Author's note:

There's an art to that 'to be continued' that you all seem to love to hate. Actually, there's a certain form I'm trying to keep with this story.

I want each chapter digestible, easy to read. It's fun for me to write, but I want to be sure it's fun for you to read.

Yeah, I know, my vocabulary is sometimes challenging. It's part of the fun, to push you, the reader a little. I figure there's enough context for those of you who don't believe in http://en.wiktionary.org to make out the approximate meaning.

I try to keep the wordcount low as well. I don't think I've had a chapter hit a thousand words. It's not like I expect you to keep track, but we are talking about your time here. If it takes too much time to read, you'll have to pass, or delay reading it, or stop reading.

I try to keep it from being too dense. I'm talking about how it looks, not the plot. I know the plot's pretty thin, I get it, I get it. =) But I want it to look on a browser to be pretty "light grey," more like a magazine's word density than, say, the Wall Street Journal.

Writing lots of dialog helps. Barring that, I try to keep the paragraphs short, but that doesn't always work.

And, within all that, I look for the highest point and cut the action. Yes, I cackle with glee at the image of you going, "What? What happens next?" Just ask my characters: I'm a sadist.

(Those of you just joining here, start with Callan and Sian 1)



She awoke with a start to Evander glowering at her.

"Who's the guy with the key, Sian?"

"Huh? That's the only set!"

"Well, I was getting out of the elevator, and, as I got out, I saw someone go into your apartment. Some guy. Now, either you left your apartment unlocked--"

"No, that damn door is always set to lock when it closes-- Hey! It could be the manager. He has the master."

"No, this guy was too skinny, unless your building has a new manager." He waited for affirmation, then continued when she shook her head. "I didn't get a good look at him, but he was already halfway through the door when I came out of the elevator. But it wasn't the manager. So, who else has the key?"

"No one, 'Vander!" She gasped. "Are you sure he didn't go in the wrong door?"

"Huh?"

"Another door. Next door. The Blausinskis, or the Changs. Are you sure he wasn't going into their apartments?"

"Sian, you live two doors down from the elevator." He hunched his shoulders and gripped the car door tighter.

"Are you sure? That it wasn't the wrong door?"

Evander sighed. "All right. It could be. There is a teens-weensy chance it could be. Are you satisfied, Sian?"

"Huh?"

"Are you satisfied that you have an out? That there's some lame--"

"No, look over there! Is that the man?" She jabbed the winshield.

"I said, I didn't get a good look at him."

"Okay, could that be the man?"

Evander shot Sian a look. "Yeah, why?"

"That's Cal. That's the man who drugged me!"

"Bastard. Fucking bastard. Hey! He parked in the red zone!" His teeth glinted in the dusk.

"Yeah, and he's getting away. Get in!"

===

They followed him discreetly in traffic and onto the expressway until he pulled off a rural road. They followed suit, then stopped. "What's he doing out here?" Evander asked.

Sian shrugged. "Don't know. Spent a night with him at the Aberdeen, then one at my place."

"You know what? TMI. Just... TMI, okay?"

"Sorry. Anyhow, why'd you stop?"

"Well, if we tail him any more, he'll see us. There's no other cars here."

She turned to him. "So? Do we?"

"I dunno. What if he has a gun?"

Sian paused in mid answer, then exhaled. "I... I don't think he's the type."

"What do you mean?"

"Go. Just go. After him, I mean. I'll tell you as we catch up."

He restarted the engine. "Okay, if you're sure." They passed the signpost for an upcoming rest stop. "Now, how do you know he doesn't have a gun?"

"Look. He had me alone. Twice. Once in some alley downtown, once in my home. If he wanted to kill me, I wouldn't be here."

"That still doesn't mean he doesn't have a gun."

"Okay, I'm not sure. But I don't think he has one. Is that good enough? 'Cause, if it ain't, let's head back."

Evander muttered something under his breath, but kept on driving.

"Wait!" Sian shouted in his ear.

"What? What?" he shouted back.

"Back there! The rest area! It's his car!"

"Crap!" He slowed and turned it around, then approached the rest area. "Okay, same question - do we or don't we?"

She smirked.

"What's so funny?" he asked, eyes wide.

"It's like that comedian asks, 'Why do dogs chase cars?'"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. 'What will they do if they catch one?' Funny, but what about this bastard?"

"Go on." She jabbed once with her chin.

He snapped his head to face her. "What?"

"Go on. I want to ask him about this to his face." Sian's face was set and hard.

"Okay, if you're really sure."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure."

He pulled the car next to Cal's, then whistled. "Nice ride."

"Yeah, but where is he?"

Evander pointed at the cinder-block structure past the picnic table. "Maybe he had to take a leak?"

At that point, Callan answered from the blind spot next to Sian, "Actually, I was waiting for you two."