Justice

The first time I met Perry Reed, I was lying face down, bleeding from my nose and mouth, in severe pain, very pissed off and about to lose a finger to a large thug with a sharp switchblade. If Perry hadn't come along when she did, I'm sure my big mouth would have gotten me killed.

I couldn't sleep, so I was out for a walk, minding my own business, strolling through a dark and not-so-safe part of town that most normal people steer clear of at night. Sure, there was another, safer route back to my apartment, but I was tough. I was confident. No criminal would ever target me because I was cranky and I'd kick his ass.

Did I also mention I was stupid?

Take my word for it. Don't walk home through the bad section, no matter how tough you think you are. Know why? Because there's always somebody tougher who's willing to prove it to you. Believe me. I'm speaking from experience here.

So, there I am, moseying like an idiot down this seedy street full of homeless people and drunks when, lo and behold, I get jumped and dragged into the proverbial alleyway. Now, mind you, I'm no slouch when it comes to build. I'm a pretty good-sized girl who goes to the gym on a regular basis. I'm not fat by any means, but I'm solid and I'm tall...certainly not dainty. I immediately began kicking and fighting with all my strength, but this was one big dude. I don't think I've ever seen such huge hands. He had me pinned, my back against his front, one arm around my waist and one clamped around my neck, before I had much time to even think.

"Gimme whatchoo got," he hissed at me in that wonderful way thugs have of slaughtering the English language.

"I don't have anything, you fuck," I sneered back at him, trying not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me choking from the death grip around my larynx. "I was taking a walk."

He paused for a moment and I thought he was going to let me go and make a run for it. No such luck. Instead, he said, "Then I'll have me that there fancy ring you got."

I immediately saw red. My grandmother left me her engagement ring and I've worn it on my right hand since the day she died. It's a classy, beautifully set piece with tiny diamonds and rubies and I sometimes forget that it draws the attention it does. There was no way he was getting my ring.

"Like hell you will," I hissed through my tightly clenched teeth, trying to step up my struggling.

"Bitch, don't make me take off your finger."

"Fuck you." This was spoken with slightly less bravado than I had hoped, being that my air supply was quickly dwindling.

I felt his weight shift slightly. Then he whipped me around and my face hit the brick side of a building so fast, it literally made my head spin. I fell face down and he was on me in a second. I heard the sickening flick of what I knew was a switchblade and before I could think to protect myself, the bastard had a grip on my right wrist. I had a sudden flash from the movie Bound…the scene when the mob guys snip off Shelley's finger with some pruning shears because he won't tell them what they want to know. You know the one I mean? Ugh. My stomach turns whenever I think about it. The thought of my own finger falling to the ground all by itself sent a jolt of fear through me and I did something about as far from tough as you can get. I screamed like a girl as loud as I could.

I'm not really sure what happened next. As I said, I was face down and it was dark, so I couldn't see much. The weight pinning me to the ground was suddenly gone, my wrist freed and I heard two distinct punches, definitely the sound of flesh on flesh. Then another blow and a man's groan of pain. After that came a hollow sound, like wood or something, then a body hitting the ground.

I managed to push myself up on my hands and turn my head at that point, my face throbbing from its meeting with the bricks. I tasted blood and felt it on my chin. When I looked up, I saw a figure silhouetted by the street's vague lights several yards away. I knew immediately that it was not the thug. He was in an unconscious pile just an arm's length from me, a broken board on the ground next to him.

"Thanks," I managed to whisper to the outline.

It was definitely a female form and she looked behind herself, then back at me. "You talking to me?" she asked quietly, her voice gentle and soothing.

I snorted. "Who are you, Robert DeNiro? Of course I'm talking to you." I managed to sit my sorry ass up, gingerly feeling my face for grossly open wounds. The stranger stepped closer to me and squatted down so we were eye to eye.

"Are you all right?"

I was mesmerized by her voice. I couldn't make out much detail about her physical appearance. It was too dark. But that voice…it was deep and sexy, but decidedly feminine and god, it just melted into me. I swallowed, all my tough-guy persona suddenly nowhere to be found. I actually felt the threat of tears as my muscles started to quake uncontrollably from the adrenaline surge. I swallowed again. "I think so. Good thing you came along when you did."

"Yeah, well, next time, just give the jerk what he wants. You could have been killed. Nothing's worth your life, you know."

I wanted to argue that my grandmother's ring was worth a ton, but she was right and it was very clear at that moment. I was actually embarrassed by my behavior. I glanced to the sleeping bully. Even unconscious and crumpled, he was huge. He could have snapped my neck in a second. I felt infinitely stupid.

The quick burst of a police siren cut through my consternation and I looked up to see a cruiser stop at the end of the alley. Suddenly a powerful beam of light shone from it and I had to shield my eyes with my hand. The tin-like sound of a stern voice on a loudspeaker warned us not to move.

"Like I could run away even if I wanted to," I muttered, grimacing at my shaking knees. I turned and was surprised to find out I was alone. Well, alone except for the heap of male on the ground next to me.

The stranger had vanished.

Nearly two weeks passed before I saw the stranger again. To be honest, I had stopped obsessing about her (at least a little), allowing myself to accept the remotest of possibilities that maybe she had actually been a figment of my imagination. After all, she hadn't seemed any larger than I, but she had taken out the gargantuan thug with no problems whatsoever. Maybe it had actually been a guy and in the haze from the blow to my head, I'd made up details to satisfy my own fantasy. Who knew? Stranger things have been known to happen, right?

Anyway, it was early afternoon and I had bailed out of work early. The mid-September day was perfect - cool but sunny - and I knew there wouldn't be many more days to bask in the warmth of the sunshine before the icy chill of winter arrived. I took my brown bag lunch, signed myself out for the day and headed for a secluded spot along the river that I had come to think of as my own little hideaway.

I sat on a worn bench that was badly in need of a new paint job and munched on my fresh tomato sandwich, periodically tossing crumbs of bread to the two ducks who had honed in on the fact that I was eating. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, absorbing every last ray of sunshine I could into my body.

"Your face is healing up nicely," the soft, enticing voice said gently in my ear.

I was surprised to realize that I wasn't the least bit frightened. Instead, I let the sound of her flow through me for several more seconds before I opened my eyes and turned to face her. She sat on the bench next to me and watched me study her.

She was very attractive. This fact was the first to register in my sun-baked brain. Her hair was a wavy blonde, cut short around her face and tucked sweetly behind her ears. Her large blue eyes bored into me inquisitively, the light brows raised slightly as if in question. Her full lips were a healthy pink and she had a small mole on her left cheek. I took my time looking her over, wondering how she would react. Hell, the way she'd disappeared last time, who knew if I'd ever see her again? I was determined to get a good, long look.

Her body was long and lean and I guessed she would be around five ten when she stood. She had the hands of a pianist, long, tapered, elegant fingers and slim wrists. I had a hard time believing that this was the person who had incapacitated my attacker so handily, excuse the pun. She was dressed simply in jeans, a red, long sleeved t-shirt and brown leather oxfords.

My eyes returned to hers, only to find her waiting uncertainly. I held out my hand. "Kate Phillips."

She looked at my hand, then my face, my hand, my face, then finally slipped her own into my firm grip. Her flesh was cool, but her grip was strong. "Perry Reed."

"It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Reed," I smiled, using my most charming tone of voice. "You disappeared so quickly the last time we met that I didn't have a chance to thank you."

She reclaimed her hand slowly and looked around. We were alone and, for some reason, that seemed to ease her discomfort a bit.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'm just glad I could help. You've got to watch out for that bunch. Satan's Disciples are a rough group. Not nice boys at all."

"Satan's Disciples?" I queried.

"Yeah. That's the name of the gang that dude belongs to. Bad news."

"Really. Satan's Disciples. They couldn't come up with something a little more inventive? Not to mention original."

She chuckled, a sound that came from deep in her belly and traveled through the bench to tickle the backs of my thighs. "Well, I don't think they're the smartest of men. They're just cruel."

"You seem to know a lot about them," I commented, leaning my head back again, unable to resist the draw of the sun.

"Yeah, well. I've been tracking them off and on."

I lifted my head and looked at her. The way the light reflected off her blonde head made her look almost angelic. "You have? Are you a cop or something?"

She looked surprised. "Me? Nah."

"It would be cool to be able to catch guys like that and just put 'em away, wouldn't it?"

"Sure would."

"They think they can get away with anything. Bullying and hurting innocent people. Taking whatever they want. Pisses me off. I wish there was a way to put them all in the slammer."

She grunted in agreement and we sat in silence for a long time, eyes closed, absorbing the autumn sun. I know it sounds weird, but it was so incredibly comfortable just being there with her, this woman I knew nothing about. It was unbelievably relaxing.

I'm not sure exactly how much time passed. Could have been three minutes, could have been three hours. I heard the crunching sound of gravel, meaning somebody was ambling past our spot. I was irrationally irritated at the intrusion. I mean, hey, I didn't own the bench. Or the path. Or the river. But I didn't want anybody else there at that moment. I looked up to glare at the intruder and only then did I notice I was alone.

"Dammit," I swore quietly. She had done it again.

Three days later, I was grocery shopping at the local Wegmans. I hadn't done so in over a month, so I had a pretty hefty cart I was attempting to steer.

I hate the grocery store. It's rarely a pleasant trip for me. As luck would have it, I got one of those idiot carts with one whacky wheel. Of course, I didn't realize it until I had way too much stuff in it to switch to another cart, so as I pushed it straight, the damn thing kept veering to the left.

On top of that, you have the little old ladies taking their time and stopping their carts in the middle of the damn aisle so they can get something off the shelf on the other side of the aisle. God, is it so hard to park your cart to the side, for crying out loud? You don't stop your car in the middle of the damn road, do you? Although, I suppose maybe these women do.

Anyway, I was in the last aisle, thank God, picking out a box of ice cream sandwiches, when I felt the distinct, prickly sensation of eyes watching me. I looked up and there, across the rows of freezers, stood Perry, blonde hair glowing, blue eyes sparkling with a smile. She held my gaze for a split second and I quickly dropped the ice cream into my cart and grabbed the handle. When I turned the cart towards her, she was gone.

I spent the next twenty minutes cruising up and down the store aisles trying to catch a glimpse of her, but to no avail. She had disappeared for the third time and I went home even more annoyed than I thought possible.

That was the beginning. The day after my shopping trip, I started to see Perry on a regular basis. Just glimpses, mind you, but it was her. She was everywhere I was, it seemed. The gas station, the movies, the local gay bar (good sign!), the video store. I learned to restrain myself from trying to get close to her, because she would inevitably just vanish again. It was hard as hell, but once I'd resigned myself to the fact that she would approach me when she was ready, I was much more at ease. I simply smiled warmly at her whenever I saw her. She smiled back, largely, setting my stomach to doing flip-flops.

Things went like that for weeks. Perry was everywhere, but we never talked. It was strange and comforting at the same time, knowing she was so close, so often. Looking back now, I suppose I should have been alarmed - she was practically stalking me, for Christ's sake - but I wasn't. On the contrary, I was oddly at ease, knowing she was watching me. I felt protected.

One night as I was walking home from a late movie I'd seen with some friends, I heard a commotion across the street. I squinted in the lights of the street lamps and saw two young men exit a liquor store just as a dark car screeched to a halt. They were running like their collective ass was on fire. They jumped into the car and it sped away loudly. All this occurred in the space of about thirty seconds. Other pedestrians looked around in bewilderment as a very pale and shaking man stepped out of the store and looked after the car. He shook his head sadly and went back in.

Before I could move a muscle, I heard a "psst" from my right. I turned my head and saw Perry standing in a phone booth not three feet away. She motioned me to her.

"Hi," I smiled, glad to see her beautiful face, and trying to think of a good opening line, starting with why the hell she'd been following me, but wouldn't talk to me.

She handed me the receiver. "Call 911. Tell the police that the two guys who just robbed that liquor store are Carl and Jeffrey Bantam. They're brothers and they live at 157 East Main, apartment seven."

I blinked at her.

"Here!" She pushed the handset against my chest until I took it. "Do it!" Seeing me wavering, she relaxed a little. "Just trust me, okay? You don't have to tell them your name."

I debated for another ten seconds before making the call. I kept my voice calm and gave all the details Perry had instructed me to give, keeping contact with her gorgeous blue eyes as I spoke, watching her nod in encouragement. When the operator asked for my name, I simply hung up.

"Good job." Perry smiled at me.

"What the hell was that about?" I asked loudly, thoroughly confused and more than a little nervous about the call I'd just made. I stuck my tongue out at a man who gave me a strange look as he passed.

"Let's just say, you did a good deed and leave it at that." At my raised eyebrow, she added, " And you might want to head home. They probably traced the call to this booth."

My heart jumped into my throat and I leapt out of the phone booth as if I had been standing on hot coals. Perry found this amusing and chuckled.

"I'll see you around, Katie." She winked, then took off down the street and was around the next corner in a matter of seconds. I opened my mouth to call to her, but the sound of an approaching police siren made me snap it shut. I headed towards home at a brisker-than-necessary pace, garnering quite a few odd looks from pedestrians as I blew past.

Friday had been ridiculous at work. The phones were ringing off the hook and it seemed that at the other end of every call was a disgruntled customer. By the time five o'clock rolled around, I was mentally exhausted.

My friend Sarah had called earlier in the day to tell me that she, her girlfriend and another couple were going out to happy hour. Did I want to go? In most cases, I would have jumped at the chance to hit the bar with a group of people. I kept thinking I'd meet somebody one of these times. But I was beat and sure I wouldn't be much of a conversationalist. I bowed out, thanking Sarah profusely for the invite, hoping to assure that she'd call me next time. I decided on a video and some Italian comfort food, my big, baggie sweats and my couch. The only thing missing was somebody to snuggle with, but I knew that would happen eventually.

I had broken up with Denise only three months earlier and though it was still painful, it had been necessary. To be honest, I was kind of liking this alone time. It had been good for me. I was only then beginning to feel ready to re-enter the wonderful world of dating, so the idea of being home alone on a Friday night wasn't really all that bad. I was okay being with me. Well, me and my cat, Jaime Sommers.

I crested the top of the stairway to my third floor apartment, trying to balance a warm calzone in a box, my briefcase, a copy of The Green Mile and my keys.

"Hey."

The sound startled me, but I wasn't surprised to hear the voice. Perry sat on the floor in the hall, her back against my door, smiling with those great lips of hers.

"Hey, yourself," I responded, my heart doing a little pitter-patter in my chest. "What are you doing here?"

Her smile faltered just slightly. "Waiting for you. Is that okay?"

"Sure. Come on in." I lead the way into my apartment and gestured toward the overstuffed and well-used maroon couch. "Have a seat. You want something to drink?"

"Oh, no, thanks. I'm fine."

At the sound of my voice, Jaime Sommers came shooting out from the bedroom, as she does every night when she knows I'm home. I like to think it's because she loves me, but I'm afraid the truth of it is, she views me as the waitress. She came bounding into the living room and stopped dead in her tracks. Her tail curled and the fur on her back immediately stood on end. She hissed wickedly in Perry's general direction, then took off back to the bedroom.

I furrowed my brow. "Jaime!" I called after her, embarrassed. I grimaced apologetically at Perry. "Sorry. That was weird. She never does that. She likes everybody. Jaime! Come out here!"

"It's okay." Perry shrugged. "Cats aren't very fond of me."

"Well, that was just bizarre." I looked at my houseguest for a long minute. I really liked her being there, though I had no idea why. It just felt right. I blinked and let out a deep breath.

"So, what brings you to my neighborhood?"

Perry sat back against the couch. "I wanted to let you know that the police nabbed those two guys who robbed that liquor store, thanks to your 'anonymous' tip." She made quotation marks in the air.

I smiled. "Two more pieces of scum off the street."

"Nice work, Detective Phillips."

"Not so bad yourself, Detective Reed." We stood in awkward silence for a minute or two before I was able to summon up the nerve to ask the question most prevalent in my mind. "Hey…um, I just got a movie and a calzone and I was just going to hang out here. You want to keep me company?"

I don't know why I was so nervous to hear her answer. I mean, I didn't know her from Adam. I did know that I was incredibly attracted to her, but that was beside the point.

Luck was with me, though, because she agreed to stay. I actually got the impression that she had been hoping I'd ask.

"Do you mind if I get out of these work clothes?" I gestured to my navy blue pantsuit.

I swear I saw the slightest flicker of a mischievous grin before she answered. "Please. Go ahead."

I'm sure I set the land speed record for fastest change ever, returning to the living room in no time flat wearing my cozy, comfy gray sweats and Gap sweatshirt. Perry refused my offer of half my calzone, but insisted that I go ahead and eat. After I popped the tape into the VCR, I hobbled back to the couch and sat heavily.

"Are your feet bothering you?" she inquired, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah. Always. The man who invented heels should be shot."

"Here." She patted her lap. "Lie back and put your feet here."

I searched her eyes, looking for - I don't know what. I saw nothing there but sincerity. I slowly shifted my body and set my socked feet gently in her lap. She pulled the white athletic socks off by the toes, her cool hands going immediately to work on my aching arches. I bit back a groan of pleasure, my eyes dropping closed. A minute later, her movements stopped and I opened my eyes to find her sparkling gaze lingering on me in amusement.

"Were you going to start the movie?"

"Oh…" I stammered, raising myself on an elbow, feeling the deep blush creep up my neck. "Um, yeah." I hit the play button on the remote and she returned to her task.

The woman had incredibly magical hands, that's all I can say. I remember absolutely nothing about the movie. I do remember the shots of electricity, the jolts of pure sexual energy that went directly from her hands up my legs and straight into my groin. It was unbelievable. Not only did she allay the pain in my sore arches, but she nearly brought me to climax right there on my own couch simply by massaging my feet! I couldn't figure out if she had some special touch or if I was just easy. Could have been either.

I don't know how long the massage went on. I'd like to say it was hours, but it could have been minutes. I have no idea when I fell asleep. I vaguely remember the gentle comfort of my afghan being laid over my body. I am sure I felt soft lips press to my forehead and gentle fingers brush my hair out of my eyes. Then, I was off to la-la land.

Several days went by before I saw Perry again. Quite frankly, I was a little annoyed. I had awoken on my couch in the middle of the night on Friday to find myself alone, blue snow hissing on the television screen and no lights on in my apartment. I was embarrassed for falling asleep on my guest and I had wanted nothing more than to apologize to her, but I had no idea how to contact her. I had decided I would have to wait until she contacted me. When the entire weekend passed without a call, I felt awful, thinking she was really turned off by the fact that I had crashed on her. Once Tuesday rolled around, I was irritated instead. I mean, if she was going to offer to rub my feet like she did, she should have understood the possible consequences, right?

The parking lot of my office building backs up to a wooded area and there are tables to the sides of the pavement where my coworkers will often spend their lunch hours. Wednesday was a rather pleasant day for autumn. It was cool, but the sun was shining and I couldn't resist its warm pull.

I sat at one of the tables with Marty and Dina, two of my office mates. We munched on sandwiches and chips, talking about office politics.

"Did you see the new girl in accounting?" Marty asked mischievously, his green eyes twinkling. "Jennifer, I think her name is."

Dina rolled her eyes. "There he goes already," she said to me, as if Marty wasn't sitting right next to her. "The poor girl's been here all of two days and he's scoping her out."

Marty looked properly indignant, making me smile. "Hey, all she needs is a taste of a little Marty love and she'll be putty in my hands."

"God, you're so romantic," Dina replied sarcastically, pushing her short, auburn bangs out of her eyes.

"Never happen," I stated simply.

"That's what you think, Katie. You haven't seen me in action."

"Oh, yes I have," I smirked. "Trust me. You don't stand a chance."

Dina looked carefully at my face, then smiled smugly and bit into her turkey. Marty looked from one of us to the other several times before realizing that we knew something he didn't and whining, "What?"

Dina grinned. "My guess would be that Jennifer plays on Kate's team."

"No way!" Marty exclaimed. "Have you seen her? I mean, she's so…well, she's very…very…well, feminine." I laughed loudly, as I do every time Marty's stereotypes rear their ugly heads.

"Apparently, you haven't looked at Katie lately," Dina stated simply, reaching for a chip. She's such a doll.

Marty hunted for words for a long time and settled for taking a swig of his Pepsi instead. He knew Dina was right. The old days of stereotypical bull dykes were gone. Sure, there would always be the butch lesbian who was easy to spot, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for even me to pick out a family member. The general gaydar was being scrambled by our ever-changing society. If I hadn't played softball with Jennifer's girlfriend, I would probably never have pegged her as gay. Dina's point was driven home by the fact that Marty had been flabbergasted when I had come out to him (I did so to get him to stop asking me out).

We teased Marty for a few more minutes before a movement over his shoulder caught my eye. I squinted into the trees, trying to make out what it was that was moving. I saw a flash of red fabric, then a glimpse of blonde hair. My heart jumped as Perry stepped just forward enough for me to see her, but didn't actually come out of the woods. I could just see her as she placed a finger to her lips and waved me to her.

I was puzzled by her behavior, but couldn't resist her request for my presence. I stood, my eyes never leaving her, and muttered to my lunch dates.

"Would you guys excuse me for a second?"

"Where are you going?" Dina called after me. I didn't look back, for fear that if my eyes left her, Perry would disappear again.

As soon as I reached the edge of the woods, Perry grasped my arm and pulled my further in. I could see my friends, but they were quite obscured by the tree branches. I didn't know if they could see me. I turned to meet that sweet, blue gaze and all my prior irritation with her melted away.

"Hi," I whispered, not sure why I was whispering.

"Hey there," she whispered back.

"I'm sorry about the other night. I must have been more tired than I thought. You've got great hands." I sheepishly looked down at my shoes.

She hooked a finger under my chin and forced me to meet her gaze. When our eyes locked, she tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I will take the fact that you fell asleep as a compliment," she grinned and I had a sudden vision of waking up next to that face every day for the rest of my life.

I was about to ask her why she hadn't called, but she interrupted me.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Okay," I answered without a second thought.

She smiled warmly and something flashed behind her eyes that I couldn't quite make out. She reached behind her and brought a plastic-wrapped package out, holding it between us. When I could see it clearly, I gasped, surprising us both.

"What the --?"

She held up her hand in a placating gesture. "Shh! It's okay. The safety's on."

In her hand, she held a small, black handgun wrapped in a plastic baggie, sealed across the top. It looked exactly like the one my father kept in his nightstand drawer. My mouth opened and closed a couple times, but no sound came out. I just stared at her hand.

"I need you to take this to the police and…Kate? Are you listening to me?"

I cleared my throat and looked up. "Yeah. I'm listening."

"I need you to go to the police and tell them you found this on the bank of the river near your favorite bench. Can you do that?"

For some reason, I was having trouble absorbing what she was saying.

"Kate? Can you do that?" she repeated.

I looked steadily at her for a long moment. "Why can't you do it?"

I watched her throat move as she swallowed. She was unable to maintain eye contact with me as she spoke. "It's…complicated."

"That's it? It's complicated?"

"I know you're confused, Kate, I do. I just…please can you do this? For me?" She looked desperate, but offered no more explanation. I cursed my inability to stand up to a beautiful woman, even when I know I should. Her soulful eyes were pleading. What could I do?

"At lunch?"

"What?" She was lost.

"Did I find it while I was at lunch?"

"Oh. Yeah. You noticed a glint in the sun and found the gun on the edge, very close to the water."

"I shouldn't have picked it up," I stated flatly.

"Pardon?"

"Haven't you ever watched NYPD Blue? Or Cagney and Lacey? Or Law and Order? Or anything with cops in it? I shouldn't have picked it up. It'll mess up the fingerprints."

"You're right." She began opening the bag.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my eyes widening.

"You have to touch it."

"What? Why?"

"Because if you picked it up, your fingerprints should be on it."

I had to admit it made sense, so I grudgingly reached out and picked it out of her hand by the handle, using only my thumb and forefinger. She stuffed it back into the baggie.

"What about your fingerprints?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it. Here." She turned my back to her and tucked the gun into the back waistband of my skirt so that it was hidden by my blazer. I felt my stomach revolt slightly in a mix of anxiety and fear. Then she gently pushed me toward the edge of the woods. "Go."

"Now?" I asked.

"Yes, now." She nudged me again. "Kate?"

I turned to meet her eyes.

"Thank you."

I barely remember mumbling a reply. I walked uncertainly back to the picnic table, trying to ignore the curious stares of my friends.

"What? You couldn't make it to the ladies room inside?" Marty asked.

I blinked at him, then turned back to the trees. Perry was nowhere in sight. Of course.

"I'm not feeling very well," I said quietly, gathering my belongings and heading into the office. I could feel the eyes on my back the whole way in.

I answered the phone on the third ring, tired beyond belief, hoping it was Perry calling. I hadn't heard from her in a couple of days and I hated to admit to the truth. I missed her. I know it sounds corny, since I still hardly knew her, but I wanted the chance to change that.

"Hello?" I answered, the plea in my voice audible to anybody who was listening.

"Ms. Phillips, please," said a deep, male voice.

"Speaking," I replied in a bored tone, sighing, expecting the man to launch into a sales pitch for long distance or a new credit card, neither of which I needed.

"Ms. Phillips, this is Detective John Mackey down at the sixty-fourth precinct."

I perked up immediately, recognizing the name as one of the officers I has spoke to when running Perry's little "errand". "Oh. Hi, Detective. What can I do for you?"

"We just wanted to let you know that we nabbed the owner of the gun you turned in the other day. His name is Jake Ryan. He and his gang are suspects in eight separate robberies in the area."

"His gang?" I asked, some unreachable piece of information teasing the corners of my brain.

"Yeah. They call themselves Satan's Disciples. They're a nasty bunch."

"I see," I nodded, not really seeing anything.

"I have to admit that I'm very surprised Ryan would do something as stupid as leave his gun lying around."

I furrowed my brow. "Seems to me maybe he tried to toss it into the river," I offered.

"That's what I thought, too," Mackey agreed. "It just seems odd that he didn't even wipe his prints off before he chucked it, though."

"His prints were retrievable, huh?"

"Yup. The only set on the piece besides yours."

I nodded, despite the fact that Detective Mackey couldn't see me.

"Well, I just wanted to put your mind at rest, let you know we caught the guy and thank you for your vigilance. So many people these days just refuse to get involved, but your help allowed us to nail a pretty awful guy. You should give yourself a pat on the back."

"I'll do that, Detective. Thanks."

"You have yourself a good night now, Ms. Phillips." Then he hung up.

I slowly pressed the 'off' button and set the phone down without looking at it. Something was niggling at my brain, but just when I thought I could make a grab for it, it skittered off into the shadows, like the remnants of a dream that you just can't seem to remember.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. So, Jake Ryan was a member of Satan's Disciples. They were everywhere, it seemed to me.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. I checked the peephole, then ran my hand quickly through my dark hair and ripped the door open with more excitement than I wanted to show. The tall, blonde woman who had invaded my thoughts and dreams stood in the doorway, smiling warmly at me. I couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey yourself. It's good to see you. Come in." I stood aside and let her enter.

She settled herself on my couch, looking like she belonged there. She sat back comfortably, crossing her long legs and appearing as if she spent each evening in just that position. I admit, I liked the sight. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thanks. I'm fine."

"I just got a phone call from one of the cops at the precinct downtown."

"Where you took the gun?"

"Mmm hmm. They caught the guy it belonged to. He's suspected of several robberies."

She nodded and smiled in satisfaction. "Good job, Kate. That's great news."

"The detective told me this guy is a member of Satan's Disciples."

"Really." It wasn't a question. It was a statement and I guessed this was a piece of information she already knew.

"Tell me something about you," I blurted, plopping down on the couch beside her. I don't know where it came from, but I suddenly wanted personal facts about Perry. I was so drawn to her, but the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about her was really beginning to bother me.

"What?" She looked completely confused by my change of subject, not that I could blame her.

"Anything. Just tell me anything about yourself." I sat facing her, my elbow up along the back of the couch, and propped my head on my knuckles. I watched her intensely.

She shifted uneasily and was quiet for a long moment. Then, she looked me right in the eye. The blue of her gaze was so penetrating that I couldn't have torn away if I'd wanted to. She seemed to visibly relax then and showed me that beautiful smile of hers. Pushing up the sleeves of her red shirt, she shrugged.

"What do you want to know, Kate?" Her voice held not a small amount of seduction in it and I felt a sexual chill run through me.

"Anything," I answered softly. "How old are you?"

"Thirty five."

"What do you do for a living?"

"I used to own a café."

"But you don't any more?"

"No."

"What's your favorite food?"

"Anything chocolate."

"Drink?"

<>"Milk."

"No, alcoholic."

"Champagne."

"Color?"

"Purple."

We went on like this for what seemed like hours, although I'm sure it wasn't. Perry never missed a beat. She answered each of my questions as succinctly as possible while still giving me a legitimate answer. By the time we were finished, we were sitting very close together and I knew more about her than I knew about most of my friends. I knew she'd had a puppy named Boo when she was a kid, that she'd cheated on a math test in high school, that her father hit her mother on more than one occasion, and that her biggest fear was being alone forever. I felt closer to her than I expected.

Try as I might, I couldn't stifle the yawns that began to sneak up on me. After the fourth one, Perry glanced up at the clock on my VCR, then favored me with a mock-scolding glare.

"Do you see what time it is? I can't believe you let me keep you up this late." She made a move to stand, but I clamped my hand on her forearm. She looked at my fingers for a long time, then met my gaze steadily.

I reached up and gently stroked the backs of my fingers against her cheek. Her skin was cool and soft. She allowed her eyes to close as I leaned toward her. Our lips met softly, barely brushing against each other.

"Stay," I whispered.

"Kate, I…I don't…I think…" She sighed, unable to complete her thought verbally. She gently brushed my hair from my eyes, seeming a bit nervous. I thought maybe I was pushing her too hard. I tried to hide my disappointment, deciding that if anything was going to come of us, I was willing to wait until she was ready.

"Shh. It's okay. Just…please stay? You can take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch."

"No!" she vehemently protested. "No. You go to bed. I'll take the couch. I'll be fine." Any nervousness I thought I had seen only seconds before was suddenly gone. "Okay?"

"I don't like it, but okay," I agreed. "I'll get you some blankets and a pillow. And something to sleep in."

A long time later, I lay in my bed, listening to my overnight guest toss and turn in the living room. Sleep was not coming easily to her. I lay awake, replaying the evening in my mind, going over every little fact that I had learned about Perry Reed and finally admitting to myself that I definitely had a serious thing for the woman. Duh. I eventually drifted off while pondering the realization that throughout the entire question and answer game, she hadn't asked one question about me.

Have you ever had a dream…or what you think was a dream…that was so real you're not really sure if it actually was a dream or if it was reality? That's what happened to me that night. I was pulled gently from sleep by the soft rustling of my sheets as somebody else crawled into bed with me and spooned up behind me. I knew it was Perry and, as I said, I wasn't entirely sure if I was still sleeping or totally awake, so I said nothing.

She fit her body to mine - the match was amazing - and I sighed inadvertently as I sank back into her, the coolness of her skin relieving the heat of my own. I gasped as I realized she had discarded the Nike t-shirt I had given her to wear to bed…her nipples made themselves known by tantalizingly grazing my back through my tank top and I could feel her crisp curls brushing teasingly against my backside, even through my thin panties. I felt her smile against my hair as she began to gently stroke my bare arm with feather light touches of her fingertips. The feeling was amazing and I reveled in it. She gradually became bolder, allowing her hand to venture on a new path, over my hip and down my thigh, back up again and around to my belly. I had to make a conscious effort to keep from squirming in pleasure, wishing for her hand to move on to more erotic territory. Instead, I pressed my head back into her shoulder, snaking my arm up to hook around the back of her neck and pull her more tightly to me.

This sweet torture continued endlessly, until I was sure I would explode if she kept it up much longer. My heart was pounding in my chest and my breathing was just short of being classified as hyperventilation. Perry must have sensed my desperation because she suddenly grasped my shoulder, pulled me onto my back and brought her lips down to possessively claim mine with a rumbled growl that came from deep in her throat and surprised us both.

The kiss was raw and hungry and full of passion. She swallowed my moans eagerly, delivering a few of her own as well. Her hands danced across my body like she'd known me for years, coaxing sounds from me that would surely embarrass me the next morning. She was everywhere. With her hands, her lips, her teeth and her tongue, she took ownership of me, body and soul. She wouldn't allow me to return the pleasure, often as I tried. At one point, she narrowed her eyes at my persistence, then used my own discarded tank top to fasten my wrists to the headboard. That display of domination alone sent me careening toward the edge of orgasm. I wanted to touch Perry badly, but she kept me so completely occupied by my own pleasure that I didn't have much of a chance to complain.

Hours passed. She made love to me recklessly, furiously, slowly, gently and any other way one could possibly think of. I seriously doubted whether I'd actually have the ability to walk the next day. Perry took me to places I'd never been, showed me pleasure I thought only existed in the lesbian romances I've always been fond of reading.

Dawn was just breaking -- the sky visible out my window slowly changing from inky black to a sensual indigo -- before I fell into an absolutely exhausted and satisfied sleep, still slightly unsure as to whether or not I had just dreamed the entire night.

It didn't surprise me when I woke up alone. I wasn't happy about it, but I wasn't surprised. I listened for long minutes, straining to catch the slightest bit of sound that might indicate somebody else was in my apartment with me. The silence was the loudest thing, assuring me that I was, indeed, alone.

The Nike t-shirt in a crumpled pile on my bedroom floor was all the confirmation I needed that the night had actually happened, that I had not dreamed the whole incident. Well, that and the fact that the muscles of my inner thighs were very sore.

I stretched deliciously, waking each and every muscle slowly and gently, then cuddled into the covers, a giddy grin on my face. Perry had made the move. I mean, I started the ball rolling by kissing her in the living room, but she'd taken the big step and come to my bed. I wondered what time she had left. I had no idea, since I'd slept like the dead after she'd wiped me out. I sighed. I sure wished she'd been there when I'd opened my eyes.

I tried to hold tight to the good mood in which I'd awoken, but it wasn't easy, given the fact that suddenly became all too clear to me. I threw my arm over my eyes and groaned out loud. God, I was such a sucker. There was no such thing as taking it slow or playing it safe for me. There never had been. It seemed like I just jumped in, head first without thinking about consequences. I'd done it with my very first girlfriend, and I'd done it with Denise. Ironic, since I was the one always telling my friends to take it slowly, look before you leap, exercise extreme caution. Now, I had done it again, and I didn't even realize it had been happening until that very moment as I lay in my bed, basking in the afterglow of incredible lovemaking. I had never been able to have 'casual sex.' If I went to bed with somebody, it meant something to me.

It meant that I'd fallen in love with Perry without even noticing.

"Shit," I muttered, feeling at the same time giggly and annoyed. I was annoyed because I'd fallen, yet again, for somebody I didn't know very well. How the hell had that happened? What is about lesbians? I was giggly because I'd fallen for a beautiful, mysterious woman, who just happened to also be a sexual dynamo.

Okay, one out of two wasn't bad, was it?

When three days had gone by with not so much as a phone call from Perry, I was fit to be tied. I was miserable. I didn't know what the hell to do with myself. At first, I tried valiantly to tell myself it was no big deal. This was Perry. She'd disappeared for days on end before; I should be used to it by now. Maybe she was frightened by our swiftly deepening relationship, just as I was. I decided I should just wait her out. She'd call. I was sure of it.

I thought that keeping myself busy was the answer. I went to my parents' house for dinner, figuring that would help cheer me up, but all my mother did was continuously tell me how much she missed Denise. I know she wasn't intentionally trying to drive me up the wall, but that's exactly what she did. I left much earlier than I anticipated, vowing not to return for a very long time.

Sarah left two messages on my machine, wanting to chat, saying we hadn't spent much time together lately. She was right, it was true, but the last thing I wanted to do was talk to somebody who knows me like a book. She'd hear the tone of my voice, or the inflection of certain words, or whatever the hell it is that allows her to read me as accurately as she does. Then, she'd ask what was bothering me. I'd say nothing. She'd scold me for lying to her and then she'd proceed to push and push and push until I either gave in or hung up on her. Neither option was a pleasant one (I'd done both before), so I took to screening my calls.

Even Jaime tried to cheer me up. I know people say cats are aloof and not as tuned in to their owners as dogs are, but Jaime knows me. She knows when I'm upset and she tries to lick away my tears. It's very sweet and when she did it this time, it sent me into a fit of sobs. This was bad. This was very bad. How on earth had I let this happen? How the hell did I fall so completely for somebody whose phone number I didn't even have?

I became more and more angry with myself. The thoughts in my head churned and spun and taunted me until I thought I'd go crazy. Here's a piece of advice for you: staying home and watching the telephone, mentally willing it to ring and be a certain person on the other end is one of the most frustrating, not to mention boring, activities on the face of the earth. Don't do it! It's a surefire way to drive yourself mad in a very short period of time. Take it from me. If I hadn't managed to get my sorry ass out of my apartment and into my car, I may have ended up in an institution. There was only one place in the world where I could go to calm down. I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door, leaving poor Jaime alone and perplexed.

The beach wasn't nearly as populated as it gets in the summer. It was early October and the evening sun was beginning to slip down behind the horizon, lending a chill to the air. I pulled my jacket around me and watched as people gradually vacated the area until I was one of a handful left.

I find the water mesmerizing and relaxing. It's times like those when I thank the gods above that I live close to the beach. I go there to think. There's something so soothing about the gentle lapping - or angry crashing, as the case may be - of the waves against the shore, and it eases all my anxiety. I can literally feel the tension wash off me as I sit. Sometimes, I like to walk aimlessly, but that night I chose to simply sit and clear my mind. I closed my eyes, feeling the last rays of the sun slide off my face. I sat there long enough for dusk to fall, doing my best to think of nothing, if only for a little while.

I'm not sure exactly how long I sat in the sand, but I started to get goose bumps, so I headed back to my car, now the only one in the parking lot. It looked lonely all by itself in the corner and I walked briskly to it, looking forward to cranking up the heat.

I sat down, leaned my head back against the seat and sighed heavily, feeling better, even if only slightly.

"Hi."

I jumped so suddenly that I hit my head on the roof of the car. "Jesus Christ! What the hell are you trying to do to me, Perry?" I snapped.

She looked at me from the passenger seat, smiling that smile, and I almost let her get away with it.

Almost.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me?" I asked again, much softer this time and with an uncharacteristic crack in my voice.

I watched as the smile melted slowly off her beautiful face. All the anxiety and hurt I'd tried so hard to rid myself of on the beach came flooding back, threatening to drown me. I fought it with the only thing I knew how. Anger. I could feel it seep into my blood.

"I mean, really, Perry, what's the deal with you?" My eyes were flashing and I saw her swallow thickly. "You just come and go as you please and I can never find you. You won't give me a phone number. I don't even know where you live. Is this how it is with everybody you know?"

"No," she said softly.

"Is this how it is with everybody you've fucked?"

She flinched. "I haven't fucked anybody."

"How many others are there like me?"

"None," she whispered.

"And you expect me to believe you? Jesus Christ, Perry. You come into my bedroom and you spend the entire night making love to me and then you disappear for days on end. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

"You're right. I shouldn't have done that."

"Shouldn't have done what?"

"I shouldn't have come into your room like that. It was wrong. I'm sorry."

I sat there staring at her, completely dumbfounded. She was sorry? At that moment, I knew that it was possible to actually feel your heart breaking inside your chest. "You're sorry you made love to me?" I whispered.

She closed her eyes, realizing immediately the effect her words had on me and, I'm sure, wishing she had chosen differently.

"You're sorry?" I repeated, my anguish rising.

"Kate, I didn't mean that. I'm not sorry that…I just…" Her words trailed off and she blew out a breath of frustration. "God, why does everything have to be so complicated? It's not fair!" she hollered at the ceiling.

"There's that word again," I pointed out. "What is so complicated? I'm in love with you. It's really pretty simple."

She covered her eyes with her hands and I fully expected her to start crying. My anger dissipated quickly as I became concerned about her.

"Perry?"

She raised her tear-filled eyes to me. "I love you, too," she whispered, like she was confessing to a crime.

My heart hammered in my chest at the sound of her words. She did love me! I grasped her hands in my own. "Well, we got that out of the way." I gave my best smile of reassurance. "Okay, let's talk about this."

The hurt on her face was deep, visible even in the darkness, and it worried me. "This isn't going to be solved by a good talk, Kate. There are things you don't understand."

"Then help me understand them."

"Katie…" She dropped her head back in exasperation. I noticed a couple cars pulling into the parking lot several yards away. Night had fallen and the high schoolers would begin to show up, the beach being a popular hangout. Several people jumped out of various cars, their music blaring loudly, throbbing bass vibrating through my seat. Perry had turned to look at them. I noticed her face drain of what little color I'd been able to see, then harden.

I craned my neck to see what she was staring at. After a few minutes, I decided her focus was centered on one young man in particular. He was of average height. I couldn't make out many of his features in the poor lighting, but he seemed to be one of the more popular members of the group. Perry's face got harder as I watched, her eyes becoming glittering chips of ice. Very cold ice.

"Perry?" I called softly, afraid of disturbing her. The intensity was rolling off her, and I swore I could feel it in the air. "Perry? Who is that guy?"

She didn't answer me, and I started to get a little nervous. She was acting very odd. At one point, the guy turned around so his back was to us and I caught sight of the Satan's Disciples insignia on the back of his jacket. I began to suspect that maybe this man hurt Perry in some way. Maybe he had hurt somebody close to her and that's why she had such a thing for that particular gang.

"Perry?" I tried again. I lay my hand gently on her shoulder, waiting to make sure she was comfortable with it there. I could feel her trembling beneath my fingers and it worried me. "Perry? What did he do to you?"

Several minutes went by, and I was almost certain she wasn't going to answer me, which was okay because at that point, I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Just when I thought I had been spared, she spoke, her voice so low I barely heard it.

"He killed me."

I blinked at her for several seconds, trying to absorb what she'd said, trying to figure out why she would tell me something so ludicrous. "Is that supposed to be funny?" I finally asked, only half-joking.

She turned a cold, angry face to me, her eyes drilling into mine. "I was thirty five. I had my whole life ahead of me until that asshole decided he needed some quick drug money. Do you think that's funny to me?"

I backed off involuntarily, surprised by her sudden anger towards me. I tried, but I had no idea how to respond. Was she crazy? Some insane whack job who just happened to zero in on me? With my luck, it wasn't inconceivable. That niggling feeling in the back of my mind began again, and I tried to ignore it.

She turned her face away, returning her gaze to the group of young people partying loudly not twenty yards away. Her sigh was heavy and sad. "I didn't want you to know. I was hoping you wouldn't find out."

"Find out what?" I thought I already knew what she'd say, but for some perverse reason, I needed to hear her say it.

"What I am."

"What are you, Perry?"

"Dead." A single tear coursed down her cheek, sparkling in the dim glow of the moonlight. "I'm dead, Kate."

My stomach rolled, and I thought for certain I was going to lose my lunch right there on the dashboard. I managed to keep it down, gripping the steering wheel for all I was worth.

I tried hard to refute what she was saying…to find some piece of information that would point to the contrary. But, when little puzzle pieces started falling into place, creating an overall picture I was not ready to see, my heart began hammering in my chest at such a rapid rate, I was sure I was about to keel over. I fit the pieces together out loud, hoping against hope that she'd object.

"You don't eat," I stated as if it was something she didn't know.

"Don't have to."

"You don't sleep either, do you?"

"Don't need to."

"You're always cool to the touch."

She nodded.

"Your fingerprints weren't on that gun."

"Ghosts don't have fingerprints, Kate."

I looked at her openly, noticing a blatant fact that I'd somehow chosen to overlook for weeks. "You've had that same outfit on ever since I met you!" God, how stupid can one person be?

"I don't have any others."

I sat back in my seat, my mind racing. I still had a death grip on the steering wheel. Perry looked after me with concern evident on her face. I turned my brown eyes on her, trying to see inside her head. A thought struck me.

"That night, when I asked you all those questions? You never asked me one."

She shook her head.

"You already knew all about me, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"What, did you follow me?"

"For a while." She looked guiltily at me and rightfully so, given the way I was feeling. "I was…drawn to you immediately. I'm not sure why. I just was. But, when I found out you could see me, I couldn't believe it! I --,"

"Wait." I held up a hand, interrupting her. "What did you just say? When you found out I could see you?"

"Uh huh."

"You mean, not everybody can?"

"No."

"Oh, this just gets better and better, doesn't it?"

"I'm sorry, Kate."

"Don't say that!" I shouted at her. "Stop apologizing to me. It doesn't make things any better."

"I know."

"No, you don't. You're not in love with a fucking ghost. I am." I ran my palms roughly over my face. "Okay, so after you realized I could see you, then what?"

"I thought you could help me nail the members of Satan's Disciples one by one. I figured I could get evidence or eavesdrop on meetings, find out information. Then I could get it to you and you could take it to the police."

"Because the police can't see you."

"Right."

"Right. Jesus, Perry." We sat quietly for a minute. I finally had to ask. "Why can I see you and others can't?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm not entirely sure. I was told that only people with truly open hearts can see ghosts. I didn't believe it at first, but it seems to be true in your case."

I guess I never really thought about whether or not I had an open heart. At that point, it was as good an explanation as I was going to get, and I had to accept it. "I can touch you, too." I demonstrated by placing my hand on her arm.

"Yes."

"And you can touch me." My voice lowered involuntarily.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I wish I did."

"Well, you can touch things, obviously. You brought that gun to me."

"True, but it takes a lot of practice. I had a hard time being able to pick up objects. It's not easy and I don't do it if I can help it. I didn't even use this door." She gestured to her right. "But with you, it was simple. It was natural. I don't know why."

I nodded slowly. "Am I the only one who can see you?"

"There are a few others I've run into. I had a nice conversation with a man on the bus yesterday. The bus driver, of course, thought he was talking to himself."

"That's why you never approached me around other people, always in private. You were afraid people would think I was nuts, talking to myself."

"That's right."

"I suppose I should thank you for that, at least." Another piece fell into place. "That's why you were able to defeat my attacker so easily."

"It's hard to fight something you can't see," she agreed.

The question had been on the tip of my tongue for a long time and I finally had to ask. "Why are you here, Perry? I mean, shouldn't you be in heaven, or on the other side, or wherever it is that the dead go?"

She was staring out the window again. "He's keeping me here."

"That guy that killed you?"

She nodded. "As long as my death is unresolved, I'm stuck." Another tear coursed down her fair skin. I reached out and caught it with my finger.

"Ghosts cry?"

"Apparently."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

She waited so long that I was sure she wouldn't answer. Finally, she took a deep breath. "It was late on a Thursday. I was closing down my café. I'd sent my employees home and it was just me in the back. I had stupidly forgotten to lock the front door, and I heard the little bell on it ring. I thought maybe one of my waiters had left something behind, so I came out to see who it was. There he stood." She jerked her chin in the direction of the partyers and scowled bitterly. "He came around behind the counter before I knew what was happening and pulled a gun. He told me to empty the cash register. It was obvious he was high or stoned or both. I did exactly what he wanted, hoping he'd just go." She swallowed hard. "But I could feel his eyes on me while I got the money out, and I just knew it wasn't going to be that simple. He started saying how fine I was, that I had a great ass, and then he dragged me into the back room." Her eyes narrowed to slits, and I felt my own stomach clench. She turned to me. "There was no way I was going to let him rape me, Kate. I know now that I should have. I should have just let him do what he wanted and maybe I'd still be alive. But then? At that moment? No way." She was silent for a long moment, and I could see her replaying that night in her mind, the pain of it etched starkly across her beautiful features. My heart broke for her. "I fought him as hard as I could, but he was so strong. Men are just so strong. I fought and I fought. He started to get mad. I finally did manage to land one really good kick, right in his fucking balls." Her upper lipped curled into a snarl as she said it. "Unfortunately, it really, really pissed him off, and he shot me, point blank in the stomach. He called me a bitch, said I made him shoot me. The asshole stood over my bleeding body, watching my life ooze out onto the floor, and tried to explain to me how it was my fault. Then he took a few things and ran. By the time the paramedics arrived, it was too late for me."

I was surprised to feel wetness on my own cheeks. She looked so sad and lost. It infuriated me, not only that the asshole had gotten away with killing her, but that Perry was unable to cross over because of it. It just wasn't fair. I spoke before I thought about it, but it was the truest statement I'd made in a long time.

"I want to help you. I want to help you put him away."

She turned those blue eyes to me, and I was bathed in the love and gratitude that radiated from them. "I love you, Kate. I'm sorry. I do."

"I know," I smiled. "I love you, too. Now, tell me what to do."

"He's got two diamond studs in his left ear and a silver St. Christopher medal around his neck."

"Okay…" I drawled, waiting for more. "How will that help?"

"They're all mine."

I know what you're thinking. Believe me, I do. The same thoughts went through my own head later that night. My first musing was that the whole damn thing was ludicrous. A ghost. Give me a fucking break. I've never believed in them before, why should I start now? Then, my brain would replay all those little tidbits, those puzzle pieces that fit so well together, even though I didn't want them to, and I was unable to deny at least the possibility that Perry was telling me the truth. And not only was she a ghost, she was a ghost that I had fallen for. Big time. What kind of an idiot was I?

My next emotion was extreme and frightening anger. How dare she? How dare she just breeze into my life and make me fall in love with her, only to drop such a bomb on me? What gave her the right? And where did she get such balls to do that to me? I know I give my heart too easily. I always have. Does that mean I deserve to have it broken more often than other people? Anger is a very passionate emotion, at least for me, and unfortunately, many breakable items in my apartment failed to survive that night.

After the denial and the anger came the fear. The inevitable, bone-chilling, incapacitating fear. Fear for Perry. Fear for myself. Mostly fear for myself. Yes, I'm selfish, but I'm not a stupid woman. It was pretty obvious that, once Perry's death was resolved (which meant to me that the person who killed her was brought to justice), she would go off to wherever dead people go. Which meant I would never see her again. The thought made my knees buckle and I pretty much fell onto my couch. I'm sure I would have vomited up whatever was in my stomach, had there been anything left. The previous three times I'd puked had taken care of that. So, why would I want to help her? I wanted nothing more than to keep her in my life, in my apartment, and in my bed. That would make me happy. But, Perry would be stuck in limbo, unable to live and unable to move on to the next level. And I didn't want that for her, much as I hated to admit it.

God, it was so unfair! Perry was right. Was it her fault she was killed? Did she invite that asshole junkie to come into the café and shoot her? Then why was she the one to suffer? Why was she the one who was stuck? Why wasn't he being punished? How come he didn't suddenly come down with a horrible disease or something? It made no sense to me, and the injustice of the situation sent me off on my all-to-familiar rant about the existence or nonexistence of a god, the pain of death, and the confusion of it all. It's not a particularly pleasant topic for me, but I was careening headlong toward the subject and there was no stopping.

The circumstances reminded me of a movie I saw once called What Dreams May Come. The main character was a doctor, a good man, who was killed in a car accident and ended up in some form of Heaven. A large percentage of the movie is spent on his attempts to rescue his wife from Hell. The thing that bothered me so much was that the wife was in Hell because she'd committed suicide after her husband's death. Here was this poor, emotionally devastated woman. She was immensely distraught because her husband was her one great love, her soul mate, and he was tragically killed, taken from her by complete surprise. She didn't think she could go on. She was an emotional wreck, a woman with no strength to reach out to somebody for help. She thought the only way to end her unbearable pain was to end her life. So she does and she ends up in Hell? I was so appalled by the idea that somebody in such emotional pain wouldn't get a special reprieve from God or whatever, but would be sent directly to Hell without a second thought, regardless of the circumstances. I immediately connected it to the unfairness of Perry's situation. It was not her fault she was shot, but that didn't seem to matter. She was doomed to hang out in limbo until somebody (maybe) was able to help her.

I have such a hard time with death, especially in relation to any type of organized religion. I don't believe in God. I know, I'm probably going to end up in Hell just for that statement, but I can't bring myself to believe in an all-loving, all-powerful being who would let such terrible things happen to his followers. Cancer, earthquakes, AIDS, child abuse. None of these things have to do with the free will of man. I don't buy that argument, not even a little bit. How does my free will enable my parents to beat me when I'm three years old? Yes, it may be their free will to beat me, but it's the child who suffers. And God lets this happen? If so, then he's a sick bastard. My opinion has always been, when you die, you're just gone. That's it. And the last thing in the world I wanted was for Perry to be gone. But this whole idea of the limbo she was stuck in kind of threw a wrench into my theory. If there's a limbo, then there must be something beyond that, right? Otherwise, what's the point? Regardless of my confusion and skepticism, I knew simply that the whole thing was just not fair to Perry, and I was determined to help her out of it in any way I could.

So, after this convoluted train of thought had chugged its way around my brain, I found myself back to the anger stage. This time, however, I wasn't just mad. This was blinding, red-hot rage and it very nearly scared the shit out of me. I can't ever remember when I've been so furious. Since directing it at whatever powers that be got me no satisfaction whatsoever, I changed my angle a little bit and directed it at somebody who would feel my wrath. I didn't know his name, but he wore a leather jacket with a Satan's Disciples logo on the back, and I poured all the hatred I felt right on the image of him I had in my head. It was his fault. He did this. Because of him, I would never know what it would be like to have a life with Perry. The thought broke my heart.

Eventually, having someplace to direct my fury helped to calm me, strange as that sounds. I was able to relax a bit, think clearly again and work on Perry's plan, never allowing her to see my true feelings toward him.

I was surprised to find myself at my parents' house later that night, not remembering how I got there, but absolutely positive why…

Mario Puente.

I said his name over and over, letting it roll over my tongue, grimacing in distaste as I repeated it.

Mario Puente.

He killed the woman I love. True, he killed her before I loved her, but that was simply a minor technicality in my book. He destroyed my chance for true happiness. He was to blame and nobody else.

Setting him up for the police would be a piece of cake. The hard part was getting him by himself. Since he was now the leader of Satan's Disciples, he almost always had a flunky or two, not to mention one or two of the dozen women he was fucking, by his side. Perry followed him for several days, eavesdropping and spying, making note of upcoming plans and gatherings, trying to come up with the best time to catch him alone.

Mario Puente was cool and smooth, but he wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack. He wore Perry's stolen jewelry like trophies, and it made me sick to think of him taking the pieces off of her bleeding and dying body while she lay there helpless, knowing this was the end for her. Bastard. Since the police had it on record that the items were missing from her body, all we really had to do was detain Mario long enough for the police to show up and nab him. Hopefully, their powers of deduction would do the rest.

"Doesn't seem like they tried very hard to find him," I commented about the police as we sat in my apartment. I was annoyed that such obvious evidence was right under their noses, had they simply bothered to look.

"I was nobody special," Perry answered sadly. "This is a big city with a lot of murders. They did the best they could."

It infuriated me to hear her defend them, and I glared at her, hoping my face would tell her as much.

"Kate, are you okay?" she asked with concern in her voice. "You've been a little…on edge."

"I'm fine," I snapped.

She wisely waited for a beat, knowing I was anything but. "Look. I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me, too. But, it's the right thing to do. It's justice for me, and it's justice for all the people he won't be able to hurt in the future. Do you understand that?"

I nodded, knowing she was right, but hating to admit it.

"I think we will have our best opportunity tomorrow night."

I looked at her in a blind panic. "Tomorrow night? Already?"

"Believe it or not, he has a dentist appointment late in the day and he won't let any of his thugs go with him. Seems he's very private about his teeth." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "We can get him on his way out."

"Tomorrow?" I asked again.

She nodded, smiling with a combination of excitement and grief. She scooted closer to me on my couch and put her arm around my shoulders. I let her rock me a little, but I refused to break down in front of her. It wasn't going to help her or me if I did, so I clenched my teeth tightly and swallowed down the tears that were trying to force their way up from my breaking heart.

"There's a pretty out of the way area behind his dentist's building," she explained to me, still holding tightly to me. "I'll get him back there. All you have to do is call the police and leave your usual anonymous tip." She smiled at the phrasing. "Let them know he's wearing some jewelry that will help them with a previous case. Don't stay on the phone too long. Okay?"

I cleared my throat. "Okay."

Her gaze held mine, and my heart began to hammer at the combination of love and lust I saw there. It caused the same things to boil up in my own body and the next thing I knew, we were tearing at one another's clothing. We managed to stumble and bump our way into the bedroom; it was a slow process and our mouths never left one another, but we finally fell onto the bed.

I tried hard not to let myself think about the fact that this was the last time I would ever touch Perry, the last time she'd ever touch me. I mapped out her body with my hands and my mouth, tasting every inch of her, feeling every single swell of flesh, every dip and every curve, trying to commit each part of her to my memory. She was so beautiful, her skin still cool, but very smooth. I have no idea why I was able to touch, to enjoy this apparition, but I thanked whatever beings would listen for the opportunity to be with her this one last time.

We stretched the night out as long as we could, straining against one another, sweating and groaning, whispering words of love, until I was so exhausted I could barely summon the energy to work my eyelids. Perry simply smiled that warm smile of hers and told me to sleep. I made her promise to hold me, not to leave, even though I knew she didn't need to rest. I wanted so much to wake up in her arms. She said the only thing she wanted at that moment was to watch my face as I slept.

The next evening came way too soon for me, the sense of dread I was feeling was nearly unbearable. I had numerous conversations with myself in my head, trying to make it through the day without becoming a blubbering mess.

I know Perry was aware of what I was going through, and she tried her best to cheer me up, but she had her own issues on her mind. We were driving to the dentist's office, the silence so thick, you could slice it like cheese.

"Are you scared?" I asked softly.

"Yes." She swallowed audibly. "I don't know what comes next."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been stuck in this in-between spot for over a year, but I don't know what the next step is." She turned her big, blue eyes toward me. "Do you believe in Heaven?"

I thought about that one for a long time before I wet my lips and spoke to her, trying hard to be reassuring even though my heart was splitting behind my ribs. "I never used to," I said honestly. "But, after everything with you, I think there must be something. There must be a next level, another dimension, an afterlife of some sort. I mean, if we just ceased to exist after death, then why are you still here? What would it matter if your death was unresolved? Who would care if there was no afterlife?"

She nodded, absorbing what I'd said.

"How do you know what you know about this limbo you're in?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've given me a few facts. For example, you said only a truly open-hearted person can see a ghost. How do you know that?"

She thought about this for a minute, her light brows furrowed in concentration. "You know what? I'm not sure. You asked me and it was just in my head all of a sudden. Like somebody had put it there. Hmm."

We drove in silence for the rest of the ride, both of us lost in thought about what lay beyond this life. I was surprised to find my entire perspective tossed on its ear. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there was…something. For Perry's sake, I hoped there was. The idea of her simply shimmering out of existence was too much for me to bear.

I pulled my car into the nearly empty parking lot of Puente's dentist's office and cut the ignition. It was after five and dusk had fallen, the days getting shorter as winter approached. Perry turned in her seat and bathed me in the warmth of her love, clearly rolling off her smiling face.

"Okay, you remember the plan. He should be out any minute. I'm going to get him into the back of the building and keep him there. You call the police from that phone," she pointed to a phone booth across the street, "and tell them to get here. Hopefully, it will be that simple. You with me, baby?"

The only way to keep myself from completely falling apart was to concentrate on the anger I had felt earlier in the week. It was either dissolve into a sobbing child or harden myself to the feelings chipping at my insides. I took a deep breath and let it settle over me, welcoming the redness of my hatred for Mario Puente. I could tell my demeanor must have changed considerably, because Perry got a strange look on her face.

"Kate, you okay?"

"I'm fine. Let's do this." I reached for the door handle, but Perry stopped me.

"Wait." I couldn't look at her, so I studied the windshield. "I'm not really sure what will happen once the police arrive, so…I wanted to say thank you. For helping me."

I nodded, unable to do much of anything else.

"And, I'll never forget you. You take good care of yourself." Her voice cracked here and I bit down painfully on the inside of my cheek.

I nodded again.

She sniffed, kissed my temple lovingly, keeping her lips pressed to my skin for a long time, then quickly hopped out of the car.

"I love you, Kate," she whispered, before slamming the door shut and entering the lobby of the building.

I sat in my car trying to remain calm, which nearly caused me to hyperventilate. Again, I forced myself to concentrate on how much Mario Puente had taken from me. It was the only way I could stay with the plan. I got out of the car and jogged across the street. I kept my eyes on the office building the whole time I was speaking to the 911 operator. I knew that Perry was going to force Mario out the back way and that I wouldn't see them, but I focused on the front door anyway. I recited my speech to the 911 operator, hanging up when she asked for my name. I quickly trotted back to my car and reached beneath the seat, knowing there wouldn't be much time before the police arrived. Darkness had fallen and I was happy to see that the office building was not very well lit.

I snuck around to the back of the building, where it butted up against another, creating a small alcove that was dark and hidden from the back door of the office building. I could here scuffling and a few surprised curse words coming from that direction. When I stepped into the alcove, my hands behind my back, I could see Mario Puente seated on the ground, a combination of fright and puzzlement on his face. He looked much younger than I'd expected, no more than maybe eighteen. Perry stood over him with her back to me, and every time he tried to get up, she'd kick him back down.

"What the hell kind of drugs did they give me in there?" Puente wondered aloud. Then, his eyes fell on me. "Hey, lady, could you give me a hand here?"

Perry turned in surprise. "Kate, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be long gone by now."

"I had one more thing I had to do," I said calmly.

"Fine," Puente said. "Could you do it quickly and help me up? I'm really kind of weirded out here."

"What do you mean, you had one more thing to do?" Perry asked, kicking Puente down again.

I brought my hands out from behind my back and pointed my father's pistol at the scum on the ground before me. Perry and Puente gasped at the same time.

"Jesus, lady! What do you want? You want my wallet? You can have it!" He quickly got it out of his pocket and tossed it in my direction, then put his hands up, palms out, as if he would be able to shield himself that way.

"Kate, no! What are you doing? Where did you get that?"

"I'm exacting my revenge," I said, with a calmness that surprised even me.

"Revenge for what?" Puente asked, in a pathetically high voice. He had his back against a wall and was pushing himself with his heels, as if he hoped to be able to push himself through the wall and away from this situation.

"How many people have you killed, Mario?" I asked him.

"What?"

"It's a simple question. How many people have you killed? Answer it."

"A few," he said in a small voice.

"Kate," Perry warned.

"Have you ever once stopped to think about the fact that all of those people had people who loved them? Do you have a family, Mario? Do you have a mother?" I watched him swallow and his eyes flashed. These boys always have a soft spot for their mamas. "How 'bout if I take my little gun here and I drive right over to your mama's house - 'cause I know where it is - and I shoot her. No reason, really, just because I feel like it. Right in the stomach. And then, I'll watch her bleed to death, and while she's doing that, I'm going to take all her jewelry right off her body. Sound good?"

Puente had begun to shake visibly. "Please don't," he pleaded.

My hands were sweating, the gun handle slick in my grasp. "You killed somebody very important to me. Do you remember the café you robbed last year? On Market Street? Remember, Mario?" I sneered his name at him.

I could see the recognition in his eyes. "I remember."

"Remember the owner?"

He swallowed and nodded. "The blonde?"

"Perry!" I kicked at him savagely. "Her name was Perry, you shit! She had a name and a life and friends and I love her and you killed her! So now, I'm going to kill you. What do you think of that?"

"Kate," Perry's voice was barely audible. Puente was shivering and shaking like a five-year-old, tears streaming down his face. "Kate, please don't. Don't do this."

"Why not, Perry?" I turned my accusing eyes on her. "Why not?"

"Because this isn't you. This isn't who you are. You're not a cold-blooded killer."

"How do you know?" I spit at her. Puente was watching this exchange with interest, since he obviously could not see Perry. I think the sight of me talking to thin air terrified him even more and he began to whimper like a kitten.

"I know you. I love you. I've seen your heart. I know your heart, and it doesn't have this in it."

"You and I could have had an amazing life together, Perry," I told her, tears suddenly streaming down my face. "When he killed you, he killed that possibility. When he took your life, he took something from me, too." The gun had begun to waver in my hand, the love shining from Perry's eyes burning it's way through the shield of hate I had erected.

"You don't want to kill this kid. Look at him, Kate. He's a boy."

"It might make me feel better," I tried lamely.

"It would make you feel awful. You're not a cold-blooded killer. Please, Kate. Don't cross that line for me. I'd never forgive myself." I looked from her to Puente, who was now crying openly, and back to her. My own muscles began to quiver. "Please, Kate."

"I'm sorry," I said softly. The gun suddenly seemed to weight a hundred pounds and it felt good to lower it. "I just…" The grief rose to the surface and spilled over, despite my best efforts to prevent it. "I don't want you to go." My voice was barely audible, and my heart literally ached. "I love you, and I don't want you to go." I had done such a good job staying stoic for the last few days, allowing my anger to be the reigning emotion, not my grief. I thought I could make it, but instead, I crumpled like a rag doll to the ground, crying in great, wracking sobs that I thought would never end.

Perry knelt by me and held me tightly, rocking me and murmuring reassurances. I remember at one point realizing that she, too, was crying. "You're such a good heart, Katie," she whispered in my ear. "You're so good. If everybody were like you, this world would be such a joyous place. I love you so much."

We sat that way until I heard the siren. An eerie calm settled over me, and I spoke to Perry.

"I'm going to miss you so much." I said it calmly, but with all my heart.

Perry smiled down at me. "I promise to visit you in your dreams."

I looked up at her from where my head was perched on her chest. "You can do that?"

She cocked her head as if wondering where that knowledge had suddenly come from. "That, I know for sure."

"Will you come every night?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

The slamming of car doors disrupted the moment. Perry pulled me quickly to my feet and pushed me in the direction of the office building's back door. "You need to get out of here. The police will take care of the blubbering mess over here. Go."

I stumbled away from her, noticing with interest that she had become transparent.

"Go!" she ordered again.

"I love you, Perry."

"I love you, too, Kate. See you in your dreams." And just like that, she was gone.

I swallowed hard, my throat painfully constricting, tucked my father's gun into the waistband of my jeans, and entered the back of the office building. Two police officers walked briskly by me, heading in the direction of the whimpering pile of flesh I'd left in the alcove.

A sudden sense of finality washed over me, and I smiled for the first time in days. Perry was free. I knew it in my heart.

EPILOGUE

I don't know any more now about what lies beyond this life than I did six years ago when I'd almost killed an eighteen-year-old kid. I keep trying to pry it out of Perry, but she won't tell me. Partly because she's not allowed to, and partly because she says it would spoil the surprise. She says I'll just have to wait and see.

I know she worries about me. She worries that I don't have somebody in my life. I tell her I do have somebody. I have her. Every night. She says she doesn't want me to be alone, that she wants me to be happy. She's also threatened to stop visiting me, but I know that's just talk. She couldn't get along without me any more than I could get along without her. She's just worried. Despite my reassurances, she doesn't seem to understand completely that I am happy, and I am not alone. I have friends. I have my work. I have Jaime, along with my newest addition to the family, the stray mutt who followed me home. I've named him Buster and he's great company.

I'll be honest and tell you that I did toy with the idea of taking my own life, just so I could be with Perry again, this time on the same plane, but she wouldn't allow it. She said I have a purpose in life, that everybody is here for a reason, and everybody has a designated time to go. Since I trust Perry with all my heart, I had no choice but to live. I know we'll be together eventually, so for now, I'm okay. I'll keep working on her. She'll believe me one of these days when I tell her I'm perfectly content with my existence.

I haven't told my friends about her. Somehow, I don't think they'd have the same reaction I do. I'm afraid they'd think I had a screw loose if I told them about my ghost lover, the dead woman who visits me in my dreams. Sarah would think I've gone completely off my rocker. She tried for a long time to fix me up with various friends, and although they were very nice women, none of them compared to Perry. After a couple years and because she's such a good friend, Sarah gave up and left me to my life of a bachelorette. She doesn't understand it, but she respects it. Maybe someday, I'll fill her in, but not right now.

I'm sure you may be rolling your eyes at me, too, wondering how I could possibly have settled for such a life. Maybe you think I'm insane. Maybe I am. All I can tell you is, when I drift off at night, and I end up in a field of wildflowers to find Perry waiting for me on a blanket, with a basket of fresh fruits and sandwiches, a bottle of wine, and that loving smile, I'm happier than I ever thought I could be. Nothing else matters but the love that awaits me in the blue depths of her eyes. I'm home.