"Barbara, wait! I know this sounds a little ridiculous, but could you get those pictures back?''

"Of Lee?"Barbara queried, puzzled.

"Yes."

"How could I do that? I told you I already turned them over to him. I haven't got a single proof or a negative. Why?"

"Oh, nothing.Never mind. I had just...ah...wanted to take another look at them."

"Well, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

Bryn hung up, glad for once that work and the kids kept her so busy. She told the boys to do their homework while she heated up somechili and mentally thanked Clarence Birdseye for packaging a spinach concoction that all three would eat. She tried not to think about anything but pots and pans and the convenience of boil-in bags.

After dinner she switched on the Disney Channel, supplied the kids with crayons and coloring books and warned them to watch out for Adam. "I'll be in the darkroom, and don't barge in without knocking unless there's an emergency, okay? I have to develop a print."

They all nodded solemnly,then started bickering about the crayons before she unlocked the back door leading to the darkroom. She kept it locked because of the kids. To get in from the back she had to slink around the filing cabinet which almost completely blocked the door.

It took her a moment to squeeze her way in; it would probably have been easier to just go around and unlock the front door but she was accustomed to working in semidarkness, and she wasn't at all worried as she fumbled around to find the string to the overhead light.

No, she wasn't worried. She didn't have the slightest premonition or foreboding.

Which made it all the worse when she found the switch and filled the room with pale, artificial light.

For a moment she was stunned.Too stunned to assimilate all that she saw. And then the cold set in.A wave of icy fear that seemed to begin in the pit of her stomach and spread to paralyze her limbs.

A scream rose in her throat, yet as if in a dream, she found she couldn't release it. The constriction was horrible; she couldn't scream, couldn'tbreath ....

She could only stare at the total destruction within the small room.

Pictures... old pictures, meaningless pictures, new pictures... all joined together in a savage, silent pattern of horror. They were hung from the drying line and spread across the floor.Littered over her desk. All slashed to macabre ribbons.

And her desk! Each drawer had been ripped out, its contents scattered to the far corners. Gallon jugs of developer and chemicals had been emptied and dumped; the destruction was complete.

In a daze, Bryn started to move toward her desk, compelled by a piece of a photo.

She realized that the other pieces of the photo were beside it, purposely set apart in a slashed jigsaw.

She knew the picture, though she hadn't taken it herself. It was blurred and out of focus, but she had loved it. Barbara had taken it of her with the boys when they had shared a Sunday picnic right after Christmas....

But now the photo was clearly a threat. Adam had been cut out and laid separately aside, as had Brian and Keith.

She was left as the center piece, smiling brilliantly. It had been a nice, laughter filled day. But now her smile mocked her. It seemed grotesque. Her cheap little nail-file letter opener had been slammed into it, angled from her mouth to her throat.

"Oh, God!"

Sound at last tore from her, but it wasn't a scream. It was a whisper. She grabbed the desk because she was going to fall. She couldn't hold on to the light; darkness was swamping her....

No joke, no joke, it wasn't a joke.

Something rose to salvage her consciousness right before the darkness could cover her. It was anger. She had been scared half to death; her things had been ravaged. She had been violated on a very personal level....

"Son of..." she began softly, grating her teeth. She wasn't going to scream. She wasn't going to send the boys into a panic. She was going to think, calmly. And then decide what to do.

Just as she came to that determined decision, the phone began to ring. And ring...

Chapter 6.

Bryn stumbled through the refuse as she hurried to wedge her way past the file cabinet and back into the house.

"Brian! Keith!" she yelled, grunting as she hurried. "Don't youdare! Do you hear me? Don't you dare answer thatphone! "

Raw emotion must have given an edge of authority to her voice; when she charged back into the house both boys were standing near the phone, but they were staring at her rather than touching it.

She swept past them and grabbed the receiver, practically shouting into it. "Hello?"

There was a slight hesitation at the other end, then a quiet, masculine voice. "Miss Keller?"

"Yes," Bryn said nervously.

"This is Mike Winfeld. We met at theTimberlane Country Club the other day."

"Oh, yes. How are you, Mr. Winfeld?"

She really didn't give a damn. All she wanted was for the man to get off the phone! Don't be a fool, Bryn. Be warm, be polite!she warned herself. He might need publicity photos, and he seems to be a very pleasant person.

"Fine.Fine, thankyou. But I've been thinking about you." "Oh?"

"Yes. I know we only met briefly, but I wonder if you wouldn't consider the possibility of going to dinner withme? I'd like to discuss the possibility of your doing some pictures for me."

Why not? Bryn asked herself. Normally, she wouldn't mind going at all. It might be a come-on, but she could handle that. And if he turned out to be a really nice and aboveboard man...Normally. How could she do anything normally now? How could she even think about doing anything when terror tactics were invading her household and she was frightened out of her wits by every phone call? "Oh, Mr. Winfeld--"

"Mike, please. You make me sound old and decrepit, and I'd rather not be that--especially to you."

Bryn managed to laugh.' 'Okay , Mike. I'd love to have dinner with you sometime, but I'm tied up for...about two, three weeks. Will you give me a call back?"

"I'd rather not have to, but if that's my choice..." He allowed his voice to trail away hopefully,then chuckled again. "Merciless to a poor fellow, aren't you, Miss Keller? But I will call back. Two weeks?"

"Umm.And please call me Bryn."

"With pleasure.You'll be hearing from me, Bryn."

"Great."

"Bye then, for now."

"Bye."

She was breathing easily enough when she replaced the receiver, but her hand was still on the phone when it started ringing again. She jerked it back to her ear.

"Hello?"

"I assume you've seen your darkroom by now, Miss Keller "Yes, we've seen it. And what you've done is criminal. How dare you invade my life like that! You will be caught. And you'll rot in a jail cell for a--"

"Miss Keller, your darkroom was only the beginning." "Don't you understand?" She was shouting. She could see that both Brian and Keith were staring at her with startled alarm, but she couldn't help herself. "I don't have the damn pictures!"

"Do stay calm, Miss Keller.I believe that you don't have the pictures. But I also believe you can get them back." "Condor has the pictures; go plague him!" There was the slightest hesitation at the other end of the wire. "I think you can get those pictures back, Miss Keller." "Condor--"

"Condor wouldn't be half so enjoyable to harass.""Because he'd tell you to go to hell!""Possibly. He's a far tougher adversary, though you seem tough enough yourself, Miss Keller. I can well imagine your being brave enough--or stupid enough--to tell me to go to hell. But you won't, will you? Not when you have three little children to think about. I want the pictures. A woman likeyourself can surely con a man into doing what she wants. I'll give you a few days. But get them. And remember, I'll be watching. So far, I've only damaged property. Oh--and don't think that you can put anything over on me. I have an acquaintance at the police station. I'll know if you've called them.And as far as Condor goes... Well, I just wouldn't let him in on the situation--not unless you've twisted him around your finger real, real good. He's the type who might just insist on calling the cops, and well, I've just explained that all to you.Clearly. You just keep thinking about two things. Those littleboys, and the pictures. 'Cause it's going to be one or the other, kind of, if you understand my meaning__"

She was clenching the phone and staring at it stupidly long after she realized it had gone dead.

Meanwhile her mind raced away. It couldn't be a "fan" of Lee's. Fans might squabble and scramble and risk personal injury to get close to a star, but they didn't break into private homes--not for pictures! No, someone wanted these pictures ina very real way. Why? Oh, God! Did it matter when she was the one caught in the situation? She was no detective, and the Riptide guys certainly weren't going to come along and solve her desperate problems in an hour the way they did on TV She was a woman alone who barely knew the barrel from the butt of a gun, yet three little children were dependent on her. So all right, yes! There was something deeper going on here, deep and wrong and perhaps even terrible, but that couldn't be her concern. She was human and vulnerable and terrified, and she didn't want to solve any mysteries, she just wanted to feel safe, to believe again that the children were safe....

"Aunt Bryn?"

She jerked herself around to stare at Brian and Keith. "Where's Adam?" she demanded.

"Coloring," Keith supplied.

"What was that all about, Aunt Bryn?" Brian asked.

"Nothing.Imean, nothing that I can explain right now. Listen to me guys, and pay attention, please. I'm...uh...having a few professional problems. Help me out tonight. Please go upstairs and take your baths and help Adam for me, okay? And please! No soap fights, no yelling or screaming. Please?"

They both nodded at her solemnly. She heard Brian calling to Adam, and then the three boys were traipsing upstairs together.

When she heard the bathwater running, she started to cry.

Several minutes passed as she stood there, just allowing the tears to slide down her face. Then she dried her cheeks with her knuckles, made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table.

She wanted to call the police, but she couldn't! Not after the warning she had been given. But what if it had been a bluff? Call the police, she told herself firmly. It would be the logical and intelligent thing to do.

No! She couldn't.Because the warning might not have been a bluff.

And whoever the whispering voice belonged to had a definite flair for destruction. Her darkroom was proof of that.

Oh, God! Bryn started to shake; she covered her face with her hands, fighting back a rush of hysteria.

The boys had to be protected above all else...and how could she watch them and protect them at all times while she was working to support them? Even if she wasn't working, she could never be with all three of them always.

There was only one answer. She had to get the pictures back. Yes, she had to.

Bryn took a deep breath; the decision helped to calm her. She couldn't give way to frustration. She couldn't afford to sit there in tears. She had to think of the boys, and remember that they were precious above anything else in her life.

Her fingers were shaking. She stared at them, until she willed them to be still.

Bryn finished her tea and walked upstairs. The boys were just finishing buttoning theirpajamas . Adam's were off center by a mile.

"Hey!" she told him, sitting on the bunk to hold him close and start the buttoning process over.' 'Almost , Adam, but not quite!"

The tears started to well into her eyes, and she crushed him close.

"Smotherin' me, Aunt Bryn!"Adam protested. "Sorry, sweetheart. Sorry." She kissed his forehead and stood briskly to tuck him in. Then she kissed Brian and Keith, who both watched her solemnly "Thanks for being real good tonight, guys. I needed the help." "Aunt Bryn--"

"I'm really okay now. I promise. Aunts just get a little crazy now and then. Good night."

She turned off their light and closed the door most of the way, leaving it open just enough for a little of the bathroom light to stream through.

In the hallway she realized that she wasn't all right at all. She was scared to death. If someone had gotten into her darkroom, wasn't it possible that they could get into the house...? She hurried downstairs and started to arm herself with a kitchen knife, then decided against it. If an attacker was large, she wouldn't be able to fend him off, and she might just wind up stabbed by her own knife.

She chose the broom for a weapon, then checked every closet and every nook and cranny in the house, holding her breath in panic each time she threw a door open.

At last she convinced herself that if someone wanted her to get the pictures, he--or she--wasn't going to murder her until she had achieved that project, or at least tried to.

But she still wasn't going to be able to sleep easily. She didn't even bother to go up to bed, but spent the night on the couch with the television on to give her some desperately needed company.

She never really heard the television, though. She just lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to make plans.

She was going to have to play up to Lee. Be sweet, be charming--be seductive.To a point, at least. Enough so that she could convince him to trust her. To return the pictures on her promise that she could do much, much better now that she...cared for him more. Understood him so much more...

She tossed on the couch, beset with anxiety--and blood spinning heat. She couldn't move in that close on Lee--but she had to. She had to... she had to. And somehow she had to play the role so well that she could also keep a distance that was safe for her heart.

No, no, none of it could matter! She could think only of the boys! Lee had to help her. Surely he would. She would do her act well. He would give her the pictures back, and the nightmare would be over.

But what if... what if he still refused?

Her mind drew a blank. If he still refused, then she'd have to resort to desperate measures. If he refused to give them back, then she was going to have to take them back.

On Friday she was in for a tremendous disappointment; Lee didn't come to rehearsal. Andrew told her that he'd flown toLos Angelesto sign some papers and wouldn't be back until Monday.

Her weekend was sheer hell. She forced herself to restore the darkroom, and she took the boys swimming both days, packing a picnic lunch and staying out of the house as long as she could. Each time the phone rang she almost jumped through the roof. But the whisperer didn't call and nothing happened.

Except that massive shadows formed beneath her eyes from lack of sleep. And her nerves were stretched as tightly as a drum.

She had never been more grateful to see a Monday roll around. Was she still being watched? If so, the watcher would know that she couldn't have gotten to Lee until today....

Lee still seemed tense, distracted, and now, very distant. That made it all the harder for her to approach him, but she had to. It was also difficult to admit that he looked wonderful to her. Hard to accept that no matter how remotely he touched her, it felt good to be touched by him again. The seconds she spent in his arms made her feel inexplicably secure. His scent was pleasant and masculine; the power of his hold warmed her....

But there was a definite chill to his cool and courteous manner.