CHAPTER 23

Manda woke up in a dark room. The sound of the purring air conditioner almost lulled her into sleep again. Groaning, she turned her head away as light suddenly flashed above her. She shook her head to get rid of her blurry vision, wincing at the same time at her splitting headache. When she tried to move, she finally noticed her hands were tied to the back, and that she was lying on the hard floor.

"I was hoping you would pass out until I'm done with my plan," a woman's voice said from the corner of the room.

Manda turned toward the voice, caught sight of a blond woman, standing with her back facing her.

"What are you doing, Mrs. Hasbrough?"

"Destroying evidence."

The photographs.

"You followed me home, didn't you?"

"I did. I made sure Michael had a flat tire, so that you'd get home alone. Seeing your condition, I'm sure he'd make sure you'd get home as soon as possible."

"You must have had this plan after we told you and Angela about the film."

"I was searching for them this morning, but instead I've run into you two. It's a good thing I keep in shape when Michael tried to catch me." She sounded annoyed.

"You killed Blaster, too, didn't you?" She should have figured out how athletic Mrs. Hasbrough was when Angela told them she was a regular gym customer.

"He saw me entering Roy's apartment building --"

"-- disguising as the maid," Manda finished. "He blackmailed you, I suppose, and then you killed him to silence him."

She finally turned around to look at Manda. "Tell me, Miss Rider. How did you know it was I who entered Roy's apartment instead of Leena?"

Manda glanced down at the woman's feet. "Your shoes. You told us before it was custom-made only for you. You wear it wherever you go. Besides, a real maid wouldn't be wearing high heels while she's doing her job."

"Ah, yes. I knew I've forgotten something. It's a small mistake which I'll fix it soon enough. You are very observant. These are my lucky shoes. I like to wear it while I go to Atlantic City."

"What about that ring? You're not wearing it now," Manda said, even though she could see the woman was wearing a pair of leather gloves. "Or maybe you have pawned it. You must have a lot of debt from gambling. You borrowed money from Blaster to pay off your heavy debt. That day when he was at your house, he was demanding his money, wasn't it?"

"You know too much. That's the more reason why I should get rid of you."

"What about Leena? How did she fit into this?"

"Since I was his client, Blaster needed to know everything about me, including my family. He planted Leena as Roy's maid to spy on him. She would feed Blaster with all the information she had gathered from Roy's apartment."

"Did you also throw the bomb into my house?"

"Why would I want to do that? It's improper, and messy. I like quieter method."

Manda snorted. "Like poisoning, or stabbing."

The woman just smiled.

"What happened to Leena? Did you kill her too?"

"She's missing. I paid her to lie to the police. Once I killed you, I'll have to settle a business with her -- when I find her."

Manda didn't need to figure out what business she was talking about.

"Why did you kill your own son?"

"I'm sure you're smart enough to figure out why." She stood before Manda, looking down at her with a maniacal gleam in her cold blue eyes. She was clutching something in her hand. Shredded photographs and negatives.

"Enlighten me. I'm very slow at catching up."

The woman snorted derisively. "Oh, please. You're far more intelligent than you'd let on. You make up the plain, boring image of yourself so that no one notices you, and takes you seriously. And that is your advantage. No one remembers you, your name, or your existence. I figure you'll make a good spy someday, but it's unfortunate it has to end this way before you could even begin that career."

"Gee, that's such an entertaining profile you've made of me. I never make up of who I am, and you've got it wrong that I want to be a spy. I've never thought about it." Manda inched herself slowly to a sitting position. She felt tiny when Mrs. Hasbrough was looking down at her like that.

"It doesn't matter now. Soon, I'll be the co-owner of Strom-Hasbrough, now that Roy is out of the way."

"So, this is all about money. Once you get that position at SH, you'll get all the money that you want. Your own designer company is about to bankrupt, and you need the money fast. You must be outraged when your husband gave his position to Roy instead of you."

Manda had the reaction she wanted. Immediately, Mrs. Hasbrough's face turned scarlet, and the veins in her neck stood out in livid ridges.

"He knew about my gambling habits. But it should have been me! I was the one who had helped him with the finances. I had helped him boosting up the sales pitch. I was the one who got S-H to be admitted in Chambers and Commerce. It should have been me! Me! Me! Roy was a hindrance that I didn't need. I knew I had to do something about Roy, before he destroyed the family money." She burst into laughter that sounded between insanity and delight.

Manda decided the woman was out of her mind. As long as Mrs. Hasbrough wasn't doing anything, Manda decided to work on the ropes. She tugged it, but to her consternation, it was too tight that she almost felt her blood circulation almost cut off.

"Roy's behavior is such a disgrace to the family," the woman went on with her rant. "Sleeping with his high school teacher. The gall of that boy! I had to bribe that teacher to shut her mouth. If she ever opens her mouth, I'll make sure her husband knows it. And you wonder why my husband gave his position in his company to that boy? Roy didn't deserve the money! I do."

"So, you got the poison from the tool shed, and put it into Roy's brandy."

"I knew he always drank the brandy after getting home from work," Mrs. Hasbrough replied smugly.

"Then you planted it in Angela's room. I suppose you did that while we were visiting her at her house. After you heard that the police are going to make a search warrant on Angela, you made an excuse to go to the bathroom and used that opportunity to plant the framing evidence."

"You were very observant, I have to hand it to you. I kept that poison in my purse for that purpose. I have to make someone take the blame for the murder. That was the opportunity that I needed."

She threw the shredded photos on the floor, before picking up a large gasoline can, and poured it around the room.

"You're going to burn this place down," Manda stated in horror. "You're crazy."

"I know."

"This is my dad's study."

"It's inevitable."

Once the can was emptied, she tossed it toward the end of the room. The can bounced, and clanged against the wall before hitting the floor. She flicked on a match, the flame illuminated her expression twisted with a malicious smile. She tossed it to the floor. An eerie hiss filled the room.

"Good bye, Miss Rider. Have a nice trip to hell."

With a blur of movement, the woman was already up the stairs, shutting the door behind her and leaving Manda surrounded with a wall of thick fiery flames.

In a few seconds, the flames licked through the room, glutting the gasoline in uncanny speed, engulfing the tables, chairs, and the filing cabinets.

She coughed as the fumes burned her throat and her eyes. Smoke was filling the small room, and her eyes watered from the intense heat. Ignoring her injured back and ribs, she fell to the floor, where the air was fresher. She tried to loosen the rope behind her, but every breath that she took seemed to suffocate her, weakening her body.

I've got to hold on. There was no time to lose. She slid across the floor, dragging herself toward the stairs, but it was already blocked by the fire. She coughed again, her head pounding. The smoke was getting thicker, and she couldn't even see the door.

The white paint on the wooden walls turned brown, then bubbled and smoked, and the wood cracked when it reached past its ignition point before bursting into flames.

She pushed herself, inch by inch toward the stairs. Her lungs were starting to hurt, burning, smothering. Her vision swam, bringing her to edge of darkness. She thought she heard wood crashing, but she was too drowsy to notice. She closed her eyes, imagining she was someplace else. No! Get up!

Her heavy eyelids refused to open. Get up! Now!

"Oh, no! She's dead."

She thought she heard voices, but she couldn't tell if it was all in her head. Am I really dead? Smoke and heat surrounding her, crowding closer and closer until she could see no more.

--o--

Manda opened her eyes, and winced. Her throat hurt, starched dry, and every part of her body ached. She could see bright lights above her.

"Am I dead?" she murmured.

"Far from it," a masculine voice answered.

She turned toward the voice. Michael was sitting down next to the bed, and her uncle was standing next to him.

"Wh-What happened?" Her voice came out hoarse.

"You almost suffocated in the fire, and passed out," Michael told her in a grim look. "I had to give you CPR, before the paramedics came."

She cleared her throat. "What about Mrs. Hasbrough? Did she get away?"

"After our phone conversation was cut off, I was worried. So, I called the police to send someone to your house to check things out before I arrived. Then ten minutes later, I got a call from them and they told me about finding Mrs. Hasbrough's car parked in front of your house. By this time, I had just arrived at your house. It never occurred to me that she was the murderer. I checked your house, the front door was locked, and I've knocked the door, but no one answered. Mrs. Hasbrough suddenly came walking from the back of your house. I asked her what she was doing here. She told me she came to talk to you, but you weren't home. She claimed she was checking the back of the house, just in case you were there. We almost let her leave until I saw smoke coming out from the basement window. That was then she tried to flee. It was a good thing those police officers were still there, and they apprehended her easily. I broke into your house, and found you in the basement. The rest as you say is history."

"She destroyed those photos," Manda said in disappointment. "I never got a chance to see them."

"Not exactly," Michael said. "You left one envelope in my jeep. They showed Mrs. Hasbrough, carrying a black gym bag, entering Roy's apartment building five minutes before noon on the day that he died. It seemed Blaster was taking pictures of her from across the street."

"Even without those photos, what she did to you was enough to send her to jail. You can testify against her," Uncle Connor told her.

"She killed Roy, and Blaster," she told them, and related to them what had happened before the fire. "If we can find Leena, she would be able to help us to testify against Mrs. Hasbrough."

"Anyway, Chief Ramirez is here," Michael spoke up. "And he wants to question you as soon as you woke up."

She sighed. "I'll bet he's pretty furious at us."

"Like finding out the killer before he did?" Michael guessed, smiling slightly.

"That's one of them."

"Oh, by the way," Uncle Connor said, "Mayor Summers hoped that you don't have any hard feelings for her chauffeur for throwing that Molotov cocktail into your living room. She only wanted him to scare you for meddling into her business. She didn't anticipate that her chauffeur to be overdoing it. Besides, he claimed he didn't know you were in that room when he threw it through the window."

Manda rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "That's one way of putting it. I almost got killed. What did Chief Ramirez say about this?"

"Maybe you didn't know, but Mayor Summers has influence on him. Since you're still alive and in one piece, he's not going to do anything about it."

"You can still take a legal action against him."

"I know, but you'll never know who else in the police department is on the take. It wouldn't be a fair trial." He shook his head.

"I guess money gets you everywhere," Michael said sarcastically.

"When will I get out of here?" she asked them.

"Tomorrow morning. Dr. Gates has grown bored seeing our faces every time."

A nurse entered the room to check Manda's condition. "You need to leave now. The police officer outside is waiting to speak with Miss Rider."

"Okay, we'll pick you up tomorrow, Manda," Uncle Connor told her, giving a peck on her cheek.

"Okay," she murmured.

Michael took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Take care."

"Thanks, Michael, for everything."

"Don't mention it," he said with a wan smile, as if regretting to leave her. As she watched them walked out the door, she suddenly realized the case had ended. They would have their talk soon, and after that, she and Michael would no longer be friends and partners.

--o--

"Where's Uncle Connor?" Manda asked Michael the next morning, after she had signed her release form.

"He's waiting in the car," he replied.

"I need to see my dad first. It's been a while since the last time I saw him."

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but closed it back. In the end, he just nodded at her. They headed toward her father's room, which was a floor above them. The quietness between them was uncomfortable, and secretly, she was hoping Michael would forget about their talk.

She was just turning around the corner when she saw a tall man coming out of her father's room. His back was facing them, but she recognized that wavy black hair and broad shoulders anywhere.

"Damien?" she asked, stopping in front of her father's room. It took a moment for the young man to turn around with a ready smile on his face.

Sure enough, it was Damien Grayson. He also studied in Greenwood University, except that he was a senior. She had met him not too long ago while she was on a case, and almost considered him as a suspect during the investigation. Since then, she hadn't seen much of him. Though he was infamous as a playboy in campus, he was nice enough toward her that she decided to let him be her friend. With his deep-set green eyes, and perfect chiseled features, Manda wasn't surprised why most girls in campus thought of him devilishly handsome.

"Hello, Manda. It's nice to see you again." He greeted her in a deep baritone voice. He flashed her a white smile, which contrasted against his golden tan. She was taken by surprise when he kissed the corner of her mouth.

"Oh!" she couldn't help gasping, feeling her face flushed. She wished he wouldn't do that to her, especially in front of Michael. Sometimes she felt uncomfortable by his overly friendly manner toward her.

"Mackenzie," Damien said, giving a handshake toward Michael as an acknowledgment.

"Grayson," Michael said gruffly, grasping his hand. He eyed Damien warily. Both men seemed to be sizing each other up.

"What were you doing in my father's room?" she asked Damien, trying to ease the tension.

"I've got the wrong room. I didn't know there was another Rider in here. I've heard what happened to you, and I thought I could surprise you with a visit."

"It's a surprise, all right," she told him. "Where've you been? I haven't see you for quite a while."

"I've been here and there," he replied vaguely, giving her one of his charming smiles. "Besides, it wasn't that long since we've met at Blue Falls."

Even though her vacation at Blue Falls was only more than a week ago, it felt like it had happened ages ago ever since she took the case. Her meeting with Damien had completely gone out of her mind.

"How have you been doing?"

"I'm hanging there," she said with a shrug. "Thanks for asking."

"I take it Michael has been taking care of you?"

"And I still am," Michael spoke up, scowling at Damien.

Damien grinned, unfazed by Michael's reaction. Manda had a feeling he enjoyed chaffing Michael and making his life miserable, but she had no idea why. She figured that was why Michael never considered Damien a buddy.

"We'd better get going," Michael told Manda.

"Trying to keep me away from her, Mackenzie? You know that won't stop me," Damien told him, with an easy grin.

Michael's jaw clenched, but he didn't say a word. Manda looked at both of them uneasily.

"I guess we'll meet again someday," Manda told Damien before saying good bye.

"Maybe it's sooner than you'd think. We should meet sometime and talk over coffee -- or tea. I'll call you."

"Oh, OK," she said, glancing at Michael's dark scowl. She couldn't understand why he looked so angry over this. It was just for a friendly meeting, like she had always done with Michael before. However, a small voice inside her head told her in Michael's case, it was more than a friendly meeting, but she pushed the thought away. It wouldn't happen again after their talk. So far he didn't say anything about that, and she assumed that he had forgotten about it.

Damien gave a small wave before he left. Manda went into her father's room, and noticed there wasn't much change in her father's condition. She stayed in the room for a while, staring at her father's unmoving form, wondering if he would ever wake up. Her gaze went to the nightstand. Noticing the roses in the vase were dying, she threw them away.

When she came out of the room a few minutes later, Michael was leaning back against the wall, waiting for her. He straightened up when he saw her.

"How's he?" he asked.

"No change," she replied. They walked in strained silence, and it grew stronger since Damien's appearance. "Are you still angry?" she asked him when they walked into the lift.

"No. I didn't know you had planned with Damien to go to Blue Falls."

"I didn't. It was just a coincidence. Mrs. Hobson -- she's the landlady over there -- turns out to be his aunt," she explained. "It's a small world, all right."

"So, he's the one who's been helping you with your karate lessons," he stated coolly.

"Yeah."

The tone of his voice made her worried. He sounded accusing, but she was grateful he didn't press the matter further. At the same time, she couldn't help pondering over Damien. She had a feeling he was lying to her about being in her father's room. But why would he do that?

"Don't forget about our talk tonight," Michael spoke up.

Her heart sank. He still remembered about that talk. Cold chills ran through her at the thought of what he would say to her. The lift landed on the ground floor. Her uncle was waiting impatiently when both of them climbed into his car.

"What took you so long?" Uncle Connor asked.

"Just vising my dad," Manda replied simply.

Seeing that she wasn't going to explain anything, Uncle Connor started the engine, and left the hospital.

--o--

By six in the evening, Manda was already sitting in the living room couch, waiting for Michael's arrival. She sat quietly, her palms growing clammy every minute. She wasn't sure why he wanted to pick her up at her place and go somewhere else, and when she had asked where he was taking her, he told her she didn't need to know, but he made a reminder to her to wear something nice. She couldn't understand why he wanted her to dress up if he wanted to end their partnership. She had thought that maybe he wanted to humiliate her, but she dismissed the thought immediately. Michael wasn't that kind of person. Nevertheless, it was still confusing.

When her uncle had seen her in this dress, he had jumped the gun that she was going out on a date with Michael. She didn't make any attempt to correct him. Her uncle would be disappointed if he knew the truth.

When she heard Michael's Land Rover rolled into her driveway, Manda could almost feel her nerves were breaking. Her hands shook as she turned the doorknob.

Michael stood at the doorstep. She was taken aback when she saw he had put on black suit, instead of jeans and T-shirt, looking too handsome, much to her dismay. His dark hair was combed neatly, though there were still a few stubborn strands that went out of place, and one of them fell down his forehead that she found herself itching to tuck it away.

Seeing her stunned expression, he said, "Let's go now."

"I d-don't understand," she said as he took her hand. His hand felt warm, and strong against her timid, clammy one as he helped her climbed into his jeep.

"You look nice, but that dress looks a little old. Why aren't you wearing the black dress I've bought you?" he asked bluntly, studying her one-piece gray dress with a curious look.

Manda swallowed hard, and fingered the long skirt nervously. This dress was her mother's. She wasn't sure how to say to him that she had sold the black dress. She had been short of cash at that time, and she was desperate.

"It -- It's... umm, gone," she replied lamely.

"Gone?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Y-Yes... Gone." She gave him a weak smile.

He didn't comment anything, but his disappointed expression made her feel horrible. He climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you out to dinner."

"I thought you wanted to talk," she told him.

"We are -- before our dinner."

"I don't have appetite for dinner."

"I'll make sure you change your mind," he replied mysteriously.

He pulled out of the driveway, and steered the jeep toward the main street. The rest of the ride went on in silence, more uncomfortable than she had this afternoon. The road slowly became narrower, more trees covered the road side, and when she saw the Hunter Mountain ahead of them, she knew where he was taking her. The summer sun was still shining brightly in the evening. He pulled the jeep into a clearing and stopped the engine.

"Let's take a short walk," he told her and climbed out.

Manda paused for a moment to regain her composure. This is it. This is where he will tell me. As he helped her climbed out of the jeep, she stopped him before he moved away.

"Michael, I -- I know it's already too late to apologize to you, b-but I just want to let you know that I'm very sorry, and I don't blame you for taking the decision to -- to end this--" She stopped for breath, feeling tears stung her eyes. She turned away from him, embarrassed.

He was silent.

"It's just -- I mean --"

Then she felt his hands resting on her shoulders, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry. When you said those things about me, it stung, you know... it's like, you still doubt my loyalty. I've tried my best to be your friend, Manda, but... I don't know, sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for you. I guess I lost it when I told you I wanted nothing to do with you. I wanted to hurt you, just like you did to me."

"I didn't mean to say those things. I've always feel like I've disappointed you in some ways."

"No one is perfect. I've come to accept you the way you are," he told her. He turned her around so that she faced him. "But the truth is, I've been doing a lot of thinking, about how I didn't really want to end our friendship. I really regretted the day when I told you that."

Manda stared at her fingernails. "I thought you hated me."

"I never said I hated you."

"You don't befriend someone if you hate her."

"Hate is such a strong word. In fact, what I feel for you is in the very opposite way."

Her heart raced as she looked up at him. His piercing blue eyes locked with hers.

"Wha... What do you mean?" she asked, her throat went dry. She suddenly was afraid. Very afraid.

"I still want you to be my friend, maybe more than that."

"Oh, Michael, I want to be your friend, too."

Her face grew warm in shyness when his eyes locked with hers, again. He pulled her gently into his warm embrace. Her breath almost stopped when his hand reached out to trace her bottom lip with his thumb. There was a longing look in his eyes.

"May I, Manda?" he asked in a husky voice.

Her heart almost flew out of her ribcage when she heard his request. "I --" She swallowed, but nodded without thinking. When she realized what she had done, she panicked, almost pulling away from him.

He leaned closer, but stopped just a few inches away. There was a frown on his face.

"You're tensed," he remarked.

"I -- I'm afraid," she admitted. She was afraid of him, afraid of herself, afraid of what might happened next.

"Don't be. Just close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it."

As soon as her eyes were closed, his warm lips descended on hers. Shocked, she tried to pull away, but his arms secured her against his body, careful not to crush her broken ribs at the same time. It took her a moment later before she relaxed against him, inadvertently causing a frightening and exciting thrill coursing through her body, turning her insides into mush. And to her dismay, it felt right, oh-so-right. It was only a simple kiss. She wished it didn't feel this way. She didn't want to feel things that he was now making her feel inside of her. Things that she couldn't understand. Things that she didn't want to understand. Things that she was afraid to explore.

She wasn't sure how long the time had passed, but when they finally parted, he said with a gentle smile, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"No." Her voice came out breathless. She released the lapels of his jacket that she had unconsciously clutched.

He suddenly looked concerned. "Hey... don't cry."

"I'm not." Her vision blurred and she hastily wiped the tears away, feeling more embarrassed. "I wished you wouldn't kiss me. You planned this, didn't you?"

"No. That was me being impulsive. You know it's against my nature. Besides, I did ask your permission."

She gave a small laugh.

"Are you... Are you having regrets?" he asked slowly, looking almost worried.

"No," she admitted after a short pause. "Are you?"

"No."

"I only want to let you know, just because we're friends again, doesn't mean that we're... well, I --"

"I won't rush you. I only hope someday you'll change your mind."

"Someday."

Even when he didn't say it, she knew he was referring to the promise she'd made to herself. She hugged him as a silent thanks for his understanding.

"We're getting late for dinner," Michael told her a moment later, glancing at his wristwatch. "We should get going."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Remember that lakeside restaurant I told you about?"

"That one?"

"Yeah."

He helped her climbed into his jeep. He paused for a moment before he closed the door.

"What's wrong?" She gave him a worried glance.

"You're wearing that bracelet," he stated in confusion.

"You gave it to me on my birthday, remember?"

"I know, but... the last time you'd taken that off, I --"

"I thought it would match with this dress," she quipped. She couldn't fathom why she had picked it up from her dresser earlier and decided to wear it. In a way, she found herself missing its presence.

"I just want to let you know that you don't have to wear it for my sake."

"But I want to."

"Thanks. I like the sound of that," he said.

When he climbed into his seat, she suddenly thought of something.

"Michael, what happened to that appeal you did at the courthouse?"

His expression turned grim, and he stared straight ahead before he started the ignition. The engine purred to life.

"The crime I was charged with was too serious to be sealed off," he said quietly.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

He finally turned to her, looking incurably sad. "Does it really matter to you that I seal off my record?"

"No," she admitted. "It doesn't matter anymore. Like you said, I've come to accept you the way you are."

He looked relieved. "I'm glad you said that. You don't know how it means so much to me," he murmured before he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head affectionately.

She sighed in contentment. The evening didn't turn out as bad as she had thought, and she wasn't going to let anything spoiling it. Not even a mystery.

THE END.