
##4120151 The neighborhood was quiet at 3:00 a.m . Bugs flew in the yellow halo around the street lights , and the half moon gave a gray cast to the coveted homes along the Boulevard . It was the kind of home his mother had dreamed of having , the kind that had always been out of her reach . <p> The air reeked with greed and ambition . The Avenger , as he liked to call himself , walked in front of those houses , carrying his load in a backpack , thinking maybe he should double back just to blow up some of the BMWs parked in the driveways . Would n't it be a thrill to watch from somewhere on the street as businessmen came out of those houses , briefcases in hand , and slipped into their cars ? If they all went up at the same time ... mushroom clouds of fire whooshing over each house in choreographed order ... <p> But that was a fantasy for another day . Today only one car would go up like that . <p> The Avenger strode @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the road . Though they were n't as expensive and extravagant as those on the Boulevard , they were still out of his mother 's reach . Destined to live in a rotting rat hole , she papered her moldy bathroom with pictures from Southern Living . These were n't mansions , but they were big and new . He was sure no mold grew on the attic walls . No cracks ripped the sheetrock in the living rooms . No paint peeled . No sounds of rats scratching through the walls . The people who lived here probably were n't business owners . They were the goons who worked for them , but they were still snotty and superior . <p> Steam fogged in front of the Avenger 's face with every breath as he approached the Covington house . One lamp shone in a room on the side . Out of sight , he 'd followed twenty-year-old Emily home a while ago . Now she probably lay tucked in her bed with some feather comforter that cost a mint , smug about her sobriety . Oblivious . <p> Like @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ garage where her mother 's car sat . Hers was on the driveway . <p> The Avenger set his package down beside her car . <p> Right here , under the wheel well ... that was the best place . He took the jar half-filled with gasoline and the roll of duct tape from his backpack and ripped off enough to tape the bottle under the car , careful not to cover the lamp cord coming from the hole he 'd punched in the jar 's lid . The gloves on his hands made it difficult work , but he did n't give up . When he 'd gotten the bottle in place , he checked to make sure it was n't leaking . The small amount of gasoline seemed stable . The bottle was angled so it would n't leak . <p> Now if he could just find the right place to connect the other end . He pulled the lamp cord out from under the front of the car , then quietly opened the hood . It made a clicking sound . He froze , looking from left to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shone his flashlight to the place where he needed to connect the cord . <p> He held the small flashlight in his teeth as he found the spot in the wiring that would ignite his bomb . <p> The Avenger chuckled to himself as he closed the hood as quietly as possible , pressing down until it engaged . He checked to make sure the cord coming from under the car into the motor was n't noticeable . If someone knew to look for it , it might be . But he doubted Emily would see it walking out to her car . <p> If this worked the way it was supposed to , the bomb would explode when Emily started the car . She would probably escape , but hopefully , she 'd be wounded or burned . And she and her family would be terrorized . He 'd make them homeless by making them fear their home , and that would just be the beginning . <p> He chuckled as he gathered his equipment . Then he dropped his gloves into his bag and walked slowly back up the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reveled in the sense of power his actions had given him . He would never be powerless again . <p> Too bad he had n't had an audience tonight . That would have made it so much sweeter . But manipulating victims like chess pieces was almost as good . <p> It was cold , but the thrill of victory warmed him . He thought about the stash he 'd left in his glove compartment , his reward for carrying out his plan . He 'd wait until he got home , to the privacy of his basement , and when he was high , he 'd go back and carry out the rest of his plan . And what a genius plan it was . <p> Headlights turned onto the street , illuminating him like a stage star . He pulled up his hood and looked down at the sidewalk as the car slowly passed . As soon as darkness enveloped him again , he broke into a trot back to his car . <p> There was still so much to do . He had to go take care of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her bleed . He 'd planned it for weeks , waited for the right mixture of courage and cockiness . He 'd found it tonight . Freedom had been birthed inside him with one act of will . Now he could set everything right . He 'd continue exacting revenge on all those who 'd messed with him . So much fallout . So many consequences . <p> He was the great Avenger . <p> Chapter Two Emily Covington had managed to slip into the house and down the hall to her bedroom without waking her mother , a major feat since her mom slept lightly when Emily was out . Emily had n't meant to stay out so late tonight without calling , but one thing had led to another , and she 'd wound up coming in at 2:00 a.m. , tiptoeing like a high-school kid who 'd broken curfew . <p> Now she had to cram for her test before she could go to bed . Why had she waited until the last minute ? <p> " Emily ? You 're home ? " <p> She turned to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hair tangled and disheveled from bed . " Hey . I did n't want to wake you up . " <p> " Did you just come in ? " <p> " A little while ago . Sorry I did n't call . I went to the choir concert at school , and afterward some of us went to a movie . Then we hung out for a while in Ree 's dorm room . " <p> " Emily , it 's three o'clock , and you have class tomorrow . " <p> " I know . It 'll be fine . " <p> " Do n't you have a test ? " <p> " Yeah , but it 's okay . Just go back to sleep . " <p> Her mother just stood there for a moment . " Okay . Come give me a kiss . " <p> Emily grinned . It was her mother 's way of smelling her breath and her hair , to see if she 'd been drinking or smoking dope . Emily went to her mom , kissed her cheek , and gave her a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said . " All you 'll smell is popcorn and coffee . " <p> Her mother let her go and stared into her eyes , as if checking her pupils for normalcy . " All right , but you 're going to put me in an early grave with these long nights . " <p> " Mom , if I lived on campus , you would n't even know when I came in . " <p> " Well , you do n't live on campus . You live here , and I worry . Go to bed soon , okay ? " <p> " Okay . " Emily went back to her bed where her books lay spread out , wishing she had n't made her mother lose sleep , tonight of all nights . Her mom had a big presentation tomorrow at work , and she wanted her to do well . Her mother had been elated to have this job in Atlanta after they 'd struggled so much in Jefferson City . Emily hoped her actions tonight had n't messed her up . <p> She resolved to do better @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to let her mom know not to worry . But after all she 'd put her family through , worry had become a way of life . Staying out so late only exacerbated old memories -- and old fears . <p> But one day Emily would prove to her family that her life of addiction was behind her . Then maybe her mom could sleep better at night . <p> Chapter Three Milly Prentiss heard the knock on her back door as she waited for her coffeepot to fill . Pulling her robe tighter around her , she stepped to the door and looked through its window onto the rotting back porch . The sun was just coming up , painting the small dirt-patched lawn a lighter shade of gray . She saw no one . <p> She heard the knock again . Looking lower , she saw the top of a tiny blonde head . <p> Milly threw the door open . Her next-door neighbor 's four-year-old stood in front of her , barefoot and wearing a long gown . There was blood on her sleeves , and the little @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her knees . " Allie , honey , what 's wrong ? " <p> " Mommy wo n't wake up . " <p> Milly took the girl 's hands . " What 's this on your hands ? " <p> The child looked down at her hands blankly , as if she had n't noticed it before . <p> " Allie , what happened ? " <p> " Mommy hurt herself in her bed . I shaked her but she would n't come awake . " <p> " Where 's Carrie ? " <p> " In her crib , crying . Mommy wo n't come . " <p> Something thudded in the pit of Milly 's stomach . She picked the child up and ran through the yard , her slippers soaking in the cold morning dew . She carried the girl through the carport and into the house , and heard the eighteen-month-old 's angry wailing . She put Allie down in front of the couch . " Wait here , honey . I 'm going to see about Mommy . " <p> She left Allie in the living room @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ small bedroom at the end of the short hall . She saw Devon in bed , under the covers , her eyes closed as if she still slept . Milly turned on the light and stepped toward the bed . <p> The pillow was soaked in blood . Milly gasped and stumbled back . Her neighbor 's face was a pale gray , her lips white . Milly forced herself to move closer , touch her arm . Devon 's skin was cold . <p> Milly 's mind went blank , and she stood frozen for a moment , unable to move . Carrie 's screams penetrated her paralysis . <p> She had to do something . <p> She grabbed the phone next to the bed , dialed 911 , and choked out the words . " My neighbor is dead in her bed . Please send someone . " <p> Chapter Four The morning was cold and blanketed with fog . Kent Harlan started into his second mile , his breath clouding . He had taken up jogging two years ago when he 'd suddenly begun caring how he looked @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just marked time , letting himself get thick around the middle . Since he 'd started running , he 'd lost twenty pounds . But he was still nowhere near her league . He wanted to look his best this weekend . The day he got down on one knee would be one of the biggest days of his life . <p> He hoped Barbara liked the ring . <p> The fact that she 'd moved to Atlanta to be near him nine months ago had changed everything . He felt full of life and hope , with nothing but brightness on the horizon . He would n't have believed he could feel young again . He 'd tried to take it slow for the sake of Barbara and her kids , allowing them time to get settled here before talking more about marriage . But things seemed to be going pretty well . He could n't wait much longer . <p> His cell phone rang , and he slowed and checked the readout . It was the dispatcher at the police department . He and his partner , Andy , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to take it . He slowed to a walk and clicked on the phone . " Kent Harlan . " <p> " Kent , we 've got a homicide at 342 East Bailey Road . Female victim , shot in bed , apparently during a burglary . " <p> " Okay , " he said , still breathing hard . " Did you call Andy ? " <p> " I 'm calling him next . " <p> " All right . I 'll get right over there . Do me a favor and text me that address -- I do n't have anything to write with . " <p> " Sure thing . " <p> He clicked the phone off and dropped it back into his pocket . He picked up his step again and jogged the rest of the way home . He supposed he should be happy that he 'd gotten a whole night 's sleep . When he and his partner were next in line to get a case , he was usually disturbed during the night . <p> He showered , got dressed , and made himself @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was no hurry . The first responder was supposed to secure the area , and the body would still be there when he arrived . But he did n't like for much time to pass between the 911 call and his seeing the scene . The more time that passed , and the more investigators who arrived , the more the evidence would be disturbed . <p> He got his wallet , his pocket change , his car keys . Then he opened the ring box and smiled at the diamond . It was whiter than white , a beautiful flawless stone he 'd shopped for weeks for . He took the ring out and put it in his pocket . Just the feel of it made him smile . <p> It took him twenty minutes to drive across town to the crime scene , in a high-crime residential area where minimum- wage workers lived paycheck to paycheck . He saw the police cars parked in front of the house , and a few neighbors standing in their yards , as if waiting to learn what had happened . <p> He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . Andy must not have gotten here yet ; he did n't see his car . Kent got out and trudged across the dewy grass to the side door in the carport , where a uniformed officer stood with a log book . <p> " What 've we got ? " Kent asked . <p> " Woman named Devon Lawrence , thirty years old , shot at point-blank range in her bed . Her four-year-old found her this morning . " <p> The murder suddenly went from routine to tragic in Kent 's mind . " A four-year-old ? Did the child witness the killing ? " <p> " Does n't look like it . She says she got up when her baby sister started crying , and went to wake up her mother . She could n't wake her up , so she went and got the next-door neighbor , Milly Prentiss . Ms. Prentiss is the one who called it in . " <p> " Where are the children now ? " <p> " Next door , still with the neighbor . " <p> " And the father ? @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ works nights at a convenience store . He has n't been notified yet , but we ought to tell him soon , before one of the neighbors calls him . " <p> Kent stepped into the house and looked around . Tiny kitchen and living room combo , worn , dirty blue carpet , a couch and one chair squeezed in . " Have you figured out the point of entry ? " <p> " Ms. Prentiss said the back door was unlocked , but she thinks that 's because the child went out that way . She went in this carport door . She said it was unlocked , too . " <p> Kent saw scratches around the strike plate that suggested someone had picked the lock . He stepped inside , looked around . A purse was lying on the floor , spilled out . No wallet . He scanned the other items in the room . Toys , a diaper bag , a dirty high chair , a flat-screen TV . <p> " Why would a burglar leave that TV ? " he wondered aloud . <p> " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ <p> Kent tried to make that add up . Could be somebody who did n't have a way to carry the TV away . Just wanted fast cash . But why here ? What would make him think anyone in this neighborhood had wads of cash lying around ? <p> He looked around for anything else . There was little of value here . The house was in bad shape , with peeling paint and brown leaks on the ceiling . The floor was warped . <p> He glanced up the hall , saw one of the other officers standing at a bedroom doorway . He headed that way . <p> In the bed , a young woman lay on her back as if sleeping peacefully , blood soaked into the pillow under her head . There was an entry wound at the center of her forehead . Her eyes were closed . She 'd probably been asleep when she was shot . She 'd never known what hit her . <p> At least it had been quick , and the perpetrator had n't harmed the kids . <p> He pulled @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would take the real crime scene photos , but Kent liked to photograph crime scenes with his own camera , just to make sure nothing had been moved during the investigations . <p> He heard Andy 's voice questioning the cop at the carport door . Kent glanced at the cop near him , still standing back , looking a little shaken . " What do we know about the husband ? " <p> " The neighbor says he has drug problems . Has been in rehab . They have a history of domestic violence , but the police have never been called about it . He 's on probation for a drug charge . " <p> So the husband had the history and the mental capacity to do this . <p> Andy came to the doorway and looked inside . " Morning , guys . " <p> Kent nodded at him , then turned back to the cop . " Did the neighbor hear the gunshot ? " <p> " No . She says she did n't hear anything until the kid knocked on her door . " <p> ( @ @ @ @ 
##4120155 I did not cause her any harm . This was a great victory for me . At the end of it , I was a changed man . I am indebted to her ; it was she who changed me , although I never learned her name . <p> My involvement with the young woman in question began several years ago , in the late summer of 1974 , while I was on leave from the university . I sought to secure for myself a small office in the downtown business district of San Francisco , where I intended to prepare a series of lectures about The Eumenides -- The Kindly Ones -- the third play in Aeschylus 's great trilogy . A limited budget brought me to the edge of a rough , depressed neighborhood . And my first sighting of the prospective office building -- eight begrimed gargoyles crouched beneath the parapet , their eyes eaten away by time -- nearly caused me to retrace my steps . <p> Yet there was no question of my turning back . Immediately upon my arrival in San Francisco @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ upon me . I had arranged my leave in great haste ; I knew no one in the area . And it must have been this isolation that had engendered in me a particularly obdurate spell of the nervous condition to which I had been subject since boyhood . Although I was then a grown man of fifty years , the illness , as ever , cast me back into the dark emotions of my preadolescence , as if I remained unchanged the desperate boy of twelve I had been . Indeed , the very purpose of the office was to act as a counterweight to this most recent spell , to get me dressed and out of the house , to force me to walk on public streets among people , to immerse myself , however anonymously , in the general hum of society ; and in this way , perhaps , sustain the gestures of normal life . <p> It was therefore imperative that I do battle with my trepidations . I suppressed my fears of the neighborhood and my distress at the building 's dreary mien . We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reminded myself . The whole city ( indeed the entire country ) had a blasted , exhausted air . Why should the building before me not be similarly afflicted ? I therefore turned my gaze from the eyeless gargoyles , told myself there was no reason to be unnerved by the shuttered bar on the ground floor ( whose sign creaked in San Francisco 's seemingly perpetual wind ) . Somewhat emboldened by these mental devices , I took the final steps to the entryway . <p> I opened the door to a flash of white : a lobby clad entirely in brilliant marble . So clean and smooth was this marble that one had the sudden impression of having entered a foreign landscape , a snowy whiteout , where depth perception was faulty . Through the glare I seemed to see three cherubs floating above the elevators , their eyes of black onyx , which , as I watched in fright , appeared to be moving . It took some moments to understand what hung before me : elevator floor indicators , in the form of bronze cherubs , their @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rose and fell . <p> To the right of the elevators was a stairway , above it a sign directing visitors to the manager 's office on the mezzanine . I climbed this short flight -- its marble steps concave from years of wear -- then I followed the manager into the elevator and rode with him up to the eighth floor ( the cherubim ogling us , I imagined ) . He led me along hallways lined with great slabs of marble wainscoting , each four feet wide and as tall as an average man of the nineteenth century . Finally we stood before a door of tenderly varnished fruitwood , its fittings -- knob , back plate , hinges , lock , mail slot -- all oxidized to a burnt golden patina . <p> The room he showed me was very small . The desk , settee , and bookcase it contained were battered . The transom above the door had been painted shut . But I had already decided , on the strength of the building 's interior materials -- clearly chosen to withstand the insult of time @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the manager 's agreement to restore the transom to working order , I signed a one-year lease , to commence in three days , the first of August . And then throughout the first weeks of my tenancy , while I struggled to regain my footing and begin my project , I was calmed by the currents of dark , cool air that flowed through the transom ( the sort of mysterious air that seems to remain undisturbed for decades in the deep interiors of old buildings ) , and by the sight of the aged Hotel Palace across the way , where I could , in certain lights , see the doings of guests not prudent enough to close their shades . <p> Each weekday , I rode downtown on the streetcar , anticipating the pleasures of sitting at my desk , the rumble of the traffic eight stories below me . Before reaching the city center , however , one had to pass a grim procession of empty storefronts , vacant lots , and derelict buildings -- a particularly blighted district . Nevertheless , despite the proliferation of such @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ each morning to perform at least the motions of civic life , producing an air ( however false ) of gainful industry . This impression of restorative public energy helped me to put myself aside , so to speak , and by month 's end I had made progress on my lectures , producing my first coherent set of notes . <p> Then , shortly after Labor Day , as I sat down to draft the first talk in the series , I found that the acoustical qualities of the office , previously so regenerative , had abruptly changed . Cutting through the pleasant social drone from the streets below , superseding it in both pitch and constancy , was an odd whirring sound , like wind rushing through a keyhole . And just audible above the whir , coming in uneven and therefore intrusive intervals , was a speaking voice , but only its sibilants and dentalizations -- only the tongue and teeth , as it were . I am certain it was only the general darkness of my mood , but I felt there was something mocking and threatening @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it the way a cat is lured -- psst , psst -- for drowning . <p> I jumped up from my desk determined to know the source of these intrusions . Immediately I suspected the doors to the adjoining offices . My room , small as it was , had two interior doors to what were once communicating offices , both doors now kept locked . Aside from noticing the fine wood of which they were made , I had paid these vestigial entryways no attention , as I had never heard anything issuing from them . Indeed , I had had no awareness of the other offices at all , my goal in securing my own room having been , as I have said , to find a place outside of my own life , so to speak , to immerse myself in a general , anonymous social sea . <p> Now forced to consider the reality of the tenants around me , I went out into the hall . The stenciled letters on the office door to my left identified its occupants as " Consulting Engineers . " I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the frosted glass in the door 's upper portion ( unlike my office , many doors retained their original etched-glass panels , with finely wrought patterns ) , I could make out two heads moving , as if over a desk or drafting table . The only odd thing I noticed about this office was that its number was out of sequence , being 803 , whereas mine was 807 , and my other neighbor 's 804 . I then recalled the building manager saying , when I signed the lease , that tenants , as they changed offices over the years , were permitted to take their numbers with them as long as they remained on the same floor , their suite numbers obviously constituting some kind of property or identity . And indeed , as I looked around the hallway , I saw that the office numbers were a complete jumble , 832 next to 812 next to 887 , and so on , indicating that the lessees had proved themselves loyal to the building and to the eighth floor but were otherwise restless and inconstant . I wondered @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the event that I should move away from my neighbor , and I decided that I would , for there was something orderly in the descent from eight to seven passing around zero , and , in the number 7 , perhaps an aura of luck . <p> Rousing myself from these distractions and resuming the surveillance of my neighbors , I came to the office on my right , number 804 . As I drew closer , the whir became unmistakable , as did the voice . There was no glass panel in this door ; its gold letters simply read , " Dora Schussler , Ph.D . " <p> I stood immobile in the hall for some seconds . My first association with the designation " Ph.D . " was that this Dr. Schussler should be an academic like myself , and that she and I should coexist quite well , her time being spent in the quiet pursuits of reading and writing . Why , then , was there this whirring , and this persistent hissing ? And why had n't I heard it from the first @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ still prospective office , thereby preventing me from being bound to such an incompatible neighbor ? <p> These questions ( posed to myself with an aggrieved , affronted , indignant air ) distracted me from seeing the truth of my situation , which became clear only as I stared at the swirls of the ancient , wear-darkened broadloom that lined the hall . I recalled the first time I had ever heard a sound like the one issuing from Dr. Schussler 's office , which had been many years ago , in the office of one of the many therapists I had had reason to visit during the course of my life . In the waiting area , there had been a small beige plastic machine , placed on the floor , which had given off just such a whir , its role being to blur the clarity of the spoken word that might be audible from the therapeutic offices , thereby preventing anyone , as he waited , from understanding what was being said within ( though I myself , still a young man , often tried to overhear , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ force , the whole period of time surrounding my meetings with the psychotherapist came back to me , and I could see quite clearly the little yellow lamp she kept on a low table beside her , and the vine that covered the single north-facing window , its leaves perpetually trembling . <p> I did not wish to recall this portion of my life , especially not at the office where I had sought to escape the great black drapery of my nervous condition . Indeed , finding myself tied to such an enterprise seemed to me an evil joke , as I had wagered both my emotional health and my professional reputation against the efficacy of the therapeutic relationship . Over the course of thirty-five years -- meeting weekly , twice a week , sometimes daily -- I had looked across small rooms into the bewildered , pitiable faces of counselors , therapists , social workers , analysts , and psychiatrists , each inordinately concerned about his or her own professional nomenclature , credentials , theories , accreditations ; all of them , in the end , indistinguishable to me @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that had haunted my family for generations , I had come to the conclusion that their well-meaning talking cures , except as applied to the most ordinary of unhappinesses , were useless . <p> What now could I do to separate myself from this Dora Schussler ? How could I escape her analysands with all their fruitless self-examinations , beside whom I was now obligated to spend the remaining eleven months of my lease ? I had no legal recourse , I realized . I could not go to the manager and say I had been duped , my neighbor had been hushed , paid off to silence the babblings of her profession on the day I had first surveyed the premises . The situation of my room had not been maliciously misrepresented . I had engaged the office in August , iconic month of the therapeutic hiatus . It was now September . Dr. Dora Schussler , Ph.D . and psychotherapist , was back at work . <p> 
##4120156 " This ai n't exactly the roarin ' hot time we had planned for this evening , huh , babe ? " Dirk Coulter said to the woman at his side . <p> Savannah Reid could n't take her eyes off the red wall of flames that had jumped the fire line half an hour ago and was rapidly consuming the town 's community center . The building where she and the guy next to her were to have exchanged wedding vows an hour ago . <p> " Not even close , " she said , slipping her arm around Dirk 's waist and leaning against him . " I had much more ambitious plans for you this evening , big boy . " <p> He put his arm across her shoulders and pulled her closer . His voice cracked a bit when he kissed the top of her head and said , " I 'm sorry I could n't get your wedding gown out , Van . " <p> She blinked back some tears that had nothing to do with the smoke in the air or the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ assembled to watch the battle . It was all-out war between the San Carmelita Fire Department versus Mother Nature , and Big Momma was winning . <p> " Hey , you tried , " she replied . " If you 'd tried any harder , I 'd be bailing out my groom-to-be on our so-called wedding night , and that 'd just be the cherry on the crap sundae . " <p> " I only hit him once . " <p> " Yeah , and that was one time too many , you knucklehead . " <p> Dirk flexed his hand . " A love tap ... that 's all it was . " <p> " And if you and Jim were n't poker buddies , he 'd have pressed charges then and there . " <p> " Eh , he knows I 'm a man under duress . If there 's anything harder on a guy 's nerves than gettin ' hitched , it 's having the place he 's supposed to do it in get torched on his wedding day . " <p> " Well , you be sure @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she said , " ' cause here he comes now . And he ai n't lookin ' none too friendly . " <p> An enormous fireman was elbowing his way through the mob , composed of countless other firefighters , copious members of the media , town cops galore , and an overabundance of run-of-the-mill gawkers . <p> When Jim Barbera reached them , he stuck his finger in Dirk 's face and said , " I do n't care if you do have a gold detective 's badge , Coulter . Do n't you ever lay a hand on me again like that or I swear , I 'll -- " <p> Slipping deftly between the two men , Savannah flashed the firefighter her best Southern belle , eyelash-batting , deep-dimpled smile . " Please do n't hold it against him , Jim , " she said in a soft , down-homesy drawl . " Dirk was willing to risk life and limb to go into that burning building to rescue my wedding gown . And I know you 'd have done the same for that pretty little wife of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 's expecting , is n't she ? And this is , what , your third youngun ? " <p> " Uh-huh . " Jim was trying hard not to succumb to Dixie charm . " You should n't have let your man go into a burning building , Savannah , " he grumbled . " Not for anything . That 's the number-one rule . " <p> Savannah could feel her dander rising . The dimples got a tad less deep , the smile a bit less wide . The drawl had a bite to it when she said , " In the first place , he ai n't my man just yet , thanks to this blasted fire . And even if he was -- knowing him like I do -- I do n't reckon I 'll be doing a lot of letting ' him do this or that . He 's got a mind of his own and that 's the way I like it ... most of the time . " <p> Fortunately , Jim got a call on his cell phone . He answered it with a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ having , the smoke he had inhaled , and the fact that the fire behind him had totally engulfed the structure he and his company had been fighting to save . <p> " Yeah , " he said into the phone . " Oh ? Okay . " He glanced around at the bystanders , then at Dirk . " Coulter 's standing right here . I 'll tell him . " <p> He stuck the phone back into his pocket . " That was the chief , " he said . " They 're at the point of origin . It 's the same guy again ... a pentagram drawn in the dirt and a black candle in the center of it . " <p> Immediately , Savannah turned toward the mob of spectators , and her eyes began to scan each face in the crowd , one by one . Nobody had to tell her what Jim and Dirk were thinking as they did the same . Odds were high that their arsonist with the creepy rituals was among them , watching with everyone else , enjoying the drama @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was the point of unleashing hell on a community if you could n't be there , firsthand , to watch the calamity ? <p> This was his fourth fire in less than a month . They had to catch him before he burned the whole county down . <p> After a long , dry summer , Southern California had enough problems with wildfires without a pyromaniac getting his jollies by setting more . <p> " The wind shifted two hours ago , " Jim said . " And they announced it on the local news . " <p> " He had to know it was coming this way , " Savannah added . " Plenty of time for him to get here . " <p> Dirk switched from his Grumpy , Thwarted-Bridegroom Mode to his usual -- Harried , Cynical Police Detective Mode . <p> His modes did n't vary much . <p> " Let 's socialize , " he said to Savannah , " mingle a bit . " <p> " Yeah , you do that , " Jim told them . " I 'm gon na get back to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , that you wo n't be trying to rescue any more bridal apparel . " <p> But Jim did n't need to finagle any promises out of Dirk . Ruined wedding plans pushed aside for the moment , Detective Sergeant Coulter and his still bride-to-be were on a mission . They had an arsonist to apprehend and a strong , personal investment in his capture . <p> " If I get my hands on him , " Savannah said , as they headed for the crowd of onlookers , " I 'm gon na mash him like a spider on a sidewalk , until he 's nothing but a big , greasy spot . " <p> " No , you 've got ta save me some . " <p> Dirk took her hand and led her over the uneven , rocky ground with a paternal tenderness that was sweet and touching . <p> Three months ago -- when both of their lives had been changed forever -- all that loving concern had meant the world to her . His constant attention and unfailing devotion had been exactly what she had needed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been done to her body and spirit . She never would have made it without him . <p> Two months ago , his endless support and help had been comforting , even convenient , as he had scurried about , running errands for her , waiting on her hand and foot . <p> But now , she was getting tired of being treated like a victim . She was a survivor . And all this solicitous hovering was getting to be a bit much . <p> Gently , she withdrew her hand from his . " Let 's split up , " she said . " We 'll cover more ground that way . You work this end of the crowd , and I 'll take the other end . Meet you in the middle . " <p> Instantly , disapproval registered on his face in the form of his standard-issue showdown-at-high-noon cowboy scowl . " You 're gon na go by yourself ? " he said . <p> " Yes . I am . Just like I go to the little girls ' room all by myself . " She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . After all , he was n't deliberately being a pain in the rear end ; he meant well . <p> So , she would n't smack him upside the head ... this time . <p> But he was n't going to let it go . " I do n't know how happy I am about you going off by yourself so soon after -- " <p> " Then , darlin ' , you can just get happy in the same bloomers that you got unhappy in , " she said as she started to walk away from him . <p> " Be careful ! " <p> She smiled back at him over her shoulder , and lightly scratched the tip of her nose with her middle finger . <p> Chuckling , he shook his head . " Well , at least do n't tackle anybody . You know what the doctor said . " <p> As she left him behind and worked her way to the opposite end of the crowd , she tried not to think about what the doctor had said . <p> " Ms. Reid , you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shots could have easily been lethal , had they been an inch or two to the right or the left . " <p> No , some memories should remain on the shelf marked , " Best Left Alone . " <p> " The worst is over , Savannah girl , " she whispered to herself , as she had so many times during the past three months . " The worst is over and done with . Move on . " <p> She passed a group of teenaged girls wearing far less than their mommas should have let them out of the house in . She checked them off her mental list . <p> Most arsonists were male . And the majority of them had practical reasons for setting their fires . Revenge , insurance fraud , or to destroy the evidence of other evil-doing ... those were the most usual reasons for blaze-setting . <p> But Savannah remembered , all too well , the class she had taken while still on the police force , the points the arson specialist had made when profiling what he had called the " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who derived their own strange brand of sexual gratification from setting fires , watching them burn , and reveling in the secret joy of knowing they had created the ensuing havoc . <p> She ran down the mental checklist : 90 percent male , usually white , ages seventeen to twenty-six , with possibly some form of mental illness , substance abuse , previous felony convictions . <p> And she decided to add one more qualifier : mud-wallowin ' , slop-suckin ' pigs , who ruin other people 's wedding days . <p> Of those assembled to watch the mayhem , only a few fit the description , and even fewer when she ruled out those young white men who were excitedly chattering with others about the drama before them . <p> Instinctively , she knew she was looking for a loner . <p> And at the edge of the crowd , she found one . <p> On the opposite side of the community center 's parking lot , on a small hill dotted with sagebrush , stood a solitary figure -- a young , Caucasian man , dressed in baggy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ emerged from his mother 's basement for a rare outing . He was farther from the fire than the rest of the spectators , but from his elevated position , he had one of the best views in town . <p> Gradually , Savannah worked her way through the crowd to get closer to him and have a better look . <p> Leaving the rest of the spectators , she casually strolled across the asphalt parking lot toward his hill , trying her best to watch him without being too obvious . Instead of making a beeline for him , she turned left and meandered in the direction of a path that appeared to lead from the lot up to where he stood . <p> Concerned that he would spot her , she moved slowly , trying to stay behind any tall brush that would provide cover . Fortunately , he seemed so fixated on the scene below that he was oblivious to all else . <p> Drawing closer , she could see that he was young , probably early twenties . He was dressed all in black , and once @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she caught the glint of a large , silver medallion around his neck . <p> Her pulse rate quickened . She was pretty sure she 'd seen a star on the pendant . Maybe a pentacle ? <p> Ducking behind a tree , she reached into her jacket pocket , pulled out her cell phone , and gave Dirk a call . <p> " Yeah ? " he said . <p> " Other side of the parking lot , on the hill , " she whispered . " The guy in black , watching the fire . I think it 's him . " <p> " Where ? Oh , yeah . I see him . " <p> " Where are you ? " she asked . <p> " On the far side of the crowd . Where are -- ? What the hell ! " <p> She grinned . He 'd spotted her . And even from sixty yards away , she could read his indignation in his body language . She gave him a little wave . <p> Instantly , he started to elbow his way through the spectators @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ even think about taking him yourself , " he told her . " You wait for me . " <p> Savannah 's grin disappeared . " I know the drill , " she said . <p> And she did . Having been a cop -- his partner , in fact -- she knew all too well about waiting for backup . But it was one thing to wait for assistance as part of the routine . It was another to have someone -- especially a former partner -- tell you to do so because he was afraid you could n't handle a situation by yourself . <p> " Be very careful , Ms. Reid , " she could hear the doctor saying . " I know your work involves physical altercations from time to time . You ca n't afford to -- " <p> " Oh , shut up , " she whispered to the voice in her head . <p> " No , " Dirk barked back . " I wo n't shut up ! You wait for me ! " <p> Rather than admit she 'd been talking to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , okay ? " and clicked the phone off . <p> He 'll be here lickety split anyway , she thought to herself as she watched Dirk push through the crowd like a football player within a few yards of a Hail Mary touchdown . Even if he has to mow down women , children , and a couple of grandpas to get here . <p> Poking her head out from behind the tree , she sneaked another peek at her suspect . <p> And saw him staring right at her . <p> Nailed , she thought . Shoot f 're . Now what ? <p> She stuck her best ain't-it-just-a-fine-day look on her face and came out from behind the tree . " Boy , this here 's a steep hill , " she said , strolling up the path toward him , pretending to be out of breath . " But it looks like you got the best view from up here . Mind if I join ya ? " <p> The look on his face told her , yes , he minded . Very much . <p> He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her of when she 'd walked into the bathroom and caught her younger brother , Macon , with a girlie magazine . <p> She took one quick glance down at the front of his pants . <p> Yep ... highly excited . <p> He also looked highly annoyed . <p> " Get outta here , " he said . " I do n't want company . " <p> " Well , now ... that ai n't very neighborly of you , " she said , continuing to close the distance between them . " I just want a good look at the fire . That 's all . " <p> " Look at it somewhere else , " he shouted , getting more agitated by the moment . " Leave me alone . " <p> Then , under his breath , she heard him mutter , " You 're ruining it . " <p> As she drew within ten feet of him , she could see his medallion clearly . And , yes , it was a pentacle , a large , inverted one , hanging on a thick chain , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to glance back over her shoulder and see where Dirk was now . But she did n't want to give away the fact that she had reinforcements on the way . <p> Besides , Dirk had to have seen her continue on up the path . And knowing him as she did , she was certain he was now racing toward them , grubby sneakers barely touching the ground as he ran . <p> He was a darlin ' ... if a pain . <p> She stopped about six feet away from the guy and studied him carefully . Approximately five feet , six inches tall , weighing at most a hundred and thirty ... he was n't a very large man . She 'd wrestled much bigger . And won . <p> Even from that distance she could smell alcohol on him . His eyes looked glassy . His speech was slightly slurred when he said , " I 'm not kidding , lady . You go someplace else to watch it . I was here first . " <p> Taking one step closer , she fixed him with eyes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ astute , someone less fixated on his sexual obsession . <p> " Exactly what am I ruining for you ? " she asked him in a deadly , even tone . <p> " What ? " <p> " I heard you say I was ruining it for you . What 's that ? The fire ? Watching it ? " She nodded her head in the direction of the blaze that had now completely engulfed the building below and was casting a lurid glow across the twilit landscape . <p> He said nothing , but his breathing became heavier , faster as he stared at her , rage in his eyes . <p> She felt a fury of her own welling up as she thought of the plans she 'd had for this day ... this night . <p> " You go setting fires to get your rocks off , " she told him . " You do n't give a tinker 's damn what it costs others . " <p> He gasped , his eyes wide . " How ... how do you know ? Who are you ? " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ twitch you are , " she replied . " You set these awful fires that destroy property , kill wildlife -- and even people sometimes -- and all because you 've got crazy urges inside you that you ca n't , or wo n't , control . " <p> He moved toward her . She braced herself ... and wished she 'd strapped on her weapon before leaving the house earlier . <p> " What 's it to you ? " he shouted in her face . " Mind your own damned business . " <p> He tried to move past her . <p> She blocked him . <p> " Oh , it 's my business , " she replied , her voice soft and deceptively calm . " It 's very much my business . " <p> " Get out of my way ! " He reached out and shoved her , hard . <p> A moment later , he was lying on the ground at her feet , curled into a ball , holding his head and moaning ... a small trickle of blood running down his forehead . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . She turned and saw him , panting , face red and sweating , his Smith and Wesson in his hand . <p> ( Continues ... ) <p> 
##4120157 SEELEY <p> NASHVILLE , TENNESSEE <p> february 22 , 1862 <p> " Keep those men out of there ! They will not pass ! " <p> Seeley 's words were harsh , loud , the men around him doing all they could to obey . The shotguns hung by each man 's side , and the lieutenant felt a shaking nervousness , was not ready to give the order that would point the long guns at these civilians . Like him , most of these troopers had never fired their weapons at anything but crude targets . Now the targets were men , surging toward him through the darkness , pushing their way toward the gaping doorways of the supply depot , a massive warehouse close to the river . Seeley had positioned his six horsemen in an even line , to block the way of the crowd , but the crowd was a mob , desperate and mindless , their goal the precious food and bundles of supplies that lay in the warehouse . A few cavalry meant nothing at all , and quickly the mob pushed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . He felt his own frustration rising , could feel the tinder &shy; box explosiveness of the mob , and he shouted out again , could not help the higher pitch , his voice betraying the fear . <p> " You will stand away ! These are government stores ! " <p> Close between him and the next man , a civilian shoved hard , jostling his horse , punching it . <p> " Get out of my way ! Damn you ! " <p> Seeley steadied the horse , his outrage more of instinct , protective of the animal . He drew his saber , but the man ignored him , punched the horse again , and the saber rose high , came down hard against the man 's shoulder , flat- &shy; sided , the man collapsing right below him . The civilian rolled over , crying out , shielding himself with one hand above his face . There was no blood , not yet , the lieutenant trying to get control , the horse calmer , the man crawling out through the horse 's legs . The lieutenant @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the saber again , mostly for show , but most of the mob ignored him , ignored all the horsemen , still pushed into the warehouse , spreading out in the dark . Behind him a lantern was lit , the glow filling the vast building with soft light reflecting off the mounds of boxes and barrels , bundles of cloth . <p> More cavalrymen galloped close , and he looked that way , hoped to see wagons , the army 's own efforts to gather up the supplies , to move them out of this vulnerable place . But there were only men , a sergeant leading six more , and so Seeley was the only officer , was still in command , the sole authority . The horse jostled beneath him again , men still slipping by him in a rush , and he felt the saber in his hand , could not just assault these people , could not add to what was fast becoming a riot . But still ... there were the orders , the strict need to guard what was piled up behind him . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the other horsemen , " Formation here ! Beside us ! No one is to pass ! We must protect the depot ! " <p> The other cavalrymen had already seen the futility of that , were as uncertain as he was . He wanted to shout again , but the mob was growing , more people coming down the side streets , noisy and energetic , women alongside men , shoving their way past , seeking anything they could carry . Some came past him the other way , from inside , weighed down by loot , by the very goods he was supposed to protect . He fought for it in his own mind , how to control these people , how to obey the orders he had been given , the responsibility for this one depot . <p> " Stop them ! They must not pass ! " <p> Seeley 's anger was ripening into full fury , the frustration complete , his orders useless , the crowd still swarming around the line of horsemen . Some of the mob was already disappearing into the streets , satisfied @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ boxes and barrels of anything . Out past the depot he could hear splashes in the darkness , away from the lantern light , something heavy tossed into the river . He turned his horse , rode out from the others , tried to see the river 's edge , heard more splashes . Some of the civilians had made their way out the back side of the warehouse , were tossing their loot into the water . He could hear someone leading them , instructions barked out from a man he could n't see . He knew it was one of them , a civilian , orders that carried far more weight than this lone lieutenant in a small column of cavalry . He spurred the horse , moved out around the corner of the building , was in darkness now , frightening , could see only a single speck of lantern light at the wharf . A few of the cavalrymen followed him , the sergeant , curious , their formation breaking down . From the streets out beyond the warehouse , a new crowd came at them , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ passion , hot enthusiasm for the treasure , no matter what it might be . The lieutenant turned the horse again to the lamplight , saw his men looking toward him , fear in their eyes , and he caught sight of their weapons , holstered at their saddles . <p> " Close up this line ! Draw your shotguns ! Prepare to fire ! " <p> Seeley saw their hesitation , shouted it again , the men obeying , the long guns sliding out from the holsters , tense , nervous glances toward the civilians . Behind him two men rolled a heavy barrel out of the warehouse , and he pointed the saber at them . <p> " Leave that be ! We have orders to fire ! You will leave this place ! By order of Lieutenant Colonel Forrest , these supplies are the property of the army ! Return to your homes ! " <p> One man stopped , close to the horses , shouted back at him , " You have no authority ! We have seen your army ! They ran through this city like @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ! " <p> Another man moved out of the lamplight , held a bundle on his shoulder , pointed a finger at the lieutenant . <p> " We know you 're going to burn our city ! We heard all of that ! Just to keep it from the Yankees ! We 'll not be driven out of our homes by a bunch of cowards ! I have a family ! We need to eat ! You get on out of here ! " <p> Others in the crowd slowed , some seeming to notice him for the first time , and he welcomed that , a glimpse of acknowledgment , a small glimmer of calm through the flood of panic . Others were turning toward him , and he wondered if the threat from the weapons had drawn their attention . He took a breath , shouted out , " No one will burn your city ! The enemy is not close ! But these supplies ... " <p> " Bah ! Your own men ran through here like they was chased by the devil himself ! Them Yankees are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to stop them ! Well , we 're not gon na be cut down like cornstalks ! " <p> A woman screamed toward him now , rage in her words , " We 've got families ... children ! The Yankees are coming and you ca n't stop them ! " <p> The moment of reason slipped away , and he could not respond , had no answers for the wild rumors , for their panic . The talk was past , and they resumed their movement , some back into the warehouse , more bundles and boxes hoisted up on shoulders , two men rolling another barrel out through the faint light , shoving it straight into the legs of his horse . Seeley held tight to the reins , gripped the saber hard , prepared again to strike , but something held him back , the civilians seeming to pull away , watching him , testing him . He shouted again , the high pitch of his voice rising above the anger from the mob . <p> " By order of Lieutenant Colonel Nathan Bedford Forrest ... " He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ face showing the final fear , the failure of his mission , no words strong enough to keep these panicked people from grabbing everything they could carry from the supply depot . " Raise your weapons ! We have our orders ! " <p> He watched as the shotguns rose , clamped against their shoulders , the beautifully brutal weapon they carried , the perfect tool for the close- &shy; range fighting of cavalry . The targets were many and close , and he closed his eyes , a cold shiver all through him . God , I can not do this . Please ... do not force me to do this . <p> The mob still paid no attention to the horsemen , and he glanced to one side , the soldier closest to him , the face of a boy , saw him cocking back the two hammers of the double barrels , felt his own stab of panic . <p> " Not yet ! Wait for my orders ! " <p> The mob had slowed around them , some of them staring up at the twin barrels of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ happen now . One man stepped close to him , well dressed , his hat down in his hands . <p> " You would kill us like dogs ? Is that what this army is ? What will God say to that ? " <p> The civilian spoke in a low , deep voice , and the lieutenant fought to respond , struggled through the tight shaking in his throat . <p> " I have my orders ... to stop anyone from looting the government stores . I will stop you ... any way I can . The army must have these supplies . " He paused , more faces watching him . " Colonel Forrest is in command here . He has orders to protect the city as long as practicable . The enemy is moving this way , yes . But there is time . There is no need for panic ! " <p> It was an explanation no one seemed to hear , the words more for his own horsemen than for the ugly fear of the civilians . There were more splashes at the river 's edge @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the foolishness of that , heard the young soldier next to him , one of the new volunteers , untested , a boy with a man 's weapon . <p> " Sir ... they 're throwing everything away ! " <p> Seeley looked out that way , but in the darkness there was nothing to see . At least here , in the lamplight , there was safety , some control over his own men . The crowd was thick in front of him , men still forcing their way into the warehouse , the darkness still filled with noise , meaningless shouts , more splashes . Another of the troopers spoke , the sergeant . <p> " What in blazes are they doin ' ? " <p> The lieutenant thought of what he had already seen , great mounds of smoked and salted meat , bundles stacked along the various wharves along the river . <p> " What they ca n't carry , they 're floating off down the river . Food mostly . There 's plenty of beef and bacon here . " <p> " Ai n't we supposed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ him , a hard stab at his authority , the very job he was sent here to accomplish . The word rose in his brain , the only response he could think of . How ? <p> The young private lowered his shotgun from his shoulder , spoke again . <p> " But ... where 's the stuff gon na float to ? The river flows ... that way . " <p> Seeley stared out through the darkness , suddenly realized the man was right . The panic and chaos of these people had given way to utter stupidity . Yes , this damn river flows north . Straight toward the Yankees . <p> James Seeley had grown up in Memphis , the son of a banker , and like so many , had come to the cavalry responding to the call from Nathan Bedford Forrest , another businessman known well in the city . Forrest 's cavalry force grew quickly , their number increasing by companies of horsemen who rode northward from their farms and villages in Alabama and Mississippi . Others came southward , from the hotly controversial counties @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people , the state still struggling under the divisive weight of politics . <p> As was happening throughout the newly organized Confederate armies , the horse soldiers brought little else to their new camps but their skill in the saddle , a skill that at least had set them apart from the eager young men who had settled into life in the infantry , or were quickly learning the art of firing a cannon . But even the men with their own horses had few weapons , and it had been Forrest himself who had secured arms for his own men , sabers and pistols , and then the double- &shy; barrel shotguns , weapons many of these men had never seen . The drill and the training had been rapid but the men had responded well , though few in the Confederate high command knew anything of Forrest . Like another cavalryman , John Hunt Morgan , Forrest began to be noticed by those who had reached the highest levels of the Confederate command , the men who were now generals , who labored under the weight of securing men @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that the Confederacy had to have if there was to be any hope of holding away the well- &shy; organized and well- &shy; equipped men in blue . <p> Before wearing the uniform Seeley knew nothing of fighting , and very little of weapons . But the men first chosen by Forrest to lead the training had seen something of a leader in this man of barely twenty- &shy; two , and with so many of the new troops eager but utterly unprepared for life in the army , Forrest and his company commanders recognized the urgent need for leadership . Within short weeks , Seeley had risen to the rank of lieutenant , an event followed by a stream of enthusiastic letters home to his young wife and parents , who urgently waited for any kind of news from their fledgling soldier . It was no different any &shy; place the war had already spread , families both North and South full of passionate certainty that their magnificent army would bless them with a quick and total victory . On both sides , the citizenry had shown pride and enthusiasm @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ many believing that whatever this war would become , there would be celebration and glory for all the young men who made the long march . <p> Seeley 's father had been among those , a man who knew nothing of the army . But the older man had still offered a lecture of caution that his son not shame the family , that the best measure of a man was his backbone for a stout brawl . Seeley 's young wife , Katie , was less certain of that , and when the day came when Seeley marched off to join the grand parades , she had released his hand reluctantly , a short tearful kiss that tempered his lust for the Great Fight . There had been words , a final farewell from her that had settled into his heart with a nagging sadness . He would not accept that , not completely , that his wife did not want him to go at all , that this duty did not mean as much to her as it did to most everyone else . And so his letters home @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he tried to communicate to them all , his promotion in particular , he could not hide from a frustrating uneasiness that she did not truly understand how important this was . Her message spread subtly through her letters , soft sadness , and he knew that all those things that mattered to the rest of family did not truly matter to her . No matter how heroic he might become , what kinds of trophies of war he might bring them all , his absence had already taken something from her , left a wound he did n't really understand . They had , after all , been married for only four months . <p> In December 1861 , Lieutenant Seeley had seen his first glimpse of the enemy whose very existence seemed to inspire so much hatred in the men around him , a hatred he tried to embrace , because it was the right thing to do . The fight had been at Sacramento , Kentucky , a brief affair that did little to turn the tide of the war . But there was more to the results @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ With three hundred horsemen , Forrest had surprised and attacked a force of nearly five hundred Federal cavalry . By using a double-flanking tactic , combined with an all- &shy; out frontal assault , the Confederates had won the day , the shaken Federals able to stand their ground for only a short while . Seeley 's only direct confrontation with a bluecoat was a brief glimpse of the man 's back , a horseman springing from a cluster of brush who did not fight , but instead spurred his horse away in a rapid retreat . Seeley had not been close enough to the man to fire his weapon , but in the primary assault Forrest and many of the others had traded a good deal of fire with the enemy , much of it manic and badly aimed . The aftermath was glorious . It was after all , a victory . <p> Seeley had been annoyed , knew that by dumb chance he had missed his first opportunity to cut down the hated Yankees . But that frustration had been tempered quickly by the sight of the first @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ brought down a Federal captain named Bacon . Seeley had not lingered close to the desperately wounded man , had watched some of the others , Forrest included , who had done all they could to make the man 's final hours comfortable . He had been surprised at that , had expected the wounded Yankee to spit out viciousness toward his enemies , and them to do the same . When Bacon died , Seeley had thought of leading a cheer , but there was none of that from Forrest . <p> Whether or not the engagement at Sacramento produced much practical advantage for either side , higher up the chain of command , Forrest and his horsemen caught the attention of officers on both sides , and for the first time west of the Appalachian Mountains , Federal commanders began to take Confederate cavalry and their audacious commander seriously . <p> Continues ... 
##4120159 Katie Malone quit her job and packed up her little Vermont house . The past few years had been tough and the past few months , having been separated from her brother , Conner , her only family , had been awful . In fact , she 'd been feeling so alone , she stopped herself just moments before signing on to an online dating service . But her watershed moment came when she began to have high hopes for a romantic relationship with her boss , the sweetest pediatric dentist who ever lived and a man who had never even kissed her . And guess what ? There was a logical reason he had n't -- he was gay . She was the last person he wanted to kiss . It was high time she forgot about men and worked on bolstering her independent spirit with a return to California . One of her twins , five-year-old Andy , said something that nearly drove an arrow through her heart and caused her to realize the whole family needed a fresh start . She was packing up a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ " Do we have to move in the dark again ? " She was stunned . Speechless . Here she had been thinking about kisses and loneliness while her boys were worried about fleeing in the dark of night to some strange , unknown place . A place even farther from family than they were now . She clutched her little boy close and said , " No , sweetheart ! I 'm taking you and Mitch to Uncle Conner . " Andy and Mitch were a matched set , five-year-old identical twins . Mitch overheard this and came running . " Uncle Conner ? " he asked . " Yes , " she said , suddenly clear on what she had in front of her . She had to get her family together , make sure her boys felt safe and secure . " Right after a little side trip . How does Disney World sound ? " They started jumping for joy , screaming " Yay ! " and " Cool ! " And then the celebration dissolved to the floor and into a wrestling match . Like usual @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Last winter her brother had had a devastating experience that had become a family crisis . A man had been murdered behind their family-owned hardware store and Conner called the police at once . He became the only witness in a capital murder case . Shortly after the arrest was made , the hardware store was burned to the ground and a threat was left on Conner 's voice mail . This led the D.A . to decide it was in the best interest of their family to separate them . Katie and her boys were spirited off to Vermont for their own protection , about as far from Sacramento as she could get and still stay in the country , while Conner was hidden away in a tiny mountain town in Northern California . Now it was over . The suspect in the murder had been killed before he could stand trial , Conner was no longer a witness and their family had escaped danger . Now they could get about the business of healing and bonding . And Conner had met someone in Virgin River , Leslie , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a life with her . Katie would enjoy surprising her brother , but they 'd long ago established the habit of talking every day . Conner talked to the boys , if only briefly , at least every other day -- the closest thing to a father they had . There was no way she could conceal her travel plans . If Conner did n't suspect , the boys would certainly tell all . " Summer is almost here , " she told Conner . " It 's almost June , we 're all free to roam and move around now that there 's no threat . I have to get my boys back to some kind of stable life . They need you , Conner . I 'd like to spend the summer in Virgin River with you , if that 's okay . I want to rent my own place , of course , but the boys should be near you . " " I 'll come and get you , " Conner immediately offered . " No , " she said flatly . " I 'm taking the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ We 've earned it . We 're going to Disney World for a few days . I 'll have the car shipped from there , then we 'll fly to Sacramento and I 'll drive up to Virgin River -- it 's only a few hours . And I love scenic drives . " " I 'll meet you in Sacramento , " he said . She took a breath . Conner 's overprotectiveness had intensified after their parents ' deaths . He was always there for her and she adored him for it , but he verged on bossy and sometimes she had to take a firm hand with him . " No . I 'm not a child . I 'm thirty-two and very competent . And I want to spend some time with my kids . They 've been on shaky ground since the move and we need some fun time together . " " I only want to help , " he said . " And I love you for it . But I 'm going to do this my way . " And he backed off @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was momentarily shocked into silence . " Wow , " she finally said . " Who are you and what have you done with my big brother ? " " Very funny . " " Although I have the utmost respect for you , I give all the credit for this change to Leslie . Tell her I owe her . " When Katie had escaped to Vermont in March , she had left behind her minivan with the license plate that could identify her . It was to be sold and Conner had arranged for a late-model Lincoln Navigator SUV to be waiting for her in Vermont -- a mammoth vehicle that she could barely park . As any carpooling mother might , she had grieved her minivan -- it was light and easy to handle and felt like an extension of her body . But she came to quickly love the big , gas-guzzling SUV . She felt like queen of the road -- invulnerable ; she could see over everything and everyone . She looked forward to some time on the road for reflection , to consider her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the rear- view mirror was a good way to leave the past behind and welcome a new beginning . It did n't take Katie long to get out of town . She had UPS pick up her boxes on Monday , phoned the school and arranged to have the boys ' kindergarten records scanned and emailed to her , invited the landlord over to check the condition of the house , and asked her neighbor to come over and help herself to the perishables that would otherwise be thrown out . She arranged to have the Lincoln picked up in Orlando and moved to Sacramento while she and the boys did a little Disney . She packed not only clothes , but the cooler and picnic basket . Her tool belt , which was pink and had been given to her by her late husband , Charlie , went with her everywhere . Armed with portable DVD players and movies , iPads and rechargers , she loaded her monster SUV and headed south . They got off to a great start , but after a few hours the boys started to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bathroom for one when the other one did n't have to go and fifteen minutes down the road , had to stop again for the second one . They picnicked at rest stops every few hours and she ran them around to tire them out , though the only one who seemed tired was Katie . She repaired a malfunctioning DVD player , set up some snacks and loaded them back up to hit the road again . She could n't help but wonder how parents did this sort of thing ten , twenty , thirty years ago before portable movies and iPad games . How did they manage without fifth-wheel-size cars with pull-down consoles that served as tables to hold games and refreshments ? Without cars that , like cruise ships , had individual heating and air-conditioning thermostats ? How did the pioneer mothers manage ? Did they even have duct tape back then ? Most women , at times like this , would be reduced to self-pity because they were left with these high maintenance , energetic boys , but Katie just was n't that kind of woman . @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Charlie could see them , experience them . Katie met and married Charlie when she was twenty-six . They had a romantic , devoted , passion- charged relationship , but it had been too short . He was a Green Beret -- Army Special Forces . When she was pregnant with the boys , he deployed to Afghanistan where he was killed before they were born . How she wished he knew them now . When they were n't in trouble they were so funny . She imagined they were like their father had been as a child ; they certainly resembled him physically . They were large for their ages , rambunctious , competitive , bright , a little short-tempered and possessive . They both had a strong sentimental streak . They still needed maternal cuddling regularly and they loved all animals , even the tiniest ones . They tried to cover up their tears during Disney movies like Bambi . If one of them got scared , the other propped him up and reassured and vice versa . When they were forced together , like in the backseat of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forced apart , they wanted to be together . She wondered if they 'd ever take individual showers . And just as she 'd always griped at Charlie for never closing the bathroom door , she still longed for a little solitary bathroom time . The boys had been in her bubble , no matter what she was doing , since they could crawl . She could barely have a bath without company in the past five years . So her life was n't always easy . Was theirs ? They did n't seem to realize they did n't have the average family life -- they had a mom and no dad , but they had Uncle Conner . She showed them the pictures of their dad and told them , all the time , how excited he had been to see them . But then he 'd gone to the angels .... He was a hero who 'd gone to the angels ... So Disney World was a good idea . They 'd all earned it . <p> ( Continues ... ) <p> 
##4120162 When you live in a resort area , every third person you meet on the street may be somebody famous . Here in Sarasota , which probably has more famous personalities per capita than any other city in the world , you might sit beside Toby and Itzhak Perlman in a movie theater or see Stephen King in Circle Books on St. Armands Key . We locals stay cool about it . We do n't run up to them and gush like yokels . We just dip our heads in silent respect and hope they notice how generous we are to grant them privacy . If we should become friends with one of them , the way I did with Cupcake Trillin and his wife , Jancey , we do n't go around bragging about it . We treat them like any other friend , but we 're always aware that fate has given them an extra allotment of talent or looks or determination that the rest of us do n't have . <p> I 'm Dixie Hemingway , no relation to you-know-who , that other famous Floridian @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the semitropical barrier islands off Sarasota -- the others being Casey , Bird , Lido , St. Armands , and Longboat . Connected by two drawbridges , Siesta is the closest to the mainland , and in most respects , it 's like a small town . People gather for sand-sculpting contests , Fourth of July fireworks , and Christmas tree lighting . They run with their dogs on the beach , walk to the post office inside Davidson Drugs , gossip over coffee at one of our gourmet coffee shops . So far , we 've been able to keep chain stores off the island , and we 're proud that all our businesses are locally owned . Except in " season , " when snowbirds come , the key is home to about seven thousand people . During season , we swell to about twenty-four thousand , and traffic and tempers get a little quicker . <p> I live here for the same reason so many famous people have second or third or maybe eighth homes here -- because it 's a paradise of riotous colors , balmy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ songbird and seabird you can think of . Snowy egrets walk around in our parking lots , great blue herons stand vigil on people 's lawns , and if we look up we see the silhouette of frigate birds flying above the clouds like ships without a home . <p> My only claims to fame are that once I went totally bonkers while TV cameras rolled , and later I killed a man . I was a sheriff 's deputy when I went crazy , but I did n't kill anybody until after I 'd got myself more or less together and became a pet sitter . Pet sitting is a lot more dangerous than people think . <p> Cupcake Trillin 's fame came from being an immovable inside linebacker for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers . He 's the size of a walk-in closet and has one of the tenderest hearts in the universe . He and I became friends when we rescued the baby of his best friend . <p> He and Jancey had left their two cats , Elvis and Lucy , in my care while they spent a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it was a long-planned chance to learn to make authentic Italian dishes . For Cupcake , it was a last-minute change of plans -- he 'd been widely reported to be attending a private meeting of fellow athletes who sponsored a camp for disadvantaged kids -- but a welcome opportunity to get personal with honest-to-God prosciutto and Parmesan cheese . <p> The Trillins lived on the south end of the Key in an exclusive gated community called Hidden Shores . Since the famous and rich are always on guard against intruders , the main difference between Hidden Shores and a maximum security prison is that it costs big bucks to be confined in Hidden Shores . In addition to a security gate , a tall stucco wall hung with riotous bougainvillea and trumpet vine surrounds the area . Those pretty flowers conceal coiled razor ribbon . <p> Cupcake and Jancey had been in Italy a week on the Tuesday morning when their lives and mine took a sudden turn . It was early , with a few horsetail clouds fanning a mango sky , when I drove up to the Hidden @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and watched the gate slide open . In our humid climate , most entry gates are built of aluminum , but this one had been powder coated to look like wrought iron . A good seven feet tall , it had sharp spikes at the top to discourage anybody rash enough to think about climbing it . As it opened , I kept one eye on the rearview mirror in case a robber or serial killer tried to whip around my Bronco and race through ahead of me -- places like Hidden Shores are guaranteed to make anybody paranoid . <p> A human is usually at the gate , but at that hour the gate was unmanned . I guess the security people figure robbers work nine to five . As I pulled through the opened gate , my name , the time , and the date were electronically recorded at a security company 's office . More than likely , my photo had also been snapped by a hidden camera . <p> In the Trillins ' driveway , I took a moment to flip open my notebook to remind myself @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the path to the front door . I was humming under my breath when I punched in my code . I think I was still humming when I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open , but the instant I stepped into the foyer I froze . <p> Houses have signature odors as distinctive as a human 's individual scent . I could n't have accurately described the unique breath of the Trillins ' house , but I knew it well enough to detect a change in it . <p> At about the same instant I realized an intruder was in the house , a willowy woman with skim-milky skin stepped from the living room into the foyer . Her long titian hair was lit by subtle hues that only occur on very small children and women with expensive colorists . She wore bright scarlet lipstick , and her fingernails and toenails were the same bright red . Except for an oversized , brightly printed man 's shirt hanging unbuttoned from her narrow shoulders , she was naked . <p> I tried not to look , but it 's not @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Brazilian wax job in the shape of a valentine heart . The pubic heart was red like her hair , which made the old naughty doggerel run through my head : Mix another batch and dye your snatch to match ! <p> She gave me a gracious , hostessy smile and extended a limp hand as if she expected me to cross the foyer and shake it . <p> In a husky , seductive voice , she said , " I 'm Briana . " <p> Under the terms of my contract with my clients , I make it clear that I need the names of all the people who have permission to come in while they 're gone . Otherwise , if I find anybody in the house , I 'll take them as unlawful intruders and act accordingly . <p> I said , " I ca n't let you stay here without the owner 's permission . " <p> Her smile grew more serene . " You do n't understand . I 'm Cupcake 's wife . " <p> I said , " That will come as a surprise @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Her eyes clouded in momentary confusion . " Excuse me ? " <p> My throat tightened . The woman seemed to really believe what she 'd said . <p> From somewhere in the house , a faint noise sounded -- the click a refrigerator door makes when it 's surreptitiously closed , maybe , or the snick ! from unlocking a glass slider to a lanai . <p> Without another word , I stepped backward and pulled the door shut behind me . Outside , I took out my cell phone to call the cops , and then hesitated . Ordinary people can have intruders in their house and it never makes the papers . Cupcake was famous , and reporters would salivate at a report of a naked woman in his house while he and his wife were away . <p> Instead of dialing 911 , I called Cupcake . <p> Cupcake answered with a note of concern in his voice . " Dixie ? " <p> For some reason , I was surprised that caller ID worked all the way across the Atlantic . <p> I said , " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her name is Briana . I think somebody else may be in there , too . " <p> Cupcake said , " Oh , ma-a-a-an . " <p> He sounded like a kid learning his ball game has been called off . <p> He lowered the phone to yell at his wife . " Jancey , it 's Dixie . There 's another woman . This one broke into the house . " <p> Jancey took the phone . " She 's in our house ? " <p> I said , " I 'm afraid so . " <p> Cupcake said something too muffled for me to hear , and Jancey quit talking to me to talk to him . <p> " Are you kidding me ? She 's in our house , Cupcake ! In our shower ! Sleeping in our bed ! And you want to protect her ? " <p> I grinned . Cupcake 's tender heart sometimes forces Jancey to play the heavy . <p> There were some more muffled sounds , probably Cupcake wresting the phone from her . <p> He said , " Those women @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . I feel sorry for them . " <p> Jancey yelled , " They stalk Cupcake , not me ! " <p> Cupcake sighed . " Call the police , but try to get them to commit her or put her in a hospital or something . " <p> I said , " She acted like she knew you . Do you know anybody named Briana ? " <p> " Never heard of her . " <p> Jancey got on the phone again . " Dixie , get that woman out of my house . Are the cats okay ? " <p> " I have n't seen them yet . I came outside to call you as soon as she told me she was Cupcake 's wife . " <p> " She said what ? Oh my God ! " <p> I could have slapped myself for telling her that . What woman wants to hear that another woman is going around claiming her husband ? But it was done , and I could n't take it back . At least I had n't told about the woman being naked , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was pretty sure the shirt was one of Cupcake 's . <p> I hurried to tell Jancey I would have the woman taken away , got off the line , and called 911 . <p> " I 'm a pet sitter , and I just walked in on an intruder in a client 's house . A woman . She seemed mentally disturbed and should be handled with care . There may be another person in the house as well . " <p> I gave the address , but when the dispatcher asked for the homeowner 's name , I tried to distract her . <p> " It 's a gated community . Whoever comes will have to use a code to get in . I guess they could use mine . " <p> Crisply , the dispatcher said , " No problem , ma'am . We have our own code . A deputy will be there shortly . " <p> I grinned and shut off the phone . I knew about the bar code affixed to the side of every Sarasota County emergency and law enforcement vehicle . As the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ code and automatically opens the gate . <p> I also knew that reporters with police scanners listened to 911 calls . I doubted that any of them knew Cupcake 's address , and I did n't think they 'd go to the effort of looking up the address I 'd given the dispatcher . At least I hoped they would n't . I hoped they 'd yawn and wait for something juicier than a cat sitter calling about an intruder . If the stars were in the right alignment for Cupcake , the woman in his house would be hustled off without the world ever knowing she 'd been there . <p> I waited in the Bronco , imagining Briana inside the house wondering why I was still there . Or maybe she was n't . She had seemed so spaced out that she might have forgotten me as soon as I left . Cupcake was right , the woman was mentally ill . Jancey was probably right , too . The woman had probably been in their bed and in their shower . <p> Deputy Jesse Morgan and an unsworn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cars , both parking behind me in the driveway and walking toward me with the near swagger that uniforms give both men and women . I did n't know the woman , but Morgan and I had met a few times in situations I did n't want to remember . I was never sure if he thought I was a total kook or if he thought I just had really bad luck . <p> Morgan is one of Siesta Key 's sworn deputies , meaning he carries a gun . He 's lean , with sharp cheekbones and knuckles , and hair trimmed so short as to be almost nonexistent . He wears dark mirrored shades that hide any emotion in his eyes , but one ear sports a small diamond stud . I 'm not sure what that diamond says , but it 's about the only thing about Morgan that indicates a personal life outside the sheriff 's department . The Key has so little true crime that most of our law enforcement is done by the unsworn deputies of the Community Policing unit , like the woman with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ white knit shirts . Except for a gun , their belts bristle with the same equipment used by the sworn deputies . <p> Morgan greeted me with the halfhearted enthusiasm with which a dog greets a vet wearing rubber gloves and holding a syringe . Civil , but pretty sure he 's not going to like what 's coming . He introduced Deputy Clara Beene , and she and I did a brief handshake . Beene seemed more intrigued by the house and grounds than by me , so I figured she had never heard of me . Like I said , my fame is very limited . <p> I said , " I 'm taking care of two cats that live here . When I went in , I found a woman in the house . She claimed to be the wife of the owner , but I know she 's not . I think somebody else was in there , too . I came out and called the owners . They do n't know who the woman is . They think she must be mentally disturbed , and they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ something instead of put in jail . " <p> Morgan tilted his head to peer down at me . If I 'd been able to see his eyes , I imagine they would have had a sharp glint in them . We both knew how hard it is for law enforcement officers to do anything constructive about lawbreakers who are mentally ill . Under Florida law , a cop who believes a person is about to commit suicide or kill somebody can initiate the Baker Act that involuntarily commits a person for testing . The commitment period lasts only seventy-two hours , and unless two psychiatrists petition the court to extend the commitment time for involuntary treatment , the person is released . <p> I doubted that Briana would be considered an imminent threat to herself or anybody else . More likely , she would be considered an extreme neurotic with a delusional crush on a famous athlete . <p> Without commenting on what he thought about trying to get Briana hospitalized , Morgan flipped open his notebook and clicked his pen . " What made you think somebody else was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Just a noise I heard . Like maybe somebody unlocking the lanai slider . It could have been something else . " <p> " But you did n't see anybody else . " <p> " No , it was just a little clicking noise . " <p> " What 's the homeowner 's name ? " <p> " Trillin . " <p> He lowered his pen and angled his head at me . " Cupcake Trillin ? " <p> " I hope we can keep this out of the news . " <p> His jawbone jutted out a bit , like he 'd just bit down hard on his back teeth . " I 'll just put Trillin ' as the owner 's name . You ever see the woman inside before ? " <p> " No . She said her name was Briana . " <p> " Briana who ? " <p> Beene , the Community Policing woman , said , " She just goes by Briana . That one name . She 's a famous model . " <p> Morgan and I turned to look at her , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ <p> Morgan 's nostrils flared slightly as if it might be against department policy to watch shows like that . <p> " So ? " <p> " So she 's here in Sarasota . I heard it on the news . " <p> Beene looked from Morgan to me . " You must have heard of her . She was all over the news last year . You know , she 's the model that caused a big stink at the fashion show in Milan . " <p> Morgan and I shook our heads . I might have heard about somebody in a cat show who 'd made the news , but fashion shows were out of my world . <p> As if he had heard all he could stand about fashion models , Morgan put his pen and pad away and took a deep breath . With Beene a step behind him , he strode manfully to the door and rapped on it . <p> He yelled , " Sarasota Sheriff 's Department ! " <p> The door did n't open . No sound came from inside . <p> Morgan @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . Nobody answered . <p> I felt a little shiver of guilty relief . Briana and whoever had been in the house with her had probably slipped out the back door while I watched the front . Maybe they were halfway to Tampa by now . Maybe they would never come back . Maybe Briana had learned her lesson and would stop stalking Cupcake . <p> Morgan turned to look at me as if it were my fault nobody had answered the door . " You got a key ? " <p> " I have a security code . " <p> " Please use it . " <p> Feeling important under their gaze , I stepped forward and punched in my special number . The lock clicked , and I turned the knob and opened the door . Morgan motioned me aside , and he and Beene went into the house . <p> Once again , intuition or subliminal cues made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up , as if trouble was barreling toward me . <p> I said , " Do n't let the cats out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ coming , but it was n't two runaway cats . <p> 
##4120164 The story I 'm about to tell could be judged preposterous . Fine . Judge how you must . Protect yourself by scare- &shy; quoting me as the so- &shy; called psychic , the so- &shy; called victim of a psychic attack . Quarantine this account however you must so that you can safely hear it . What happened to me could never happen to you . <p> Tell yourself that . Even though what happened to me happens to people like you all the time . <p> In the beginning , an attack can look just like regular life . You wake to discover eyelashes on your pillow , bruises on your skin where you 've never been touched . You smell a stranger on your bedsheets and that stranger is you . <p> As the weeks pass , you notice other humiliations . An unceasing bout of acid reflux and an irritable bowel . Gums that bleed when you sip hot tea . Fingernails that snap when you push your hands through the sleeves of a sweater . The ghostly withdrawal of pigmentation from your cheeks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ your hands . A rash on your scalp . <p> And so it goes , your body 's hurtle along a failure trajectory that no doctor can explain . There is only the numb leg , the searing esophagus , the face -- &shy; its frostbit complexion , its vinegar stare -- &shy; you no longer recognize as your own . <p> I 'm overworked and need to take more vitamins , you 'll tell yourself . Maybe I 'm allergic to wheat or my new car . Maybe I 'm depressed , or not enough in love anymore with my life , my spouse , my self . You 'll schedule beach vacations or more time at the gym , but no matter how many times you dunk yourself in oceans or flush the liquid content of your body through your pores , you ca n't escape the suspicion that a cancer drifts through your anatomy , that it will soon metastasize to your personality , that it is only a matter of time before it breaches the cellular firewall encircling your soul . <p> When this happened to me @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ doctor . She sent me to another doctor . And he to another . I saw so many , many doctors . I was pricked and I was bled , I was leashed to computers , scanners , drips , I was MRI- &shy; ed , EEG- &shy; ed , and CT- &shy; scanned , my body subjected to a battery of lie detector tests that , because the claims it spouted were deemed inconclusive , it apparently did not pass . I acquired a medical file so thick it practically required its own gurney to be moved . I was greeted by each new specialist with a weary smile . I was patronizingly quoted Donne . ( " There is no health . We , at best , enjoy but a neutrality . " ) Because the doctors could not cure me , they decided I could not be sick . <p> They told me it was all in my head . Namely , I was to blame . I was the sickness . <p> Which I do n't deny . I brought this on myself . I failed to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ live invisibly or wisely . Besides , do n't the healthy always suspect the afflicted ? She drove herself to exhaustion . She was so stressed out . She never dealt properly with the death of her mother . <p> All of this is true . However . I can not take all the credit . I say this humbly , not reproachfully . Someone else made me sick . <p> Let me explain this in terms you can understand . People make people sick , it is not a stretch to claim this . What remains up for debate is the degree of malice involved when a person makes another person sick . Did your sister , for example , intend to give you her head cold ? In most cases , not . We do not blame head colds on other people 's heads , we blame them on their bodies . <p> But what if your sister or girlfriend or roommate or coworker intended to give you a cold ? What if , while you were in the bathroom , he or she coughed on purpose into your @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ referring to people as carriers of disease but people as diseases ? The self is a source of contagion , oftentimes an unwitting one . He makes me sick , you 've said of your ex- &shy; boyfriend . She 's toxic , you 've said of your boss . <p> And maybe he did , maybe she is . After you become afflicted , after the doctors finger you as the cause , it 's instinctual to blame others for your physical misfortune . But blame is lonely , and your loneliness is compounded by the fact that you 're scared to go outside . To be near others is to risk further exposure and , worse , humiliation . Even your best friend ca n't help staring at the sores on your mouth . <p> In retaliation , to preserve whatever small amount of pride you still possess , you become the secret curator of the suffering of others . Homebound now , you do online searches for people from your past . You 're pleased to discover that your college roommate 's looks have been lost , that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that an ex- &shy; girlfriend 's Broadway dreams did not pan out . You spend your days monitoring demises . You become , over time , the connoisseur of downfall , a covert expertise that distracts you from your own decline . <p> You might realize , as I realized , that there exists one individual whose downfall over which you fixate , even obsess . For me that individual was a woman named Dominique Varga . She was a mother to me when no one else wanted the job . My own mother killed herself a long time ago . But your obsession might be a basketball coach , a softball coach , a graduate TA , a personal accountant , or a special , unlucky stranger you choose at random , as though from a police lineup , and falsely accuse . Why be fair ? Nobody 's been fair to you . Monitoring this person 's disappointments functions as a course of steroids might , each new failure for her registering as an improvement for you . Her marriage implodes , your rash subsides . The economics of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ you befriend her , and send the occasional e- &shy; mail . Otherwise you watch and harmlessly wait for your fortunes to reverse . <p> But what if you are not the only victim here ? What if your daily online visits to this person whose ruin you 've charted are not so benign ? What if you are not a spectator to her demise ? What if you 're to blame for her shitty life ? <p> What if you are her disease ? <p> In other words , this is not just a story about how you can become sick by knowing other people . This is a story about how other people can become sick by knowing you . <p> part One <p> The attack , we later agreed , occurred at Madame Ackermann 's forty- &shy; third birthday party . <p> The evening was typical for late October -- &shy; icebox air , onyx sky , White Mountains humped darkly in the distance , and peripherally visible as a more opaque variety of night . Because I knew that Madame Ackermann 's A- &shy; frame would be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and a pair of silver riding boots purchased from the Nepalese import store , run by an aging WASP hippie . Hers was one of seven businesses in the town of East Warwick , New Hampshire ( there was also a vegan pizza parlor , a hardware store , a purveyor of Fair Isle knitwear , a bank , a pub , and a real estate agent ) , a town that existed in the minds of some to provide basic material support to the faculty and students at the Institute of Integrated Parapsychology -- &shy; referred to locally , and by those in the field , as the Workshop . <p> That I -- &shy; Julia Severn , a second- &shy; year initiate and Madame Ackermann 's stenographer -- &shy; had been invited to her forty- &shy; third birthday party was an anomaly that I failed to probe . When I let slip to my stenographic predecessor , Miranda , that I had been asked to Madame Ackermann 's for a social occasion , Miranda tried to hide her wounded incredulity by playing with the pearl choker she habitually wore @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into her mouth , allowing the pearls to yank on the corners of her lips like a horse 's bit . <p> Madame Ackermann observed a firm boundary between her academic and personal lives , Miranda said , removing her pearls halfway , wedging them now into the recession above her chin . <p> She was not the kind of professor , Miranda cautioned , straining her necklace 's string with her lower jaw until it threatened to snap , to invite an initiate to her house for a social occasion , not even as a volunteer passer of hors d'oeuvres . <p> Miranda 's jealousy was understandable . Madame Ackermann 's attentions were the prize over which we initiates competed , the reason we 'd come to the Workshop -- &shy; to study with her , hopefully , yes , but in more pitiable terms to partake of her forbidding , imperial aura by walking behind her on the many footpaths that vivisectioned the campus quad into slivers of mud or grass or snow . <p> Thus , I reassured Miranda ( who , despite the year she 'd spent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ) , one of the many admirable qualities Madame Ackermann possessed was that , even as a relentless investigator of past lives , she could permit bygones to be bygones . Yes , she 'd selected me , from a pool of thirty- &shy; five initiates , to be her stenographer , and yes we 'd both immediately come to regret this choice of hers . But after weeks of misunderstandings , deceptions , and hostilities between us , Madame Ackermann was not above extending an olive branch . <p> And so on the night of October 25 I donned my silver boots and , awash in optimism and specialness , drove to Madame Ackermann 's A- &shy; frame . As I passed the custodian- &shy; lit Workshop buildings , their windows flickering behind the spruces , I allowed myself to view the scene from the future perspective of an older self , wrought by nostalgia for this place I 'd yet to leave or miss . In order to prolong my anticipation of what was sure to be a momentous evening , I took the scenic way along the Connecticut @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to a sharp chop by the wind , appeared seized into a treacherous hoar of ice . I spied a hunter emerging from an old barn whom I mistook , for the shadowy half second before my car beams illuminated him , to be wearing the decapitated head of a deer . A bat died against my windshield . And yet despite these dark portents I somehow failed to divine , as I turned off the river road and began the slow ascent to Madame Ackermann 's A- &shy; frame , that I would never drive along this river again . Or that I would drive along this river again , yes , but I would no longer be the sort of person who wore silver boots to parties and believed that bygones could be bygones . <p> Madame Ackermann greeted me at the door , eyes starfished by mascara , hair a slab of polished obsidian against the puffball white of her sweater , and dropped my birthday present -- &shy; a warm bottle of Tokay -- &shy; on a credenza beside the pile of regifted chutneys and spice rubs @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ great room , an inverted- &shy; V- &shy; shaped atrium lined with book shelves ( the books secured by a series of crisscrossing bungee cords ) , packed with her friends and coworkers , the majority of them men . <p> In retrospect : I should have found it odd , given she 'd presumably forgiven me , that she should refuse to meet my gaze , that she should take the first available opportunity to slough me onto the other guests . <p> " You know Julia , " she said , shoving me into a trio of professors , all of whom , though I 'd studied with each at one point or another , regarded me blankly . " She 's my archivist . " <p> The trio ( Professors Blake , Janklow , and Penry ) resumed their discussion of the death of a Workshop professor named Gerald , their eyebrow hairs antenna- &shy; like as they derisively extolled Gerald 's virtues . <p> " Archivist , " Professor Blake said to me . He pronounced archivist with a judgmental inflection . <p> " Stenographer , " @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ me to perform . " <p> I did not mention the word demotion . I 'd been hired as her stenographer , true , but I 'd recently been demoted to the position of archivist . <p> I glanced at Madame Ackermann to see if she 'd heard me ; I did n't want to appear to be contradicting her in public , especially now that our relationship was presumably on the mend . She was preoccupied , fortunately , by the sight of Professor Elkin huddling with Professor Yuen behind a kentia palm . Professor Yuen wore her hair in two long braids that narrowed to tips like floppy knives ; she spoke to Professor Elkin about a topic that required her to bullet- &shy; point the air with an index finger , no doubt something to do with the recent dissolving of the Princeton Engineering Anomalies Research laboratory , and whether its failure sounded a death knell for the Workshop 's future prospects as well . <p> " Ah , " said Professor Janklow . " Stenographer . " He held between his thumb and forefinger a half- &shy; @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the table beside him , clearly wondering if he could dip his shrimp a second time without being spotted , or calculating the amount of time one must wait to ensure that the same- &shy; shrimp dips are no longer seen as consecutive acts , but as two unique events . <p> " Samuel Beckett was James Joyce 's stenographer , " I said . <p> " Secretary , " said Professor Janklow . <p> " Did you ever study with Gerald ? " asked Professor Blake . " Before he died , I mean ? " <p> " In fact that 's a myth about Beckett , " said Professor Penry . <p> " Could n't make a martini to save his life , " said Professor Janklow . " Gerald was n't a fellow who could grasp the subtler requests such as whisper of vermouth . " <p> " Poor Gerald , " said Madame Ackermann , returning to our fold . I suspected it from her insincere tone : she had slept with the man . <p> " You , however , " said Professor Janklow , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are all subtlety and whispers . " <p> Madame Ackermann twisted downward on her sweater 's cowl neck to reveal a turquoise filament of bra and a dcolletage dotted by pale moles . This gesture was meant to suggest that she was embarrassed by the compliment , while also suggesting that she was not remotely embarrassed by it . No one , least of all me , would deny that Madame Ackermann , even at the dawn of forty- &shy; three , was a bewitching , pixie creature , girlish the term most often used to describe her mixture of navet and wiliness , her middle- &shy; parted night hair and Eva Hesse Bavarian lan , her habit , during class , of placing one foot on her chair and resting her chin atop a corduroyed knee . She 'd preserved her body , or so it seemed , through sheer force of mind . The suppleness of her gray matter -- &shy; I 'm ashamed to admit that I 'd imagined how it would feel to the touch -- &shy; was reflected in the pearly suppleness of her eyes , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of us -- &shy; the female initiates more than the male ones -- &shy; in some form of love with her . ( The fact that Madame Ackermann so closely resembled my dead mother did not render my obsession with the woman any less complicated . ) <p> And thus we tried , as girls in confused love with women will do , in every superficial way to mimic her . We were rapt apprentices of the twisted cowl neck , the peevish cuticle nibble , the messy , pencil- &shy; stabbed chignon . We purchased cardigans in yellowed greens and tarry mascaras , we blended our own teas and sewed them into tiny muslin bags that we steeped in chunky mugs and carried with us to class , our socked feet sliding , like hers , atop the wooden platforms of our Dr. Scholl 's sandals . We also slept around . We slept with everyone , but only once . We were , we told our- selves in moments when we felt most pathetic and unmoored , not just imitating Madame Ackermann , we were embracing the culture of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the refusal to be known for fear of what people might actually come to know about you . <p> It was a lonely time . <p> Continues ... 