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  "Kulchz has an office underground," Mo replied, pushing me forward. "Just up ahead you'll see a hatch that will lead us down to it."

  I walked forward with caution, and as my eyes adjusted to the low light, I saw a metal railing protruding up from a hatch. Mo nudged me toward the railing, so I grabbed it and started down. At the bottom I found myself in a long corridor that went in both directions. It was stark white and well lit. I waited for Mo.

  "Which way?" I asked.

  "Follow me," he said. As best I could tell, he went south toward the lake. A few minutes later he stopped in front of a door, looked into an eye hole, and the locking mechanism clicked. He pushed the door open and walked in. I followed him with much trepidation.

  Kulchz was a tall human with broad muscular shoulders and a rugged face. He looked at me intently as I entered the spacious office that appeared to be made of glass or crystal. There were thousands of lights, control panels, and monitors of every sort. He motioned for us to sit down. The room was furnished with several chairs and a sofa cushioned by a soft, white substance. When I sat down, the seat conformed itself to the shape of my body. As I sank into it, I felt like I was floating on air.

  Kulchz sat in front of a large, glowing desk. With the faint blue glow came a steady humming noise that changed pitch from time to time. I looked at it curiously.

  Kulchz nodded slightly. "Mr. Turner, at last we meet."

  "Yes," I said. "I figured one day we would. This is quite a place you have here."

  "Yes, it will do for our limited purposes."

  My hands were shaking so I slipped them under my thighs to quiet them.

  Kulchz smiled. "There's no reason to be nervous, Mr. Turner. We mean you no harm and your son is doing quite well on Tarizon."

  Anger swelled in me as I thought of Peter being a captive of these intruders. As if he'd read my mind Kulchz said, "He's not a captive. He's been assigned temporary quarters and has been provided a guide to teach him the ways of Tarizon."

  "Really? So, he got there okay? He's not sick or anything?"

  "No, he's perfectly healthy and actually enjoying himself, I believe."

  A monitor clicked on and there was an image of Peter being led down a crystal hallway by a woman dressed in a white gown. As she stopped in front of a room she looked toward the camera. She was young and quite pretty. She said something and Peter laughed. He seemed quite taken with her and looked as happy as I' d ever seen him. Tears of joy welled in my eyes and I could scarcely keep from crying. Peter was alive! He was okay!

  The monitor went blank and Kulchz smiled. "So, worry not about Peter. He'll be fine as long as you do your job."

  "My job?" I said. "What is my job?"

  Kulchz sighed. "There's been, what would you call it, a . . . ah . . . botched, I believe is the term . . . a botched extraction."

  "Really? What went wrong?"

  "Nothing with the extraction itself. Everything seemed to go as planned. It was staged as a parental abduction as it often is, but there is a police detective who won't accept this explanation. He thinks the wife is involved in the disappearance somehow and is out to prove it."

  "Who's the detective?"

  "Kramer. Will Kramer," Mo replied.

  "Hmm. I don' t know him. Does he have any evidence?"

  "We don't know. All we know is that this detective must be stopped, and you've got to do it."

  "So, you want me to represent this woman?"

  "Yes, defend her and prove she's innocent. You must stop the detective too. If he keeps digging, he might discover the truth and then we . . . well you know what we'd have to do."

  I knew only too well what they'd do. The two options that had been explained to me were having my memory erased or being exiled to Tarizon. The problem with memory erasing was that it was imprecise and unpredictable. It was quite possible that months or years might be erased unnecessarily. There was even the possibility of brain damage. Living on a strange planet away from family and friends didn't offer much appeal either.

  "Yes, I guess I do. . . . So, why don't you just abduct the woman and save us all a lot of trouble? Take her to Tarizon to be with her family?"

  "We can't do that. Our treaty with the U.S. government doesn't allow it nor do we want the Earth mothers on Tarizon where they might try to interfere with the home family."

  "What about Peter and Dr. Gerhardt?" I asked. Did the treaty allow you to take them?"

  "If the program' s invisibility is in jeopardy, then it can be done as a matter of national security, but that is not the case with this woman. We have to try very hard to resolve these kinds of problems without resort to violence or abduction."

  It occurred to me that many of the alien husbands would probably have fallen in love with their Earth wives and would have insisted that they be protected post extraction. I wondered if an alien husband had ever refused to be extracted. Surely it must be difficult to live with a woman four or five years, have children with her, and then up and leave without even a word of explanation.

  I nodded. "All right. What is this lady's name? Where can I find her?"

  "Her name is Charlotte Wenzel. She's being questioned at the Plano Police Station right now. Sooner or later they'll indict her. You should contact her immediately."

  My heart sank. What were the odds I'd have a conflict on the first case they wanted to assign me?

  "I can't handle that case," I said.

  "Why not?" Mo asked.

  "Bart Williams, my partner's husband, works for the Collin County District Attorney's office. I overheard him say he was prosecuting that case. It would be a conflict of interest."

  "You have to do it," Kulchz said. "You're the only one we have to represent her."

  "I'm sorry."

  "They have other prosecutors," Mo pointed out. "If you take the case, they'll just assign another prosecutor."

  "True. But I couldn't do that to Paula. This is a big case for Bart. He's been waiting a long time--- "

  "Do I have to remind you we've got Peter?" Kulchz said angrily.

  A cold chill swept over me. I glared at Kulchz. What a bastard he was. "Okay. Okay. So, if they do indict her, where do I get the money to post the bond?" I asked.

  "How much do you think you'll need?"

  "Well, if she's charged with murder, it could easily be two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

  Kulchz nodded. "We'll provide you whatever it takes to get Mrs. Wenzel off. Just let Mo know what you need."

  Mo stood up. "I'll take you back to your office so you can get started."

  I got up and said, "What about Peter? Can I talk to him?"

  Kulchz stood up abruptly. "No, just do as you' re told and he'll be fine. When Ms. Wenzel is cleared and the investigation is over, you can come back here and see some more video of him."

  "That's it?" I said angrily.

  Mo took my arm and guided me to the door. I looked back, but Kulchz had already turned his attention to other matters. On the way back to Dallas I thought of Peter. He did look well. Was that really him or just some computer image? I wanted to believe it was him. I had to believe it. The alternative was unbearable. When Mo dropped me off a block away from my office building, he gave me a briefcase and said the contents should tide me over for a while.

  When I got back to my office, I closed the door and opened the briefcase. It was stuffed with money---hundred dollar bills in nice neat packages. It didn't take long to count three-hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The expected bond money plus a hundred grand as a retainer, I figured. Paula would be proud and shocked that I'd gotten a decent retainer from a client--- not bad, had the circumstances been different. I was eager to tell her the news but when I checked her office, she wasn't there.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  The Investigation

  I was beginning to wonder if the firm of Turner & Waters was going to survive. Stan had been devastated by Peter's death and it was nearly six weeks before he even bothered showing up for work. Even then he was listless and had little enthusiasm for the daily routine. Luckily, after the Cheryl Windsor trial, I didn't have much going on, so I was able to cover Stan's civil cases. He did just about everything from wills to adoptions. No one could ever accuse him of specializing. He said it was because he was so hungry when he first started practice that he had to take everything that came in the door just to survive. He'd bragged that he'd never refused a case and that if he didn't know how to do something, he'd learn.

  I'd certainly learned a lot in the last few weeks. I'd reviewed oil and gas leases, drafted no competition agreements, appeared at a couple of bankruptcy hearings, and even attended a homeowner's association meeting, which I hope I never have to do again. They spent three hours arguing about dog poop, barking dogs, and woodpeckers attacking their carports. What a waste of time! Fortunately Jodie, our legal assistant, had become proficient in most of these matters and did most of the paperwork, but it was still a relief to have Stan back so I could concentrate on what I loved the most: criminal defense.

  The press hounded us for months about the disappearance of our client Cheryl Windsor during her murder case. The case had been declared a mistrial and without a defendant it was not likely to be retried. Eventually the crowd of reporters dwindled outside our offices until one day it was gone. The only reporter that wouldn't leave us alone was Alex Garcia of the Globe Inquirer. During Cheryl Windsor's trial he had infiltrated our team as a bodyguard and seduced me into a fraudulent affair that nearly cost me my marriage. The scandal following the disclosure of our relationship didn't deter him from continuing to cover the story. In fact, when the trial was over it became his obsession to find out what happened the day Cheryl Windsor vanished from the witness stand in mid-sentence. r />
  The lull at the office gave me more time to spend with my husband, Bart. He was an assistant district attorney at the Collin County District Attorney's Office up in McKinney, Texas. This was just in the nick of time as our marriage had been through some rough spots and might have fallen apart had I not had time to work on repairing it. Bart had just been assigned the Gabriel Wenzel murder case and was very excited about it. It was his first high profile case and he was under a lot of pressure to do well. Usually I was the one who got all the media attention, but I was glad Bart was finally getting some well deserved publicity.

  Bart had called and asked me to join him for lunch. Not having a lot to do, I eagerly accepted the invitation. We met at Chili's in Plano which was midway between our two offices. He was pacing in front of the restaurant when I walked up. I saw that he wasn't smiling, which disturbed me because he rarely got upset over anything. After we'd been seated, I asked him what was wrong.

  "You don't know?" he snickered.

  "Know what?"

  "Stan is defending Charlotte Wenzel."

  "Huh?" I said incredulously.

  "Yeah. I couldn't believe it either."

  "That can't be."

  "don't you know what goes on in your own law firm? You're a partner for godsakes!"

  "Honey. I'm as shocked as you about this. Stan didn't mention it to me. I can't imagine him taking on a case without consulting me. I'm so sorry."

  "Now, Ralston's taken me off the case and given it to Gary Shepard."

  "Oh, God! I can't belief this. Let me go talk to Stan. Maybe he didn't realize---"

  "Yes he did. We've discussed the case with him."

  "I know. You're right," I replied angrily. A What was he thinking? I need to talk to him. There has to be some rational explanation. This isn't like Stan. Tell me exactly what happened. I don't want to misstate the facts when I give him a piece of my mind."

  Bart took a deep breath. "You knew Ralston hired a new chief prosecutor?" He said. A I think I mentioned it to you."

  "This Gary Shepard guy?" I asked.

  "Yes. He's out of Houston. He's been the number one felony prosecutor for the Houston DA's office for the last six years. Ralston's been courting him for awhile. I guess he made him an offer he couldn't refuse--- big pay raise and a fat expense allowance."

  I shook my head in disgust. "He should have given you some of that money. You haven't had a pay increase since you've been there."

  "Yeah, tell me about it. . . . Anyway, I asked Ralston why he needed to go outside the office to get a chief prosecutor. He said he had to have someone he knew would be effective. He was worried about getting reelected. He'd promised the voters in the last election that he'd improve the conviction rate if he was elected. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened."

  "Well, you and I know the voters have a short memory. As long as he's a Republican he'll get reelected. This is Collin County for godsakes."

  "He's worried about the primaries. Joe Sharp has been talking about running against him."

  "Joe Sharp? He's a criminal defense attorney. The republicans won't elect him."

  "Ralston's not so sure about that. Anyway he's acting very paranoid these days."

  "He'd better be careful. If Gary Shepard's so good, he might take a run at his job once he gets the lay of the land up here."

  "Yeah, wouldn't that be ironic," Bart replied.

  "Anyway, I've been working with Detective Will Kramer on the Wenzel case. He was looking at the wife as the prime suspect. When Gabriel Wenzel and his children disappeared an anonymous informant came forward and claimed that Charlotte Wenzel had contacted him about killing her husband. He claimed to have refused her, but wanted us to know she might have found someone else. Based on that informant he had obtained a search warrant for the Wenzel home and he invited me to come along. They live in Canyon Creek."

  "That's a ritzy address," Paula noted.

  "Yes. They obviously aren't hurting for money. Kramer was already there when I arrived. He gave me the nickel tour and said they hadn't found any evidence of foul play but had found a nice two million dollar life insurance policy."

  "Oh, wonderful. Was the ink still wet?"

  "Probably. She took it out just a few weeks ago. She gets two hundred thousand dollars for each kiddo too."

  "Who's the beneficiary?" I asked.

  "Mrs. Wenzel, of course."

  "Quite a motive."

  "Yes, but she'd have to be really stupid to take out a policy and then kill the insured less than two weeks later. It almost makes it look like a coincidence."

  "Yeah, maybe, but not all murderers are smart," I noted. "She may not have thought it through. What do you have on the victims?"

  "Kramer said they were reported missing by Mrs. Wenzel Friday evening, August 2nd, I think. According to Wenzel, her husband phoned around noon and told her he'd pick the kids up from school and spend the afternoon with them. She said fine and went shopping. They never made it home. A formal missing person's report wasn't filed until the next afternoon since the father supposedly had the children."

  "What else do they have?" I asked.

  "A neighbor and friend of Charlotte, Janet Kaufman, claims the Wenzels were having marital problems. She says Mr. Wenzel was unfaithful and may have mentally abused her."

  "What made her think that?" I asked.

  "She claims Charlotte often seemed disoriented and complained of having blackouts. She thinks Gabriel or Gabe, as they called him, liked to knock her around."

  "Did she see any physical evidence of that?"

  "No. She couldn't remember seeing any bruises, but Mrs. Wenzel apparently wore a lot of makeup."

  "Yeah, but you couldn't hide serious bruising with makeup," I said.

  "How else would you explain the blackouts?" Bart asked.

  "Could be drugs?"

  "Yeah. Maybe. But they didn't find anything stronger than aspirin in her house."

  "Anything else?"

  "According to Mrs. Kaufman Gabe had a lot of issues. She said he was a control freak for starters. They had an elaborate security system cameras and monitors everywhere designed not only to keep intruders out but to keep an eye on his family. It was almost like his wife and children were prisoners in their own home."

  "So, you think Charlotte just got sick and tired of it and decided to put an end to it?" I asked.

  "That's what Kramer thinks."

  "But, why the kids? Mothers don't usually kill their children . . . unless they're insane," I noted.

  "The blackouts could be a sign of mental illness," Bart replied.

  "Maybe."

  "Anyway, later that day I met up with Kramer at the McKinney police station. He'd picked up Charlotte Wenzel for questioning. When I got there, Kramer had been in the interview room for some time questioning her. I watched through the one way mirror. She's a young, pretty Asian woman. She looked exhausted and was having difficulty keeping her eyes opened. Kramer was pacing in front of the small table where she was seated. He was relentless but Mrs. Wenzel was sticking to her story. I wasn't sure Kramer was going to be able to break her. That's when I heard footsteps quickly coming down the hall. I turned and saw Stan approaching."

  "Oh, God," I moaned shaking my head.

  "He wanted to know why we were still questioning his client."

  "His client?"

  "That's what he claimed," Bart replied. "He said he'd called over to the station and told them she was not to be questioned without her attorney present."

  Paula shook her head. "I'm sorry, Bart. I had no idea. I'm going to go have a chat with Stan right now. I can't believe he'd do this to you."

  Bart acted like he believed me but he was still angry with Stan as was I. When I got back to my office, Maria told me Stan and Mrs. Wenzel had just gone into a conference room where I joined them. Mrs. Wenzel was a brunette. She wore a mid-length black skirt, tan top, and sandals. Stan stood up. "This is my partner, Paula Waters." We shook hands and then sat.

  I wanted to say something to Stan before he got started but I couldn't do it in front of Mrs. Wenzel. He must have known Bart would get pulled off the case if he took Charlotte's case. I couldn't believe he'd stabbed me in the back.