Sheridan dished out another spoon of her world famous scrambled eggs to her five-year-old son, Dustin, before returning the still hot frying pan to the stove. Dustin scrunched up his tiny olive toned nose in disgust and cast his mother a look. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief, a look not that uncommon to their son, and his black hair was rumpled from sleep.

“Not scrambled eggs again,” he groaned, pushing a piece around on his dish. “Mommy, can’t you make anything else?”

“Funny, Dustin Martin, funny,” she grumbled, grabbing two mugs of coffee and bringing them to the table, placing one in front of Luis’ dish and one by her own. It was too early to play games with her son, far too early. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t exactly slept well the night before and Luis’ idea of showering together had totally left her drained.

Speaking of Luis…

“Morning, guys,” Luis entered the kitchen and placed a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Hey baby,” he left her side to ruffle Dustin’s hair further. His smile would have been contagious had she not been so tired.

“Luis, sit and eat before you’re later for work,” Sheridan sipped her coffee, eyeing her own eggs as if they were foreign objects. She wasn’t exactly hungry and even if she was, the eggs didn’t look all that appetizing. What had brought her to this moment? Oh, she knew what; Seven years of marriage, one miscarriage and four part time jobs had led to this very moment in this very kitchen. It wasn’t that she hadn’t grown accustomed to being up at the crack of dawn to make breakfast and get their son off to school; it was just that she hadn’t slept well the night before after dealing with another reoccurring nightmare.

“Sher, you ok?” Luis slid into his seat, adding some sugar to his coffee and then taking a sip, which he promptly spit out.

Sheridan chuckled. She was fine now. “I was going to warn you about that. Dusty was taught by your brother that it’s funny to put salt in the sugar bowl,” she grinned, holding up her cup of perfectly black coffee. “Hence, why I didn’t put any in mine.”

“Thanks for the warning, Sher,” he gave her a look before digging into his eggs. “What are your plans for today?”

“Dusty is going to be visiting your mother while I go food shopping. I refuse to take him again after the fiasco last time,” she reached over and pushed some hair out of her son’s eyes, remembering how Dustin removed the bottom piece of fruit from every bin, causing the food to fall to the floor. “Eat Dusty, before it gets cold.”

“Trust me they’re worse cold,” Luis winked.

Sheridan glared at him. “You two are just a riot this morning. You should look into making this a traveling show!”

“Oh, honey, don’t be angry, we’re only joking,” Luis gave her his famous pout.

“Whatever,” she stood and brought her untouched coffee to the sink. “Now get a move on it, Luis, you’re running late as it is,” she kissed his cheek and left the room to dress. It was going to be a long day.

Sheridan drove along the coast road heading for Pilar’s house so that she could pick up Dustin and take him to t-ball practice. She hated this drive! It was long and boring and well…just empty. It always made her mind wander and lately it replayed her nightmares.

She walked along the deathly still hallway, her head pounding in her ears as her stomach clenched. Something was wrong.

“Dustin?” she squeaked, her voice raw with emotions. “Luis?” she tried again, her voice echoing off of the bare, white walls.

Nothing.

“Come on guys, this isn’t funny,” she opened the nearest door to find her son’s bedroom empty. She swallowed hard, her body quivering with fear. She could smell the death that was near; sense it with every fiber of her being. “Please?” she whispered, finding the door to her bedroom closed. Her eyes shut tight as her lips moved in silent prayer. Finally, she opened the bedroom door and opened her eyes, gasping at what she saw there…

Blood!

She covered her mouth, the bile building and threatening to spill. Falling to her knees, she tried to look away but she found one of the sources to the crimson substance that seemed to flood her room: Luis’ bloody body.

“NO!” she screamed, crawling over to him and attempting to find a pulse. “No, Luis get up!” she begged, shaking him. “Please!”

She started sobbing looking around for the phone to call an ambulance. “Please God, don’t take him away!”

But she didn’t find the phone. Instead she found her son’s beaten body, his neck covered in his own blood. “NO!” she screeched, rushing to Dustin’s side. “Dustin, open your eyes baby, open them for Mommy!” she begged, cradling him close. “Please, Dustin, please,” she sobbed.

But neither man in her life opened their eyes. Neither replied to the begging that poured from her lips. She continued to cry, never noticing the shadow that crept into the bedroom. She never saw the gun that was pointed at the back of her head.

“Goodnight, Sheridan,” she heard someone whisper through her pain and then felt the cold blackness that overcame her. At least she would see them again…

Sheridan shook her head, trying to clear the final thoughts of that terrible nightmare again. Sighing, she checked looked around and realized she had already made it Pilar’s. How many times had that happened this week?

“Too many,” she answered her own question, heading for the front door to get her son so they could go home. T-ball practice was in a few hours and she didn’t have a lot of time to get things done.

He decided to surprise them for lunch, though he wasn’t sure what possessed him to do such a thing. His gut just begged him to go see his family, so he did. Parking his car behind Sheridan’s in his mother’s driveway, Luis headed for the front door whistling a merry tune.

But it was so quiet here today…

He wasn’t going to worry; that would be pointless. After all, Dustin often took a short nap before lunch, especially when he had to go to T ball in the afternoon; he could just be asleep.

But the front door was opened and unlocked…

Pilar never left it opened and unlocked!

Swiftly pushing it open, Luis withdrew his gun from the holster and looked around the living room. “Mama? Dustin? Sheridan?”

He heard movement in the kitchen. “Dusty?” Luis rushed for the door, trying to get to his child or at least whoever was in the kitchen.

But his foot became caught on something and he fell, hitting his knee on the hardwood floor and his hands being ground into shattered glass. He groaned, the blood on his hands making him shudder. Brushing as much off onto the legs of his uniform pants, Luis tried to find the source of his stumbling…

A body…

Pilar’s!

“Mama!” he felt for a pulse. This was eerily familiar and he felt his stomach begin to tighten in fear. “Mama??”

“Neito,” she whispered.

Oh no! Dustin!

“DUSTY?” Luis cried, forcing himself up and continuing into the kitchen where he heard the noise earlier. Readying his gun, he slowly pushed open the swinging wood door and aimed, ready to shoot.

Sobbing filled his ears as he rounded the table, everything seeming to move in slow motion. He was met with a sight that would forever change his life…

Sheridan was hunched over their son’s body, a blood covered knife in her hands, her body covered in blood while one hand covered a stab wound on their son’s chest. “No, Dustin, open your eyes,” she sobbed. “Look at Mommy,” she begged.

“Sh…Sheridan?” he whispered, his gun falling to the floor with a crash. “Sheridan?”

She looked over at him, her eyes red from crying. “I didn’t do it. I swear I didn’t do it. Oh God, my baby!” she screamed.

But he couldn’t deny what he was seeing: the blood, the knife…and his precious wife all surrounding his morbidly still son. She had done it! Sheridan had done it! But it was one thing he could never get to register in his mind…

Sheridan had killed their son.

The dark, cloud filled sky hinted at the impending rain, but as of yet the water hadn’t begun to fall. It was almost as if the weather mirrored the tumultuous feelings in her heart. The emptiness, the sorrow and the incomprehensible pain that filled her body making her numb. Numb and empty. Totally incomplete. She didn’t know what hurt worse, the fact that she had lost her child to some murderer or the fact that her husband thought she had killed her son. In either case, it felt as if someone had torn out her heart and danced on it, only to do it again.

They drove along, the silence deafening as they followed the hearse from the church to the cemetery, the lights of the cars following them reflecting in their mirrors. The procession moved past the home they lived in, visiting the places that Dustin had enjoyed…the places where his soul still lived and his endless giggles still played for all eternity. But there would be no giggles or joy, because Dustin was gone. Forever gone.

Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve all the pain she ever had in her life? To lose her child to such a cruel act…

Why? Just why?

Sighing, she felt the tears begin to fall as Luis placed a gentle hand on her knee, attempting to offer some support and comfort to his distraught wife. It was too little, too late and he knew that, but still he tried. He felt terrible for having doubted her, even if it was for only a second, but not half as bad as he did arresting her.

He, Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald, had arrested her, his wife, his Sheridan! He attempted to have her tried for killing their child. What an idiot he was to believe she could have been so cruel! How embarrassing to find that not only her prints were on the murder weapon: the knife. There was another set of prints, an non-identifiable set that probably belonged to the real murderer. If there was a real murderer…

If someone else had been there…

Doubt!

No trial…no jury, Sheridan would never have to face a judge because there wasn’t enough evidence to ever convict her…

If she should be convicted…

If she had killed their son…

If…

Sighing, he rubbed her knee, trying to find a way into the shell she had built around her, that invisible wall that separated her from reality since he discovered her on the kitchen floor holding the knife in her hands as she sobbed her heart out. Three days ago they had lost their only child and now he felt as if he was losing his wife. Not that he didn’t deserve to lose her after doubting her. How could he have done that? How could he have possibly believed that Sheridan, his angel, could kill their child, or anyone for that matter, in such a brutal, heartless way?

He could still see the pain in her eyes as he read her rights to her, watched as the love she held for him became replaced by disbelief and heartache when he placed her in the cold, empty jail cell yet again.

“You think I did it,” she looked into his eyes as he locked the door to the cell, the click of the lock echoing in the empty halls of the police station. Her eyes were red from crying and his were void of any emotion. “You think I am some cold hearted bitch that just stabbed her son to death. Do you really think I’m capable of killing my baby?”

He didn’t reply, starting to walk away and finding himself returning to the cell. He paced like a caged animal, his insides pulling him in two different directions. Could she have done this? Could she have been this cold? This heartless? No, not his Sheridan…

But she was there! She was beside their son’s lifeless body, the murder weapon in her hands…

She had been the only untouched victim in the house…

Even Pilar had been injured.

As if reading his mind, Sheridan gripping onto the bars of the cell, tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared at her blood soaked clothing. “He was my son, Luis!” the tears continued to course down her cheeks, leaving shimmering tracks on her face. “My CHILD…I carried and bore him! How could you believe this about me? How could you possibly think that I did this to my son?!” her knees gave out and she fell to the ground, covering her face with two shaking hands.

He rushed into the cell, kneeling beside her and pulling her into his arms. He wanted to comfort her, to receive comfort in return. But he believed the worst about the woman he loved. He believed she was some cruel monster.

“I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” she replied, looking away. “You think I killed our child…You think I killed my baby…”

Instead of comforting her, grieving with her that day, he had been the idiot that arrested a woman that could very well be innocent…

Could be…

Might be…

Doubt again!

Damn that single bit of doubt! That one nagging piece of the missing puzzle that ate at his insides and made Sheridan seem all that more guilty. Damn it all! Not one single shred of evidence pointed to Sheridan having actually stabbed Dustin. Nothing would have even given him that idea had she not been beside his body, her clothing covered in their son’s blood and the murder weapon in her hands. That and the one remaining question that no one could answer. The one thing left him so completely unsettled that he was willing to question the innocence of his own wife: why did the murderer leave Sheridan alone after killing Dustin and hurting Pilar?

Why did they take his son?

“My baby,” she whispered, pressing her head against the glass of the car window, barely able to look at the hearse in front of them. Inside that contraption laid her son, her innocent five-year-old baby who was taken far too soon. He hadn’t had the chance to grow into an honorable man like his father or fall in love with a woman that would steal his very heart. He was gone and nothing could ever bring him back…

Murdered…

Left to die in a puddle of his own blood…

Gone…

Her son had been slaughtered and she was one of their prime suspects, the first person all the fingers of justice pointed to when looking for the murderer. Sure, they couldn’t prove it was her; she had no motive and the prints on the weapon weren’t only hers, but still they watched her like a hawk. The police just waited for her to make a mistake and she knew it. She knew they believed that she had slain her child, but they were wrong…

Dead wrong…

Dead like her son…

Only two people believed she was truly innocent: Pilar and now Luis.

Her Luis who had believed in her guilt…

But not anymore.

“Sheridan, we’re here,” his voice brought her back to reality and she noticed that the procession had stopped and they were now at the cemetery. He was crouching at her side, the car door open and his hand waiting for her to take it. It was time for final goodbyes…

But weren’t all goodbyes final?

Looking at him with red-rimmed eyes, Sheridan whispered, “I can’t let them put our baby in the ground. It’s too cold and dark down there. Too lonely. Dustin hated being alone.”

“Oh Sheridan,” he slid his arms around her and allowed her to cry, which she did. Her body shook with heart breaking sobs as he held her close to him. His poor angel had been through so much…

Too much…

“Oh God, Luis, my baby…my precious little boy!”

He held her, trying to offer her comfort and still be the rock she needed right now, but it was hard. Inside he was dying, losing his child ripped his heart to pieces and made every fiber in his body ache. How could someone kill a baby? A child that hadn’t had a chance at life? How could anyone be so incredibly heartless? He would give his life to save his family, to take this pain away…

But he couldn’t take away the pain…

Ever!

Helping Sheridan from the car, he led her across the dewy grass to the place where their son would be eternally housed. Already in place was the headstone, which read:

Taken too soon.

Dustin Martin Lopez-Fitzgerald.

June 4 2000 – August 4 2005.

The freshly overturned dirt was piled to one side and the white casket waiting patiently to be lowered into the dark earth below. Family and friends already congregated, waiting for the good Father to say a few words of blessing for the little lost soul before his cold, lifeless body would be placed down below.

In the dark…

In the cold…

All alone…

Sheridan clung to Luis, feeling every pair of eyes on her as grief raged through her body. Her baby! Her son! Why were they taking him away now? What kind of God would strip a mother of her child in the blossom of his youth?

She didn’t hear the kind words the priest said about her son or notice the sobs from nearby friends. The hands holding her up were barely felt in the numbness that took over her body. But when the casket began to be lowered into the ground, she screamed.

“NO!”

Sheridan collapsed to the ground, reaching for the casket as it continued to move. Luis fell beside her, holding her back and fighting her struggles. “No! Take me!” she begged, reaching still, heart-wrenching sobs filling the air. “It’s so dark and cold! He hates the dark, Luis! Don’t let them put him in the dark!” she begged.

He held her close, crying along with her. “I know, Sheridan, I know,” he rubbed her back.

“So dark! So cold! Please not my son!” she turned her face into his chest. “Not my son.” She pounded her fists on his chest. “Not Dustin.”

There in the grass he cradled her as the dirt was piled a top the casket, her tears drenching his shirt. He held her close as the first drops of rain began to fall, the tears from the angels in heaven that watched the sorrowful scene below. The other mourners returned to their cars, scurrying out of the light summer drizzle as if the water would ruin them. But neither parent seemed to move, hurting too much. Luis tried to help her from the ground to the car, out of the rain, but found it impossible to get her to her feet.

“I love you,” he heard her whisper, kissing her fingers and placing them to the cold stone. “I love you, Dustin.”

“He loved you too,” Luis promised. “As I always will.”

She looked into his eyes. “Promise to find the bastard that took our child away?”

“I promise, Sheridan. I promise to make whoever did this pay…dearly.”

She clung to him as they walked away from the grave, her knees giving out twice on the way. Finally in the car, Sheridan looked out at the freshly covered grave of her son and started to cry again. “Mommy is so sorry baby…so very sorry,” and then the car pulled away.

From the distance a dark figure watched as they drove away, the smirk on his face sickening to anyone near by. He played with a ruby ring on his hand, his mind replaying the scene he just witnessed. The pain she showed made him laugh, loudly! Finally calming, four words were whispered into the still air as the rain continued to fall:

“You’ll never find me.”

And then he too was gone.

The room was untouched, the same white sports print sheets were on the racecar bed covered with the matching comforter. His fire trucks and police cruisers lay unused on the wooden bookshelves his father had lovingly built, a sheer layer of dust covering the tiny smudges his little hands once left behind. Coloring books with incomplete pictures and other childhood books were tucked away and tilted on their sides from his eager searches, their pages no longer read in the mid-afternoon or prior to bedtime. The toy box at the foot of the bed hadn’t been opened in days, nor had the drawers of his dresser, leaving the room as he left if before he was taken away…

Murdered…

On his bed lay his pillow, the one where his scent still lingered, a combination of baby shampoo and lotion that his mother had lovingly applied each night before bedtime. Beside it laid his favorite toy, a rugged looking dark brown stuffed dog that had been his best friend and companion since he started to crawl. He had dragged it through mud puddles, into tree houses and even bathed with it once, refusing to let this simple yet comforting pal ever be left behind.

He had left it behind now…

Forever behind, the last thing his little hands clutched before death.

Dustin had called it Floppy, though over the years it had held many names. For the longest time it was simply Woof because that’s what the puppy had always said when Luis played with Dustin on the living room floor by the fireplace, both rolling around like toddlers. Sheridan had taken pictures of the pair, the two men she loved most in her life hugging with the poor stuffed puppy squished between them. That same picture was beside his bed, the picture he had looked at every night before bed...

The same bed where her little boy had slept; where she now sat hugging that stuffed puppy as she curled up on the tiny bed. Her tears dampened his pillow, the one that was longing for his touch again…

But everything in this room longed for his touch…

Especially his mother…

Luis sighed as he took in the entire scene of the well-preserved room, which had become a home to his mourning wife. Since the moment they had returned home from the funeral, their clothing soaked from the rain that fell, Sheridan had done nothing but changed her clothing and then retreated to their son’s room, curling into the fetal position and refusing to move. She missed Dustin so very much and suffered every second…

Every heartbeat was followed by another tear…

Every tear cut into his heart…

His broken heart…

Sighing, he walked into the room, kneeling beside the bed where Sheridan lay staring at the wall, her arms wrapped around Floppy like a child who had just had a nightmare. Caressing her cheek, Luis tried to make her eyes meet his, though he failed miserably.

“Sweetheart, would you like something to eat?” he asked, knowing she hadn’t eaten or drank much in the last seventy-two hours. In fact, she hadn’t really done much of anything in the last few days.

Sheridan didn’t reply. Instead she simply continued to stare past him at the wall, silent tears coursing down her cheeks, her eyes completely unblinking.

He sighed again, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Sheridan, please talk to me darling,” he begged, his heart being torn to pieces by the empty look in her dull blue eyes. They were so hollow and emotionless, so unlike the sparkling blue eyes of the woman he had married, the woman that had given him his son.

Still he was met with the silence of the room, a room that had once been filled with laughter and joy from their tiny five-year-old son. He could almost hear Dustin’s voice in the hallway when he passed this room, or any room. How he wished it was so!

He stood, walking over to the window and looking out at the dark, black sky. They were expecting rain again today; thunderstorms in fact. It had rained every day since Dustin had been found in Pilar’s kitchen, the wounds from the sharp kitchen knife in his tiny body…Sheridan beside him sobbing and begging him to wake up for her, to open his eyes and get up once again…

But he didn’t get up!

Shaking his head, Luis tried to force away the memories of the scene he had faced that day, the ghastly images of his deceased son and sobbing wife there in the kitchen…the pool of blood around them. “I’m going into the station, Sheridan,” he said, crossing the room to the doorway. He hadn’t expected her to move and she didn’t. “I’ll be home later,” he whispered before he left.

But she hadn’t heard him, not a single word. She was living in memories of happier days where Dustin ran through the yard without his shoes or climbed trees and played catch with Luis. She could remember the sound of his voice at night when he needed her to chase away the bad dreams or the feel of his tiny arms around her neck when he gave her a hug goodnight.

And yet her favorite memory would always be his first T-Ball game when he ran the bases backwards without even realizing it, starting with third base and running clockwise back to home base. She had laughed, catching the entire scene on videotape while still cheering her darling little boy on. He had been so proud when the umpire, who had found the scene far too cute not to call it a run, said he was safe and that Dustin had scored the winning run. He smiled gleefully, his toothless grin unfaltering as Luis lifted him onto his shoulder and carried him to the ice cream parlor where he bought him a hot fudge sunday…

With colored sprinkles and two cherries.

But there wouldn’t be any further memories like those to be made because her son was gone and would never be returning. Someone had taken his life away from him, taken her son from her in the most brutal way imaginable and she would never see him again…

Hold him again…

Show him love again…

Because he had been murdered in cold blood.

Closing her eyes, Sheridan tried to focus on those good memories from his short life, pushing away the scene that would be forever burned into her mind. The scene where she found her tiny son prone on the floor with the crimson blood from his heart spilled across the linoleum of the kitchen and staining her clothing.

Yet no matter how hard she tried, Sheridan would never forget finding him that day nor would she ever forgive herself for his death…

Never in a million years.

He slumped into his swivel chair, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk, his pointer and middle fingers on his temples massaging soothing circles. He had been over this case file nearly three dozen times in the last three days, seeing the same cold black and white text on the pages and still not a single lead had come in. The fingerprints on the knife definitely showed that there had been more than one person who had touched it: Sheridan and some unknown monster, more than likely the beast that had killed his son. Yet this man or woman had taken great care to cover their tracks, leaving no other evidence to connect them to this murder and almost purposely placing the blame on Sheridan.

Sighing, Luis opened his eyes and looked at the words again, trying to absorb something from the in depth murder case file and taking great pain in looking for something he might have missed. It was killing him to reread this file, knowing that he had a nearly comatose wife at home and a family that was grieving on their own, praying every Sunday that the person responsible be brought to justice…

But would that ever be?

Would the man or woman that had killed his son ever be found?

They would if he had anything to do with it!

“Luis, what are you doing here?” Sam asked, standing in front of Luis’ desk with a worried expression on his face. Everyday since the funeral he had found his friend at this desk and every day he had insisted Luis go home, only to be met with a shrug and a wave goodbye as he continued to pour over the file on his son’s murder.

“I couldn’t stay there, Sam,” Luis replied, leaning back in his chair and looking at a man that had been one of his closest friends for life. “I couldn’t be in that house and not hear his laughter, not see his smiling face as I entered his bedroom…and Sheridan, Sheridan just lays there, Sam. She lays on his little racecar bed, the tears silently rolling down her cheeks as she stares at the wall. She hasn’t said a word in days and eating has been something we have to force her to do. Sheridan’s just a zombie now, just a shell…”

“She’s grieving, Luis…”

“She’s distancing herself, Sam. She won’t even talk to me and barely responds when I attempt to comfort her. I’m losing her…”

“She’ll come back, Luis. She’s hurting right now. Give her time,” Sam responded. “How about you, buddy? How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, Sam,” he lied, trying to look away.

“Luis…”

He sighed. “All right, I’m not fine. Damn it! I hate this! I miss my son…my wife! I miss going home and finding them in the kitchen burning whatever they were attempting to make! I miss her terrible scrambled eggs and the silly jokes we would make about them! I MISS HIS LAUGH!” Luis began to sob. “Some son of a bitch killed my son, Sam, and I want to find him and beat the shit out of him until he feels the same pain and suffering I’ve gone through in the last three days! I WANT REVENGE!” He slammed his fists on his desk, tears of anger and pain rolling down his cheeks. “He was just a baby, Sam!”

“I know, buddy, I know,” Sam crouched beside his chair. “Let it out, man.”

“He was just a kid…he had so much to live for. I just can’t help asking why, Sam. Why did someone do this to us? Why would someone kill some poor little boy that didn’t do anything to them? What kind of world are we living in when a little boy is murdered in his grandmother’s house for no apparent reason?”

“I don’t know, man. All I know is that we have some damn fine detectives on this case and someone will find the man behind this, Luis. But you can’t work on this and you can’t come back until you deal with this…”

“DEAL with this?” Luis laughed. “Deal with this? MY SON was stabbed several times and left to bleed to death in my mother’s kitchen. To make matters worse, my wife of seven years was crouching beside his corpse with his blood, OUR son’s blood, covering her clothing as she sobbed. How do I learn to DEAL with that?”

“Sorry man, that was heartless of me…”

“You said it, not me,” Luis grumbled. “I’m not going home, Sam. I’m not going home to watch her wither away more. I’ve already lost Dustin, I can’t watch as I lose her too. I *need* to be here. I need to work and solve this case. For my sanity, I need to find my son’s murderer.”

Sam nodded. “If that’s what you want…”

“It is.”

Sam stood and started to leave Luis’ cubicle. “Just remember, Luis, you’re not Superman. You can’t deal with all of this alone and I’ll be here when you need someone to talk to.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem, buddy,” Sam added as he walked away.

Luis sighed, pushing away the case file and picking up a framed photo on his desk. It had been taken in front of their Christmas tree on the last Christmas Eve they would spend with Dustin. He was wearing a little navy blue suit like Luis’ and smiling his father’s smile. Sheridan stood with them dressed in red, one arm around Luis and one hand on Dustin’s shoulder. It was their seventh attempt to take a Christmas photo that year, the first six being taken too soon or their smiles not quite right or someone had blinked. He smiled slightly. Twice Dustin had been at fault when he made silly faces into the camera.

Placing a kiss to the picture, he returned it to the place where it would always sit, directly in his line of vision on his desk beside their wedding photo and the picture of Dustin the day he was born. Closing his eyes, Luis prayed for one thing…

Justice!

He was going to catch the man or woman that killed his son and he was going to make them pay…

Dearly!

He sat in his office, watching the scenes play out in that blasted little town on the coast of Maine. After cutting the tip off the finest Cuban cigar, he lit it and brought it to his mouth, which was curved in a smile; a wicked grin that proved just how evil he was.

He didn’t care about their pain and suffering and felt no grief over the loss of little Dustin Martin Lopez-Fitzgerald. In fact, he danced the day that little boy had been buried in the cold, hard ground. He danced out in the rain with the brightest smile on his face.

Oh yes, watching them suffer definitely warmed what little heart he had…

If he had one at all…

The giant oak door to his office opened, revealing his beautiful blond secretary and someone else, both entering with somber faces though one had guilt clearly written on his or her face. This caused him to smile wider, puffing on the cigar and blowing tiny smoke rings into the air.

How he loved pain and suffering!

“You’ve done a fine job…a fine job. Sheridan won’t last the week and we’ll only have to do away with Luis…the Lopez-Fitzgerald family will pay for crossing me,” he laughed wickedly. “Oh that entire town shall pay!”

She wandered through her home in a daze, stumbling slightly as if she were inebriated. But she hadn’t had a single drink, not one; not that she hadn’t considered it. In fact she would have welcomed the temporary warmth and numbness to what she had been feeling since her son’s funeral. If she could have found a single drop of alcohol in her home she would have polished it off in attempt to dull her senses, as if they could possibly be dulled any further. But that haze would have to be a million times better than what she was feeling now; anything would be better than this emptiness she felt that consumed her entire being and made it hard to breathe.

She noticed a few things as she continued to make her way from Dustin’s bedroom to the living room. The halls were dark and empty, void of all light and color; the only sound was Luis’ own sobs coming from the living room. Pain filled sobs that were interrupted with the sporadic exclamation of “Why God? Why my son?” She didn’t hear them though, those cries of pain and torment that her husband face on his own, and she hadn’t heard them in the ten days since Dustin’s murder. Sheridan had been in her own little world, oblivious to everything around her…

Well almost everything. She had still felt the unbearable pain every parent experienced when losing a child, as well as the nagging guilt that perhaps she was the reason he died. Could her being a Crane have anything to do with the murder of her little boy? Could she have prevented this misery?

It didn’t matter. All her questions and all her suffering would never return Dustin to her waiting arms. She could blame every man, woman and child in Harmony and it would never change the fact that Dustin had been taken from her. Finding the person responsible for Dustin’s murder would bring justice into their life, but never bring their Dustin back! It was useless and the only thing she could do was hope that the aching in her chest would dull and one day she would find her way back to reality…

Until then, this was life.

Luis heard the floorboards creak behind him and turned to find Sheridan, or a close facsimile of her, standing in the hallway looking like death. She was pale and her hair was unruly, her clothing rumpled and her eyes red and puffy. This wasn’t abnormal for Sheridan lately; in fact, it was frightfully normal, but that didn’t make it any easier on his heart or soul. Every time he saw her like this his heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat. This was killing him because he couldn’t protect her from this pain and keep her safe from all the harm that was coming. He could play superman any time he wanted, but even superman had his failings…

This was his! And this sight was his kryptonite.

“Sheridan?” he asked, standing and taking a step towards her, but she acted like he wasn’t there. Her eyes were glazed over with a look of such complete and utter emptiness that he was afraid to know what she was doing out of Dustin’s bed. At least in there she couldn’t harm herself.

“Have to make Dustin lunch,” she whispered, living in her fantasy. It was just another school day and she was running late again! She had things to do…

Or so she thought.

“Sheridan?” he waved a hand in front of her face, she didn’t move or blink. He tried again, moving his hand slightly closer but it was like he wasn’t there at all.

“Do you need lunch for work? Dustin wants peanut butter,” she took another step towards the kitchen, but he grabbed her arm, turning her body slightly. She looked at his hand but didn’t respond to its holding her in place.

“Sheridan, Dustin isn’t here anymore, remember?” he tried to speak soothingly, but the worry he was feeling was evident in his voice, as was a bit of anger.

“But his lunch,” she mumbled in protest, staring at the kitchen door. “He’s late.”

“You have no idea,” he grumbled sarcastically. For the last day or two, everything had set him off. When someone at the station spoke too loudly or asked him about Sheridan, he would immediately take offense and lose control of his temper. Stupid things that he normally would have laughed at now made him scream with such rage in his voice that people were afraid to come near him. Sam had tried to tell Luis this was normal. He was angry that he had lost his son. But this wasn’t normal! Nothing in his life was normal anymore and right now, Sheridan, his VERY abnormal wife, was lighting the fuse to his next explosion.

“Need to make him lunch,” she stepped out of his hold and headed for the kitchen again.

“Damn it, Sheridan! Snap out of it!” he grabbed her shoulders, looking into her unfocused blue eyes. “Look at me!”

Nothing.

“LOOK at me!” he demanded, giving her body a gentle shake.

Still nothing.

He released her, pacing between her and the bookshelves where their family photos and albums were proudly displayed for company. One picture in particular caught his eye and made him smile, though it wasn’t much of a smile. The framed photo was from the day they brought Dustin home from the hospital. After a trying labor and an emergency C-section, Sheridan had delivered Dustin. He hadn’t been there for it, having been sent from the room when the doctor thought Sheridan wasn’t going to survive. Still, he had been at her side the second he was allowed and had held their son as soon as he was brought into the room. Three days later, little Dustin Martin Lopez-Fitzgerald had been bundled in his blue receiving blanket and loaded into their sea foam green minivan, all the presents from the family in the back. Pilar followed the trio with her camera and Miguel with a video camera, both following them from the door of the hospital, to the car and then into the nursery.

The nursery that had become Dustin’s bedroom when they failed to conceive another child…

Picking up the photo, he looked at the image of his beaming wife, her face literally glowing from the joy that her soul had felt at having their first child. She held his little body close, her eyes never leaving Dustin’s face as Luis helped her from the wheel chair and to the car.

This was the woman he had fallen in love with…

The one he had married…

The one he had wanted to have many children with…

The one that stood before him now looking nothing like the one in the photograph. Now she was a zombie, a member of the living dead. A woman that was now cold and empty with nothing left in her but the grief from losing her son…

THEIR son!

“Damn it!” he threw the framed photo at the wall, causing the glass to shatter and fly about. Sheridan didn’t even flinch, continuing on with whatever foolish thoughts were going through her mind now.

“Dustin! Stop hiding!” she called, still living in another fantasy. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy that she was no longer locked in Dustin’s room hugging that stupid stuffed dog or miserable that she was having hallucinations about their deceased son.

“SHEIRDAN HE’S DEAD!” Luis screamed.

She didn’t even bat her eyes as she started into the living room and pretended to look for their son, her mind controlling her actions as she relieved some day from their past. Dustin had often hidden from the pair of them, giggling as he hid behind some clothing in a closet or under a table in the living room or dining room. His little cry “Mommy! Daddy! Come get me!” echoing as he ran for his next hiding spot, the gently tapping of his feet on the hard wood floors was followed by the opening and closing of some door.

They always found him and were showered with hugs and kisses. His tiny arms would wrap around their necks and his lips would leave wet, sticky kisses behind on their cheeks. His brown eyes would sparkle with that childhood innocence that every adult was lacking, as well as with the love and adoration he had for his two parents. Dustin loved them so completely and totally that it was impossible not to feel on top of the world when he was around…

Would he ever feel that way again?

He wasn’t sure…

And that made him even angrier!

With a sweep of his arms, a pair of silver candlestick holders and a ceramic bowl his mother had bought Sheridan for Christmas were sent crashing to the floor, the silver undamaged but the bowl crumbling into thousands of pieces. The crash echoed in the eerily silent room and the pieces rocked slightly.

And yet Sheridan didn’t respond at all, moving past him to the coat closet by the front door. She was still looking for Dustin.

For their son…

Who was gone and buried…

In the cold hard ground…

“WHY!?” Luis punched the nearby wall. “Why my son? Why my family? WHY?”

Sheridan’s head turned to him and he prayed to God she was finally hearing him, but he realized she hadn’t. Her unseeing blue eyes swept over his body and she sighed, much like she had the morning Colin had died. “Luis, we’ll be late. Go put your uniform on,” she opened the closet door, moving aside the coats to find Dustin. He stormed over to her and grabbed her arms hard, looking into her eyes.

“Sheridan, I don’t have work today! I haven’t been on official police business in over a week,” he shook her, trying to get her to focus on him. “Dustin’s dead! He’s long dead and buried, Sheridan! He’s not coming back, damn it! Stop!!! JUST STOP!!!” Tears sprung to his eyes though he wasn’t sure why. It could have been because of Sheridan or because he was still grieving over his son. Maybe it was because he was so angry that his emotions were confused. It didn’t matter why thought; what mattered was that he was crying!

She shook off his arms, “You’re talking nonsense! Go get ready!” She headed for the hallway to return to Dustin’s room, for what reason he didn’t know. Perhaps she was going to try and wake him up or thought he was hiding in there. Maybe She was just going to collapse in Dustin’s bed again and stare at the wall…

He would be damned if he let that happen again!

“SHERIDAN HE’S DEAD!” He screamed, picking up the crystal vase from the bookshelf and flinging it at the wall in front of her…

And she finally responded!

Stopping dead in her tracks she looked down at the glass at her feat and whimpered. The same crystal pieces she had found around Pilar that day! The scene flashed in her mind: her injured mother in law lay on the floor, groaning about her grandson! Dustin! The blood and glass on the floor around her mother in law was frightening! Falling to her knees she grabbed handfuls of the glass and squeezed tight, the tiny bits biting into her hands and cutting the sensitive flesh.

“No Pilar, wake up…where’s Dustin? Who was that man? PILAR!” she screamed.

Luis watched Sheridan sob, the pieces of glass cutting into her hands. What was going on? What happened to waking Dustin? Rushing to her side, he knelt beside her and took her palms into his. Carefully, he brushed the bits from her hands, checking to see how deep the cuts were on her hands. “Sheridan, what man?”

“He was leaving the kitchen…oh Pilar please wake up,” she sobbed, her body shuddering. “Where’s Dustin? Dusty!”

“He’s in the kitchen…” Luis replied softly.

“NO! The man was in the kitchen!” she cried, trying to get up and falling back to her knees.

“Sheridan!!!” he cried.

She looked up at him, her eyes finally focusing on her husband. “The man killed our baby! He killed our baby!” Her shoulders began to shake with sobs as she collapsed into his arms. “My baby!!!! He killed my baby!”

Luis held her close trying to digest the information his wife was trying to tell him. His mind couldn’t process anything at all. What man? Had Sheridan actually seen the murderer leaving the house? Was it possible she had been a witness to Dustin’s murder? Resting her head on his chest, he rocked her gently and ran his fingers through the hair near her temple in attempt to soother her.

Something was wrong here and he would do everything in his power to make it right…

To solve the crime behind his son’s death!

“Damn her,” he slammed his fist on the desk, crushing a cigar in the process. “She wasn’t supposed to see! She wasn’t supposed to be a witness! Sheridan wasn’t supposed to be in the house and if she had been she should have been kill!”

Picking up the picture of his daughter from his desk, he looked at it. “Such a beautiful woman. So much like your mother in more ways than you know! Always in the way!” He tore the wooden frame open and removed her photo. “You’ll have to die, Sheridan! You’ll have to die too! No one can link me to Dustin’s death…ever!”

He threw the picture into the nearby fireplace and laughed wickedly. “The blood is never on Alistair Crane’s hands…but this time it shall be on yours, Sheridan, that you can be sure of!”

He sat at his desk in the stationhouse, his fingers tapping on the wood as his eyes scanned the file that was once again open in front of him. His coworkers glared at him but refused to interrupt, even if they were annoyed by the drumming noises his fingers made. But Luis didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to digest the new information he had been able to fill into the forms. Finally, he had a lead that was worth following…

Though it wasn’t much of one. A vague description of the man Sheridan had seen leaving the house…

But at least there was finally evidence that someone else HAD been there…

Had murdered Dustin…

It wasn’t Sheridan anymore!

Witness recalls seeing a man leaving the home after the murder. Man wore jeans, sneakers and a gray hooded sweatshirt. Distinguishing marks: A scar on left cheek from temple to ear. Male is Caucasian.

Sure, that narrowed it down to at least ninety percent of Harmony men, but at least it was a starting place. He had already run through the lists of released convicts that could have been in the area at the time of the murder. Unfortunately, that hadn’t given him any further leads and he was growing tired of the standstill the case had hit. It had been three weeks since the murder!

Three weeks without his son!

Three weeks too long…

He would catch this man!

Sighing, Luis leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, immediately envisioning his son playing in the kitchen the day of the murder. He could see his cars scattered across the kitchen floor and that stupid stuffed dog nearby watching the scene and in the midst of it all was his son, Dustin, causing yet another collision between his favorite toys. There he was, just playing and minding his own business while his grandmother cleaned house and then…

His eyes shot open. No! He would NOT think of that! Never!

Why did his life seem to be filled with unsolved mysteries? His entire life was just swarmed with problems no one could figure out and he hated it! First his father was taken away from him when he was only thirteen, never to return to the family that had needed him so. Then Antonio left without a trace, not once thinking to let his family know where he was and if he was alive. And now his son; his son had been stabbed and left for dead on the kitchen floor and the murder was still out there…

And then all of Sheridan’s terrible nightmares…

Where the hell was the connection?

Could there be a connection?

He didn’t have time to worry about the older unsolved cases in his life. Right now he was seeking revenge against the man that took away his little boy. But the murder wasn’t his only worry at the moment. Luis had to wonder if the murderer had seen Sheridan in his attempt to flee and if he had seen her then…

What if he was looking for Sheridan?

What if he had some form of vendetta out against his family?

What kind of monster would stab a child to death?

Oh he could think of one all right!

Alistair Crane…

Looking back down at the file on his desk, Luis sighed. This was one mystery in his life that would be solved if it was the last thing he did! Of course, he would never rule out that the all mighty Alistair Crane might have had something to do with this…

He would bet a year’s worth of paychecks that Alistair had been the driving force in Dustin’s murder…

And he couldn’t wait to prove it!

To take away his father-in-law’s freedom would be the ultimate revenge…

For everything!

Looking at the picture of his wife and son, he smiled weakly. The same Christmas photo that would be forever on his desk…

The last Christmas photo of their son…

Their only child…

He would do anything to clear Sheridan of the guilt that she was suffering from and rebuild their marriage. He missed the closeness they once had and would do anything to get it back…

And he would get it back!

“I promise you, Sheridan. I will find the man that did this to us…the man that took away our child. I will make him suffer the same pain we have…I swear it on my life!” Placing a kiss to his fingertips, he brushed the photo with them and sighed once more.

He wondered what his wife was doing now…

She fiddled with the spoon in her coffee mug, watching as the milk swirled around in the warm black liquid, slowly blending in to make it tan. Did she always put milk in her coffee? Had she ever before? She couldn’t remember and she seriously didn’t care.

So she wasn’t paying much attention to anything around her…

But then again this place didn’t exactly bring the best of memories…

It was Pilar’s house after all.

The place of the murder…

The place her son took his last breath…

And bled to death on the floor…

But she had decided to leave the house for a while and she couldn’t think of anyone she wanted to see more than her mother-in-law. Pilar had been her strength in the darkest of moments thought her life, from her very first heartbreak when she lost her mother, to this latest one where she lost her son. No one could have been a better surrogate mother and Sheridan would never be able to fully repay her for that.

Besides, she needed to be with someone that trusted her, someone that didn’t look at her with pity or anger…

Someone that didn’t believe she had murdered her son…

And Heaven knew there weren’t many people out there that didn’t.

Looking up from the coffee mug, Sheridan’s sad blue eyes met Pilar’s warm brown ones, though that extra sparkle was missing and both knew what the other was thinking…

The house is awfully quiet without Dustin around…

And it was true. The house was quiet today…

Very still…

Extremely silent…

With a sigh, Sheridan broke eye contact and looked around for any other sign that there had been a brutal massacre in this house…

Nothing.

“It’s nice to see you up and about,” Pilar stated, breaking the silence and hoping to regain Sheridan’s attention. It worked. The young woman faced her mother-in-law again, but instead of the sorrow she expected to see, she found guilt…

Total and complete shame…

“I can’t believe how I’ve been acting for the last three weeks,” Sheridan mumbled, staring at a nearby bookshelf where some vases lay, her mind drifting back to Luis from days before. It had taken extreme actions to break her out of the zombie-like state she had been in. Now she just felt empty and emotionless. She had to wonder which was better. “To think it took a vase being flung at my head to bring me back to reality…”

“Mija, what are you talking about?”

“Luis threw a vase at me…” She paused, mulling that over in her mind. The connotation was definitely wrong and Pilar’s reaction verified her thoughts. Shaking her head, she amended, “Actually, he threw it at the wall and it shattered near me…I deserved it I suppose. You should have heard what I was saying about Dus…” she faded off. “I like your new picture frame,” she changed the subject as her eyes focused on a silver frame on the nearby table.

“Miguel purchased it with Kay last weekend in Castleton. He said it reminded him of me,” she glanced at the empty frame. “I couldn’t bare to put a photograph in it through…”

Sheridan was about to question why when she noticed the engraving in the metal of the frame…

Grandmother.

“I don’t have any photos of all my grandchildren together,” Pilar explained as if she could read Sheridan’s mind. Her eyes were again focused on the frame as she imagined a photo of all five of her grandchildren proudly displayed there. But it would never be.

Sheridan looked away, her eyes tearing. Pilar had many pictures of her grandchildren separately, but none of all together. Now she would never have the chance to have them all settle on the front porch, faces sticky with ice cream, as they snapped a photo for the frame. “I see,” she whispered sadly.

“Oh Mija! I’m so sorry!” Pilar realized the subject at hand and felt foolish. “I wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s all right Pilar. I…I guess I might as well face the fact that Dustin is gone and I’ll never see him again,” tears filled her eyes. “My poor sweet little angel…to think that my last words to him that day were scolding him about begging you to giving him cake…”

“Sheridan we didn’t know…”

“I wish I had!” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “I wouldn’t have left him!”

“You were only next door…”

“But I was too late to stop him from killing my son!” Sheridan screamed. “Too late!”

“Him?” Pilar asked, touching the place where a small scar remained from being hit with her crystal vase. She hadn’t seen the person that had crept up with the vase in hand. The last thing she had heard was Dustin’s screams and then she blacked out.

“The man I saw leaving the house that day…” she explained.

“Sheridan, you saw a man leaving?” she was intrigued by this new information. If Sheridan had seen someone…

Sheridan nodded. “I wish I could remember him better, Pilar. I wish…”

“Mama, which of these pictures are going to Luis’?” Miguel interrupted, not noticing Sheridan beside his mother on the couch.

“Mijo, I was talking…”

“It’s all right, Pilar, I’m not going anywhere…besides, I’d like to see what pictures you are planning to give Luis. Perhaps we need to focus on some happier memories for a while.”

“Oh, they are just some photos from the past…some of the Bennetts and Martin. Things I know Luis would treasure,” Pilar explained, handing Sheridan the stack of photos that Miguel had just handed her. She watched as her daughter-in-law flipped through the stack, smiling at the pictures of a younger Luis playing with Beth and Hank in a tree swing one forth of July. The smile faltered slightly when a picture of Dustin appeared. She quickly moved to the next photo, looking at a shot of the basketball team Luis was on and others of people he had grown up with. Some were large groups taken when the Bennetts and Lopez-Fitzgeralds were together at parties and others just shots of Luis and his siblings. One photo was even the graduating class at the police academy the year Luis graduated.

Her eyes scanned the pictures, first seeking out her husband and then glancing at the other people. She reached one photo and gasped, the glossy prints falling from her shaking hands. “Oh my God,” she whispered over and over again, her eyes filled with fear and terror.

“What is it, mija?” Pilar panicked, nearing Sheridan, but the younger woman jumped from her seat on the couch and stared at the photos as if they would attach her.

“That’s the man I saw,” she pointed to the scattered pictures, most of them face down on the floor. “That’s the man that killed my baby!”

Alistair puffed on his cigar, watching for a minute as the smoke made rings in the air. He laughed. It was nice to find amusement in such trivial things…

Then again the joy could be from what he was about to do.

He looked across the desk at the petite brunette with the stunning green eyes that gazed back nervously at him. She had been a wonderful lover for a time, but she made a fatal mistake and now it was time to pay…

And dearly…

His gentle gaze became a glare as he continued to look across the desk. His plan was important and she had nearly torn it apart with her stupidity…

No matter…

It would be the last time anyone dealt with her again.

“What were you doing at Harmony park, Miss Simmons?” he snarled, his cold blue eyes causing her to shiver.

“I was…” she tried to explain.

“Save it,” he cut her off, his voice a growl. “What were my IMPLICIT instructions?”

“To never leave the grounds…” she quickly replied.

“Exactly!” he stood, coming around the desk to stand before her. “You are FINISHED, Miss Simmons, do you UNDERSTAND that?”

She nodded silently, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “Yes, Mr. Crane.”

“Get out of my sight!” he barked viciously.

She jumped to her feet and scurried out, trying to distance herself from his anger as much as possible. Without even a look back, she shut the door and was gone.

Alistair laughed. She was a stupid little thing…

Beautiful but stupid…

Hitting one of the buttons on his phone, he was immediately connected to a man that owed him his entire life…

The same man that had killed Dustin Lopez-Fitzgerald…

With a smirk on his face, Alistair uttered the five words that would certainly bring Miss Simmon’s imprudence to an end…

“You know what to do!”

~†~Chapter Five ~†~

She couldn’t believe that man!

Throwing the picture down on the table, she glared at it. No one in the entire town of Harmony would believe her when she said this was the man she saw leave the house. They laughed at her, mocked her, told her she was dreaming. But she was determined to prove to them that she had seen this man leave Pilar’s house.

And she would do it too!

Her energy gone, Sheridan sank wearily into one of the kitchen chairs. Nearly one month without her son and not a single person believed her as a witness and not a criminal…

Well, two people believed her innocence…

But not a single person believed that this bastard was the killer!

“Lord, this has been trying enough, can’t you give me one break? Just one? Is that REALLY so much to ask?” she begged, looking at the picture of the murderer. “I know you did this and I plan on proving it,” she grumbled, pushing the photos away from her, watching as the photos scattered across the table.

“Sher, I’m home,” Luis voice filled the house from the living room, followed by his heavy footsteps as he neared the kitchen.

Just the man she wanted to deal with now! She had practically raced him home, doing ninety in a fifty zone to make it to the house before he could catch her. His attitude at the station had disappointed her, filling her with rage she had never felt before. Luis had made her blood boil before but NEVER had he made her loathe him so much in such a short time…

She seriously hated her husband at the moment.

“Sher?” he poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey.”

“What do YOU want?” she growled, not even turning to look at him. Her anger returning full force.

“Sher, come on, don’t be this way,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to lose all the progress they had been making. Weeks of work had finally got them talking again and now it was demolished because of some stupid belief she had that…

It wasn’t even worth thinking about it anymore.

The man was innocent and Sheridan was just mistaken…

That’s all there was to it!

“What way is that?” she asked, getting up and going to the fridge to dig out some leftovers. She wasn’t in the mood to cook tonight, not that she ever was in the mood to cook anyway. “I mean my husband, who is supposed to support me, tells me that he thinks I’m delusional and that my tip as to who killed our son is useless if I continue to believe that…”

“Sheridan, don’t even say it! He couldn’t have done it and I refuse to have you smear his name!” Luis’ defenses rose. “I’ve knew the man for years, Sheridan, and I will not smudge his memory!”

“HIS memory?” she screamed, spinning to face him. “What about DUSTIN’S memory? What about the fact that our five-year-old son was MURDERED? He did it Luis! I swear to God I saw that man leaving Pilar’s house!”

“You’re trying to pin his death on an innocent man, Sheridan! That man is gone!”

“I SAW him with my own eyes!”

“Like you did the imposter on the wharf? The one at our engagement party?” he returned.

“That was low, Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald,” she glared at him. “I don’t need you to believe me! I KNOW what I saw and I will prove he did it!”

“You can’t prove it, Sheridan!” Luis screamed, grabbing her arm. “You can’t prove that he killed our son, Sheridan. You damn well know that!”

“I saw him leaving the house Luis! I saw his eyes! I saw his face and God help me I saw him leaving with blood on his hands. No one in this world will EVER tell me he didn’t kill my son…I know he did it!!”

“My father did not kill our son!!” he yelled, dropping her arm and moving away. “MY FATHER IS DEAD!” His voice shook the pictures on the wall, but not Sheridan’s reserve.

She sighed. Ok, so that was the one hole in her theory. Sure, she swore on her darling son’s grave that she had seen Martin Fitzgerald leaving Pilar’s house that day, but it just wasn’t really possible. After all, she had been with Luis when they identified the remains found at the old mine as Martin’s body, seen the DNA results and dental records prove that this man was indeed Luis’ missing father. She had held her husband when he cried, knowing that his father was truly never coming home to him…

Knowing that some how her father was behind his murder…

But never being able to prove it…

Yet she knew it was him, knew that he had been the one leaving the house that day. She could guarantee it, even stake her life on it.

But she couldn’t prove it…

She had absolutely no evidence but her own two eyes!

“Luis, maybe he isn’t dead. I mean my father could easily have…”

“Sheridan, we both know it isn’t possible, all right? He’s dead. Mama buried him and stopped lighting that blasted candle. My father is dead and even is he were alive by some miracle, he would NEVER kill his grandson. Ok? Now forget about it. You had to have seen someone else leave the house.”

She sighed. “If it wasn’t him then I didn’t see anyone…”

“Sheridan…”

“It was him and I’ll say that until the day I die.”

He shook his head. “You know what, I don’t feel like arguing,” he headed out of the kitchen and back through the house, stopping to pull his jacket back on.

“Where are you going?” she watched him open the front door, her heart dropping. They were starting to be a family again, starting to get back into a routine. Why did this have to happen now?

“To get a beer. I need to get the hell out of this house,” he grabbed his car keys off the nearby table.

“When will you be back?” her voice was high pitched and she felt her eyes tear. Dustin’s murder was killing their marriage…tearing it to shreds.

“Whenever,” he left without another word.

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Luis, but I know he did it and if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll prove that Martin Fitzgerald killed my son.” She returned to the kitchen and turned off dinner; she wasn’t hungry. In fact, she felt like visiting her son. Maybe, just maybe, she’d find some answers by talking to Dusty.

She hadn’t been here since the funeral, having been far too comatose to care.

That was a laugh!

She had cared and that was the problem!

She missed Dustin so much that part of him killed her inside!

But she was here now and she planned on talking to her son.

Could you talk to a dead child?

Did it really matter? After all, she was here already.

“Hi baby,” she smiled weakly, sitting on a bench that the officers of Harmony had kindly purchased for them. It was a wooden bench, the planks painted a forest green that blended in with the trees around her. On it hung a plaque that read “In Loving Memory of our Smallest Officer: Dustin Martin Lopez-Fitzgerald.”

The tears were already filling her eyes as she looked at the tiny headstone that showed a baby angel in the clouds of Heaven. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve come by, but I really haven’t been myself lately. Daddy and I miss you so much, Dustin, we miss having you around and being woken by your laughter on Saturday mornings. Your room is exactly like you left it; I can’t bear to change a thing. I don’t know how we’ve made it through the last four weeks, but we have and I’m hoping we make it through the next four together.”

She sighed, looking around the empty cemetery. It was rather surprising no other mourners were around today. She had often passed this place and found people kneeling at gravesides. Not today however.

“I love you, Dustin, and I’m sorry that the last words you heard from me were so negative. I really do wish that I hadn’t yelled at you that day, baby, I hate that I told you I was angry and never said I’m sorry. Mommy didn’t mean it,” the tears started to fall and she forced herself to hold them back, failing miserably. “I’m so sorry, Dustin, I keep going back over the last five years and I know I yelled at you for a lot of things,” she wiped furiously at the tears. “How many times did I stop you from simply being a little boy? Ok, so you caused some trouble, but you didn’t deserve that,” she sobbed. “You didn’t deserve this from me, not one bit, and now it’s too damn late to take it back…I want to take it back, Dustin.”

She buried her head in her hands, the tears falling steadily as her shoulders shook from her sobbing. All she had wanted her entire life was a family and now God had taken that away from her. Had she deserved that? Had she done something to fall out of God’s favor? Why had her life been nothing but pain?

Sheridan was so lost in her pain and suffering, that she didn’t hear the footsteps on the drying grass behind her, barely heard his loud breathing behind her…

But she felt his hands come around and cover her mouth with a rag soaked in chloroform, her struggles futile as he easily overpowered her and dragged her to his truck.

Before anyone could notice, they were gone…

Alistair laughed as he watched his lackey take his daughter away in that ugly black van, the windows tinted darkly in order to hide the many bad things that happened there. She was a foolish girl and she would pay dearly for her stupidity, just like that pathetic Ms. Simmons. Sheridan was always in the way and he would finally be rid of her.

“They’ve arrived, Mr. Crane,” his secretary smiled at him from the doorway to his library, her long blond curls falling over her shoulders and her low cut red dress revealing her…assets. “He would like to know if he should bring her on to the island.”

“Tell him not yet. I want him to hide her away in the usually place, Candy, before he brings her here. Be sure to tell him that! I want this to be a game…and Lopez-Fitzgerald is definitely the pawn!”

She nodded. “Anything else sir?”

“No,” he looked her over. “Not just now.”

She winked and left the room to carry out his orders.

Alistair smiled. Yes, life was good and soon his daughter would no longer be in his hair. Luis Lopez-Fitzgerald had crossed him one too many times and now he would lose another member of his beloved family. Soon Alistair’s plan to ruin his son-in-law’s life would be complete and no one would ever stop him…

He began laughing again.

Stupid little town. They always underestimated his power, but he had plenty of power left in his old age! Plenty of power! He removed Katherine and Dustin from this world…

And now he would remove Sheridan.

He watched Luis sip his beer at the local bar and hate filled his eyes.

“You’re next…son,” he drew the sentence out with venom in his voice. “You’re next!”

Part 2