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Sam Beckett could feel the pull overtake him as he leaped. He began to take form once again in a new body and found himself sitting in a small office behind a desk. The surface was littered with papers and a computer sat directly in front of him -- still on, as if the occupant had just been using it. Sam scrutinized the screen carefully to see if that would give him any insight as to where he might be. He had barely started to read when the door burst open and a man charged in, obviously angry. He was about six feet tall, with dark hair and blue eyes that happened to be blazing at the moment.
"Matt, what are you doing at my desk? I'm the editor, remember? You're the publisher!"
"Well, I, ah..." Sam was taken aback, wondering, as always, what to say to a person whose name he didn't even know.
A voice behind him made him jump unexpectedly as Al made his appearance through the imaging chamber door. "His name's Jake," Al supplied hastily.
"Jake," Sam breathed in relief. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You can have it back now." Sam got up hurriedly, meaning to make a quick exit. Jake appeared nonplused by Sam's actions, as if he'd expected an argument instead of a retreat.
Sam left the office quickly, only to encounter a room full of people, work stations, computers and phones. Everyone stopped their movements for a second to stare expectantly as the door slammed behind him. He gazed at the sea of faces and wondered where Al had gotten too. Instead of acknowledging anyone, he decided the best course would be to work his way across the room to the hallway he saw on the other side. Hopefully it was the exit.
He had to find Al again, and to do that he needed to be somewhere less crowded. He'd almost made it through, when a young black man pushed open the doors he was trying to leave by.
"Hey, Matt, whaddya want me to do about the stalker story? Jake says to print it. You think we should wait for more info from the cops?"
"Oh, boy," Sam muttered to himself. He'd almost gotten away, and with absolutely no idea how to respond to the other man, he just continued his original plan and plowed through the exit as fast as he could.
He stopped abruptly on the other side, in a long hallway. He briefly scanned the writing on the glass door. Bay City Herald. That would explain the publisher reference.
Sam glanced around quickly, hoping Al would make an appearance again. He got halfway down the hall when he spied the men's room and decided to duck in there. He didn't want to run into anyone else who knew this Matt guy he'd jumped into.
He immediately checked all the stalls to make sure he was alone. Finding the place empty, he glanced over to the mirror to get a look at his new body. Staring back at him was a young man with sandy blond hair a strong chin and blue eyes. He was of average height -- probably a couple inches under six foot and fairly well built. As he continued to study his new reflection, Al suddenly appeared behind him.
"Your name is Matt Cory." Al gave a quick smack to the hand-held computer he always carried around. "You're the publisher of a small-time newspaper in a town called Bay City. That's in Illinois," he added helpfully.
"Thanks. I already figured that part out," Sam told him sarcastically.
Al continued as if he hadn't heard Sam's grumbling. "Ziggy thinks you're here to save the last victim of a serial killer who's been stalking women in this town."
"Is she sure?"
"She gives it a seventy-five percent."
"Who's the victim?"
"Mary Frances Frame Winthrop. Her friends call her Frankie. She's married to Cass Winthrop. He's a lawyer and they have a daughter, Charlie."
Sam regarded his friend curiously. Al seemed to be reciting from memory, rather than reading the info from Ziggy. He shook his head and dismissed it. His brain was never too reliable right after a leap. "When does she get killed?"
"Tomorrow night."
"How?"
Al looked uncomfortable. "Strangled," he reported.
"Anything else?"
This time the admiral checked his readout. He grimaced at what he found there. "Looks like she put up a pretty good fight. It happens somewhere on the Cory estate. Ziggy's not sure exactly where.."
"Cory estate?"
"Yeah, your mother's house... well, Matt's mother's house... Rachel Cory Hutchins."
"Do we know who killed her?"
"We're having a little problem with that information," Al admitted glumly. "We tried your newspaper... uh, Cory's newspaper, but the Bay City Herald had a fire a few years later and a lot of their morgue was lost."
"What about police files?"
"We're looking into that right now. I'll let you know."
"Why does Ziggy think I'm here to save Frankie Winthrop?"
"A whole bunch of reasons. For starters, her husband never got over her death... went into a deep depression and basically dropped outta life. 'Course, he never went to the seminar he and Frankie were supposed to attend next month."
"And that's a big deal?"
"Not the seminar itself, but Cass was supposed to meet up with one of his oldest friends, a man known as Remington Steele. They hadn't seen each other for years."
"Why does that name sound familiar?" Sam mused, wracking his swiss-cheesed memory.
Al shot him an odd glance, but continued his narrative. "Because Winthrop and Steele never reaquaint, their children never meet."
Sam was trying very hard to follow Al's story. "And this is a problem because...?"
His friend's face screwed up in frustration. "Gimme a minute, Sam, I'm getting to that."
Sam sighed impatiently. It was always hard to be so totally ignorant. "Okay, sorry."
"Anyway, as I was saying... their kids don't meet. And if they don't meet, they can't marry each other. Ziggy says the Steele line on that side of the family dies with Brian. He never finds anybody else. That little snag is causing major repercussions way down the line."
Sam pondered for a moment. "Any possibility I could be here for anything else?"
Al shook his handlink once more, grimacing. "There's a twenty-five percent chance you're here to stop your niece's wedding."
"My niece?"
"Sorry... Matt Cory's niece Maggie. She's getting married..." Al knocked his hand against the link again, "...tonight"
Sam stared at his friend for a moment then started out the door.
"Where are you going?" Al called.
"To find this Frankie Winthrop," Sam stated determinedly. He headed for the door, saw the Bay City Herald sign again and changed his mind. He reversed his direction towards the newsroom.
Al popped up directly in front of him. "Where are you going now?"
"Al, where's the best place to get information about a serial killer?"
"Besides the cops... a newspaper, of course!"
"Exactly!" Sam strode through the simulacrum of his friend and entered the room. He immediately spied the reporter who'd questioned him about the stalker case, and approached him.
"Uh..." He realized he still didn't know the man's name.
"Chris Madison," Al prompted from out of nowhere. "The Herald's star reporter."
"Chris," Sam continued, hoping the man didn't notice the slight stumble. "Could you give me everything you've got on the murders?"
"Sure, Matt." He grinned wryly. "Checking Jake's story again?"
Sam returned the smile without humor. "Something like that."
Sam sat in the town square, quickly reading over all the information the paper had on the murders plaguing the community. He'd been surprised to learn the woman he was looking for had been helping the police with their investigations.
"Al." Sam addressed his friend who was "sitting" on the bench beside him. "You didn't mention Frankie was a private detective... and a psychic one at that."
"Didn't I?"
"No."
Al scratched his head. "I must have forgotten. Sorry, Sam. Is that important?"
"No, but I'm intrigued by the possibilities."
"A lot of hocus pocus," Al grumbled. Sam ignored him.
"So far all the murders and assaults occurred in and around the hospital."
"You think that's significant?"
"I don't know, might be." He shrugged and heaved a sigh. "But I'm here to save Frankie. It would help to know who the killer is, but I don't want it to detract from protecting her. Did you get her address?"
"Yeah. It's on the west side of town."
"Good. Now I just have to come up with a reason to stick close to this Frankie."
Sam found himself in front of an old but elegant house in a quiet residential neighborhood near a lake. He walked up the driveway and knocked on the front door. It was immediately opened by a black-haired blue-eyed little girl, who could only be Charlie Winthrop.
"Hi, Matt, whatcha doin' here?"
"Hey, Charlie." Sam grinned at the child. "I was looking for your Mom. She home?"
"No, Daddy is. You wanna come in?" She gestured for him to enter the house, then pointed to Al who'd just arrived. "Who's your friend?"
"Oh, boy," Sam gulped, only now remembering how hard it was to work with small children on a leap. Their pure innocence always allowed them to see Al and his presence would have to be explained, as well as why grownups couldn't see him.
He was spared for the moment when a man appeared behind Charlie and Al took the opportunity to duck out. The newcomer was tall and slender with brown eyes and black curly hair. By his resemblance to Charlie, Sam figured this must be Cass Winthrop.
"Come on in, Matt what can I do for you?
"I... didn't mean to intrude... uh, Cass."
"Don't be silly," Cass assured him. "You're certainly not intruding." They walked into the living room.
"Actually, I was looking for Frankie," Sam explained, glancing quickly around the room, hoping his assignment was somewhere nearby.
"You just missed her," Cass told him regretfully. "She's gone to the hospital to talk with Lorna."
"About the stalker?"
"When Joe asked for her assistance... she felt she had to try and help if she could."
"Yeah, I, uh, heard she was working with the police." Sam regarded Cass curiously. "Doesn't that make you a little nervous?"
Sam could tell by the worry in the man's eyes that he was very concerned, but he maintained his air of confidence. "Of course, Matt, but that's who Frankie is and what she does. I certainly couldn't have stopped her." Cass paused and frowned down at his daughter, who was opening and closing the front door. "Charlie, honey, what are you doing?"
"I'm looking for Matt's friend."
"What friend?"
"The one who came with him, Daddy," Charlie replied with a four year old's exasperation.
Cass looked at Sam questioningly. "Who's she's talking about?"
Sam shrugged in pretended confusion. "I came by myself, Cass."
Sam left the Winthrop home with a still determined Charlie demanding to know what had happened to Matt's friend. Al had popped in briefly to find out Sam's next move, and then just as quickly disappeared. Sam hoped he and Ziggy were on the trail of some of the records detailing whom the Bay City stalker might be.
Bay City General was conveniently located right next to police headquarters. Sam walked through the automatic doors and found himself in the E.R. The fluorescent lighting was bright and the odors that permeated the halls immediately identified the place as a hospital. He reached the admitting desk, ready to inquire if anyone had seen Frankie, when he was hailed from behind.
"Hey, Matt."
Sam turned to see a young man with light brown unruly hair and blue eyes standing behind him. His lab coat, stethoscope and name tag identified him as Morgan Winthrop, M.D. A relative of Cass's no doubt. As he drew nearer, Sam could see that behind his smile lurked a deep sadness, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the recent murders.
"Hey, I haven't seen you in awhile. How've you been?"
"Pretty good, Dr. Winthrop," Sam hedged, not sure how well acquainted these two were. How 'bout yourself?"
Morgan chuckled. "So formal? You still mad I beat the pants off you in our last pick up game?"
"Of course not, Morgan." Sam slurred the r in Morgan uncertainly. "How's life in ER?"
"I thought internship was hard, but being a resident is worse."
"Yeah, I remember," Sam murmured unthinkingly.
Morgan stared at his friend oddly. "I didn't know you ever went to med school, Matt."
"Well, I... ah..." Sam stammered lamely. Of course Matt Cory had never gone to medical school, but Sam Beckett had. What a time for the holes in his memory to fill in.
He was saved from shoving his foot any further into his mouth when another voice coldly interrupted their conversation.
"You'd probably be a better doctor than Winthrop any day." The tall, dark-haired doctor who'd joined them was pleasant looking, but obviously had no love for his colleague.
Morgan scowled at him. "Get over it, Newman. You lost."
"I never lose, Winthrop," the man growled menacingly as he moved off.
Sam stared after him. "Who was that?"
"That was Dr. Fairfax Newman."
"Is that an example of his bedside manner?"
Morgan chuckled. "He's just sore because I got chief resident over him."
"Congratulation," Sam offered, praying Matt hadn't known this bit of information yet. He seemed safe enough since Morgan didn't react strangely.
"Thanks, Matt. So... you here for a reason or did you just miss me?"
"Actually, I was looking for Frankie. Have you seen her?"
"You just missed her... maybe fifteen minutes ago."
Damn, Sam cursed inwardly. "You know where she went?" he inquired.
Morgan thought a moment, then brightened. "She mentioned something about going to see Joe at the police station."
"Thanks, Morgan."
"Anytime. Hey, ready for a rematch when you are."
Sam smiled. "You're on." He quickly left the hospital and headed to police headquarters.
Sam sat slumped on the same bench with Al that they'd used earlier. He was feeling despondent, concerned he would never locate Frankie Winthrop. Leaping was hard enough without fate conspiring against him. It was discouraging that every time he'd gone to a place she was supposed to be, she'd moved on. First the hospital, then the police station and finally her office. Every spot he checked had been useless. He glanced at his watch in frustration. It was almost six o'clock and he felt as if he was still at first base.
A cellular phone beeped and Al pointed out to Sam that it was his."
He pulled the instrument from his pocket and flipped it open. "Yes?"
"Matthew, is that any way to greet your mother?"
Oh, boy. "Sorry, Mom?"
"If you change your mind and come to Maggie's wedding at seven, I'll forgive you."
"I really can't." Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as Al feverishly worked his computer for more information. Al had mentioned his niece's marriage earlier as an alternate reason he might be here, but Sam had a gut feeling he was here for Frankie Winthrop.
"I know you don't approve of her marrying Nick, but I want us to do this as a family, Matthew. I've even asked Cass and Frankie to attend."
At the mention of Frankie, Sam perked up immediately. "All right. I'll be right there, Mom." He hung up before she could react to his sudden change of mind.
"This is perfect, Al. I'll finally meet the person I was sent to help. There's only one problem."
"What's that, Sam?"
"Where's the Cory estate?"
Sam knocked tentatively on the door of the stately mansion. It was opened by a tall, slender woman with hazel eyes, who appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties.
"Matthew," she exuded happily, "I'm so glad you decided to come." From the sound of her voice he knew she was his mother, Rachel.
"I didn't want to disappoint you, Mom." Sam gave her a peck on the cheek and walked into the entry hall. He spied a grand staircase off to his right and a large living room with French doors leading to a patio just in front of him. He noticed a number of people milling about the room, a couple having drinks, and others just sitting and waiting. Sam hastily scanned the guests and spied Cass near the grand piano. There was a tall, redheaded woman standing next to him.
Sam was elated. After all those hours of fruitless searching, he'd finally located Frankie, and he wasn't planning to let her out of his sight. He wandered over to where the couple was standing. He wanted to get a closer look at the woman he was supposed to save.
"Hey, Matt, it's good to see you," Frankie greeted him cheerfully, giving him a quick hug.
"You too."
"I was just telling Frankie you'd been looking for her earlier," Cass offered helpfully.
Frankie's beautiful smile grew a bit curious as she turned to Sam. "What did you need me for?"
"Oh, umm..." Sam struggled to come up with a suitable reason until he heard the imaging chamber door signal Al's arrival.
"She's helping the cops, remember?" his friend reminded.
Sam smiled in relief. "I was, um... interested in your perspective on the stalker. How's the case going?"
Instead of answering him, Frankie appeared to be focused on something next to him. Sam knew the only thing that could be was Al.
"Frankie?" Cass asked puzzled. "What's wrong?"
The woman's brow wrinkled in confusion. "I thought I saw a strange man in the room."
"Where?"
"Standing next to Matt." She shook her head ruefully and smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Must have been a trick of the light."
"Hmm," Al frowned and chewed on his cigar. "Maybe there's something to this psychic detective stuff after all," Al whispered warily.
Before Frankie could delve further into what she may or may not have seen, Rachel called everyone to attention. The wedding was about to begin.
"Oh, this ought to be just wonderful," Cass whispered sarcastically to Frankie.
Frankie shushed her husband and linked arms with him reassuringly as they both headed over to the other side of the room towards the beginning nuptials. Sam followed, wondering what Cass had meant. It was only then that he became aware of the atmosphere in the room.
It was weird. Of all the people present, the only one who seemed to be happy about the coming ceremony was the bride. The groom was acting almost surly. His parents -- at least that's who Sam assumed they were -- seemed decidedly morose. The older man with the long, white pony tail didn't seem to want to be here at all.
Al had advised Sam that this was Rachel's husband, Carl Hutchins. He also wondered why he kept finding Carl watching him closely. At first it had made him nervous, until Al informed him that Matt Cory and Carl Hutchins weren't exactly best buddies. In Al's words, Matt was always a "nozzle" where Carl was concerned.
The vows ended and a brief reception followed, where everyone witnessed the bride and groom have their first fight only minutes after they'd become man and wife. Sam had to move hastily out of the way as the father of the groom and Carl started an argument which erupted into a fight. He stepped back into a doorway as Cass pushed past him to break it up.
"Hey, Sam, maybe Ziggy was right and you were here to stop this wedding," Al speculated as they both watched the circus from the sidelines.
"I don't think so, Al."
Al nodded. "You're probably right. Seemes to me those two deserve each other."
Sam chuckled. Only a few minutes in Maggie Cory's company had made him glad she wasn't his assignment. The smile froze on his face, however, when he noticed he was being scrutinized.
"Al, Frankie's giving us the eye again," Sam muttered under his breath. "I think you'd better disappear."
Sam watched unobtrusively as Cass and Frankie said good-bye in the entry hall. He'd learned a little earlier that Frankie was giving a shower for her cousin Josie at the Winthrop's house. Cass was heading for Carlino's restaurant to have dinner with Joe Carlino.
It appeared to Sam as if the couple didn't seem to want to let each other go -- almost as if sensing something would happen tonight. Even though he didn't know them, he could feel the depth of their love for each other. Finally Frankie reluctantly pulled away and disappeared through the front door. Sam quickly followed her outside.
That was as far as he got. He was met on the porch by a very angry Jake McKinnon.
"Look, Matt, I'm not gonna have you constantly cutting stories I've approved in my paper."
"Jake, I don't have time for this, okay." Sam tried to get around the irate man.
"Well then make the time," Jake blustered. "You come down to the paper with me right now so you can tell the print guys they can publish."
"All right... fine... I'll come with you," Sam capitulated in exasperation.
"Great."
The two men walked to end of the circular driveway where Jake had parked his car. Sam got in first through the passenger door, but slid over as close as he could to the driver's side. When Jake started to get in the car, his keys dangling in his hand, Sam quickly grabbed them. He shoved the other man out the door as he slid behind the wheel. He shut the door, jammed the keys in the ignition and started the car. He backed out the driveway, leaving a furious Jake sprawled on the Cory driveway. He paused long enough to roll down the window and yell apologetically.
"Sorry, Jake. I gotta borrow your car."
"My car..." Jake sputtered angrily as Sam screeched down the driveway. "What about yours?"
Even if he'd had the time, Sam wouldn't have been able to answer that particular question. He couldn't come right out and admit to Jake that he didn't know where his car was or even where he lived. He hadn't had time to familiarize himself with Matt Cory because the time he'd been given to save Frankie was too short.
Sam had been driving for about fifteen minutes before he finally admitted he had no idea where he was. The road was deserted and totally unfamiliar. He stopped the car and opened the glove compartment, hoping Jake had a map of Bay City. There were a lot of useless things stashed there, but a map wasn't one of them. He heaved a sigh of frustration. Getting lost hadn't been part of his plan.
He gazed around the desolate stretch of road, trying to figure out his best course of action. He would have to backtrack and find a landmark he recognized. He wished he'd paid more attention to the taxi ride out to the Winthrop's and he wondered absently where Al was. Ziggy would have access to maps.
Sam glanced at his watch, noted the time and hastily made a u-turn. He'd only gone a few miles when he heard a loud bang and felt the steering wheel wobble as one of the front tires blew out.
Al had been sitting around Carlino's, keeping an eye on Cass and his friend Joe. The homey Italian restaurant brought back so many memories. Though he'd been extremely young, he could still remember his Grandma Calivicci and her wonderful ravioli. He stayed longer than he should have and a sudden attack of conscience drew him out of his reverie. He popped over to the Winthrop house to see how Sam was getting along, but was surprised to find his friend wasn't there. Unsure what had delayed Sam, Al had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on Frankie instead.
Of course, staying for awhile had nothing to do with the fact that he could watch unseen as the houseful of beautiful ladies giggled and fussed over all the slinky lingerie given to the bride. He could only hope a few of the more exotic articles would need to be tried on. Al was enjoying himself so much he lost track of how long he'd been here. The party was breaking up before he remembered his friend should have been here.
"Ziggy, center me on Sam," he cried, blasting his own stupidity.
He immediately found himself on a lone highway. He breathed easier when he saw Sam trying to change a tire. His relief at finding his friend alive and well were quickly swallowed up by the guilt he felt at loosing them precious time.
"You okay, Sam? I went to Winthrop's place and when you weren't there, I stayed instead."
"That's okay, Al, but you better get back there and check on Frankie. Time is running out. I'll be right behind you."
When Al reappeared at the house, not only were all the guest gone, but Frankie was nowhere to be found. Pulse racing, he checked the driveway, but it was empty as well. When he went back inside, he heard voices. He watched as Cass rushed into the house, frantically calling his wife's name. Behind him was Joe Carlino. Cass immediately headed up the stairs, while Joe searched the first floor. The two men met back in the living room.
"She's not here," Cass announced, the dread in his voice sounding loud and clear.
"There's no sign of forced entry," Joe stated.
"I told her to wait," Cass insisted. "Not only is she gone, but the door was left unlocked."
"Cass, don't forget, Frankie's a pro," Joe reminded his friend. "I'm sure if she heard someone in the house, she took the proper precautions."
At Joe's comment, Cass strode over to the hall closet. He poked around the upper cabinet behind some books and then turned, his face grave. "Her gun is gone."
Al didn't wait to hear anything else. He had Ziggy send him back to Sam and he found himself riding along in the car.
"What's going on, Al?" Sam demanded.
"Frankie's missing."
"Damn." Sam slapped his hands down on the steering wheel. "Everything's working against us in this leap. If I can't save her, then why did I come here?" Sam spared a glance at Al, who was busy checking for information. "Ziggy have any ideas?"
"Hey, Sam... look." Al was focused on something outside the car, instead of his hand-link.
"What?"
"A car... it looks abandoned." Ziggy chirped and Al checked the readout, then beamed triumphantly. "Ziggy says Frankie's car was a found on a back road of the Cory estate."
Sam slammed on the brakes, shifted into reverse and backed the car up to the abandoned vehicle. The plates were plainly visible. "Is it hers?"
Ziggy beeped and Al nodded emphatically. "Sure is."
Sam climbed out and joined Al, who was already checking the open trunk and driver's side door. Sam placed a hand on the hood.
"The engine's still warm, Al. She was here not too long ago."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out Matt's cellular phone and dialed the Winthrop house.
"Frankie?" a distraught male voice came on the line.
"No, Cass, it's Matt. I've found her car."
"Where?"
"On the old service road heading into the Cory estate. Is Joe still with you?"
"Yes."
"Tell him to get his men out here and start a search."
"We'll be right there." The line went dead.
"What now, Sam?" Al was waiting expectantly.
"We start looking ourselves. Ziggy still has no idea where she was killed?"
Al shook his head regretfully. "No. Nothing specific. Sorry, Sam."
"Okay, let's go."
Sam scoured the area around the old gazebo, the cottage and the stables -- all without success. He knew Cass was searching the pool house and tennis courts and Al had chosen the woods and the lake behind the estate -- along with Joe and most of Bay City's finest. The searchers had worked their way slowly -- too slowly it had seemed to Sam and a despairing Cass -- out from Frankie's abandoned car.
Sam could hear thunder in the distance. Great, he thought, just what we need -- a rainstorm. On a hunch that the killer had Frankie somewhere near the main house, Sam jogged into the garden and found Matt's mother standing there, looking as if she were listening to something in the distance -- something only she was able to discern. He realized suddenly that Rachel was unaware of the desperate hunt now underway for her missing friend.
"Matthew, did you hear that?"
"What?"
"It sounded like someone calling for help." The woman frowned. "Or maybe it's just the thunder."
"Where did it come from?"
Rachel pondered for a minute, as if listening once again. "Maybe from the old ice house...?"
Sam didn't wait for anything else. He started to run. He knew the thunder rumbling in the distance wasn't what Rachel had heard. He pulled out the walkie talkie the police had supplied him with and quickly barked into it.
Al showed up suddenly next to Sam, his face agitated. "The ice house, Sam... the ice house! Ziggy was finally able to center me on Frankie. She's in the ice house!"
Sam found more speed and ran as hard as he could. He reached the door of the old structure and quietly tested it. It was locked from inside. He could hear voices and identified Frankie's as she tried to reason with the killer. She suddenly screamed.
Out of time, Sam didn't hesitate. He kicked in the door and recognized the face of the stalker -- Fairfax Newman. The man's hands gripped Frankie's throat, trying to throttle her.
Taking advantage of the killer's surprise, Sam covered the short distance across the room. He grabbed Newman around the throat in a choke hold. Faced with a new threat, the crazed doctor let go of Frankie to take on Sam. Surprised at the strength of his opponent, Sam suddenly found himself struggling for his life. He could vaguely hear Al's shouts of encouragement, but it was all he could do to keep the madman's hands from choking the life out of him.
They'd fallen to the floor and Newman was gaining the upper hand, when Cass rushed in. Sparing only a second to be sure Frankie was all right, he joined the struggle. Between the two of them, Cass and Sam were able to subdue Newman, but not before Cass had landed a roundhouse punch to the stalker.
Al, frustrated at having to stand by and watch, couldn't blame Winthrop for that. He would have liked to pound the weasel himself. He turned just in time to see Frankie tentatively reach out to touch the spot where he was standing. Al decided now would be a good time for him to leave.
Fairfax Newman was shortly carted away by the police. Up at the mansion, Frankie sat on the couch, her husband's arms wrapped around her protectively. She was content to stay there. The paramedics had examined her numerous bruises, especially her throat, and had given her some instructions for the night and the advice to see her own physician in the morning. Cass assured them that would be done and they left. Rachel came in to the living room to give Frankie some tea and joined the couple on the couch. After she slowly sipped some of the hot liquid, Frankie insisted she wanted to relate a least a little of what she knew to Carlino.
"Joe, I can tell you what he was after?" Frankie's voice was very hoarse. "A gold necklace that linked him to the first killing."
"How did you get it?"
"Vicki Hudson gave it to me tonight at the shower... for good luck," Frankie added ironically.
"Where did she get it?" Cass wanted to know.
"From Lorna."
"Well, that would explain the attack on Lorna," Joe agreed. "You were right about the stalker, Frankie. He was trying to cover something up. He wasn't just a sexual predator."
As the former partners continued their conversation, Sam watched gratefully from his vantage point leaning against the mantle. Cass held tightly to Frankie, as if he would never let her go again. Sam was thankful he'd gotten there in time. It had been too close. He glanced at Al, who was checking the current information on his hand computer.
"Well done, Sam. Ziggy's showing a green light. Frankie and Cass attend that seminar in Boston, meet up with Remington and Laura Steele and, according to the newspaper reports, are seen watching happily years later as their children marry each other."
"Why haven't I leaped," he whispered quietly.
Before Al could answer, Frankie got up and walked over to Sam. She fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze. "I just wanted to thank you, Matt." She gave him a warm hug and whispered in his ear, "Or whoever you are. Thank your friend for me too."
Al gaped for a moment, then gathered himself enough to wave farewell. "Good-bye, Sam." The brilliant blue light enveloped them both.
As the light faded, a disoriented Sam found himself holding a gun in his hand. Next to him was another man with an AK-47 assault rifle, carefully covering a group of men standing in front of them.
"Whadaya want to do with these guys, McCall?"
"Oh, boy!"