Jim, Brian, Honey and John Simms drove in strained silence to the house of Katharine Waters, mother of a beautiful young girl, no longer living. A girl that looked eerily like Trixie…there was no question of waiting for a warrant. Special Agent Simms could care less if it meant an early retirement. The horrific autopsy report weighed heavily on his mind; he was damned if he was going to wait for official permission. He supposed he’d get reamed for bringing along civilians too. Tough.

"Remember, we could be wrong about this so let me do the talking. I’m going to play it off like it’s routine follow up. Everyone got me?" Simms’ voice was calm and steady, his eyes staying on the road.

Jim, sitting next to him, nodded. He knew talking to this woman was out of the question; throttling her was more like it.

"Yes," Honey and Brian echoed. Honey could feel Brian’s hand trembling in hers and slid closer to him, pressing against his body in wordless comfort.

They pulled up in front of the large attractive house. It did not look unlike the big, beautiful home featured in the movie Home Alone. Honey let out a surprised noise. "I just didn’t expect it to look so…homey and nice," she said when everyone looked at her.

They walked up the lavish pathway, prettily bordered by bright flowers. Suddenly Honey bent down and picked up what looked like a scrap of paper caught in the flora. It was the only flaw in the immaculately kept grounds and it drew her eye.

"What? What is it?" Simms demanded as Honey sucked in her breath audibly.

"It’s an A&P Grocery receipt!" Honey whispered, her eyes huge. "Oh Brian, Jim; she’s here!" Her voice trembled and she grabbed Brian’s arm for support. They all gazed at the piece of paper wordlessly.

John broke the silence. "I know what to do. And say. Will you kids trust me and not get in my way?" he asked, looking at each of them in turn.

Even though they only knew this man for a few days, there was something about him that inspired complete trust. They all nodded.

John rang the bell and the group waited tensely. Jim’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it. He trembled with the suppressed urge to throw himself into the house through the nearest window.

John rang the bell again and knocked sharply. A bird sang loudly overhead as they waited; Jim didn’t know how much more he could stand. He glanced at Brian and could read the same thoughts running over his tense face.

John reached into his pocket and pulled out a small curved shaped wire. Within seconds he had the door open and the group entered the house.

"Mrs. Waters? It’s Special Agent John Simms. I really need to talk to you," Simms called loudly. His voice seemed to echo in the stillness.

"Let’s spread out and look for her," Brian suggested.

Simms shook his head. "I know we can cover more ground that way, but we don’t know what we’re dealing with. We need to stick together." As frustrating as his words were, they knew he made sense. The large living room with it’s ornate antique furniture and lush sofas was deserted, as was the dining room, the kitchen and what appeared to be Mrs. Waters sitting room. The only sound was the steady ticking from the large grandfather clock in the living room. Honey let out her breath in a rush, only then realizing that she had been holding it for an uncomfortably long period, straining to hear something.

They headed upstairs. "This looks like the master bedroom," Simms said quietly as they entered a beautifully decorated bedroom with a lavish four poster bed. They all froze at the undeniable scene before them.

Brian rushed to the unmoving body laying on the thick carpet at the side of the bed and turned her over carefully, laying his first two fingers on the side of her neck. "She’s dead," he said in horror. No one moved for a long moment. They could all see the pill bottles scattered on the nightstand, a silent testament to a deeply disturbed, unhappy woman.

As if one body, the four rushed out of the room. "Trixie!" they each called, running from room to room, no longer needing to be quiet.

"Trixie, are you here?" Jim called frantically, diving under beds, opening closets, his heart in his mouth. The sight of the dead woman had froze his blood. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking that they might find Trixie in the same condition…

"Trixie, Trixie!" Voices floated from all over the house as the group searched frantically. They met in the living room, breathless and worried.

"What we’re going to do next is…" The ringing of John’s cell phone cut him off. "Simms," he answered abruptly. His face suddenly looked 10 years younger. "Thanks." He clicked his phone closed and started running for the back door. "Two young girls found her out in an old hunting cabin in the woods!" he called over his shoulder.

Jim felt as if his entire body had been suddenly hit with a bolt of lightening. "Where is she now?" he gasped, struggling to keep up, his legs suddenly rubbery. Move!

"Still there. She made them leave. She’s tied up. Worried they’d be in danger." He puffed out the short explanations as the four headed outside. They went out the gate and found the footpath. They could instantly see the deep track that could only be a wheelbarrow and followed it rapidly.

"She must have knocked her out somehow," John said through gritted teeth.

"Oh God," Honey moaned at the thought.

"Does anyone else smell smoke?" Brian asked, his voice tense and abrupt.  They all froze in horror.

The same undeniable conclusion raced through their minds in a horrifying instant, causing them to break into a flat out run. The woods thinned out somewhat and they could see the tiny cabin slightly below them completely engulfed in flames, the roof falling in with a loud crash. 

Simms caught Jim’s arm as he lunged forward. "If she’s in there she’s dead already!" he yelled hopelessly. 

Jim struggled against the older man, whose grip was unbelievably strong. "Let me go!" he screamed. "I’ve got to get her out of there!" He broke away from the agent.

You can kill a man if you hit him hard enough where the base of the skull meets the top of the spinal cord. John merely tapped Jim however, and caught him as he went down like a sack of potatoes. "Sorry dreamboat, but I can’t go having you killed," he muttered as he lowered him gently under a tree. "He’ll be all right," he said to Brian and Honey who stood there with their mouths gaping open.

"Wha…what about Tttrixie?" Honey sobbed as she and Brian clung to one another.

"I’ve never met anyone as stubborn as she is. If anyone could have gotten out of a jam like this, it’s her. Let’s go look for her. Come on!" he added when they didn’t move, shock paralyzing them.

"He’s right," Brian said, pulling Honey’s hand. "She got out. She had to!"

The three left poor Jim under the tree and made their way to the other side of the cabin, carefully skirting the heat and flames, sudden determination and hope blossoming in their hearts.

For one long, terrible moment, Trixie lay completely paralyzed, watching as the fire ate away the front of the cabin, the flames like angry tongues hell-bent on complete destruction. Suddenly, she was incredibly angry, the temper she had learned to control over the years taking her over as it had not done for a long time.

"No way!" she yelled, furious. "I am NOT going to lie here and die!" She yanked her legs as hard as she could, her eyes closed with the strain. Her heart leapt as the rope holding her to the end of the cot suddenly broke free. The girl with the braid had apparently loosened it just enough. She jerked herself off the cot, wincing as her head hit the floor, causing her to see stars. She rolled to the far wall and started kicking the decaying boards with all her strength. 

"Come one, come on, come on!" she pleaded, her leg muscles screaming with pain, the boards splintering and scratching her painfully. Her eyes stung from the smoke and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She squirmed until her back was to the wall and heaved back against the boards with all her might again and again until she found herself sprawled in the soft dirt, thankfully gulping in the fresh air. 

"YES!" she yelled as she realized she was out of the cabin at last. Her head throbbed mightily, but her heart was singing as she rolled as hard as she could on the ground, away from the flames. Luckily there was no wind to blow the flames even further. She shuddered as she heard the unmistakable sound of the roof crashing in and sent up a heartfelt prayer to her guardian angel for literally pulling her butt out of the fire.

"Trixie!" she heard, and for one confused moment thought her angel was answering her. Then her heart swelled as she realized whose voice it was. That’s no angel; it’s Brian!  

"Brian! Over here!" she yelled back joyfully.

John, Brian and Honey ran up the prone figure lying in the dirt. "Oh Trixie, you’re alive!" Honey burst into tears, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around her best friend. Brian gently moved Honey out of the way and held his finger in front of Trixie’s eyes. 

"Follow my finger," he said, the doctor in him taking over. John untied Trixie’s feet as she obeyed her oldest brother. "Are you in any pain?," Brian asked, his dark eyes deeply concerned as rolled her carefully onto her side and began to untie her hands. He sucked in his breath at the rope burns cut deeply into her wrists.

"I feel like something Reddy dug up in the yard," Trixie said feebly. Truth be told, there wasn’t a spot on her entire body that didn’t throb with pain. "Well, except for my arms. I can’t even feel them," she admitted.

"They’re just asleep," Brian responded, rubbing one briskly while Honey rubbed the other. Trixie gritted her teeth as the most intense pins and needles she had ever felt invaded her arms and hands.

"I’m feeling them now," she groaned.

"Good," Brian nodded. Suddenly he stopped and tilted her head back with his finger. "Oh Trix," he said hoarsely, looking in horror at the unmistakable thumb-shaped bruises on her windpipe. "Are you having any trouble breathing or swallowing?"

"Not anymore," Trixie replied. Brian sighed with relief, the knowledge that someone had actually tried to strangle his sister making him feel weak, sick and furious all at the same time.

"Kiddo, you had us scared to death," John said, gently rubbing her ankles and calves, mindful of the rope burns, cuts and splinters.

"I can’t believe how stupid I was," Trixie said, biting her lip.

"You were just trying to help. I haven’t known you for very long, but I know how you are. Don’t beat yourself up," John replied.

"Mrs. Waters!" Trixie suddenly gasped. "John, you have to find her, she’s going to hurt herself, I just know it." She looked at her mentor and knew. "Oh man, oh man," she moaned, closing her eyes. "It’s such a waste."

Brian was amazed. "Trix, the woman tried to kill you!"

Trixie shook her head. "She was disturbed Brian. Penelope was the only person she had in the world and she was taken away. She had nothing, nothing." She took hold of Honey’s hand and slowly pulled herself up, glad to find that she could stand. "She had nobody in the world," she repeated sadly.

Brian hugged her tightly. "I’m just glad you’re safe." Honey hugged her from the other side. Trixie closed her eyes and embraced them back, closing her eyes in happiness.

"Where’s Jim?" she asked, wondering for the first time why Brian and Honey were with John, but not Jim.

"Uhhhhh…" John began, suddenly wondering how he was going to tell his intern that he had clocked her husband. Trixie looked at him quizzically. "He uh, well, he was bound and determined to go into that cabin, and, well I couldn’t let him, the roof was falling in, fire all over the place, and well…I kinda cold-cocked him."

"Where is he?" Trixie demanded. Then the full meaning of what he was telling her sank in as she visualized Jim burning to death, as he almost had 10 years ago in his uncle’s decaying mansion. "Oh my God," she whispered. She grabbed John’s arm. "I…thank you," she said simply, kissing him on the cheek.

"He’s over there under the tree," John mumbled gruffly, not used to such affection.

"Can you walk?" Brian asked his sister.

"I think so," she replied, and they made their way over to where Jim still lay unconscious on the ground, Trixie wincing with every step.

Brian bent down and lifted Jim’s shoulders, giving a gentle shake, "Jim, Jim?"

Trixie sat next to him and cradled Jim’s head in her lap. "Gleeps John, how hard did you hit him?" she asked, worried, stroking Jim's forehead gently. Honey sat next to her.

"It was just a tap in the right place. Trouble is, he hasn’t slept for over 24 hours, or eaten much, I’ll bet. I’m sorry, Trix. He may have been killed if I hadn’t done it." Simms replied.

 And it would have been my fault! Trixie thought, looking down at the peaceful face of the man she loved more than her own life. She was so glad to see him she could hardly breathe.

John noticed her expression. "For Pete sakes, you’re blaming yourself again. Did you ask for a psychotic woman to almost kill you?"

"No, but I should have used my head," Trixie replied quietly.

"That woman was in so much pain—any one of us would have tried to help her without hesitation. John’s right, you can’t blame yourself for what happened," Honey spoke up, putting her arm around Trixie’s shoulder.

Trixie put her head down wearily on Honey’s shoulder. "You always know just the right thing to say. How do you do that?"

Honey smiled. "It’s a gift!"

Jim stirred and moaned. "Jim?" Trixie said softly, caressing his cheek.

"Had the worst dream. Just horrible. Did you put Patch out?" Jim mumbled.

Trixie and Honey looked at each other, suddenly smiling. "Yes," Trixie said. "Don’t worry about a thing." It was delicious to hear something so…normal. She almost felt like laughing aloud.

Jim’s eyes snapped open and he looked up at Trixie. "Trixie?" he choked in disbelief. He sat up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that swept through him and pulled her into his arms, relief and joy completely paralyzing his vocal chords for a long moment. 

"Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God," he whispered over and over when he could finally speak, tears coursing unashamedly down his face as he clutched her to him. 

Trixie melted into his chest, feeling a love that went way beyond words, the physical security she always felt when with him making her weak with relief.

"Did she hurt you? Are you all right?" Jim asked, holding her tightly. He hadn’t recovered from the shock of going from thinking she was trapped in a burning cabin to finding himself laying in her lap, and he felt like he could fly apart at any moment.  

"I’m okay, I’m okay," Trixie reassured him quickly, hugging him back. She could feel his exhaustion and worry seeping into her body like a chill. "Oh Jim, I’m so glad to see you, you can’t imagine!" she said, pressing her face into his neck, feeling her heart pound with joy.

"I’m never asking God for another thing. Not another thing." Jim said passionately. He drew back slightly and looked at her bruised and dirty face, thinking it was the most beautiful sight in the world. He kissed her for a long, long time.

Agent Simms coughed. "I hate to break this up, but we need to get Trixie to the doctor. He could already here the sounds of police and paramedics making their way to the cabin, or rather what was left of the cabin. Luckily the cabin stood in a cleared spot, and, with no wind, the fire had simply run out of fuel and died, leaving only charred scraps, ashes and smoke.

"I don’t need a doctor. I just want to go home," Trixie exclaimed in protest.

"Trixie, you’ve been tied up for 2 days, you’ve got a nasty bump on your head and in your weakened condition you’re vulnerable to infection from those rope burns. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been unconscious!" Brian responded firmly.

Trixie sighed; she knew there was no use arguing when her brother’s voice got that tone. "How do you know I’ve been unconscious?" she asked weakly.

"It doesn’t take a detective to figure out you didn’t go out in the woods willingly. She knocked you out, didn’t she?"

"She slipped something in my tea," Trixie admitted. "When I woke up, I was in the cabin." She shuddered at the memory, glad that Jim’s strong arm was around her.

"Well we can add chem screen in that case," Brian said, upset. His mind touched on the memory of Mrs. Waters lying dead on the floor from an overdose and swung away.

The paramedics had reached them and were slipping a blood pressure device over her arm. "Just relax," the young blonde woman said, smiling at Trixie.

"All right, you win," she muttered to Brian, feeling the cuff squeeze the inside of her elbow. She hated having her blood pressure taken—she could feel the pulse pounding in her arm. She was glad when it was finally released with a whoosh.

"I don’t believe it, Trixie’s actually cooperating!" John joked, glad to feel some of the tension dissolve. He wondered if he was starting an ulcer.

"Don’t get too used to it!" Trixie joked back.

"Lay down, please," the young paramedic indicated the stretcher.

"I gotta ask you two a question," John said, as Trixie reluctantly laid down , holding Jim’s hand. They all started walking up the path where an ambulance waited in front of the Waters’ home, the wheels bumping along the ground. "How in the hell do you guys live in the same house without killing one another? You’ve got to be two of the stubbornness people I’ve ever met!"

Brian and Honey laughed—they each privately wondered the same thing sometimes.

Jim and Trixie looked at one another, suddenly grinning. Trixie squeezed his hand. "Well, we only have one rule at our house," she began, her blue eyes bright. "No sharp objects!" Trixie and Jim said together.