The others remained downstairs throughout the morning, either out of displeasure with me or their quest to locate the killer.

When the troops finally returned, a pall of disappointment hung over them like a shroud. Only Howie spoke to me. I knew craved forgiveness from the others, but lacked the capability to attain it. From the looks on the glum faces before me, he had neither told them anything nor was there success in their search for the killer. I admit I was sulking, not sure who was annoyed with whom; tiring of surely looks. I was miffed that I was the sole person burdened with straightening out this mess. I glanced up from me desk. My wife stood in front of the others as they all waited behind her.

"Are there any potential cases that look promising?" I asked her, as if it was business as usual.

"There's a particularly brutal rapist terrorizing a college in Indiana but Howie hates those." She looked at him. "I don't suppose he'd agree. I didn't even bother to ask. Four murders are getting a lot of interest but those are out of the question too. There's a bunch of run away kids; I could try to pick the most likely but none of them look promising."

Howie was hot, which I'm sure was Betsy's intent. He got in her face. "Have you ever seen someone sliced open . . . blood running down their chest, gasping for breath, trying to scream, knowing they're going to die? I'll tell you; it's horrible! I stand there and can't do a damn thing! I just stand there and . . ."

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"Cut it out, Howie! No one is forcing you to witness that stuff! We do understand, or at least try to."

He stood there, trying to take deep breaths, knowing he'd lost his cool. Betsy looked contrite, but still pissed while Martha walked over to pick up still sleeping Claire and turned away.

"It's not that I don't want to help, but . . ."

"God, I hate it when he whines . . ." Quinn grumbled.

"Howie, Quinn, enough; both of you." I turned and announced to the others, "Everyone; Howie is in love with Julie and wants to marry her." That got their attention. "Cut him some slack. It's tearing him up but he's determined to move ahead. No more secrets. Whatever occurs, we'll live with it. I advised Mr. Cooms but not Daniel Brennan, at least not yet. All of you; sit down with Howie and let him explain his feelings. Just listen and try and be civil. Snarling at each like dogs on a soup bone is just as disconcerting as keeping secrets."




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