CHAPTER 12 (3.5pp, double spaced, Times New Roman)

On June 23, 2011, I began writing a novel about a woman who starts a film company to trick actors into killing the man responsible for the deaths of her husband and children.

CHAPTER 12

Mrs. H didn't know why, but suddenly she didn't trust Rick. For whatever reason, she felt found out, as if he knew who she was.

She noticed a prickle of pain and looked down at her hand. Relaxing her fingers she saw where her nail had cut into her palm.

"Impossible," she said out loud, but she couldn't erase the possibility that he knew.

Then the phone rang. For a moment frozen, she waited until the third

ring to pick up.

"Yes?"

"Mrs. H? Hi, this is Jeremy!"

Taking a breath, Mrs. H forced a smile and said, "Yes, Jeremy, how are you?"

"I'm great, Mrs. H! Only this guy's been asking me weird questions about you. I just wanted to check that everything was all right."

"What kind of questions, dear?" she asked, her nervousness louder in her ears.

"I don't know. Things like if FlyRize is a cover up for some kind of illegal activity. If I was a real actor."

"This man you're talking about, did he identify himself as Rick James?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think so. Why? Do you know him?"

"Unfortunately," she said, pausing, "Yes, I do. I'm so sorry that he's bothered you. He's actually my brother, and I'm afraid he's mentally ill. I don't know how he got a hold of your contact information, unless he went through my things again. But it sounds like he's off his meds. I'll have a word with the doctor to see what's going on. Please let me know if he approaches you again. Thank you for bringing this situation to my attention, Jeremy."

"Oh, sure, Mrs. H! I hope everything's okay with your brother. Anyway, I have to leave for work now. Later!"

When the call died, she grit her teeth. Then, closing her eyes, she rubbed her temple. Feeling nauseous, she curled up on the couch, wrapped her arms around her shoulders and fell asleep.

"What more do you expect me to do?" Detective Morganson asked, glaring,

"From everything we've gathered, this is an open and shut case."

"The man murdered my family!" Helena screamed, standing up, one hand pressed tight against her arm.

Twisting his lips to one side and expelling air, Detective Morganson said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's nothing more we can do. It's time that you move on with your life."

"Fuck you!" she raged, the tears falling fast on her face.

He looked at her wearily. Then she left his office, slamming his door behind her.

Her hands shaking, she put her head against the steering wheel. A few minutes later she heard tapping on her window. Looking up, she saw an officer standing there. Rolling down her window, she waited for him to speak.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

Wiping her eyes, she said, "Yes, I'm just having a bad day. I'll be on my way now."

She drove off thinking how easy it was for him to kill her family and get away with it. That's when the idea came to her: What if I kill him?

Stopping her car, she asked out loud, uncertain, "What if I kill him?"

Many thoughts pushed through her head then. She sat there, blinking and thinking. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she had an elbow to the door and her head on that hand, her fingers pressing in and out.

"That would be the easiest way to do it," she said as if answering a question, smiling for the first time since her family died.

Suddenly the street turned into a giant monster. She screamed as she was swallowed up.

Just before the monster's teeth crushed her, she opened her eyes, feeling clammy. Sitting up, she put her face to her hands and started crying.

CHAPTER 11 (5.5pp, double spaced, Times New Roman)

On June 23, 2011, I began writing a novel about a woman who starts a film company to trick actors into killing the man responsible for the deaths of her husband and children.

CHAPTER 11

After a 16 hour flight from Bangkok, Rick sat puffy faced in his office staring at his monitor. He didn't know why, but he couldn't press Send.

Tapping his fingers on his desk, he picked up his pen and chewed on it. What am I missing here? This doesn't add up.

Rubbing his eye with the back of his hand, he saved the e-mail to Mrs. H, spit out his pen in the trash can and headed home. On the way he stopped at the police station.

"Hey, Dale. Sam around?"

"Yeah, he's in the back. Hey, you playing basketball this week?"

"I think so," Rick said, walking away.

On the phone when Rick walked into his office, Sam motioned him to sit on the chair with the least folders on it. Moving them on top of another stack, Rick sat, his fingers holding up the weight of his head.

"You look like shit!" Sam bellowed, face to face with Rick.

"Fat fuck, I need some 411," Rick answered as he took Sam's hand, pushing himself up for their usual pats on the back.

"Whatever I can do, man, just spill it," Sam said, leaning on his desk.

One hand on his other elbow, Rick said, "I just got a hunch, you know? Nothing specific."

That was the signal for them to take their seats. Waiting on Sam to give his okay, Rick bit his lip, wiondering not for the first time if he was overreacting.

Seeing Sam nod, Rick continued, "Okay, this woman comes to me some months ago wanting to know everything about this man and his family, no specifics. I figure he was an ex or something. But it was 10K plus expenses, so I wasn't too interested, okay?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, his expression opaque. Shifting uncomfortably, Rick took a breath.

"Okay, so," Rick continued, "Last week she tells me she wants more information on the guy's sister. So I'm thinking, what the fuck, right? Only I'm more curious about this woman, but, see: I don't know her last name, she's always paid cash and the cell phone she calls me on is registered in another name."

Looking at Sam, his facial contraction could've been mistaken for a sneer. Rick knew better; it showed him Sam had already considered several angles but was waiting to see what matched before voicing his opinions.

"But I already knew from the first investigation that he was associated with a car accident that killed this woman's family. Shit, though, if I don't find out that his sister took a leave of absence from her university studies because his girlfriend died. Also, I found the woman had a name change and owns a film company in Seattle. I can't shake the feeling this woman's involved."

"What can I do you with?" Sam asked, his notepad open and his pen ready.

"I'm going to find out more about Fly Rize. There's got to be some connection there. But I think something needs to be done to protect this man's family."

"I hear you, but I can't help you out without some evidence that this woman's involved. Get me that, and I'll pull all the resources I can to help you."

"I'll hold you to that," Sam said, shaking hands with Rick and leaving.

The next morning Mrs. H checked her e-mail. Opening the one from Rick, she read the contents.

To: "Mrs. H" (mrs.h@gmail.com)

From: "Rick James" (rjames@eyesonyou.com)

Date: March 12

Subject: Update on Case 1234

Mrs. H:

From my information Lina took a leave of absence from her university studies for personal reasons. She is currently living with her brother.

For travel expenses, remit $5,000. Thank you.

Rick

Mrs. H frowned, printed a copy and re-read it. There was nothing about Jana's murder. Googling for information she found several old news reports, but nothing that would've, in her estiimation, attracted Rick's attention. Satisfied that he didn't appear to be hiding anything, she placed the printout in her file.

Turning on the monitors she watched Lina playing with a puzzle in the living room and her brother in his office focused on a translation project. Then she went to work.

Laura walked out of his bedroom, smiled at Lina who hesitantly returned it, and went upstairs to remind him of their date. He felt her the moment she entered, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. When she put her arms around him, he kissed her hand.

"I'm working," he said.

With one hand she tilted his chin up, kissed him on the lips, and said, "It can wait. I want a little something before we go."

Already hard, he stood up, twisted around to face her and pushed her against the bookcase. His jeans undone he moved her skirt up and slid inside her.

When they were done they went downstairs, their hands around each other's waists, to talk with Lina, who had already left. For whatever reason, he felt shaken, as if he might not see Lina again.

Catching his unease, Laura pressed her body against his. They kissed softly, their tongues rolling around inside their mouths.

Breaking their kiss, Laura said, "This has to be hard on her. I'm another woman in your life, and you just lost someone very important to you. She'll come around, you'll see."

Kissing her on the forehead, they went out for lunch. At the restaurant, he listened to Laura talk about herself. When she told him about her role as a seductress for Fly Rize, he smiled, moving his tongue around.

Laughing, she flung rice at him. Picking it off of his face, he really looked at Laura for the first time.

"Marry me," he said.

"Sure," she said, thinking he was teasing her.

When he brought Laura to the airport, she felt fluttery. Squeezing her hand, he smiled at her, not once thinking of Lina. Had he checked the closet before they left, he would've seen his sister, her mouth covered by a man wearing black gloves and a ski mask.

CHAPTER 10 (4+pp, double spaced, Times New Roman)

On June 23, 2011, I began writing a novel about a woman who starts a film company to trick actors into killing the man responsible for the deaths of her husband and children.

CHAPTER 10

When he walked into the living room, Lina turned her head to face him with blotchy face and accusatory eyes. Waiting for her to speak, he brought his hand to his cheek, then back at his side. After a few minutes, he went into the kitchen and made coffee.

With the cup in his hands he glanced at his sister, pausing to see what her mood was. She refused to look at him, her eyes fixed on the fireplace. Stopping again at the foot of the stairs, he took one last look at her from the corner of his eye. Her only response was to bubble her lips and push them sideways.

Feeling his absence, Lina turned to face the stairs, her cheeks and lips bunched up. New tears rolling over old ones, she put her hand behind her head. Then she went upstairs, leaving her door open so he could hear her crying, knowing that he'd be standing outside her door watching her.

When she fell asleep, he entered her room, kneeling down by the side of her bed. Reaching out to pull back her hair, he touched her cheek.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, one hand over his mouth, head bent down.

Leaning over to kiss her on the cheek, he let his lips linger, feeling guilty that he'd hurt her. Returning to his room, he thought about Laura. Conflicted between remorse and arousal, he closed his eyes tight to keep his tears in check, falling asleep instead.

In the morning he found Lina sitting at the kitchen table, her fingers locked. He noticed, too, that she'd started boiling the water for his coffee. That meant she expected him to make the first move.

Finishing the process, he set his cup on the table, sat and stirred his coffee. Taking a sip, he took her in with just one glance. Though she appeared outwardly composed, her eyes were troubled, as if at any moment she expected him to walk out again.

Choosing his words carefully, he said, "I have too many memories here. I needed to get away. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Why won't you talk to me?" she whispered.

"I have needs."

She creased her forehead when he wouldn't look at her. Forming an o with her lips, she pressed them against her teeth, thinking.

"I don't understand," she said.

Scowling, he met her eyes and said, harshly, "I'm a man. I have needs you can't give me."

Lina felt chilled for a moment. Releasing the air she'd held in, she felt, uncertain.

"I -. What do you mean?"

Standing up suddenly, he threw his cup against the wall, shouting, "I need to fuck!"

Startled, she stood up and tripped on a chair leg as her chair fell. Then she backed up against the wall, her arms crossed over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he said, taking a deep breath, his eyes on the floor.

Once her heart slowed, she asked, "Did you meet someone?"

"Yes."

Focusing on his translation work, he stayed mostly in his office for the rest of the day. Lina, meanwhile, became increasingly frustrated. She just didn't understand why he kept shutting her out.

When the snot ran down her nose from crying so hard after their parents died, he'd been the one to hold her. No matter how much she'd fought him, he wouldn't let up on her. For the first few months, too, she'd slept in his bed because she didn't want to be alone. It was because of him, she wrote in her college entrance essay, that she had the strength to finish high school.

Calling her friend Tammy, she said, "Can you come over tonight?"

"You sound sad, Lin. Everything okay?"

"No, that's why I need you to come over."

"Is eight okay?"

"Yes, thanks, Tammy."

Returning to the puzzle she'd laid out while talking to Tammy, Lina felt him watching her. Tilting her head, she saw him standing in the crook of the wall that divided the living room from the hallway leading to the kitchen.

It never failed to intimidate her when she caught him doing that. She never knew if he was seeing her or something inside her. Faced with his silence, she focused instead on sorting out the edges. When she looked up again, he was gone.

Tammy arrived a few minutes after 8p. Hugging at the door, Lina roped Tammy's arm and led her upstairs.

"I'll be right back," Lina said, hurrying downstairs to bring up the caramel flavored popcorn and bottles of water.

When she returned, Tammy patted the bed and ooohed at the snacks. Laughing, Lina gave her the choice between The Lord of the Rings and Wild Hogs.

After watching Wild Hogs, Lina mostly listened to Tammy as she talked about her latest project at the grief foundation she worked for. When Tammy left, she felt her anxiety return. Why won't he talk to me? she asked, falling asleep.

CHAPTER 9 (5+pp, double spaced, Times New Roman 12point)

On June 23, 2011, I began writing a novel about a woman who starts a film company to trick actors into killing the man responsible for the deaths of her husband and children.

CHAPTER 9

Mrs. H checked the monitor again, but he still hadn't shown up. Then she noticed a woman sitting on his couch with a cup in her hands. What's she doing there? she asked herself, her lips pressed against her teeth. Taking her notebook from the bottom drawer of the night stand, she sorted through the newspaper clippings, police reports,photographs, and other miscellanea until she found what she was looking for. Placing the photograph side by side with the woman on the screen, she noted that, except for the recently dyed hair and contacts, the faces matched. According to the detective's summary, this was his sister Lina. But she's supposed to be studying abroad, she thought. Her mouth parting, she sighed. Then she brought her tapping fingers from the armrest to her forehead, her thumb against her jaw as she tapped, tapped, tapped. Expunging more air, she got up, stretching her arms behind her as she looked at Lina. What am I going to do with you? she asked the woman on the screen. As if in response, Lina turned her face right to the camera and blinked. Out loud, Mrs. H said, "Yes, that's exactly it. I'm going to have to hunt you." Her hands folded on her stomach, she sat down watching Lina until her eyes closed. When she opened them again they found Lina on another screen asleep in her bed. Yawning, she re-read the detective's summary again. Ten years ago their parents died in a freak boating accident. Taking a leave of absence from his job, he took care of Lina while she finished her last year of high school. Switching from nursing to psychology, Lina graduated with honors from UW Bothell, then went away to Brooklyn College to complete bereavement certification. Returning to Washington, she interned for several years with various grief organizations before applying to and being accepted to the MA program in Individual and Family Studies at Assumption University in Thailand, with classes taught in English. She was due to graduate this year. "Why are you here?" Mrs. H asked, drinking her tea. Studying the photographs, she noticed that, since becoming orphans, it was always Lina smiling for him, while, in the last year, he smiled only for Jana. Was he simply overprotective of Lina? That was a question she couldn't answer. Looking more closely at Jana, she could understand his attraction. Jana could've passed for a model, but something about her made her approachable even on a one-dimensional surface. She noticed, too, that, unlike Lina, whose smile never reached her eyes, Jana's eyes sparkled. Is that why he loved you? Mrs. H wondered, knowing that Jana would never answer. Turning to face the photograph of her family, she studied herself next to Tom. But when she tried to think of one perfect moment with him, she felt only the movement of a tear. Ripping the photograph she had in her hand, she got up, wanting to beat her aggression on the punching bag she'd bought but never used. But, as before, when she faced it in the corner of her room (the guest bedroom), she pushed the whole stand to the floor, sitting down crying. She fell asleep like that, curled into an oddly shaped ball, her head resting on the punching bag. For one of the few times since the accident, she didn't dream. The ringing, however, woke her up. "Hello?" she croaked. "Mrs. H?" Marise asked, "Oh thank god, I thought something might've happened to you!" "What?" she asked, not registering what Marise was telling her. "Mrs. H, it's 12 o'clock."

"I, uh," Mrs. H said, rubbing her eyes, "I'm, um, sick. Will you be okay by yourself today?"

Mrs. H went to her church and sat in the last row. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander.

It took her a few moments to realize that someone was nudging her. Turning her eyes to face the robed man, she opened her mouth, then blew out air instead.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the man said, "But it's time to go home."

"What? I just got here!"

"Ma'am, it's 10p."

For the second time that day she felt disoriented. Leaving the church she almost didn't notice the other driver pulling out at the same time. She stuck her middle finger up when she heard the honking, gritting her teeth which pushed her cheeks up.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed the base of her palm against her head. Exhaling she started for home, focusing all of her energy on what was around her.

Then she decided that home was the last place she wanted to be. Calling her friend James, she changed direction and pulled up at the bar. After a few drinks she followed him home, had sex and left.

When she closed her door behind her, she slid her butt against it and sat on the floor with her forehead on her knees and her arms crossed in front, her crying harder and with greater force on her shoulder blades. After a while she crawled up to a standing position, took a shower and turned on the TV, barely glancing at her family.

Later, when she checked the monitor, she saw that he still wasn't home. Frowning, she squeezed her bottom lip, then pressed her teeth on it.

"What, oh what, am I going to do with you, Lina dear?" she asked, startled at the sound of her voice.

Widening her eyes, she relaxed them. What she needed was information, and there was only person who could do that.

"It's 3 o'clock in the fucking morning!" Rick shouted, catching his wife's hand in the air and putting it back on her body, her eyelids pressed inwards but still closed.

"I have a job for you," Mrs. H said.

"Oh, yeah?" he whispered, licking his lip and trying to match her voice to a face.

"I need an update on the work you've already done. Same price: $10,000."

It clicked for him then. He felt confused, however.

"What's this about?"

"I just need a current report. If you can't do it, I'll go to someone else."

"Fine, fine. Just give me a couple of weeks. And same deal: My expenses are extra for any traveling I might do. Deal?"

"Yes."

CHAPTER 8 (5.5pp, double spaced, Times New Roman 12point)

On June 23, 2011, I began writing a novel about a woman who starts a film company to trick actors into killing the man responsible for the deaths of her husband and children.

CHAPTER 8

Laura studied the sheet, trying to figure out Elitsa. Elitsa, it seemed to her, was someone who would've never known even the possibility of rejection.

According to the description, Elitsa had an undefinable allure that made speech incomprehensible and turned eyes into radar. The daughter of academics, she understood the demands on their time and the need for quiet at home. She was also very comfortable with sex, seeing it as a communication tool.

Looking up at the mirror, Laura tried to imagine herself as Elitsa. Tilting her head back enough to strain her eyes as she watched herself, she touched her fingers to her neck, pressing in and up until she reached her lips. For a moment she felt her.

Then, with both hands behind her neck, Laura yawned, got off the bed and went to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, she bit her lip. She had the choice of yogurt or leftover pasta, but was in the mood for mac and cheese.

Calling her friend Kerri, she said, "Take me out. I'm starving!"

"Same time, same place?"

"You know it!"

The first one there, Laura sat down at the black table and stared at the plastic corked bottle of water that was twice as high as her glass but with the same clear view. As often as she'd been there, she still couldn't resist smelling it in the hopes of finding alcohol instead.

Laughing at herself, she glanced up and saw Kerri at the entrance. Waving her over she blew her a kiss.

"Hey, bitch," Kerri said.

"What's up, slut?"

"All the world and then some."

"I heard that."

Their palms slapping, they leaned over and kissed each other on the cheeks. Then Kerri dropped her purse on the tabletop, turned her seat around, sat down and rested her hands on top of the chair and her chin on top of her hands.

"So," Kerri purred, "How much you getting paid?"

Grinning, Laura said, "You won't believe it."

"Spill it!"

"10K!"

At first, Kerri didn't move. Then she pulled her head back, opened her mouth, closed it and put her chin back on her hands. Twisting her lips to one side, she brought them back and grinned.

"You won't forget me, will you?" she asked, "I mean, when you get all big and famous?"

Laura shook her head from side to side, her eyes gleaming. Laughing, they ate, drank and talked some more.

Within the hour, Kerri's boyfriend sent her a booty call text. Hugging Laura goodbye, Kerri rushed off while Laura stayed behind.

Looking at her watch, Laura couldn't believe it was 2a. Deciding to go home herself, she started for the door when she saw the broad shouldered man sitting in the corner by the window. Something about the way he tapped his glass, his head bent down, made her want to lift his face and kiss him.

Instead she sat down opposite of him, clasped her fingers under her chin and waited for him to notice her. When he did, she felt her eyes burn with his sadness.

He flicked his gaze at her, pulled his head back and creased his forehead, his eyebrows pushing inwards. She held her eyes with his until, distracted by the couple at the entrance, she pulled away.

"Do I know you?" he demanded, his voice terse and grouchy sounding.

That stilled her, her eyes widening and her mouth opening. She turned to look at him, tilted her head and, smiling with her eyes, just barely curled her lips.

"Don't you want to?" she asked, her voice demur.

Whatever it was about him, she felt an insane need to press him against her body until all of the sadness washed away from him. Whether it was that imperceptible wave he felt or something else, he, too, felt himself responding to her. Then he thought of Jana.

Seeing the shining redness behind his red stained eyes, she reached her hands out and grabbed his glass tapping hand and held it to her mouth. Then a tear dropped from her face and wet his hand.

He looked up at her, his dick hard. Rasping, he suddenly felt feverish, as if sweat were popping out all over his body. He moved the hand she held until he had his thumb in front of her ear and the rest of his hand behind her ear, her hands on his wrist and over his hand.

Her vulnerability exposed, he reached over suddenly and, with his other hand behind her neck, pressed his lips with force against her mouth. Startled, she turned her head.

Letting go of her, he sat down and said, "I'm sorry."

Her lips trembling, she smiled, still holding on to his hand. Bringing it back to her lips, she opened his fingers and kissed his palm. When she slid her fingers through his, he, too, closed his fingers around her hand, his tears openly falling on his cheeks as he looked at her.

Smiling, she stood up and said, "Let's go to my place and talk. I don't want to leave you alone tonight."

"Okay," he said, tossing money on the table and riding with her.

"Are you from here?" she asked, making the turn to her apartment.

"No."

"Are you on vacation?" she asked, parking the car and turning her face to him.

Taking a breath, he lowered his head and said, "I had to get away from my sister."

"It's okay," she said, leaning over to open his door and walking out with him on the passenger side, their hands still clasped together.

She held him on her bed as he cried against her neck. Without removing their clothes, they fell asleep, never letting the other go.

In the morning he talked to her about Jana. She didn't judge him, just held him and listened. By the end of the day she let him inside her, knowing it wasn't her face he was seeing. She just had an inexplicable need to help him through his grief. But when he said "I love you," she felt her entire body flush, wanting him more.

CHAPTER 7 (5.75pp, double spaced, Times New Roman)

On June 23, 2011, I began writing a novel about a woman who starts a film company to trick actors into killing the man responsible for the deaths of her husband and children.

CHAPTER 7

Answering the door, he rubbed his hand over his mouth. Looking up from the porch railing he barely noticed the police uniform.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Sir, I'm Detective Emily Stuegner," she said, holding out her hand, "I need to ask you some follow-up questions, if you don't mind."

Stepping toward him, she gestured him aside. Walking through the hallway into the living room, she sat down on the first sofa, the other sofa on her right.

When she heard him enter, she said, "I need a cup of coffee, black."

Frowning, he took a breath and went into the kitchen which was a little further up on the left. Alone, Emily studied the fireplace in front of the wall facing her.

Made with brick and a small grate with a wire mesh in front and absent of photographs, she looked for cracks that would hide a mini surveillance camera. He returned just as she finished inserting one in the center crack under the ledge.

His eyebrows curved inwards, he handed her her coffee. Sitting on the sofa to her left, she motioned for him to sit, bringing the cup to her nose to savor the aroma.

"What are your questions?"

Smiling, she turned to him and said, "Oh, I have lots! Just be patient while I enjoy my coffee."

He scowled, bringing his fingers to his lips in a hook pattern. Then, spreading his legs out further from the V shape he'd already formed he leaned back against the couch and blew out air. When he looked at her, she almost dropped her cup.

"Okay, so," she said, trying to hide her discomfort, "Tell me again what happened the day Jana died."

Pursing his lips, he said, "She was murdered."

"Did you kill her?" she asked.

It was a shift more than anything else, but she was afraid. All of his hostility had manifested, as if he'd answered yes to a question she hadn't asked: Could he kill? If it didn't show in her body, inside she shivered; then she forced herself to relax, reminding herself that he was just another actor, nothing to be scared of.

"It's standard procedure to ask that," she stammered, "To rule you out as a suspect. And guess what? You're not a suspect anymore!"

He moved to get up, but she stalled him. With a big grin on her face, she pushed him back.

"Just sit, okay? I'm going to look around the house."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she put her finger over her lips. Running off she took the stairs to the second floor and looked around for more places to hide the mini cams.

When she returned, he wasn't on the couch; biting her lip, she froze. Hearing the downstairs toilet flush, she chided herself again for panicking.

"Okay, so," she shouted, scrambling to the front door, "I think I got everything I needed. Have a good day!"

"That was intense," Emily said, turning the corner.

"Did he scare you?" Mrs. H asked, laughing.

"Oh my god, yes. I really thought he was going to attack me!"

"That's why I chose him. He's a great character actor. But, hey, what are your plans for this weekend? Because we're having a retreat to work on some acting exercises."

"I can definitely make it. Where?"

When Emily arrived she saw only one other car on the road. What if I'm too early? she thought, parking her car. Seeing the Retreat sign she followed it, her hands over her stomach.

It wasn't dark yet but she felt uneasy. Walking along the hiking path she finally found the clearance Mrs. H had told her about. Seeing the tents and campfire, she grimaced. What is wrong with me today? she asked herself.

When Mrs. H stepped out of the tent, Emily waved, then walked over, her arms at her sides. Kneeling in front of the campfire she smiled, her head and hair falling to one side.

"I think I'm having a mid-life crisis," Emily joked.

"More like an end of year crisis," Mrs. H said, reaching over her and stabbing her in the midriff.

After filching the keys, Mrs. H brought out the plastic tarp from the tent, rolled Emily's body on it, tied it with rope and dragged the ends to the hole she'd dug behind the tent. Wiping the sweat from her face, she pushed the body in and grabbed the shovel. Once she filled the hole she continuously walked over it until it felt natural to her.

Looking at her watch, she said, "Shit."

With less than an hour to go before the real retreat began, she hurried to Emily's car and drove to the rest stop about two miles out. With her years of ten mile a day jogs it took her about 20 minutes to get back. She was standing by her car just as Marise pulled up.

"I was wondering when the food was going to arrive," Mrs. H said, "Did you get the booklets copied?"

"You know I did!" Marise said, happy to be on her own for the weekend, her husband having agreed to take their sons camping.

Several of the actors started arriving just as the grill got fired up. Between eating and talking, no one noticed the bloodstains on Mrs. H's shirt or that she had changed shirts midway through the scary campfire stories.

The next day Marise focused on her studies while Mrs. H oversaw the actors as they participated in two improv exercises (validation and pantomining) and scene work. Helping to prepare the food, Marise got to relax at the end of the day, joining in with the actors as they shared personal stories about themselves.

The day after that Mrs. H waited for everyone else to disperse before jogging back to Emily's car to search for the receivers she needed to check in on him. When she finished with the toilet she walked out of the stall, surprised to find Laura standing there.

"Mrs. H!" Laura said, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I wanted to freshen up a bit before heading home," Mrs. H said, washing her hands, then her hair.

"But where's your car?"

"Back at the retreat site."

"Do you want a ride back?"

"No, I regularly jog for exercise. It's what keeps me fit," she said, rinsing off her hair, "But I really do have to be somewhere this afternoon. Talk with you another time?"

"Sure! Have a great day!"