The Insight Documents

Prologue

The bullet entered her knee from the left side and she knew as it struck that it was bad. She screamed as the bone shattered and the sticky warmth of her own blood began to pour down her left leg. The pain exploded behind her eyes and the agony of her ripped flesh tore through her thoughts with a force almost greater than she could bear.

Her leg collapsed and she toppled forward, helpless to control her body as it hit the concrete floor with a thud, the fall softened only slightly by her outstretched hands. A rush of air expelled from her lungs and she gasped to regain her breath. She stifled another scream as the pain from her knee and the trauma of the unbroken fall raced through her body.

Struggling against a flood of nausea, she frantically rolled to her side and moved her right hand to the place that had been her knee. Her fingers scanned the surface, surveying the damage. When she withdrew her hand she saw the deep scarlet stain covering her palm and seeping down her wrist.

From the volume of blood she knew an artery was likely severed and she frantically ripped off a sleeve from her shirt and tied it around her leg six inches above the destroyed knee. She tugged it tight and rolled to her back.

The flow of her blood slowed but did not stop, and she acknowledged her diminishing strength from the impending shock and loss of blood. She observed the widening pool around her as though it belonged to someone other than herself and a lightheaded calmness began to filter through the pain. She felt the urge to fight it, but couldn’t quite remember why.

She struggled back onto her stomach, and using only her one good leg she tried to rise, but collapsed back against the floor in a heap, her rapidly weakening body betraying her. Resignedly she lowered her head onto the cold, concrete floor as movement became too much of an effort.

A hazy fog enveloped her senses, and it flashed across her thoughts that she would probably die here on this dirty warehouse floor. She closed her eyes, accepting her fate and the slow, inevitable ebb of life as her blood spread freely beneath her.

Somewhere from the deepest recesses of her mind she recalled that the human body could withstand only a small loss from its few pints of blood before recovery became unlikely. She accepted that it would not be long before she lost consciousness. In her abstraction she began to calculate the amount of blood she had lost and to measure her remaining time.

The concentration to complete the computation became too great and her thoughts darted away from its intensity. In its place a series of scenes like photographic slides began to flash through her thoughts and she watched as if observing them from a distance.

Her lips moved in silent greeting as her Father’s face appeared. Even as she returned his smile and reached out to touch his face, she wondered how it was possible for him to appear here so real and alive, the face, the easy smile that had been so dear to her. She strained forward and tried to move her hands upward to embrace him, but lacked the strength. Her arms fell back to her sides.

In a flash the scene changed and she saw herself as a young girl in her St. Mary’s team shirt, standing in the pitching circle. It did not seem at all strange to see herself there, a fresh faced teenager again, and she smiled weakly as the fearless child that she had been wound her arm and fired a pitch across the plate. She leaped into the air as the strike blazed past the batter and over the center of home plate to successfully retire the inning and win the game. She heard cheers and her name called from the small crowd gathered along the sidelines. She glanced toward the crowd and saw Joseph, his arms raised above his head, his voice screaming his celebration of her victory.

She smiled her appreciation to him. Her eyes were drawn to his left where Sean stood alongside her brother, his silent thumbs up signaling his added approval of her performance.

Once more those images dissolved and a new scene appeared. She struggled to identify the participants, but through the peaceful obscurity into which she had settled she heard noise and movement around her.

She moved her lips to voice her annoyance at this intrusion. Don’t, please don’t........ The words formed, but no sound emerged.

She tried desperately to hold onto the fading images as they disappeared. A thought tugged at her. She tried to ignore its insistence and push it away so she could resume her peaceful surrender.

A second glimpse of her Father flickered, then grew clear. He stood in a nearly perfect circle of white light, his eyes alive with concern and his lips moving silently. He seemed to be saying something of great importance and his face was strained under the weight of his words. With his right hand he beckoned to her left and she heard him whisper the word brother.

She reached for his outstretched hand and struggled to hear the rest of his words, then she tried to rise to move toward him and the light that surrounded him. He began to back away and once again his form dissolved and the light slowly faded. A great loss gripped her and once again she collapsed back onto the floor.

Through her grief she felt an urgency pulsing through her thoughts, something about the single word her Father had spoken. She struggled to concentrate on it, unable to complete the thought or to dispose of the intense need she felt to understand. Brother. Brother. Joseph. There was something about Joseph. He was her brother that much she could recall, but she wasn’t able to focus on the single thought that would clarify all she needed to remember. Her mind refused to cooperate with this difficult task and her aching body and overwhelmed senses screamed for her to stop trying.

For a moment she again surrendered and was content to resume her journey through the photographs and toward the white light. The insistent urging returned and the images blurred. She searched the bit of consciousness that remained, trying to grasp what she needed to remember.

Like a bolt of blue lightening the answer raced through her, along with the return of the fire from her left knee. In that instant she remembered it all. The warehouse. Joseph. The gunshots. She was not alone. Joseph was here with her. She had been shot. Joseph was in danger. She had to help him. The gunman who had shot her would now be in pursuit of him.

She struggled to clear the inertia that gripped her, forcing her belabored mind and overwhelmed senses to respond. She willed her weakened body to act and attempted to rise up. Using both arms and her good leg she tried to push herself across the concrete floor. Her limbs failed and she collapsed again, overcome by the anguish that roared from her left knee upward through her brain.

Finally she had grasped the urgency of her mission and now refused to give it up. Forcefully she blocked out the pain, shoving it away to the remote shadows of her thoughts to be dealt with later. Slowly she rolled to her right side. Darkness clouded her eyes for an instant and she nearly lost consciousness. She fought against it. Only the thoughts of Joseph allowed her to move again from the appealing brink.

She forced her eyes open and tried to focus on the scene around her. Her vision began to clear and she struggled to stay alert. She slowly moved her head side to side in search of Joseph. She heard another resounding echo when a gunshot exploded to her right. She sensed a slight movement and strained her eyes in that direction, trying to identify the vague outline she saw hidden between stacks of crates.

A bullet ricocheted off the side of the crates and she dropped her face back to the floor. Slowly she searched the dark figure again and distinguished the shape of Joseph as he crouched behind a line of boxes. Somewhere above and to her left the unknown attacker fired single intermittent shots at him and Joseph burrowed deeper into his hiding place, firing when he could.

She tried to remember who this gunman was but the memory would not come and she pushed the struggle to recall aside. It didn’t matter now. Only Joseph mattered.

She heard Joseph return the gunfire and knew she needed to get closer to his position to help him. Dragging her lifeless left leg and nearly biting through her lower lip, she struggled upward again onto her hands and right knee, ignoring the agony the effort produced. Pain shot upward from her left knee to her thigh, but she began to make progress, moving inch by inch toward the sounds of the battle, ignoring the fire of her body.

She forced herself to remain focused as she continued crawling toward where she had last seen Joseph crouched. She could not, would not, allow the pain to defeat her. Not now, not until she had helped Joseph escape.

She saw his dark shape again rise up slightly from his position and peer above the crates, intently examining an area to his left. Another volley of shots rang out and he quickly pulled back. She drew within five yards of his position and her lips moved as his name formed soundlessly. She sensed that he had not yet spotted her approaching and continued her purposeful movement toward him.

Suddenly his head pivoted and the color drained from his face as he became aware of her presence and her exposed position.

Stay back! Elsa, stay back. The fear in his voice was laced with ice.

She paused and saw his mouth move but could not distinguish his words, her mind and body were singularly locked on her mission to reach him. She was incapable of processing either his message or his frantic tone as she continued to crawl forward. He needed help that only she could give him. There was no one else. Her weapon slipped away unnoticed as she slowly moved forward.

Joseph saw her uninterrupted progress, knowing that she was beyond understanding him. He saw the trail of blood she had left and nearly panicked at the sight. She seemed completely unaware of the danger as she propelled herself directly into the assailant’s line of fire.

Abruptly Joseph rose without thought for his own safety. Deserting his cover, he leaped forward to intercept her. He reached her within seconds and dove to cover her body with his own. He rolled to her side, blocking the exposure of her body to the gunman, then raised himself up enough to begin pulling her to safety.

A series of shots rang out in rapid succession and Elsa saw a pained distortion flash through her brother’s eyes. His features twisted as she watched and his fingers relinquished his grip on her. He struggled up unsteadily, his body swaying as he worked to gain his balance, his weapon extended toward the location of the shooter. He staggered forward a dozen steps, then as another shot echoed sharply, clutched both hands over his chest.

Elsa saw the blood spread instantly in a blotchy pattern across the front of his shirt. His fingers released the weapon that he still gripped in his right hand and it slid to the floor, bouncing ten feet across the room.

Joseph made a move forward as if to retrieve the weapon but his legs folded under him and he fell forward silently, already unconscious. His head struck the floor with a dull thud, the impact cracking two of his front teeth and breaking his nose. A stream of blood began to flow from his face, blending with the stain already rushing from his chest wound.

Elsa was no longer able to contain her anguish and with added fear for him she screamed his name in a hysterical screech that reverberated throughout the building. She knew in that moment that Joseph was likely dead. Panic seized her as she acknowledged that they were both now beaten.

Why? Why? Her mind screamed the question over and over again. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the cold floor. The pain washed over her and joined with the sorrow for the senseless loss of her beloved brother. She lay helpless for several moments, her body accepting their final defeat.

Somehow through the turmoil within her heart and mind she heard footsteps to her left then a crate crashing to the floor. She sensed the narrowing gap between her and the attacker.

Calling forth the bottom reservoir of her strength, she lifted her head inches from the floor and saw the man stop near Joseph, less than twelve feet from her. Irreverently he used his foot to prod his now still and lifeless body. The man appeared satisfied that there was no longer any danger from her brother and allowed his weapon to fall harmlessly to his side.

Enraged by his disregard for the life of the good man who lay at his feet, Elsa felt a surge of anger course through her limbs. From her furor at this maniac, who had nearly finished them both, she drew the strength to again lift herself and begin to creep closer to where Joseph’s gun had fallen. The man faced away from her and ignoring the cost of each inch, she determined to reach the weapon in time.

She heard the man laugh softly as he confirmed that Joseph was finished and then he turned slowly toward her. He saw her movements and her intention and she heard his footsteps as he quickly advanced in her direction. She would not let herself think of certain death as he readied his weapon to fire the final round that would finish her, too. She no longer cared if this was what was to be. She had to try to avenge the attack on herself and the death of her brother. She did not allow her attention to waver from her mission of reaching Joseph’s weapon.

Pain pulsed through her as she crawled forward and her useless leg seemed to pull apart as she frantically scrambled the last few feet. Her hand closed over the weapon and she forced herself onto her elbows clasping the gun with both hands.

She raised it to fire, but the man had already positioned his own weapon directly toward her head. The barrel gleamed, even in the dull light, just feet away from Elsa and she froze, paralyzed by what she knew would be the end. Without expression the man pulled the trigger.

Elsa’s heart leaped into her throat as the flat metallic echo of the empty chamber reached her. The man’s face registered disbelief, and he stood stunned, his eyes darting from his gun to the one that she held pointed toward him. Seconds ticked away as he seemed unable to comprehend the enormity of his error. Quickly he recovered and again stepped purposefully toward Elsa, his intentions and anger readable on his face.

Unable to move, she saw him advancing. She shook her head to clear away the gripping fear. With no other option and no time to consider, she again raised the heavy weapon from the floor. Using all her remaining strength, she rested her weight on both elbows and gripped the gun firmly.

She pointed toward the man’s chest and firmly squeezed the trigger. She felt the weapon leap in her hands and heard the shot echo through the warehouse for a long moment, a dull explosion resounding off the metal walls as though a second shot had been fired. She allowed her expended senses and torn body to rest as the relief of unconsciousness finally enveloped her. Her head sank slowly to the floor.

She did not see the man jerk left when the bullet she had fired found his shoulder, but the shot did not stop him. Neither did she see him nearly spin around in a full circle as a second shot tore a gaping hole through his forehead. The man lurched forward for several steps, his blood rushing down his uncomprehending face. Finally he collapsed to the floor, falling nearly atop the now still and lifeless form of Joseph.

A lone man emerged from the shadows at the south end of the warehouse and from behind where Elsa had been positioned. Quickly he holstered his gun that had fired the last and fatal shot, halting the attack on Elsa.

Not daring to look too closely at Elsa’s pale face, dreading what he would find, the man ran past her. He rapidly inspected the assailant and kicked the man’s weapon away as he did. The caution was not necessary. The man was no longer a threat. His death was evidenced in his lifeless face and bloodstained eyes.

He yanked him away from Joseph then bent over his friend. It was not difficult to see that Joseph was in serious trouble. His shallow breathing and the hint of a pulse told the story. Joseph was still alive, though just barely.

Ignoring the surge of bile already rising upward in his throat and pushing aside the fear that tightened his chest, he quickly rose and moved toward Elsa. He knew he had to see if she lived, in the same thought acknowledging that he would not be able to bear it if she was gone.

He had left her for last, fearful of finding that he was too late. Now he bent over her crumpled body and searched her neck for a pulse. His features were pale as he inspected her condition.

She did not stir, did not seem to breathe, and the man guessed that she was already dead. An overpowering sorrow began to engulf him and he swore aloud as he frantically pressed his fingers closer against her neck, willing a response from her, not accepting this end, he desperately worked on her unmoving form, all the while praying for a miracle that would save her. All he needed was a sign of life.

He found no wound other than the shattered leg, but could see from the blood strewn across the floor that she had lost a dangerous amount. He had nearly given up hope that she would live when he felt a faint and hollow push of her pulse against his fingers.

Not trusting the evidence of his own touch, and fearful that he had imagined the single heartbeat against his fingertips, he held his hand across the center of her chest with his palm down. His hope was answered by a slight rise of her chest and a gasping intake of air as her body struggled for life. He felt another shallow but distinct heartbeat.

Even as he examined her he was aware that the pool of blood under her grew. The realization of her desperate condition propelled him to his feet. All he had needed was this sign of life, her life.

Rapidly he sprinted the length of the now silent building. He headed toward the single exit and moved at a full run the half block to the deserted and dark street where he had parked his car less than fifteen minutes before.

All training deserted him as he focused only on saving her. There had to be time. From the depths of his thoughts he felt the urge to slow down, to be careful, to closely watch each shadow and doorway, but there was no time to consider his own safety now. He ignored the possibility that the assailant had not been alone as he ran.

He reached his car safely and in less than two minutes. He fumbled as he picked out the right key from the bulky ring he carried. His hands were slippery with her blood and he dropped them once, swore aloud and bent to retrieve them. He inserted the correct key into the lock and yanked open the door. He roared the car to life and his tires squealed as he pulled away. He reached for his mobile phone in the same movement. Rapidly he punched in numbers, as he sped back toward the warehouse.

He spoke briskly into the handset as soon as he heard a voice at the other end.

This is Arkane. The near hysteria in his voice betrayed his anxiety.

"There’s one unknown man dead. Our two are in very bad shape. Arrange to pick up the body and get the medical team here for Joseph Winters. And be damned quick about it. He’s hurt very badly. Every second counts. Joseph has a gunshot wound to the chest and he has extensive head injuries from a fall.

"The mobile phone crackled a reply, and Sean recognized the voice of Laurence Middleton.

Arkane, did I read you correctly? Pick up one dead and one injured? What about the other one? Who else is there?

It’s Elsa, Larry. And she’s in very bad shape, too.

Elsa! What’s she doing there? I thought Joseph was scheduled to go it alone on this one. What’s her condition, Sean?

She apparently has only one gunshot, but it’s a bad one. She’s lost a lot of blood. An image of the pools of red on the warehouse floor flashed across his mind.

Alright, Sean, you get out of there. We’ll take it from here.

No! he shouted into the phone. I’ll take care of her......"

Sean, let us handle this and you get the hell out of there. That’s an order! I know this is important to you, but you weren’t supposed to go charging in there. You weren’t even supposed to be anywhere near. Your position is too sensitive. You cannot be exposed in this situation. Now get out of there and let us handle it.

No!!! Sean again screamed into the phone. There’s no time to argue with you, Larry. I’ll take care of her. You arrange for the pickup of the others. Just do it! Now! Joseph and Elsa have both lost a lot of blood and every second that I spend here arguing with you can mean their life or death.

He had reached the warehouse and braked to a skidding stop. He slammed the car into park and without waiting for a response to his last command, he tossed the phone aside and leaped from the car. He sprinted toward the barely distinguishable door of the warehouse and across the floor to Elsa’s side. Rapidly, but with care, he lifted her limp body and pulled her close in his arms. He turned and moved back through the warehouse and toward his car. As he passed Joseph he paused only to say, Hold on buddy. Help is on the way.

***************

Chapter One

Elsa Winters expertly steered her aged Volkswagen convertible down San Diego's 15 Freeway through the heavy morning commuter traffic. She maneuvered lane to lane toward the right, squeaking past a delivery van, then between two cars and signaled for her exit. She glanced to her left and saw the familiar hand gesture offered by the driver of the van. His mouth verbalized the obscenity in accompaniment.

Elsa laughed aloud and waved to the man. She saw the anger flush red across his face at her response. She continued her exit and turned right onto Branton Boulevard and drove two blocks. She entered St. Mary's small parking area still chuckling at the outrageous response of the truck driver. She saw at a glance that the staff parking lot was full.

Dammit, she swore. She was late again and knew that she should have anticipated the shortage of parking.

Determined to not let her already frantic morning and the rush of the commute spoil her mood, she resignedly began the slow cruise through the aisles, her eyes alert for an opening. She eyed the single handicapped slot but remembered that she had never completed the application for the needed permit, knowing she had been unwilling to admit that she did qualify for such a permit. On her over stretched budget she couldn’t risk the fine for parking there and continued on with one more loop around the lot.

Despite the fatigue that coursed from her bones outward, Elsa felt wonderful. She was still high on the remnants of making love just hours before and the evening spent with Devin in his apartment. She had stayed later than planned and the brief sleep she had been able to manage when she finally got to her own apartment had left her moving sluggishly this morning.

It had been worth it. The warmth and ease of being with him had been so strong during the evening and remained now, brightening what could have been an otherwise daunting morning. Elsa couldn’t suppress her smile as she recalled the night.

At seven the night before, she had met Devin at his apartment, expecting that they would eat out as they usually did, walking to Manny's Bar or one of their other favorite hangouts just blocks from Devin's apartment. Sometimes they drove across town to the new café they had discovered that was tucked in a row of shops on the San Diego Bay and that appealed to her as well.

When she let herself into Devin's small condominium she’d been surprised to find him in the kitchen, a long apron pulled up nearly to his armpits as he intently inspected an array of ingredients spread across the countertop.

Devin was already loose and boisterous when she arrived, and she spotted the bottle of Chablis, half empty, amid the chopped vegetables and spices. In his rich baritone voice he sang a medley of tunes that ranged from tender to frivolously amusing as he moved about the kitchen.

He chopped and stirred, moving the utensils with a flourish. He paused only long enough to lean across the counter and plant a loud kiss on Elsa's lips and point her toward the bottle of wine.

Elsa poured a generous drink for herself and sat across the bar from him, her elbows propped atop the counter, sipping and laughing as he moved about the kitchen. He prepared a simple and traditional Mexican meal with seemingly little effort.

He completed his offerings with a blender full of margaritas, an old family secret he said, and presented one to Elsa in a large, salt rimmed glass.

Elsa cringed at the addition of margaritas following the wine they both had already consumed. But once she had sipped the mixture she instantly pushed her concerns aside. The drink was delicious.

Devin centered a small vase of daisies amid a series of white tapers that he had circled on the table and together they arranged his odd assortment of china, disagreeing mildly over the positioning of glasses and flatware. Elsa giggled as they attempted to fold the napkins into replicas of the peacock tails they had seen at Manny's a few nights before. The result was somewhere between a peacock and a large, limp, wad of cloth.

She was impressed with Devin's easy and capable manner as he moved about the kitchen preparing the meal and told him so. She received his fond smile of thanks and another kiss, this time lingering and passionate. She wondered where he had acquired his domestic skills, and determined to ask him later.

Throughout most of the preparations she watched, making offers of help or suggestions, which Devin accepted or refused as each task required. Together they had nearly finished off the margaritas and Elsa was feeling the buzz. She was completely enjoying the image of Devin working over the stove, but he ordered her from the kitchen when she moved behind him and began roaming her hands over his butt, her usual reserve dissipated by the wine and margaritas.

Instead of leaving, she encircled his waist with both arms and snuggled closer. Devin turned without breaking her embrace and drew her to him. He surveyed the signal in her eyes and correctly read the invitation there. He placed his mouth on her upturned lips and she responded with her usual lasciviousness, running her hands familiarly over his body.

Devin moved his hands along her arms and felt her breasts pressing against his chest. He slipped his hands under her blouse and Elsa's body responded with greater intensity as he caressed each breast. He felt himself becoming aroused and Elsa pressed closer as she sensed it, too.

A burning smell wafted from the stove and Devin reluctantly pulled away and turned back to his chores.

Now look what you've done to my rice, he scolded. He indicated the smoking pan that had been totally forgotten in her embrace. Are you trying to spoil, my dinner, lady? he admonished.

I'm sorry Devin. Really I am. But I was just sitting back there admiring your cute little behind and I couldn't help myself.

Away! Devin said, pointing to a position on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. Out, before I turn all this off and drag you to the bedroom. And I know we are both too hungry, for food that is, to get things started.

Elsa laughed at his pretended disinterest. Experience told her better. She knew that he was as fond of their lovemaking as she. With a final and prolonged kiss she obliged his command, her eyes promising more as she moved away. He clasped her hand until her fingers slipped through his own and with great effort he moved his concentration back to the meal he was preparing.

Elsa teasingly stayed just outside his reach until the dinner was completed. Then she ate with her usual hearty appetite, relishing the spicy Mexican dishes and thoroughly enjoying the meal along with Devin's attentive catering to her needs and pleasure. He was delighted that she enjoyed his creations and explained the composition of each dish as she sampled.

They lingered over the last of the food and margaritas, savoring each moment, both content now to allow the night to move slowly, conspiring silently to postpone the inevitable through rich Mexican coffee before the fire. Finally, as they both had known that it would, the evening progressed to his bed.

Devin removed her clothing one piece at a time until she stood before him ready and anxious for his touch. They made love, comfortably and not for the first time, but with the pleasure and ease each had developed over the months as their bodies had learned what made the other respond. Their passion, intensified by the unspoken promises throughout the evening, was now released.

They teased and stroked, each pushing the other toward the edge. Devin was a gentle and considerate lover, but with a need that matched Elsa's own. Always together each sought to bring the other to new heights of pleasure, while neither was in a hurry to gain their own fulfillment.

They lingered, first in his king size bed, then Devin stoked up the fire in his living room and they huddled together watching the flames dance in the fireplace. They talked far into the night, each revealing more about themselves than they had before.

Devin lounged contentedly against the back of the sofa, his arm casually around Elsa's shoulders, as she told of her happiness teaching at St. Mary's. Her enthusiasm for her job was obvious as she related the fulfillment she felt when she was able to reach the best in a child. She told him how she was beginning to get through to one boy who had responded poorly throughout most of the term. He had difficulty reading and he had struggled with his assignments. The handicap affected all of his work.

Just three weeks before Elsa had begun to schedule time to spend alone with him, helping him, beginning with the basics that he had somehow missed. She was starting to see progress. His latest test score exceeded all his previous efforts and Elsa was witness to the effect that she could have in changing this young boy's life. He was gaining confidence, not only in the classroom, but with each accomplishment academically he became more open to his classmates on the playground.

You love those kids, don't you hon? Devin said, noting the glow in Elsa's eyes as she talked about her kids.

"I do, Devin. It's a miracle in progress watching their young minds awaken to new knowledge, and I’m the catalyst to that knowledge. It can be a pretty heady experience sometimes.

So why haven't you ever had any of your own, Devin asked.

Long story, Elsa said, getting up and walking across the room to pour herself another drink. Her departure and demeanor made it clear it was not a story she was prepared to share.

Devin had seen this change in her before and knew it was best to tread softly in this area or she would simply flee. As she returned, he quickly changed the subject. "I know how you feel about your students, Elsa. I get the same thrill when I’m able to set some kid straight who just needs an adult helping hand to redirect his life.

I'm on a case now with two sixteen year old boys, .....young men I guess I should say. They were arrested recently for shoplifting. Stupid jerks, they took everything they could cram under their shirts and tried to casually stroll out of Swansky's with it. How dumb can you get! It was almost like they didn't care if they got caught. Maybe they don't.

One of their Fathers has done time and the other one's brother is in and out of juvie hall, but I think I’m beginning to get through to them. Stealing is a way of life among some of these young men, at least it is for the ones as poor as the two I’m representing. I've been talking to these two on a personal level, man to man as well as handling their legal defense. I think they believe me now when I say it's a dead end for them. I took them to visit some of their old friends in jail last week. All the tough guys, or guys who used to be so tough on the streets. Now they sit around in cells all day, most of them in adult prison because they’re over sixteen. Nothing to do, can't go anywhere, no money. Real wasted lives.

I think I've convinced these two to go back to school and try to make something with their lives. Thankfully it's the first arrest for both of them and I'm sure I can get the judge to agree to probation of a year or less if they agree to stay on the straight and narrow. So there seems to be hope if they can just stay clean. That’s a tough assignment in their neighborhood, though. It does make me feel good to be able to reach them, and it's as rewarding as hell to have an effect on their young lives before they completely ruin their future.

Devin glanced at Elsa. She had leaned back against the sofa and seemed to have let go of the tension that had gripped her just moments before at the mention of kids of her own. He didn’t understand why or how this was a trigger for her, but he determined not to push the issue.

He reached for her again and she turned and lovingly caressed his face. They kissed long and deep, and he felt her response as his body again began to stir. They made love there on the floor in front of the fire. Afterward they both lay expended and dozed in each other' arms.

Elsa heard his grandfather clock chime two and Devin moaned his displeasure as she began to move away, then rose to walk to the bedroom to gather her clothes. Against his objections she insisted on returning to her apartment, though he pleaded with her to stay. They had not as yet spent a full night together and he had hoped this might be the night.

Elsa seemed reluctant to stay each time he asked and he had never pushed the issue. She wouldn’t bring any of her things to his apartment that would make overnight possible. As before, she pleaded that it would be impossible to drive home in the early morning through the heavy traffic, freshen herself, and then get to work on time.

He knew that this was all true, but sensed that there was some further resistance to staying. Reluctantly he let her go, but she promised a full night together soon, perhaps the following weekend. With a last peck on his cheek and a wave of her hand she disappeared and he heard the door close behind her.

Elsa had slept a scant three hours in her own bed and moved sluggishly even after the morning's shower, alternating between steaming hot and icy cold. She still felt tired to the bone and the lack of a full night's sleep was evident to anyone who examined the circles that darkened the area beneath her eyes.

But there was a sparkle in her eyes as well. Despite the fatigue of the morning, she had completely enjoyed both the dinner at home and Devin. She was not sorry that she had stayed so late. She sensed with a mild apprehension that the evening signaled a change in their relationship.

She was fond of Devin, there was no doubt about that. He was bright, funny and considerate