"Face it. You were fooled by people you consider inferior! People you trusted to do what you wanted because they are simple and can be easily threatened. Didn't Sweet Karoline teach you not to trust anyone?"

He reacts violently to my sarcasm and slaps me. Hard. I have never been hit like that before. A high-pitched ring sears through my head. My eyes blur and my cheek stings.

Glenn's face becomes mottled with anger. His eyes blaze out at me. For the first time I am afraid that he might overcome his indolent nature and really shoot me.

"I loved her. We were going to be rich. Together. Don't blame hiding the paintings on our poor moron brother. You did it."

He kicks the paint box.

"I found this under your bed. When my friends get here, expect to show me the rest."

While he's focused on the box at his feet Meme surprises us. Somehow she pushes on the wheels. The slight incline in the old floor causes the chair to move abruptly forward. It catches Glenn in the back of his knees. He's already off balance, his kicking leg still bent. The weight of Meme and her chair pushes him face forward onto the floor.

I leap to my feet. Grab the first thing I see. The solid old statue of St. Joseph is so heavy that it falls onto Glenn's prone figure almost of its own accord. It glances off the top of his head. Blood spurts out but I know he's just stunned. Eventually he'll be able to get back up. I almost regret that I haven't killed him.

I kick the gun as hard as I can. It bumps up against the sofa.

"The key to the chain is in his pocket," Miriam yells. "It's the little one."

I quickly check our mom. She grins up at me. "Diable."

"You got him, Meme!"

Glenn writhes a bit on the floor, moaning, but I find his keys right away. The little one for the chain is one of dozens. Luckily its size gives it away.

Miriam and Dembi shake off the heavy shackles. Miriam's ankle bleeds a bit but she says she's okay. She bends and picks up the gun as though it has a disease. I gently remove the duct tape on our brother's mouth while our sister hugs Meme. I pick up the telephone. The same dead air greets me.

We don't hear the footsteps in the hallway but Glenn does. He's still not able to get up. He clutches his head and tries to roll to a sitting position. He must have felt the vibration of the floor as someone approached the parlor.

"My friends are here."

His voice is a squeak of pain. I'm right. He's a coward and a sissy. But will his friends be different?

The figure in the doorway is tall. His silver-streaked hair sticks straight up and his deep blue eyes blink at me from behind large glasses. He's ugly and beautiful at the same time.

I am about to run into his arms when a chill freezes me in my steps. Is Ethan one of Glenn's friends? Is that why he's been pretending to love me? Was it about money all along, cash that didn't belong to his parents, a way to be independent?

Dear Diary, Is money the root of all evil? Or is it the lack of money that drives people to commit crimes? I've always thought that if you were already happy, a lot of money couldn't hurt. Like marrying for money, not love.

Chapter 27.

"What the hell's going on here?"

Ethan's policeman voice thunders well above Glenn's moans and Dembi's whimpers.

There's something in his tone. Anger. Shock. Protectiveness. Love.

I get to him in two long leaps. He wraps his arms around me. How could I even have thought for one minute that he would betray me? Insecure with the new Anne, I relapsed into one huge moment of doubt. I burst into grateful tears.

Dembi begins to flap and screech. Glenn sits up.

Miriam hands the gun to Ethan. "This man tried to kill us."

"I did not." Glenn's voice is whiny. "I only had the gun so I could scare them. I wouldn't have shot them."

Ethan lets me go. He yanks Glenn up by the arm as though he is a featherweight and pushes him onto the sofa.

Dembi moves to stand beside Meme. He's quiet now. He can see that the other man, the one I've been hugging, is in charge and easily handles Glenn. Dembi's eyes are round and dilated but his hands are still. I quell my tears for his sake.

"Well, I imagine threatening with a gun is just as much against the law here as it is back in L.A. You go to jail for that, buddy."

There's a noise at the door. We all turn and gape at Melody and Tommy. In response they gape back at us. The gun in Ethan's hand captures most of their attention.

"You're a little late," Glenn says.

I glance at Glenn then focus back on Dee. I am breathless, aghast. We had welcomed this woman into our home. Betrayal makes my heart pound again. I work hard to replace the anguish with rage.

"You are Glenn's friends?"

"How could you, Dee?" Miriam's face is ashen.

At least Melody's expression is one of shame and fear. She might have some morals somewhere. She looks as though she's about to say something but Ethan doesn't allow her to speak.

"Nobody say anything. Dee, you sit over here. You-whoever you are-sit there."

Tommy is obviously weak with distress. He collapses in the chair. His wife sits straight, head lowered. Silent tears stream down her face.

"I'm a police officer in L.A. Though I've got no jurisdiction here I've certainly got the citizens' right to detain you until we can get the locals on scene. Has anyone called them?"

"The phone's not working."

"Ah, well, that explains a few things."

He smiles at me then snaps his official look back in place.

"I'll go and get them. The station's not far," Miriam says.

"Can we get Meme into bed first, Ethan? Her portable oxygen isn't as strong as the one in her room and she's been through a lot."

"I don't see why not. Dembi, I'm Ethan."

He takes two long strides forward and puts his hand out. I notice that he still has a good grip on the gun with his other one.

"I'm a good friend of Anne's. I'm here to help you."

Dembi nods. Once he shakes Ethan's hand he looks completely calm.

"I would like you to help me, buddy. Can you do that?"

Another nod.

"I want you to go and help Anne and Miriam put your Meme to bed. Then I want you to stay with her. Keep her calm and happy. Can you do that, too?"

"I am strong," Dembi says. "I can help Meme."

"Excellent. I knew that. I'll just stay here with these people and keep all of us safe."

We wheel Meme into her bedroom and lift her onto the bed. She's drenched, so I replace the diaper while Miriam adjusts the oxygen. All the while our mother strokes our hands. Murmurs our names. She's so exhausted she can barely lift her legs or arms, yet she's desperate to comfort us by her touch.

Once Meme is settled Miriam leaves for the police station.

Dembi lies down beside our mother. He curls into a fetal position against her body, exhaling with relief. Meme puts her arm over him. Rolly pops out from his hiding place under the bed and snuggles into Dembi's neck.

"We'll bring you some food in a bit." I kiss Meme's hand.

"Anne." She sighs it. The word feels like a song inside me.

Even before I straighten up, she's asleep.

I make my way over to Dembi and kiss his cheek.

"You are a hero, Dembi. You are strong and smart and wonderful."

He smiles but doesn't open his eyes.

I stand and watch them for a while. I'm not sure what to feel. My body is propelled only by adrenalin. Emergency mode. My mind is blank. I decide to leave it that way for a while.

Ethan sits in the telephone chair with his long legs crossed, the gun propped on his knee. This is my lover as police officer. He's composed but there's an aura around him that speaks of strength and ferocity. Immediately I feel calmer, too.

He smiles when I enter the parlor. His eyes grin, too. Sparkle with love. I realize that he's been waiting for me. He wants to interrogate these three before the local police get here and take over. He wants me to hear.

I wiggle in beside him. There's plenty of room for two of us.

"Would someone get me a bandage or something?"

I notice that Glenn's head still bleeds a little. His hand and arm are covered in blood. Out in the kitchen, I find an ice pack and a clean tea towel. He mumbles thanks when I hand it to him.

"I'm a little confused. Who are you people anyway?"

"I'm her brother."

If Glenn thinks self-pity is going to bring him favor, he's wrong. His whiny pathetic tone only irritates.

"We haven't proven that yet," I say, wanting distance from this bumbling idiot in front of me. "You said Karoline found you when she was searching for our siblings. But I don't trust a word you say."

He starts to retort but Ethan cuts him off.

"And you, madam?"

Dee's tears have not abated. "My name is Melody Fischer. I'm a caregiver. Can I please explain?"

"In a minute. Introduce yourself, sir."

Tommy looks pasty and sunken. His voice is weak and belies his pompous response. "Dr. Thomas Fischer."

"All right. I'm Detective Ethan Byrne from the Los Angeles Police Department. You wanted to tell us something, Mrs. Fischer?"

"I want to explain what happened."

Dee clears her throat and wipes the tears across her plump cheeks.

"Our son is a gambler."

She sounds like a confessor at an AA meeting.

"He got himself involved with some very bad people. We never had much money because Tommy would not move from this little hick town. Somehow Karoline found out about our situation."

Glenn groans as he shifts the ice pack on his head.

"She was brilliant."

I had to agree with him there.

"She paid off his debts. In return, I helped her with her research and Tommy gave her drugs."

No wonder Dee knew so much about our history. The second thought that crosses my overloaded brain fills me with anger. I sit up very straight.

"Meme! Did you give drugs to my mother? Is that why she stopped being able to talk or move or..."

"We never gave her any drugs. That was Karoline and Glenn."

"What the fuck is the difference? You knew about it. You preyed on an innocent woman. A dying woman."

I am on my feet, fists clenched. Ethan reaches out to pull me back. I resist for a moment. Venom spills out in a long shuddering exhalation. I sit back down, but on the edge of the chair.

Tommy clears his throat.

"Your mother may have a lot more time than you think. The radiation and chemotherapy were very successful in shrinking the tumors. Her results were better than for most cancer patients, in fact."

"You knew she should be in remission, not sliding backwards. You knew she was being fed those drugs. And you're a doctor."

I spit out the last word the way my mother says Diable.