Disclaimer: ABC own the characters; no profit is beind made.

(following "Three strikes and a prayer")

*

Several days had passed before Danny called Diane with an update from the precinct. Three of the possible suspects in Don's shooting had been cleared and Fancy was still working with Marten's on checking out the alibi's of the other two. They were having a hell of a time keeping the whole thing out of the press.

Prosecutor Munroe was heavily entrenched in another case already in trial. He was keeping very busy and remained unreachable. Baldwin and Medavoy were taking turns with IAB agents at quietly watching his office and residence.

Diane wished she could be there too.

Instead, she found herself with very little to do. Being quite unfamiliar with leisure time, she fought the urge to justify her stay with Mrs Denby. Spending so much time talking with her was giving Diane wonderful insights into the Denby family, but the case was weighing heavily on her mind.

She wondered how Jill would feel about being a widow now, herself. Did she even know what had happened to Don. Would she care?

Napping was impossible.

Diane had one of those metabolism's that kept her moving and doing, almost forgetting to eat at times. Besides, Miguel had taken a keen interest in her and was hopping from furniture to furniture, following her around like a dedicated watchdog. How did Harry ever get to sleep with the incessant commenting from this old parrot, anyway?

Harry. She actually began to miss him when he was gone for more than a few hours.

Away from work and from the oppressive mess involving the Kirkendall case, Diane saw Harry in a whole new light. She had taken note of his strange eccentricities before, but now she was beginning to see the man behind the mystery and often felt dizzy with fascination.

Harry could make her head spin with his complicated soliloquies and shifts in mood.

They had spent the last two evenings walking in the woods behind the house, talking about everything from religion to their marriages. He admitted that he was fighting the shakes and needed to keep moving. The night air seemed to help, but he obviously wasn't feeling well.

Stopping now and then he would stand behind her, letting her lean back into his embrace and she could feel the timbre of his voice resounding in his chest. As she became accustomed to his dramatic musings, his words began to sound like poetry to her; difficult and deep. His voice, like his eyes, could be utterly hypnotic.

Then, just as she felt as if she could get a grasp on the flow of thought, he would turn her around and derail her with a lingering look that burned with intensity. His brow was knit in concentration but he was unable to give voice to his thoughts.

The point of the conversation would dissolve like a mist as he kissed her, long and hard. Then he would shudder a bit, and place her at arms length, and continue taking her in with his eyes for several minutes before resuming their walk.

His mother had revealed earlier that, as a child, Harry looked as if he had been told a secret from God and was considering whether or not to share it. His father had punished him for those looks, calling them insolent, but Katherine sensed a different spirit behind that penetrating gaze. She knew that Harry was gifted and his little soul would have trouble keeping up with his brilliant mind.

Diane found herself increasingly unable to hide any of her own emotions from Harry's eyes. Even as they sat together later at the table sharing coffee with his mother, he seemed to understand her more intimately the longer he looked, and when he stroked her hand she felt utterly feminine and wanting to be known.

*

Diane turned off the faucet over the kitchen sink, and began sorting the breakfast dishes from the silverware as she washed. Katherine had made another huge breakfast for them. She seemed to be stuck into the groove of cooking for a crowd.

Diane had insisted upon cleaning up this time, giving Katherine a chance to set out her paints and easel in the moody morning light. Harry's mother had a talent for landscapes and Diane found herself genuinely warmed just watching her through the kitchen window. Katherine had her glasses perfectly balanced on the end of her nose and was doing a fine job of capturing the changing tones of a large hydrangea at the corner of the back porch.

Harry had left early. Ballistics was finished with his gun and he wanted to pick it up on his way to meet with Andy. He was communicating with Sipowitz several times a day on his cell phone and they both seemed to have come to a level of respect that made working together natural.

As she dried the frying pan and turned to hang it up on it's copper hook above the stove, Diane heard Leo announcing an arrival with excited barks.

Talking to herself she said, "Back so soon, Harry?" and absentmindedly fluffed her hair as she made for the front door.

Leo's barks sounded different somehow, and she decided to go around the couch and take a quick glance out the window before going to the door. Looking out, she saw that Katherine had made it to the driveway and was addressing a strange man standing next to his car. Diane squinted, trying to get a better view of him, and hoped that Katherine would step to the side so she could see better.

"Be careful, Pepper!" squawked Miguel from his perch in the corner. Diane waved her hand and put a finger to her mouth to hush him. She stood flat against the wall, pulling the curtain back just an inch as she watched the conversation finish up outside.

Too far, damn it.

Unable to get a good look at the man, she memorized the make and model of his car instead. Katherine turned for the house as he backed down the driveway as Leo followed the stranger to the main road, sending him on his way with another chorus of barks. Then the dog joined Katherine as she reached the front door and entered the house.

"Did you see him, Diane?" she said breathlessly as she shut the door behind her and locked it.

"I tried but I couldn't get a clear view. Who was he? What did he want?"

Katherine sat down on the couch and removed her glasses. "I'm not sure, but he was looking for you. He asked for you by name, Diane." She was clearly upset. "He said he was with the department and needed to talk with you straight away, but I told him you had gone into the city with Harry. Did I do the right thing?"

"Mrs Denby, you did just fine. Now think, did he give you a name?"

"Yes...just a minute. Let me think. I was just so nervous when he said he was looking for you. How could he know you were here of all places? It was, Martin or something like that. Yes, that was it, Sergeant Martens."

Diane took a deep breath and then rushed over to the desk, returning with a blank pad of paper and a pencil. "I'm going to make a few phone calls. Could you draw him for me please?"

Mrs Denby walked over to the table and sat down and began sketching as Diane picked up her cell phone. "Danny? This is Diane. Listen someone just came by here looking for me."

She paused, listening to Danny and looking out the front window again.

"I don't know who it was or how he found out I was here. I think I'll have a description soon though. Danny, have you seen Sergeant Marten's today?"

When Danny said that Marten's was, at that very moment, sitting in Fancy's office, she knew she had to find Harry. Fast.

*

"Have another one, cop."

He pulled back Harry's head by his hair with a sharp jerk, and when Harry grimaced in pain, the tall Dominican poured in another round of Scotch.

Harry choked and gagged on the drink, trying in vain to spit it out. He was flushed and sweating profusely, his face a mask of terror and fury. His hands and feet were taped firmly to the chair but he struggled anyway, hoping for a lucky break.

The two hit men had been careful not to leave a mark on him. This had to look like a suicide. Death by alcohol poisoning was what Prosecutor Munroe had suggested and they were nearly finished with the first bottle.

There was a knock at the door of Harry's apartment.

All three men exchanged glances for a moment in silence. Harry feared it was Diane coming to look for him, and he didn't dare make a sound lest she be taken down by these brutes as well. Stinging with regret for letting down his guard in the first place, he sucked in his breath, using every ounce of control to keep from coughing.

"See who it is," hissed the man holding Harry's hair. The younger of the two men looked through the peep hole in the door. He turned back with an ugly grin and began to unlock the door.

Harry's heart raced. "Oh God, don't let it be Diane." He tried to jerk his head out of the cruel grasp of his captor but he held him fast, nearly yanking out the hair by it's roots. He jammed a wadded up shirt into Harry's mouth and signaled to the other man to open the door. With his head pulled back, Harry strained to see who was standing at the door as it opened.

"Haven't you finished with that yet?" said an unfamiliar male voice as the door clicked shut. "If you idiots screw this one up too you'll end up just like your cousin."

The voice continued, "I let you have this as a favor. You said you wanted to do the shooter yourselves, and look at this mess!" He leaned over Harry and shook his head. "Couldn't the two of you take him down without wreckin' the place?"

Harry watched as the IA agent put on his latex gloves. It was the same man who had watched him and Diane talk outside of the precinct on the day of the arrest. His glasses gave him the look of a bored accountant, but Harry now knew they hid the eyes of a killer. He must be the insider who shot Don Kirkendall.

The two hit men shifted a bit, obviously intimidated by this IA turncoat. "Uh, it was like this when we got here."

"Shut up, Lopez, and put these on," he said handing them each a pair of gloves.

"I happen to know that our guest here is a very tidy housekeeper."

He poked Harry on the forehead. "Detective Denby, like many former Marines, keeps his things in order. Freshly pressed shirts...never a hair out of place."

He dragged the shirt out of Harry's mouth. "Right Denby?"

"Semper Fi," Harry managed to mumble.

"Now, it is important that you finish your beverages this afternoon, Detective. Everyone knows you love your Scotch. Isn't it sad that you would choose to kill yourself with it after the guilt of Kirkendall's murder just got to much to bear?"

He brought a pen and pad over to Harry. "I'll bet your wondering where Detective Russell is. Oh, we haven't forgotten about her. Your mother was quite helpful in fact."

"What?"

"Don't you think it was time she got a new dog, though? Leo's getting a little old for self protection, I think."

"You bastard! Where are they?" Harry's eyes were tearing up in horror as he fought his restraints.

"Take it easy, Denby. You can do something about it, you know. All I need is a little note from you and they won't be harmed. You'll have to be the sacrificial lamb, I'm afraid, but isn't that the kind of punishment you deserve anyway? I mean, you were the one who got them both involved in all this, not me. I'm just helping you do the right thing, here."

Harry's mind swam in a drunken tunnel, taking in the quiet tones of the IAB agent. Mom...Diane? What could he do to help them?

"I'm going to have Lopez remove the tape from one of your hands, Denby. Then you are going to write exactly what I say on this paper. Just a short note to Martens, okay? Are you with me?"

*

Mrs Denby grabbed Diane's hand before she exited the car, "It's alright, Diane. I'll be fine."

"I just think you'll be safer down at the station," Diane said with concern.

"I know, dear, but I can do more here." She leaned over and kissed Diane on the cheek. "Are you sure you can find his place all right?"

"These directions you wrote down are great and I know the area pretty well. I'll get there."

"May God send his angels to guard over you." At that, Mrs Denby left the car and walked up the steps of St. Mark's Cathedral.

Diane took a long look at the face that Katherine had sketched on the pad lying on the empty seat. It was unmistakable. The watcher who had been outside the precinct reading the newspaper. She knew that Harry would be in danger if this IAB agent was bad.

But how did he find her at Mrs Denby's house in the suburbs? She pulled back out into traffic and raced to meet Andy at Harry's apartment.

Then it came to her. Danny's phone! The agent had traced Danny's calls to her from the IA tap that was on Danny's phone. Stupid! Why hadn't she remembered that? If this guy had gone to the trouble of driving out there to find her, she hoped he hadn't yet had the time to track down Harry.

*

After 15 more minutes of world class city driving, Diane pulled up to the address Mrs Denby had given her. It was an older apartment complex, but nicely kept. She scanned the street for Andy's car, but there was no sign of it.

There was a familiar vehicle, however. She couldn't be sure, but the car that had been out at Mrs. Denby's earlier in the day looked just like the one parked next to the curb less than a block away.

She let her hands rest on top of the steering wheel and bit her lip. If Harry was inside she had no way of telling if he was alone or not. But she couldn't just sit there and wait. What if he was in trouble? Hadn't he risked his life for her?

And there was one other problem. Miguel.

He had refused to stay behind by himself back at Mrs.Denby's and flew after the car for several miles squawking loudly before Diane finally stopped and let him in. Harry's mom had apologized, saying that they hadn't been able to bring themselves to clip his wings.

And now here he was, perched on the back seat like a stuffed toy, keeping strangely silent. It gave Diane the creeps. Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the car and made her way to Harry's door with Miguel following as her only back-up.

Both the door and the exterior walls of the apartment were heavy and well constructed. The windows were doubled paned and had decorative wrought iron grates in front of them. She knew there would be little chance of hearing anything from the inside. The curtain by the front window was shut.

Just as she was reaching up to knock, Miguel hopped onto her outstretched arm and tapped what looked like a doorbell with his beak.

The button lit up as it chimed and Miguel excitedly bobbed up and down. Diane stared open mouthed realizing that Miguel had just turned on an intercom system.

The bird launched into an uncanny police radio voice saying, "One Adam twelve, one Adam twelve...sshhhhhclick, See the man at 110 Pacific Street, apartment nine. 411 in progress. Ssshhclick...One adam twelve."

The element of surprise had obviously been lost, so Diane pounded on the door and shouted "Police! Open up!" hoping that Harry would come to the door and scold her.

Instead, she heard a back door slam somewhere and then the one in front of her flew open a few seconds later.

The IAB agent looked flustered as he stood there. His brow had droplets of sweat and she could see his pulse pounding in his neck. He glanced nervously out the door and seemed very puzzled at the sight of Miguel sitting on the mail box.

"Detective Russell! Oh, I'm afraid we're both too late."

"Who are you and where's Detective Denby?" she demanded, gun still raised at her side.

"I'm Detective Wilde from IAB. Martens sent me over to check on Detective Denby after we intercepted some disturbing information about him concerning the Kirkendall case."

Diane's eyes narrowed, searching past him for any sign of Harry.

"Come in, I've already called the ambulance...for all the good it will do." He stepped slightly aside.

"What are you talking about? Where's Denby?"

"Like I said, we're both too late, Detective."

Wilde looked her in the eye and shrugged a little.

"He's dead."

*

Ghostly white and breathing hard, Diane ran into the apartment looking for Harry.

"WHERE IS HE? What happened?" she yelled as she darted from room to room.

Miguel flew in and passed her on his way straight to Harry's bedroom. Wilde nodded and Diane ran after the bird toward a room at the back of the apartment.

To her horror, she saw Harry sprawled out on the bed in his old police uniform. He was draped over the side of the bed, completely limp and surrounded by crumpled papers and empty booze bottles.

"NO!" she gasped as she fell at his side. There was a scribbled note on the night stand taking blame for Don's murder and Harry's pale hand still held the pen.

She began to cry and scream at the same time, still not believing her eyes. Struggling to roll him over, she pulled at the bed covers with all her strength and called his name over and over. Finally he was on his back, and she could see his sweat drenched face. His beautifully polished badge was pinned to his chest pocket, next to a Marine Corps insignia.

Taking his head in her hands she yelled, "Wake up! Don't you do this Harry Denby!".

He did not respond, but she thought she could feel a faint pulse. Sliding her fingers down his neck she felt again and held her breath. One...two...three...it was very weak, but it was there. She put her head to his chest and listened. His breathing was deathly shallow.

Oh God, he's alive! She kissed his forehead and began to frantically undo his tight tie and collar. "Wilde! Get in here and help me! He's NOT dead. Where is that ambulance anyway?"

There was no answer, but Diane was too occupied with getting Harry's shirt off so the ambulance personnel could start an IV right away. Her mind was racing as she fought the buttons and she kept saying, "It's all right now, Harry, Don't give up. Stay with me."

"I wish you hadn't done that, Detective Russell."

She looked up to see Wilde standing in the doorway, slowly screwing a silencer cap onto his gun.

*

"Personally, I don't have much of a stomach for killing women, even if you are a cop. I mean, you're still the weaker sex and it doesn't seem fair somehow."

Wilde walked into the room slowly and continued, "I tried my best to keep you out of it and if you had just waited another half and hour this would all be settled...for everyone. Now, Kirkendall, that was different. I think even you would agree that he was in serious need of disposal."

Diane sat back with Harry's head in her lap. "You killed Don, and now you were setting up Denby?"

"Simple and neat. That's my style. Now, lets get this over with shall we...?"

As Wilde raised his gun, Miguel flew over to perch on his arm, startling him for a spit second.

That was all Diane needed.

She snatched up her gun from the side of the bed and fired two shots as Wilde waved the bird off. He was hit twice in the lower left side and he fell back into the door frame, groaning in pain. In a blur of motion, Diane quickly rolled off the bed, keeping her gun pointed at the prone man and moved toward him.

She stopped about three feet away, watching to see what he would try next.

"Pick it up, go ahead." She glanced calmly at the gun lying on the floor and then back up to him.

Wilde looked at the blood flowing freely from the wounds in his mid-drift and half laughed as he leaned over away from the gun, "Weaker sex."

Diane kicked the gun away from him and grabbed the wall phone on the way back to Harry's side. "This is Detecive Russell from the 15th , officer down. I need an ambulance and back up immediately..."

Finishing with the 911 operator she hung up and put Harry's head back in her lap, stroking his hair with one hand and keeping her gun trained on Wilde with the other. Wilde continued to writhe and bleed, but all Diane heard was each and every gasp of breath that Harry took.

Andy arrived minutes before the ambulance and summed up the scene in the bedroom with his usual succinct phrasing, "Diane, you are one hell of a woman."

*

"You can't imagine how relieved I was when he returned from the service. He wanted to be part of the Corps's like his father, but I just wanted my boy back home in New York. I hated every day he was in Panama helping to track down that Noriega despot."

Mrs Denby looked lovingly over at her sleeping son and adjusted his hospital blanket.

"I didn't know he had served." Diane said. "I guess there's still a lot I don't know about Harry."

"You've got all the time in the world, dear." Mrs. Denby got up and looked out the window. She had the same crinkles around her eyes as Harry, and they showed as she squinted into the morning sun.

"He's got hope because of you. I haven't seen that in his face in years." She walked around the bed and gently put her hand on Diane's shoulder. "I can't thank you enough for being there, for...for...saving him."

Diane reached up, smiling and patted her hand.

"It's been several hours since you took a break, Mrs Denby. Why don't you go downstairs and get something to eat? I'll stay here."

Katherine nodded and walked quietly out of the room.

Leaning forward with her chin on her hands, Diane studied Harry's stubbled face. He'd been in a coma for three days before he began to wake up and pull at the respirator tube. It had been out for two days now, but had barely spoken. The alcohol poisoning had very nearly taken his life and his doctor's still were being guarded with their prognosis. Brain damage was entirely possible.

Wilde was recovering from his wounds as well.

He decided to take a deal from the DA getting him out of the death penalty in he testified against Prosecutor Munroe. He confessed to forcing Harry to write the suicide note. The two Dominicans were no where to be found and had most likely had fled the country.

Diane took Harry's hand and traced the line of his fingers. She carefully avoided the swollen skin near the I.V. port near his wrist, and gently stroked his arm.

Closing her eyes, she flashed back to their night at the hotel. She loved the way they had held eachother under that shower; her head fitting just below his chin. The sound of the water rushed past them but she could hear clearly every provocative whisper he made; saying words that thrilled and comforted her at the same time.

For some strange reason the way he touched her made her remember part of the vows she had heard at a friend's wedding. The words had seemed very strange at the time, but now she thought she understood. "With my body, I thee worship."

That's how Harry made her feel.

But can you trust a feeling? How would they do together, now that the crisis was over and the day to day grind of real life took it's place?

Lost in thought, she didn't notice that Harry was now awake and thoroughly enjoying the view as Diane continued to caress his hand.

*

End

Copyright to Kristin Uhrig --2000