Somewhere in Castleton

  Rachel enters what she can only assume is Cole's artist studio, a flustered expression on her face. She crosses to the large picnic table where Detective Mackey is sprawled on his stomach. A towel covers James' lower half. However, the detective's broad shoulders and back are fully exposed. Rachel looks James over for a brief second before forcing herself to look away.

  "I tried calling your wife, James. I called both the house and her cellphone number. More than once. No one is answering," Rachel says, her voice cracking.

  James tries to lift his head, but Cole puts a sturdy hand on the detective's left shoulder. The former medical student grunts unhappily.

  "Nuh-uh. Stay right where you're at, Detective. I'm not finished stitching you up yet. Pretend you're asleep and just keep your ass right there. There you go!"

  Detective Mackey remains where he is simply to prevent Cole from doing any further damage to his tenderized scalp. James speaks to Rachel without raising or turning his head.

  "Damn. We hardly ever use the house phone. I'm not even sure it's plugged in anymore. If Madison isn't answering her cellphone, something is definitely wrong. Will you try again? Please. Please, Rachel."

  "Sure, James. Sure," Rachel says, turning and leaving the room.

  The concerned woman doesn't wish James to witness the disappointment which comes from multiple failed attempts to make phone contact. Cole pokes James in the shoulder and whispers hoarsely.

  "Back in a minute, Pal. Don't move. My thread is still attached to your cranium. Nature calls. Excuse me."

  Cole excuses himself and then rolls his wheelchair out of the gigantic room, skirting past the canvas rock posters, equipment amps, and one of a kind guitars littering the floor. He follows Rachel up the hallway, watching the subtle movements of her shapely butt the entire time. Once they are far enough from the studio, Cole hisses loudly to get her attention.

  "Hey, Rachel. Rach! Come here!"

  Rachel stops in the center of the hall. She turns to Cole with an impatient grimace--sensing he has more than business on his mind.

  "What, Cole? If you can't tell...I'm kind of busy right now."

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  "So am I. But I thought you should know something," Cole says, coming to a stop only a foot or so in front of Rachel. "I caught a little of the news when I went to get some more bandages for your friend's head. Looks like there's been an APB put out on him. They think he took his kid from the wife and split. They believe it was part of the plan all along. The wife is in custody. Not real custody...But under police protection. They're gonna be coming for your friend. I wouldn't tell him about the wife part. Just tell him they're sending the bears after him. Tell him the wife's in custody...And he'll probably freak. Do something stupid. I'll keep him here for maybe a couple of days. He can stay in the wine cellar while you folks figure out what to do. But after that..."

  "Thanks, Cole," Rachel says, lightly touching Cole's shoulder. "I appreciate everything you're doing for us."

  "Mhmmm," Cole responds, slipping an arm around Rachel's waist. "So...When do we get to the...'you won't regret this part,' Rachel? I'm just dying for a sneak preview."

  Rachel narrows her eyes and politely removes Cole's arm from around her middle.

  "Don't get any ideas, Cole."

  "Me? You're the one who was threatening to flash me your boobs. I was all set to look too! Even if Ned did kill me tomorrow."

  "I was...I don't know. Hey, you oughta know how this works, Cole. You can look but don't touch. Those are the rules."

  "Uh-huh. Just like I figured it," Cole laments. "A tease. Just like your sister."

  Before Cole can finish his statement, Rachel huffs and quickly lifts up her blouse. Cole nearly misses it while feeling sorry for himself, his head partially reclined. The wheelchair bound man's mouth falls open and he stares up at Rachel in disbelief. Rachel huffs again, swiftly drawing her blouse downward.

  "There. Are you happy, Cole?"

  "Very," Cole says almost imperceptibly, not quite believing what he just saw.

  "Good. Now, will you get back there and finish sewing up Detective Mackey's skull? Please."

  "Sure. But one other thing."

  "What?" Rachel hisses.

  "I seem to remember Ned saying he bought himself a new van. A new...Gray van. I'm guessing...Your friend isn't the only thing the police will be looking for in the next few days? Amirite, Rachel?"

  Rachel approaches Cole's wheelchair and places her hands on both of his armrests. She leans down so that their faces are almost touching. Cole's eyes drop to Rachel's lips before the memory of her luscious bosom draws them further downward.

  "That depends, Cole. On whether or not...You're still good at your business," Rachel whispers huskily.

  "Depends on what kind of business you're talking about, Sugar," Cole replies, his heart hammering in his chest.

  "You know what I'm talking about," Rachel says.

  "Yeah. I think so. Not as good as I used to be... Limited by this chair as I am. But, I do alright."

  "Good. Then, we have nothing to worry about. Amirite?"

  Rachel ends her question with a passionate kiss, taking Cole's face between her hands. Cole is more than happy to lend his own passion. This is a day he has wanted for almost a decade. He nearly dies of disappointment when Rachel separates from him and walks away.

  "Oh, Rachel. What are you doing to me?" Cole whispers to himself.