat up at the sound of the phone ringing. He seemed unsure as to whether to answer it, and then decided it must be important. Jonathan pretended to be sleeping with his head against the table. At the top of the stairs, he could hear Martin.

"What do you mean, she's in Boston? What the hell is she doing here?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah, okay. I'll have everything ready. See you tomorrow."

Jonathan's mind began racing. Jennifer was in Boston? Had she come looking for him? Somehow, he felt better knowing she was on the East Coast. Now, he knew where he would go first - to the Ritz Carleton.

When Martin returned downstairs, he plopped himself down onto the sofa again. Jonathan decided to waste no more time. Jennifer's arrival in Boston was enough motivation to get his plan in motion.

Slowly, Jonathan began to stand up; his left hand still handcuffed to the table. Luckily, Martin had not remembered to handcuff his legs after he had used the bathroom today, or maybe Martin was just feeling sorry for him. But, whatever the case, having use of his legs was just what he needed to make the plan work. As he was standing, Martin looked up at him with drooping eyelids. In one motion, Jonathan picked up the table and heaved it at him.

The chocolate bars had definitely taken effect: Martin had so much sugar in his system that he didn't have the reflexes to respond quickly enough. Jonathan easily overpowered him, knocking the table against him several times before Martin fell unconscious to the floor.

"Sorry, old buddy. Next time don't go overboard with the Kit Kats," Jonathan mused aloud, as he slipped the handcuff out from under the leg of the table.

He had no idea how much time he had before Dunning returned, so he had to move fast. The only problem was that he was in the countryside of Maine… in the middle of the night.

 

 

 

Sal Tortelli was shocked and delighted to see Jennifer enter his restaurant. In his usual over-dramatic style, he strode over to the doorway to greet her, kissing her hand.

"I can't believe this - first Jonathan and now you! All in a matter of a couple of weeks! Did Jonathan tell you how much we missed you?" Sal said, ushering her to the best table in the restaurant. He barely gave Bill notice, but Bill was amused with Sal's display. He thought Jonathan must be used to all the attention his beautiful wife attracts.

"Yes, Sal," Jennifer blushed, "you know we can never stay away from Tortellis when we're in the city…. Sal, this is Bill Stockton, an old friend of mine and Jonathan's."

"Ah, yes, any friend of the Harts is a friend of mine," he said, giving Bill a strong handshake. "What can I get for you tonight, mi amore?" he said, turning his attention again to Jennifer.

"How about your Tiramasu and a cappuccino."

Sal clicked his finger at a passing waiter and gestured for the desserts.

"So, how is Jonathan doing? It's too bad you couldn't have come together. Everything is all right between you two?"

"Yes, it's just that he's been feeling under the weather…ever since he got back from Boston, actually," Jennifer said, watching Sal's reaction carefully. "Did he seem okay when he came here?"

Sal thought for a moment. "He was his usual self … except maybe he was having problems with his hearing."

"How do you mean?" Jennifer asked.

"Well, after he left, he got into his limo to go back to the hotel. I went out to the street to have a smoke when he left. Only thing, he must've changed his mind about riding in the limo because the next thing you know, he gets out and starts walking the other way. I called to him a couple of times. He didn't even look my way…and I know he was within earshot."

"Well, that's strange. Maybe he wasn't feeling well after all," Jennifer said, trying to put the pieces together.

 

 

 

"Hi Max," Jennifer said into the phone. She had missed Jonathan so dearly that she was ready to hear anything he had to say - even if he wasn't his old self. "How's Jonathan?"

Max hesitated. "The same, Mrs. H. He went out tonight. Have you found out anything?"

"A lot of puzzling things…nothing adds up. It's like he just became another person while he was here."

"Well, he's still a different person, if you ask me," Max said bitterly.

Jennifer sighed. "Oh, Max. I don't know what else to do. I'm coming home tomorrow. I miss him so much…maybe I can get him to see a psychiatrist."

"Yeah…come on home, Mrs. H. We'll get him some help. Don't worry," Max said, trying to console her.

"Okay…I'll see you at LAX tomorrow at three o'clock… One more thing, Max. Will you see what you can find out about Dunco Manufacturing? It's a new company that Jonathan has decided to do business with."

"You bet, Mrs. H. I can make some calls tonight to a couple of fellas I know… You sure you don't want me to send the jet for you?"

"No, thanks, Max."

 

 

 

Jonathan ran up the stairs of the abandoned farmhouse, through a maze of doors, and finally out into the crisp, cold Maine air. He took a deep breath, letting the oxygen clear his head. Every muscle and nerve ending responded, and he knew that he had to find his way out of the woods and back to civilization.

Jonathan started sprinting down the dirt road, glad to be using his legs again. Luckily, there was a full moon that evening, lighting up the dense pathway. Occasionally, he would step into a muddy puddle and then feel the spongy sounds of his feet making contact with the ground. Otherwise, his step was light and he fairly flew over the first couple of miles of his journey. Finally, he came to a sign that read "Preston / Rt. 95 10 miles". Jonathan was flooded with relief that he was nearing his destination, and began picking up speed again.

Another hour later, Jonathan stopped along the roadway to catch his breath. His leg muscles had begun to tighten, and he knew he needed to rest. He figured it would be daybreak soon, and he would be at the on-ramp to Rt. 95 within the hour. With some luck, he would be able to hitchhike his way into Boston.

 

 

 

Max waited until very late to phone Jennifer's room, making sure that the man was upstairs and in bed. He had a lot to tell Mrs. H, and he didn't want to risk having his conversation overheard. Max was certain that there was something seriously wrong with Jonathan.

"Hello?" Jennifer answered softly.

"Mrs. H, it's me," Max said, keeping his voice low.

"Max, is everything all right?" she said, knowing it was unusual for him to be calling her so late.

"I have some things to tell you that I thought you'd find interesting."

"What is it, Max."

"Well, for starters, that new company called Dunco Manufacturing," Max said, "is a real fly-by-night operation. It has gone in and out of business more times than Elizabeth Taylor has gotten hitched. I can't imagine Mr. H doing business with them, but that's not all. There are two men that run that company: Charles Dunning - known to underbid contracts and make a quick profit, and Justin Menlo - a plastic surgeon."

"A plastic surgeon? I don't get it," Jennifer said.

"Apparently, the two first went into business several years back trying to market a type of makeover…you know, they can make you look like your favorite movie star - for the right price, of course. They ended up going out of business because of all the lawsuits celebrities were bringing to the company. Plus, they found out that this Dr. Menlo did not actually have a medical license. I mean, he went to med school but never finished."

"Oh, yes, I remember reading about them…but, now they've gone into the electronics supplier business? It doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't. And, I can't believe Mr. H would get involved with those guys. They're bad news," Max said, shaking his head.

Jennifer sighed. "What else, Max…you said there were a couple of things you wanted to tell me?"

Max made a face. "Yeah…ah, Mrs. H," Max stammered. "Mr. H took Freeway out for a drive earlier today, and he claims that Freeway took off on him. He didn't come home with him." Max waited for Jennifer to digest the information.

"Freeway's missing?" Jennifer said, incredulous.

"That's not all…I went out to the Bentley later on, to bring it into the garage. I noticed the glove compartment door wasn't shut tight. I opened it up and found Freeway's collar. It had been cut off."

There was silence on both ends. Max finally spoke. "Mrs. H? You okay?"

"Dear God, Max, what's going on?" Jennifer said, horrified.

"I don't know, Mrs. H," Max said glumly.

As Jennifer ended her conversation with Max, she hung up the phone, feeling as if she were having a bad dream that wouldn't end.

 

Continue on to Part Four

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