Viv went on to tell about their successes in the area dog shows. She'd given that up last year when Thor won his champion status. It was a lot of work to show dogs, she explained.

Jessie watched Maggie with excitement as Viv led Ruth to her den, where ribbons, trophies, and photos documented her dogs' illustrious careers in the ring.

"You don't show anymore?"

"Naw, I mean, it was alright." Viv turned out the light in the den and led them back to the action off the kitchen. "It's just that after a while, the dogs didn't seem to like it all that much, and it didn't seem right to put 'em through all that training and grooming and traveling when they weren't having any fun."

That seemed like a fair response to Ruth. She'd always heard you could tell a lot about people from the way they treated animals, and Viv, she thought, was probably a pretty good soul.

A half hour later, the mother's work was done, a grand total of eight puppies, all seemingly healthy and squirming contentedly. Maggie poked each one with her nose as if counting off, then licked them clean and guided them to her teats.

"I like that one," Jessie proclaimed, pointing to a fat chocolate pup on the top of the pile.

"Then I'll save that one for you," Viv promised.

"Oh, we better wait and see," Ruth interjected. She was, after all, the mommy. "I don't think I can afford four hundred dollars for a dog, Viv."

"This one's a gift for Megan...and for you, of course." Viv already liked these two and she wanted them to be happy here and stay for a long time.

Pleading looks from both her landlady and daughter erased Ruth's hesitation. Jessie needed something fun in her life, and it looked like they would be sticking around for a while.

"Okay, but you're going to have to help take care of it," she told her daughter.

"Oh, I will," the happy child promised. She'd never had a puppy before.

To Ruth, this had all the feeling of a bad sitcom. She could already see herself walking the dog alone in the snow and cleaning up its mess. And it would probably end up sleeping at the foot of her bed. "Megan, why don't we go get some breakfast while Maggie takes a nap?"

"I've got plenty to eat here. I bet you're not even set up in your kitchen yet. Why don't ya'll come on in and I'll whip up some pancakes and bacon?" Viv was getting a kick out of having her tenants around, especially Megan. Neither her daughter nor her son had given her grandchildren to spoil, and she hadn't been around little ones in thirty years.

"We don't want to be any trouble," Ruth answered, all the while thinking that pancakes and bacon sounded a lot better than cold cereal with powdered milk.

"I'm gonna fix breakfast anyway. It's no trouble to just add a little more. Come on and stay."

"Alright, then thank you. We accept." But she had to talk privately to Jessie before she said anything about the woman back at the trailer. "Could we wash up? And then I'll come back and help."

"Sure, right down that hall on the left."

Ruth guided her daughter into the room and closed the door. Turning on the water, she began to speak. "You like Viv, don't you?"

Jessie nodded happily.

Despite the self-imposed distance, Ruth had to admit that she liked Viv too.

"Sweetie, don't forget that we have a secret. Even if we like Viv, we can't tell her our secret, okay?"

"Okay."

"And you know what? We have another secret, too. Do you remember last night when we found that lady in the car and she was hurt?"

Jessie's eyes grew big with fright. She had forgotten about that.

"Honey, that has to be a secret too. We're going to help her until she's all better, and then she'll leave. But we can't tell anybody she's here, not even Viv. Okay?"

"Why not?"

Good question, Jessie. Damn good question. "It's really complicated, sweetheart. I guess the best answer is that if we tell somebody she's here, they might find out about our other secret."

It was complicated alright. She could tell by the confused look on her daughter's face that she had more questions. It was just that Jessie hadn't figured out what to ask next.

Spencer stirred and opened her eyes, struggling to get her bearings. She was in an unfamiliar room with brown paneled walls and windows on each side that rolled out. The room was narrow, and there weren't any pictures or personal items in here.

It was coming back to her. The woods...the call to Elena...the car. She hadn't expected to be driven away. She just needed to hide for awhile, but she must have fallen asleep. It was a miracle that she was here today and not in jail.

Vaguely, she remembered the woman who had tended to her last night...the long blonde hair, the pretty green eyes...the soft, comforting voice .... Where the hell was this place? And why hadn't that woman called the police?

Her arm hurt like a son of a bitch, but it no longer felt swollen or hot to the touch. There was a bandage of some sort covering the wound. When she twisted her head to look at it, she was reminded of another injury, the one above her eye...from where that branch had come out of nowhere and smacked her.

With a colossal effort, Spencer leaned forward and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was very thirsty and her head was pounding like a jackhammer. Pushing herself off the bed, she started for the door, growing dizzier by the step. Flailing wildly, she lunged for the doorknob, hoping to get her balance.

Then it all went black.

"And you haven't heard from her since, huh?"

"No. That was last night, right after dark. She said she was in trouble, Rico. I'm really afraid for her." The worry in Elena's voice was genuine, even if the conversation wasn't. As was their habit with family, they spoke in their native Spanish.

"Do you really think she could have done something like this?"

"I don't know what to think."

Elena and her cousin kept the mindless banter going while his buddy Luis combed the townhouse for surveillance devices. In a handwritten note, the spy-wear hobbyist had already confirmed that her phone was tapped, and Elena assumed that these bastards were also listening in on her cell phone, and most likely, monitoring her ISP.

"What do you think, Luis?" The IRS agent had noticed earlier the van down the street and assumed that whoever was watching had seen the two men come in. If they were listening, she didn't want them to suspect the real purpose of Luis' visit.

"I don't know. You know, I only met her a couple of times. She didn't really strike me as the type, though." Excitedly, he motioned Elena and Rico to the end table, pointing toward a listening device that was affixed to the back of the leg.

"Yeah, I'm with you," she agreed. "I just wish the FBI would tell me what's going on. I tell you, those agents can be such pricks."

The word "pricks" didn't translate into Spanish, so that would save a little time for the boys taping the exchange.

CHAPTER 11.

ALL THROUGH BREAKFAST, Ruth fought the urge to excuse herself to run back to the house to check on the injured woman. She'd been fine when they left her, still sleeping off whatever war she'd fought over the last couple of days. But she and Jessie shouldn't stay too long at Viv's, she knew. It wouldn't do at all for the woman to get up and come looking for her.

Viv prepared a veritable feast for their Sunday breakfast: blueberry pancakes with warm maple syrup, bacon, cantaloupe, coffee and milk. She'd even wanted to set everything up in the dining room, but Ruth insisted that the kitchen table was perfect.

From the outside, no one would have guessed that the simple frame structure was like two separate houses inside, one side resembling an antique museum; the other, a comfortable old shoe. The formal living room, the dining room, and the guest bedroom were packed with polished antiques of dark rich woods and brass. The overstuffed chairs and davenport weren't particularly inviting, but they were lovely to look at. Given what she already knew about Viv's down-to-earth nature, Ruth had trouble envisioning the woman living in a setting so elegant.

In contrast, the kitchen, den, and Viv's bedroom held a modern but worn decor that seemed to encourage staying a while and making yourself at home. That was truer to the image the landlady presented, and it was, in fact, the kind of home Ruth wanted for her daughter and herself.

"No, we can't bring him home yet," she answered Jessie's happy pleas about the little brown dog. "He has to stay with his mother until he's bigger so he'll be healthy."

"Can I visit him?"

"It's 'may I' and if it's okay with Viv, I don't see why not," she assured.

"You can come whenever you want, Megan," their hostess politely replied.

Ruth laughed to herself and bit her tongue not to automatically correct her landlady with "may." It was nice having Jessie exposed to an older woman who was patient and attentive. The little girl had been destined to miss out on that kind of relationship in Madison. Barbara Drummond was distant and stern; Ruth's own mother Mildred had never quite gotten past the fact that Jessie had been conceived outside of marriage.

"What are you going to name him? Have you decided?" Viv asked.

Jessie cocked her head sideways while she thought about it. "Brownie?"

"That's okay. He's brown." Ruth nodded her head thoughtfully.

"Or Hershey?" Viv suggested. "Since he's chocolate."

"Hershey! We'll call him Hershey." Jessie squealed with delight. She had heard of the famous candy maker.

"I wonder how many chocolate labs are named Hershey," Ruth mused.

"Probably thousands. But Ghirardelli doesn't really suit him," Viv laughed.

"Hey, sweetie, there's another chocolate maker you like. Do you remember his name?"

"Willy Wonka!"

"What if we called him Willy?"

"Or Wonka," Jessie argued.

"I like Willy better than Wonka," her mom answered seriously, shooting Viv a pleading look.

"I think I like Willy too," she agreed.

"Willy!" The little girl got down from the table and ran into the little utility room. "Yeah, he looks like a Willy."

Stuffed to the gills, mother and daughter climbed the wooden steps to their new home, the youngster heading immediately for her room where she picked up her Lisa doll and returned to take a seat on the couch.

"Can I watch TV?"

"It's 'may I watch TV'," Ruth corrected gently. "And, yes you may." That would give her a chance to look in on their uninvited guest. She didn't want Jessie around the woman anymore than was absolutely necessary. There was no telling what kind of person got herself in this condition.

Ruth helped her daughter find the children's channel, and then headed back down the darkened hallway. She met resistance as she pushed the door, seeing with alarm that the woman was crumpled in the entry. Ruth shoved harder and rushed in immediately to check that the collapsed figure was breathing okay and not losing any more blood.

"Hey, wake up," she coaxed softly. Please don't die on me! Lifting the dark head off the hard floor, she prodded, "Are you okay?"

"I think I got dizzy," the woman murmured, slowly opening her eyes to once again find herself face to face with this soothing presence.

"You need to stay in bed until you're better. Let me help you back there." Ruth was frightened now at what could have happened - and what still might happen - and desperate to get this woman well so she could leave.

Spencer tried to stand, leaning heavily on the smaller woman. "I'm so thirsty."

"I'll bring you something to drink. Come on, get back in bed."

Spencer collapsed again on the bed, mystified at where her energy had gone. Besides the pain in her arm, side, and head, her legs felt like cement, and the dizziness was disorienting.

Lying on her back, she tried again to get a grip on where she was and what had happened to her. Last night, there had been a little girl, too.

"Here you go." The blonde woman returned presenting a glass of cold water and three tablets. "And you should take these too. I think you have a fever."

Spencer tried to sit up, and the woman reached behind her to steady her back. She swallowed the tablets and started to sip from the glass, but her overpowering thirst got the better of her and soon she was gulping it down in huge swallows. Too much water too fast caused her to choke and cough, which in turn, made her clutch her battered ribs in agony. The blue eyes watered as she slumped forward, the kind woman patting her softly on the back.

"You want to try again?" the blonde offered, this time holding the glass herself to control the amount.

Spencer took another couple of drinks, and then lay back against the pillow, tugging up her t-shirt to display a dark purple bruise the size of two hands just beneath her left breast, and another that covered her hipbone.

"Oh my god, that's awful! What happened to you?"

"A motorcycle wreck," Spencer answered breathlessly, "on Friday night."

"Friday night!" That was almost two days ago. "Why didn't you go to the doctor?"

The dark haired woman shook her head. "I can't," was all she said.

"But you have to. Your arm's infected and it looks like your ribs might be broken."

She shook her head again. "No, I can't." Spencer tried again to pull herself upright, worried that this woman would call someone now that she'd seen the extent of her injuries.

"Wait...no! It's okay." Ruth guided her back against the pillows, where she closed her eyes. "You can stay here until you're better. I won't call anyone," she promised.

Spencer reached out and clasped her savior's hand, squeezing it hard. "Thank you." It was barely a whisper.

After a few minutes, the dark-haired woman relaxed and her breathing slowed, a sure sign that she'd drifted off again. No doubt, her body was fighting the arm infection as best it could, but it wouldn't hurt to reapply the ointment and change the small bandage.

"Just don't die on me. That would be pretty hard to explain," Ruth said softly, pretty sure that her words had fallen on undiscerning ears.

Ruth had no idea what to do if the ribs were broken, but she remembered one of the guys that Skip had played ball with wearing an elastic bandage around his torso. She made a mental note to pick one up that day when they went out for groceries. Whatever she could do to get this stranger fixed up and on her way was worth it.

Against the backdrop of cartoons, Ruth and Jessie fell asleep together on the couch, the former still trying to recover from the overnight drive from Maine. When they awoke, she began her grocery list with her new budget in mind. Ruth had plenty to get set up, but she needed to be mindful that the cash she'd garnered might have to go a long way, especially if she had trouble finding work that would accommodate Jessie's hours in day care.

Ruth checked on the injured woman again, relieved to see her resting comfortably. Satisfied that this time she'd stay put, the mother grabbed her jacket and pulled it on.