The Need To Know
 
Author: Suz72350
 
Email: suzanne.moore8@verizon.net

Rating: PG-17

Summary: This story occurs immediately after Part 7 of "The Longest
Night." Nick and Sid have survived a snowstorm stranded in a wrecked
car outside of Telluride, Colorado. What happens next? Read on.

Author's Notes: I tip my cowgirl hat once again to Romantique, the
most supportive and patient editor, brainstormer, and mentor a
Nicfic writer could ever have. Thanks also to Lucia, Mary, and
Charlene, my Guardian compadres who are Nick-savvy and beta-read this
piece.

The Western design store in this story does not exist. The Anasazi
Heritage Center does, and may be found in Delores, Colorado. The
unguarded pullout and rocky ravine are very real, and may be found
between Lizard Head Pass and Telluride.


______________________________________________________________________

The Need To Know - Part 1


The San Miguel Search and Rescue Team drove their snowmobiles to the
wrecked car from the other end of the canyon. They dug the car out
of the snow and quickly swarmed over Nick and Sid, assessing their
injuries. Nick tried to move out of the way so they could tend to
Sid, but the paramedics restrained him, insisting that he remain
still.

When they finally helped Nick out of Ethel May and into the
snowmobile`s emergency litter, the sky was bluer than he had ever
seen – and the mountains looked whiter and much more rugged. He was
awestruck by the peaks and the sheer majesty of the Rockies. The
pristine snow was breathtakingly beautiful.

<And treacherous.>

The rest of the morning was a warm, blue blur. Nick soon found
himself in a helicopter and then at Montrose Memorial Hospital.
Doctors. Nurses. Blankets. Warmth.


He was given a thorough going over, the doctor concerned about post-
concussion syndrome. The lump on his forehead was an ugly splotch of
purple, accented by the gash near his hairline. His eye was not
quite as swollen, but he was sporting a big, black shiner. His face,
a deep shade of red, looked as if he'd been in the sun too long — the
results of frostnip. He did have a busted collarbone. They wrapped
his shoulders in a tight figure-eight harness, pinning his left arm
to his chest at an awkward angle.

<Ugh. Six weeks of this! >

Then there were the medications. He'd alerted the EMTs of his
previous cocaine escapades. The non-addictive drugs he was given at
the hospital had quickly taken away the pain.

Nick was tired, so exhausted that every bone ached. He was finally
taken to a darkened hospital room and left alone. Nick slept.

********
Sid didn't remember much about the trip to the hospital. She thought
she heard someone talking about her pillow cast. She remembered
talking to Greg Martin, the doctor she always helped during the
Imogene Pass Run. Was it time to volunteer for that again? Everything
was getting too confusing.

Her arm and leg were x-rayed and Sid was prepped for surgery. Someone
patted her gently and softly said, "Breathe this," sticking a mask on
her face. Sid took two deep breaths. That was it. That was all. She
was out. Out like a burned-out light bulb. Out.

********
"Mr. Fallin? Mr. Fallin?"

Nick was groggy. <Who is that? >

His eyes fluttered, and finally opened. Nick squinted at the pretty
nurse who was calling his name and finally got his eyes to focus.

"Ah, Mr. Fallin, I'm just here to take your vitals. Are you going to
be ready for lunch?"

Nick didn't respond. The nurse took care of her business and left.

Nick was just dozing off again when an athletic-looking doctor came
into Nick's room and picked up his chart. "Hello, Mr. Fallin."

Nick's bleary eyes cracked into tiny slits.

"I'm Dr. Martin. How are you feeling?"

"Beat up, tired, " he answered wearily.

The doctor studied Nick's chart.

"You've been through quite a lot. Broken collarbone, a head
laceration, mild concussion. Your extremities and face are suffering
from frostnip, but it seems they were re-warmed correctly, so you're
pretty much out of the woods. You've gotten yourself pretty banged
up. You're in good shape, considering the wreck you were in — and
your long exposure to extreme temperatures. You are a very lucky
fellow."

"Yes, the wreck," Nick murmured. "There was another person, Dr.
Sidney Hunter. . ."

"Oh, yes, I know Sid. We go way back. We work together at the first
aid checkpoint during the Imogene Pass Run every year. "

Nick nodded. "How is she?"

"More banged up than you, Mr. Fallin, but she'll be fine. She got
out of surgery a little while ago."

The doctor noted Nick's look of concern.

"Sid had to get that leg of hers patched up, that's all. Don`t worry
about her, she`s tough. Sid can take it."

The doctor checked Nick's skin elasticity by pinching his arm. The
fold of skin quickly returned to its normal position, indicating that
Nick was well-hydrated. Dr. Martin seemed pleased with the results.

"You are not at all dehydrated, Mr. Fallin. That's amazing."

"Well, we drank high-energy drinks and water. Sid had them in her
car."

"In Ethel May, huh? That sounds like Sid," Dr. Martin laughed.

The doctor made some notes on Nick's chart.

"You're doing fine. I'll see you again tomorrow." He patted Nick's
bed. "Just get yourself some rest."

Dr. Martin stopped by the door. "By the way, we contacted your father
when you came into emergency this morning. He should be here
tomorrow."

<Dad?> He stared at the doctor and slowly nodded.

After the doctor left, he picked up the phone and dialed his firm`s
number in Pittsburgh. Nick wanted to assure his dad he was alright.
Burton Fallin did not answer; he was already on his way to Montrose.

********
"I'm sorry, Chief Claussen, that's all I can tell you," sighed Nick
just a couple of hours later. "Sid had a flat tire. The yellow truck
came around the curve, slid across the road and pushed both of our
vehicles into the ravine. We spent the night in the back of Sid's
wrecked car."

Nick was tired and did not feel like a prolonged conversation. He
didn't want to go into detail right now.

"What kind of yellow truck was it?"

Nick struggled to find a comfortable position before he answered. It
hurt too much to lie flat with one pillow, but he found that extra
pillows didn't help.

"I don't know. It was just a truck."

"Your rental car is laying on its side, pointing down the slope of
the ravine. Sid's is further down, toward the bottom of the canyon.
What happened to the yellow truck after it pushed you off the road,
Mr. Fallin? It`s not in the ravine."

"I don't know what happened to the truck." Nick gently rubbed the
massive lump on his forehead. He was exhausted and not thinking
clearly; the meds were making him drowsy and fuzzy-
headed. "Have. . . you talked to Sid?"

"I won't be able to talk with her until tomorrow afternoon."

Derek Claussen closed his note pad and excused himself. The chief
was disappointed. He thought he would get more information out of
Nick Fallin, but had not known the Pittsburgh lawyer had suffered a
head injury. Nick and Sid were the only people who could explain what
happened on the San Juan Skyway.

<No, that's not right. There's Sid, this Fallin guy, and whoever
drove the yellow truck. >

The chief been expecting Ethel May to give up the ghost for some
time now. He'd even teased Sid about it last week when they'd gone on
their third date. Derek shook his head. Of all times for that car to
have a flat!

Chief Claussen stopped by the nurses' station to check on Sid's
condition. She was stable and still in post-op. Derek stopped by the
flower shop downstairs, picked out a mid-sized bouquet, signed the
card and had it sent to Sid's room. Then he headed for his 4x4 and
drove back to Telluride.

********
Nick slept hard that night. If nurses checked his vitals he wasn't
aware of it.

The next morning, he woke with a moan as he tried to move. His body
was sore all over. Nick heard papers shuffling. He opened his eyes
and found Burton putting down the Denver Post.

"Dad," he said with a quivering voice, looking at Burton with guarded
eyes.

"Son," said Burton, all business. He stood up and stepped to Nick's
bedside. "You got yourself a little beat up."

Nick shifted his body in the bed, bringing another ache. "Yeah."

"Nick, what in the world happened? You were supposed to be at The
New Sheridan negotiating Larry Barton's deal."

Nick told him just enough about the wreck to make Burton wonder about
the details.

<What has Nick gone through? I wish he'd open up.>

They spent the morning together, talking mostly about work. When
they discovered Nick had been given the go-ahead to get out of bed,
Burton briefly excused himself. He left to buy his son a robe and
some slippers.

********

Sid spent the morning with Scott and Nancy Harding. They had rushed
to Montrose yesterday as soon as they'd heard about the wreck. When
Sid got out of surgery, they were there to lend her their
strength.

Now that she'd had a full night's sleep and the medications from
surgery were just about out of her system, Sid began to feel the
heavy pressure of being the owner of a small business. Scott and
Nancy were her closest friends, but they were also her employees.
She told them after lunch to go back to Telluride and take care of
the company. They said good-bye reluctantly, promising to return
the next day. They left her with a pile of Triple Y business files
that needed attention, a stack of archeology journals, and Sid's
reading glasses.

********
Burton returned with new black slippers and light blue robe. Nick was
delighted to don them and get out of bed, although learning how to
move his body with the figure-eight harness was difficult. He'd had
no idea how much he'd used his shoulder to move around. While his
collarbone didn't particularly hurt, his whole body ached. Even so,
he relished being mobile.

Later in the afternoon, Nick asked Janine, the pretty nurse, about
Sid. Could he visit her?

"Let me check," she said with a smile. "I'll be right back."

In a few minutes, Janine was telling Nick that Sid's room was on the
other end of the hall. She was stable and visitors were allowed.

Janine helped Nick stand. "Dad, I'll be right back. I'm going to
see Sid."

"Well, I'll go with you."

"No, Dad, I'm fine. Janine will walk me down there. Why don't you
take a break? I'll be right back."

Burton reluctantly agreed. Although he didn't want to leave his
injured son alone, he really did feel the need for a cigarette. He
watched as Janine held Nick's elbow and helped him walk slowly down
the hall.

********
Nick stopped outside Sid's room and peered in. He could only see the
foot of her bed. He thanked Janine and quietly entered the business-
owner's room. It was a small, private room with a second-floor view
of the mountains. A fragrant bouquet of flowers occupied the tiny
shelf under the window.

Sid was dozing. Her right leg was in a hip-to-toe cast nestled in the
middle of a pile of pillows; her broken arm had a pillow of its own.
A pair of tortoise-shell reading glasses were perched on her nose; a
copy of The American Journal of Archeology lay on her chest.
Business files were stacked all around her. Her red curls were piled
on top of her head; stray ringlets framed her very red, frost-nipped
face.

Nick felt tired after his trip down the hall and decided to sit in
the chair by Sid's bed.

<Maybe she'll wake up while I'm here.>

As he eased himself down, he quickly discovered when he moved wrong
his collarbone hurt. Really hurt. Nick was unable to suppress a soft
groan.

<Damn this thing!>

Sid opened her eyes when she heard Nick. She crinkled her reddened
face into a broad smile.

"Nick! How are you? Are you alright? I've been thinking about you."

Nick answered haltingly. "I'm. . .fine. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, now that they've fixed my leg, life is good." She looked at her
casts and shook her head. "But no more cross-country skiing for me.
At least for this year."

After an awkward start, they finally found themselves talking about
the wreck and their shared experience. Sid pronounced that their
discussion was better than any medicine she'd had over the past 36
hours. Nick agreed.

There was a pause in the conversation. Sid looked out her
window. "Look, Nick, it's snowing."

Nick glanced outside and shuddered. He didn't care if he *ever* saw
snow again. "Well, I'm glad I'm not out there. I think I like being
warm."

Sid nodded. There was another lull in the conversation, but not an
uncomfortable one. It felt very comfortable sharing the same space.

Nick felt his body relax. He was relieved. He'd seen Sid —she was
fine. She was going to be okay. His collarbone was not hurting now
that he was still. The chair was very comfortable. He felt warm in
his new blue robe. Cozy. His eyelids grew heavy. Nick fell asleep.

Sid watched Nick doze off with fascination. She chuckled to herself
and then picked up the journal to read.

********
Burton had returned from his cigarette, finished reading the
newspapers, and had finally gotten tired of waiting for Nick. He
walked down the hall and peeked into Sid's room. He saw Nick sitting
in a chair.

<Looks like he's. . . sleeping?>

Burton shook his head and looked at his son with a mixture of
irritation and sympathy. Nick's concern for this woman was unusual,
but he knew that the two had shared something horrible and had gotten
aquatinted under the worst of circumstances.

He knocked on Sid's door and quietly said, "Excuse me?"

"Come on in," a drawling Southern accent said.

"I'm so sorry to intrude," Burton chuckled, embarrassed. "Nicholas?"

Nick awoke and shook the sleep from his system. "Dad! Sorry, I must
have fallen asleep." He rubbed his mouth with his free hand. "This is
Sidney Hunter. Sid, this is my father, Burton Fallin."

"Mr. Fallin," said Sid. "I've heard a lot about you." She grinned
and winked at Nick.

Nick knew very well that Sid was making a joke. As they'd huddled
together, freezing in that wrecked car, Nick had only mentioned his
father once.

"You've had a pretty bad time of it, huh?" asked Burton, looking at
Sid's leg.

"Actually, I'm very lucky."

Despite Nick's protests, Sid began to tell Burton about the accident.
She described it in detail, painting a much grimmer but truer picture
of what had happened.

Burton grimaced as he tried to imagine his son surviving the extreme
temperature, the snow, the pain, and the endless night waiting to be
rescued.

<My God, Nicholas didn't tell me half of it.>

Sid had just about finished her story when there was a knock on her
door.

"Well, I'm mighty popular this afternoon. Come on in, whoever you
are, " called Sid.

Derek Claussen strode into Sid's room, hat in hand and a shy smile on
his face. "Sid, how are you feeling?"

Sid giggled. "Derek Claussen! What on earth are you doing here? Let
me make some introductions. Derek, this is Nick Fallin. . ."

"We met yesterday," said Nick mildly. He observed the obvious
attraction that Chief Claussen had for Sid, but couldn't tell if
those feelings were reciprocated.

". . .and his father, Burton. Derek is the Chief of Police in
Telluride. Thank you for the beautiful flowers, Derek."

Derek nodded sheepishly. After some brief chit-chat, he switched
gears, shifting from Sid's admirer to police officer. He asked for
Sid's version of the accident.

Burton interrupted. "Shouldn't we leave?"

"No, it's alright," said Sid. "I don`t mind if you stay. There`s
really not a lot to tell."

Sid's version of the accident seemed to match Nick's. She was right.
There was nothing new.

Derek glanced at Nick and then Burton. Finally he focused his dark
brown eyes on Sid.

Sid looked at Derek with mindful eyes. <Something's up. But what?>

"Sid, do you know anyone who drives a yellow truck?" he asked in a
serious tone. "Do you have any enemies?"

Her expression changed. What he was inferring was
unsettling. "Derek, what are you saying?"

Derek Claussen did not like doing this. He felt uneasy. But Sid —
and this Fallin guy, too — needed to know.

He took a deep breath and in a very controlled tone said, "Sid, this
was no accident."



End Part One
 
 

The Need To Know - Part 2


"I felt both of you needed to know," said Derek Claussen, looking
first at Sid and then at Nick, "I don't think this was an accident."

"Derek, that`s the stupidest thing I've ever heard," gasped Sid. "It
makes no sense."

Nick shifted uncomfortably. "Evidence?" he finally asked, furrowing
his brow.

Derek paused. "The yellow truck has been found," he replied
simply. "I can`t go into more detail, but what we`ve found so far
certainly points to careful planning."

"Planning for what?" asked Burton incredulously.

"That remains to be seen." Chief Claussen looked at the trio's
stunned faces and then faced Nick, pen and pad in hand. "Can you
think of anyone wanting to do you bodily harm? Being a lawyer, you
could have enemies. Angry clients, lawsuits, and so on?"

Nick slowly shook his head. "I'm corporate. Mergers, acquisitions,
finance." He wasn't about to divulge the number of angry people he'd
come across at Legal Services of Pittsburgh.

< LSoP clients wouldn't have the resources to follow me here. Would
they? >

Chief Claussen nodded. "Sid? Who'd be mad enough to run you down?"

"I have no idea, Derek," she replied in a nervous voice.

"Well, I've talked ol' Pete Wilson into posting guards for the next
couple of days. They should be in place after dinner tonight." Peter
Wilson was Derek Claussen's counterpart in Montrose.

"Police guards? This is Montrose, not some big city," said Sid,
eyeing the chief in disbelief.

"Just humor me, okay? I'm being cautious. Maybe overly cautious, but
just the same, I want you to be safe." It was clear that Derek was
sweet on Sid. "After all, you`re a sitting duck in that big old cast.
You wouldn't be able to outrun anybody. "

Sid harumphed. "I wasn't able to outrun anybody when I fell down that
slope, either."

Derek took a felt pen from his shirt pocket. As he signed Sid's cast,
he said, "I've gotten some good leads and an excellent crew working
on this. I don't want either of you to worry. We've got this thing
under control."

He finished writing with a flourish, "Just tell `em you broke it
skiing. Derek".

"Well, I have to get going." Derek gave Nick and Burton a curt nod,
and then turned his attention to Sid.

"I`ll call you tomorrow, Sid." He eyed the Triple-Y files piled on
her bed. "You are supposed to be resting, so try not to work too
hard."

When he got to the door Derek turned around. "Mr. Fallin," he said,
looking at Nick, "we've recovered your personal effects from your
rental car. You can pick them up at the station in Telluride after
you're discharged."

Nick simply stared at the police chief. Derek Claussen excused
himself and left.

Silence filled over the room. Sid was astounded. She stared out the
window blindly, feeling shaken and numb. She shook her head,
unwilling to believe what Derek had just suggested.

Burton sank into a second visitor's chair, deep in thought. He ran
his hand down the back of his head, sighed, and looked at his son.

Nick's face was haggard, his eyes showing the ragged signs of
exhaustion.

<Probably about time for his next round of medications.>

"Come on, son, let's get you back down the hall. Dr. Hunter, you get
yourself some rest. Don't worry about all this. I'm sure Chief
Claussen and his boys will take care of everything."

Nick closed his eyes in a pained wince as he struggled to stand. It
seemed harder to stand than sit. The two Fallins bid Sid a brief
goodbye and left her alone.

Burton soon got Nick back in bed. His son was worn out. He felt worn
out, too.

"It's been a long couple of days, Nicholas," Burton sighed.

"Go to your hotel, Dad. You need to get some rest, too. Sleep late.
I`ll still be here tomorrow," Nick said tiredly.

Burton said his good-byes, darkened his son's room, and left. He
caught Dr. Martin in the hall, talked with him about Nick's progress
and left Montrose Community Hospital, thoroughly beat. He drove the
short distance to the hotel. A cup of coffee, a piece of pie, and a
cigarette sounded mighty good.

Nick was glad his father was leaving. All he wanted to do was get his
next round of pain meds and go to sleep.

********

The next morning Nick woke up feeling very tired. He had not slept
particularly well.

Whenever he'd rolled over during the night, the pain caused by his
broken collarbone woke him up. He had no idea he rolled around that
much when sleeping! And this morning his collarbone hurt just as
badly as it did right after the accident.

< But it wasn't an accident. That's another reason I didn't get much
sleep.>

Mid-morning Dr. Martin entered Nick's room wearing a hearty smile,
chart in hand. He checked Nick's eyes with a pen light and then
removed the figure-eight harness. It felt good to be out of the
thing, even just for a few minutes. The skin over his broken
collarbone was very swollen, bruised, and beginning to turn a mottled
green.

"Hmmm," Dr. Martin said. "It's going to be painful for quite a while.
You'll need to wear the harness for the next six weeks, except when
you take a bath. Be sure it`s pulled tight when you put it back on.
It`s the only way your collarbone will heal correctly."

Nick didn't respond. He was too busy thinking about how he was going
to manage.

As he re-wrapped the harness around Nick`s shoulder blades, Dr.
Martin continued.

"I'm releasing you later on this afternoon, but I don't want you
flying home just yet. I spoke with your father last night. He's has
arranged for rooms down at Annie`s Bed and Breakfast for a couple of
days."

Nick cringed and started to complain, but the doctor held up his hand
to stop his objections.

"Mr. Fallin, you don't have a broken toe. Your collarbone is a long
bone — a major bone. More of your body's resources are being used to
repair it. You've also had a head injury. Your body still needs of a
lot of rest even though you're leaving the hospital. It's better this
way."

About that time Burton arrived with a set of casual clothes for Nick
to wear. It was then Nick realized how much help he was going to need
over the next few weeks.

He felt very uncomfortable when his father helped him slip on the
jeans. He made a note to himself to buy sweatpants — trying to manage
zippered pants with one hand seemed impossible. The oversized black
flannel shirt skimmed over Nick's pinned left arm, leaving the sleeve
empty and dangling. At least the boots fit, and the Velcro straps
were easy to manage.

It was about two o'clock when Janine breezed in with Nick's
prescriptions, discharge papers, and a wheelchair. She quickly showed
him how to tuck that empty sleeve so it would stay out of the way.

Nick reluctantly sat in the wheelchair, feeling like a world-class
idiot.

"Hospital policy," grinned Janine.

As the trio slowly left the room and made their way down the hall,
Nick noticed his police guard following them at a discrete distance.
He thought a minute and then announced that he wanted to stop by
Sid's room to let her know he'd been discharged.

Burton's eyebrows raised in surprise. He stroked the back of his head
with his hand and chuckled, "Okay, son, that's fine."

Nick had Janine park the wheelchair outside Sid`s room.

< No guard at Sid's door. >

Janine and Burton helped Nick to stand; then he walked into Sid`s
room. Burton followed. Sid was nowhere in sight. Instead they found a
thin, brown-haired woman sifting through a stack of Triple Y files.

"Yes? Can I help you?" the woman said. She seemed irritated, not
enjoying this interruption.

"I'm looking for Sidney Hunter? I'm Nicholas Fallin."

"Oh, so you're Nick, huh?" she said gruffly. "I'm Nancy Harding. Sid
told me what happened. Sounds like you two had quite the experience."
She continued to pull papers from various files.

Nick nodded in response. "Where's Sid?"

"She had some trouble with her leg this morning. I'm not sure when
she'll be back."

Nick felt a connection with Sid after the long snowbound night they
had spent together, and this news was disturbing. "Is she alright?"

Nancy shrugged. "How should I know? No one's told me anything."

"Will you tell her I stopped by? I've been discharged and will be
over at Annie's Bed and Breakfast for a couple of days."

"All right," Nancy said unenthusiastically.

She seemed so preoccupied that Nick wondered if Nancy Harding would
remember to give Sid his message. He took a step toward her, invading
Nancy`s personal space. "You'll tell her, right?"

Nancy did not retreat. Instead she stepped closer to Nick.

"Yes, I'll tell her. But let me tell *you* something," she snapped,
pointing a finger in his face. "She was extremely upset after your
little visit last night. You just need to leave her alone."

Nick's eyes narrowed. What kind of talk was this?

Nancy snapped a folder on a table, put her hands on her hips and
scowled, "Just forget about the sale of Triple Y and go back to
Pittsburgh. Sid's in no shape to think about that right now."

"Sid will be the one to tell me she's not interested in selling
Triple Y, not you," Nick responded coldly. He left the room puzzled
why Sid would hire someone like Nancy Harding. Their personalities
certainly did not fit.

********

Burton got Nick settled into his room at Annie`s. He was glad Dr.
Martin had recommended her elegant bed and breakfast. Last night he'd
called Annie Gardner and told her about the wreck and Nick's
subsequent hospital stay. She'd pulled out the stops getting their
rooms ready. The fire in Nick's sitting area was crackling, the
coffee table held a basket of ripe fruit and freshly baked muffins. A
tasteful flower arrangement sat on the bedside table, its card
reading, "Welcome to Annie's".

Burton helped his son out of his clothes and the figure eight harness
and then drew him a bath in the large, claw-footed tub.

"Okay, son, I'll leave you to it. Holler if you need any help."
Burton retreated to the adjoining suite.

Nick turned out the light in the bathroom and slowly sank into the
deep, hot water. Ahhh. This felt *so* good. He wanted to stay there
until all his aches and pains were soaked away.

While his body relaxed in the warm, dark room, Nick's mind reeled.

< The wreck was no accident. What evidence does Derek Claussen have
to prove that? The yellow truck has been found. Where? Who was
driving it? Has the driver been arrested? What's the new problem with
Sid's leg? >

While Nick was soaking, Annie delivered an early dinner. Father and
son enjoyed the sumptuous meal in Nick's sitting area. It was a quiet
dinner with little conversation, each man lost in his own thoughts.

Afterward, while Burton stoked the fire and added a stack of new
logs, Nick dialed Montrose Memorial Hospital in hopes of finally
catching up with Sid. He was not thrilled when Nancy Harding answered
the phone. No, Sid could not talk right now, she was asleep. Yes,
she'd gotten her leg fixed up. Yes, she'd tell Sid that Nick had
phoned. Very curt. Very snippy. Extremely unfriendly.

He hung up, wondering if Nancy Harding was telling the truth about
Sid's condition. Curious, Nick dialed the switchboard at the
hospital. Sid was resting and in stable condition. He decided to
visit her tomorrow afternoon to see for himself.

He slipped out of his plush white terrycloth robe and eased into bed,
wondering how Sid could put up with someone as grating as Nancy
Harding. The young man took his evening medications and turned out
the light. Nick Fallin was asleep in no time.

Annie Gardner, superb hostess that she was, invited Nick's police
guard to stay the night in Bed and Breakfast's downstairs lounge. It
was the least she could do.

********

The next morning Nick woke up with his shoulder even more swollen
than before and the bruising spread even larger. His face was
beginning to peel, as if he'd been sunburned. He was still not
sleeping well and was beginning to feel depressed. He felt frustrated
at how little he could do on his own and how much his shoulder still
pained him.

Burton convinced Nick to come downstairs and join Annie and her
husband, Tim, for breakfast. They were an entertaining, talkative
duo, but were unable to jolt Nick into a better frame of mind.

"What are you going to do today, boys?" Annie finally asked the
Fallin duo. "I need to know what to plan for lunch and dinner."

Nick jumped in before Burton could put down his coffee cup. "We're
driving to Telluride. I need to pick up my things from the police
station. So, no lunch for us. We`ll be back in time for dinner."

Burton was surprised. "You stay here and rest, Nicholas. I'll drive
over there to pick up your things."

"Dad, I'll rest in the car on the way." Nick said, trying to sound
logical. "I have to go. And then I want to visit Sid when we get
back. There`s a lot to do before we fly home."

Burton nodded his head. He understood. When he was sidelined with eye
surgery, he found the worst part of recovery was feeling useless.
Burton knew that Nicholas was used to being on the go in Pittsburgh,
rushing between Fallin and Fallin and Legal Services of Pittsburgh.
It would be hard for him to slow down, even when his body was telling
him to take it easy.

********

After breakfast they drove the sixty-odd miles south to Telluride,
tailed by the ever-present guard. The winter day was typically high-
altitude Colorado: a blazing blue sky and pristine, snow-covered
mountains.

It was a quiet trip. Nick seemed withdrawn and unresponsive to
Burton's conversation starters.

Burton Fallin glanced at his son. He was bewildered. Nick had not
opened up about the wreck, not even after Dr. Hunter had spilled most
of the beans. He looked at his silent off-spring, thinking that
they'd never had a heart-to-heart conversation. And they would not
have one now.

********

Telluride was a tiny burg stuffed with lots of visitors. Professional
skiers, high-profile actors, hippies, families, and hangers-on
crowded into the small valley, ready to take advantage of winter's
bountiful gift of snow. Parking was a challenge; as they drove round
and round, Nick pointed out The New Sheridan and Yippee-Yi-Yo.

Burton finally found a spot just off Colorado Avenue.

********

"Is Chief Claussen in?" They'd arrived at the Telluride Police
Station. "I'm Nick Fallin. I'm here to. . ."

The clerk interrupted. "Sid's wreck. You're the guy?"

Nick nodded uncomfortably.

"One moment." The clerk picked up the phone to let the chief know he
had company. A moment later Derek Claussen came to the reception
area.

A tanned, well-built man in his mid-forties, the chief was known for
his laid-back style and professional, easy-going attitude. He was
also known to be tough and determined when the need arose. It worked
well in the ski town.

"Hello, Nick. Burton, " Derek smiled, shaking each man's hand. "Nice
to see both of you again. How are you feeling, Nick?"

Nick shrugged and shook his head as if to say, I feel okay — but only
okay. He spoke quietly. "I've come to pick up my things."

"Oh, of course. Come on back."

He led them through a maze of cubicles, finally arriving at his small
office. He pulled Nick's briefcase and suitcase from a locked closet.

"Yeah, I know, it's goofy isn't it? The property closet is in my
office." He smiled again, looking very much like a non-smoking
Marlboro Man.

Nick looked through his briefcase, satisfying himself that everything
was intact.

"Nick, do you mind if I pick your brain about the wreck?" asked the
chief.

"No, I don`t mind. I want to pick yours, too."

"Well, me first. Tell me about what happened again."

As Nick described the situation, Derek Claussen took detailed notes,
interrupting Nick from time to time for clarification. Which way was
the yellow truck headed? How fast was it going? Why were you stopped?
Did your hear the truck before seeing it spin out of control? Was it
really out of control, or did it just seem that way?

Next he asked questions about The New Sheridan. Was there anyone
suspicious in the lobby? In the restaurant? Who worked at the front
desk that day? Where did you go when you left the hotel? Why did you
storm out of the hotel later?

Nick was surprised when Derek Claussen mentioned Larry Barton's name
and asked about the deal.

< How'd he know about that? >

More questions. Who else knew about the negotiations? Who does Larry
Barton do business with? Who knew about the trip to Telluride? Why
were the negotiations in Telluride and not Pittsburgh?

Nick answered each question carefully and in as much detail as he
could.

When Derek intimated that someone at Fallin and Fallin might have
released confidential information about the negotiations and Nick's
trip, Nick and Burton bristled.

"That would never happen," replied Burton gruffly. "Our staff is
professional through and through."

Finally Nick had answered all of Derek's questions. Now it was the
young attorney's turn. "I need to know what proof you have that this
was no accident."

After much hem-hawing, the chief went to the property closet,
unlocked it and pulled out a stack of plastic sheets. "This the only
evidence I feel comfortable sharing with you at this juncture."

Slipped inside each sheet of plastic was a page torn from a regional
magazine. Derek lined the edge of his messy desk with the sheets,
until an entire magazine article lay before Nick and Burton. A
feature story, titled "The Best of The West", described the life of
Dr. Sidney Hunter, complete with photographs.

Nick took a moment to examine the largest photo of Sid. Ethel May was
parked in front of Yippee-Yi-Yo; the smiling store owner was leaning
against the old aqua station wagon with her arms folded. She was
wearing classic Western clothes: a denim shirt, snappy blue jeans,
turquoise jewelry, and tooled leather cowboy boots. Most of her dark
red curls were hidden by her black 100% beaver cowboy hat.

A smaller photo showed Sid standing with a group of middle-school
students in front of the Heritage Center; another featured her
leading a tour of some Indian ruins. In the final picture Sid was
riding a galloping horse through an snow-covered meadow, her red mane
flying.

As Nick looked at the pictures, he smiled to himself. Sid was
vibrant. Beautiful. Energetic. Smart.

< Is this what Sid's life is really like? >

"It's just a magazine article," shrugged Burton. "This isn't
anything."

Derek flipped the evidence over. On the back side of each page
someone had written notes in the margins about Sid's schedule and
habits. The tiny lettering was easy to read; writing had been crammed
in every bit of free space. In the bottom corner of the final
page "Nick Fallin" had been written and circled. His flight number
from Denver to Telluride was noted, as was his room number at The New
Sheridan. All the details of their planned meetings were described.
Even Fallin and Fallin's phone number showed up in the margins.

It was all very disturbing. Nick looked away, pressed his lips
together, and shook his head. Someone had obviously tracked Sid's
movements for several days. Someone knew an awful lot about Sid,
about Nick, and about their negotiations.

"Where did you find this?"

"Who wrote it?"

"When . . ."

The chief held up his hand to stop the barrage of questions from Nick
and Burton. "It was found behind the driver's seat in the yellow
truck. We don't know who wrote it yet, but we have suspects. I really
can`t go into any more detail." He gathered the sheet protectors and
locked them away.

"Well, you've got yourself quite a case," said Burton. "Invasion of
privacy, stalking, aggravated assault with intent to kill. . . "

Derek did not answer. He combed his fingers through his thick salt-
and-pepper hair. He simply could not go any further discussing this
case.

Nick had a sudden thought. "Do you know Nancy Harding?"

"Sure."

"We met her yesterday. She was pulling papers from Sid's business
files and was not very glad to see either of us."

Burton nodded in agreement. "She got in Nick's face and told him to
go back to Pittsburgh and stop negotiating."

Derek Claussen controlled his reaction. "Nancy Harding, huh? What
exactly did she say? What was her demeanor?" He pulled out his
notepad and scribbled down all this new info.

"And where did you see Nancy?"

"Sid's hospital room," said Nick.

"Did Sid hear this conversation?"

"She wasn't there," Burton responded. "Something happened with her
leg, and. . ."

"Yes, isn't that the most horrible thing?" asked the chief, stopping
his questioning. "Her leg continued to swell, and they finally had to
take her to surgery to relieve the pressure. I talked. . ."

"What?" interrupted Nick. "We'd heard she had more problems with her
leg, but that's about it."

"Yes, she was in a lot of pain. I talked with Dr. Martin last night.
She was pretty much out of it, not making a whole lot of sense after
surgery. Sid had a pretty rough day yesterday."

"Have you talked with her today?" asked a concerned Nick Fallin.

"Yes, and she really sounded down. That girl needs company, someone
who can get her mind off that leg. Reckon you could visit her this
afternoon?" Derek asked Nick. "I can`t get back up there until day
after tomorrow."

"Yes, I was planning on it anyway," Nick answered mildly. "I wanted
to say goodbye. We're flying back to Pittsburgh in the morning."

Burton watched this last exchange with interest.

< Here are two men, both a the top of their professions, both
interested in Sid. Wonder if Sidney Hunter is interested in either
one of `em? >



End Part 2
 
 
The Need To Know - Part 3

The Fallins left the Telluride police station and stopped off for
lunch at Rustico Restaurant. As the young hostess seated them, Nick
noticed that many of the restaurant's diners were sunburned. Several
patrons had broken arms and two sported broken legs. The server took
one look at Nick and chuckled, "You had quite the skiing accident,
didn't you?" Nick relaxed and grinned, realizing his type of injury
was not at all uncommon in this ski town.

The two had plenty to discuss over lunch; Derek Claussen had made
sure of that. As Nick and Burton finished up, Burton said, "Well,
son, it's certainly been interesting, but you look tired. Let's get
you back to Annie's for a nap."

Nick reluctantly agreed. He'd been putting off taking his next bunch
of pills. They made him sleep, but they really didn't help the pain
he still felt in his shoulder.

As they drove out of town, police guard still following, Nick pointed
at an intersection just past the airport turnoff. "Dad, turn left up
here. I want to see where the wreck happened."

"How far is it, Nicholas? I don't want to drive all day."

"It's not far. I know I'll recognize the spot. It's an unguarded pull-
out just after the hair-pin turn and the snow gates."

Burton grimaced. He wasn't so sure about this idea. But he turned
anyway, re-tracing the route an uninjured and angry Nick Fallin had
driven just a few days before.

Nick was surprised at the short amount of time it took to arrive at
the pull-out. He and Sid had been snowbound only a few miles outside
of Telluride.

< But we were a million miles away from help. >

They got out and peered over the side of the highway.

"Good God, Nicholas," Burton exclaimed. He flinched when he saw
Nick's rental car still pointing downhill on its side. Burton's
imagination began working overtime. He didn't know if he could
stomach another re-telling of the events while looking at the spot
where his son and Dr. Hunter had been hurt and stranded.

Burton didn't have to worry. Nick was silent, analyzing the scene of
the wreck and the spot where he had spent that frozen night. It all
looked different, viewing the slope from the highway. Things looked
more spread out. His rental car looked a long way from the ledge
where Sid was stranded.

< Did I climb that far?>

And Ethel May, still sporting the red windbreaker tied to her back
door handle, looked a lot further down the ravine.

< Was Ethel May really that far away? >

He studied the curve. Had the yellow truck lost control or did it
just seem like that at the time? Nick began thinking about what had
happened in a much different way. Analyzing. Dissecting.

Nick soon got back into the warm car. He was very quiet, re-creating
the scene of the wreck in his mind.

Burton Fallin looked at his son as he stuck the key in the ignition.
Nick seemed tired. Worn out.

"It's been quite a morning, son. You need to take your pills and get
some rest."

Nick followed his father's advice. He took his meds and slept all the
way to Annie's.

********

Later in the afternoon, a refreshed Nick walked into Sid's hospital
room carrying a large bouquet of flowers.

"N-Nick," said Sid in a shaky voice. She was laying flat on her back
with only a thin pillow under her head.

"I brought you these," he said shyly. He stuck them on her bedside
table.

Nick quickly glanced at Sid's leg. The cast had been removed. Her leg
had swollen twice its normal size and was now slightly elevated,
loosely wrapped in bandages, and encased in some sort of external
splint.

"The flowers are lovely. Thanks."

One look at Sid's face and Nick could tell she had been through hell.
The circles under her eyes told the tale of little rest; their
swollen redness divulged the amount of time Sid had spent crying.

"How are you feeling?"

She took a deep, ragged breath. "I had a bit of trouble with my leg,
Nick. Yesterday was awful."

"So I heard." Nick glanced around the room. He felt awkward, not
knowing what to say next.

"I have to keep my leg higher than my heart. It's supposed to help
lessen the swelling," Sid groaned, looking at her leg. "I'm getting
awfully tired of looking at the ceiling."

She sighed and then patted the left side of her bed. "Sit down so I
can see you. Let's visit."

Nick sat on the edge of her bed and turned so he was facing the red-
head. He was not surprised to feel his body responding to Sid with
more than a casual interest.

"Nick, I'm an idiot. How did I manage to fall off a highway, fall
down a cliff, and break my leg?" She covered her misting eyes with a
shaky hand.

"Sid, why are you saying that? It was an accident. You couldn't
control. . ."

"But it wasn't an accident. That's what Derek said."

"You slipped.*That's* an accident. Think about it,Sid."

"Well, I don't know *what* to think right now," she said, looking her
elephant-sized leg. Sid was clearly frustrated with the whole
scenario.

She drew another deep breath and continued, putting her hand on
Nick's knee. "I *do* know that I can't negotiate until I get this leg
problem straightened out."

Nick reached out and caressed Sid's cheek. "It's alright," he said
softly. "Just get some rest." He leaned closer and studied every inch
of her freckled face.

Then Nick softly kissed Dr. Sidney Hunter — something he'd thought
about doing ever since he set eyes on her. Sid returned his kiss, her
left hand lightly touching the nape of the young attorney's neck. The
tenderness of the moment was palpable.

They finally drew apart. Nick took her hand in his, kissed it gently,
and then stood.

"I'm flying back home tomorrow, Sid. I've come to say goodbye, " he
whispered.

She knew he would be returning to Pittsburgh, but was surprised he
was leaving so soon. A disheartened Sid watched as Nick looked at the
floor and pressed his lips together.

Nick had nothing left to say; the kiss had done his talking for him.
He glanced at Sid and left the room.

********
Burton and Nick took an early flight from Montrose to Denver the next
morning. As Nick watched the San Juan Mountains disappear from sight,
he thought about Sid.

< Sid's down there somewhere. And so is her potential murderer. >




End Part 3



The Need To Know – Part 4

Nick rushed from the conference room at Fallin and Fallin, running
late as usual. He stopped by his secretary's desk to pick up his
messages, shuffled through them and stopped short. One of the
messages was from Clayton Griffin, Sidney Hunter's attorney.

Nick was surprised. When he'd returned from that awful trip last
February, he'd told Larry Barton the negotiations were off. Sid had
suffered complications from a broken leg and felt unable to sell.
Now, four months later, a call from Clayton Griffin?

**********
Nick hung up after phoning Sid`s attorney, smiling to himself. The
red-head was definitely selling her company and hoped the buyer
would be Larry Barton. Clayton wanted to set up negotiations, again
meeting in Telluride. Nick tentatively agreed to fly out next week,
telling himself he'd have to get permission from his parole officer
as soon as possible.

Nick was excited about the possibility of landing the Triple Y deal.
He wondered what had changed Sid's mind. Clayton Griffin didn't say
and wouldn't anyway, since he was her lawyer.

Nick was also looking forward to seeing Sid again. The last time he'd
seen her, she was laying flat on her back in a Montrose hospital
bed, her leg as big as an elephant's. He'd only talked with her
twice after returning to Pittsburgh, and those phone calls had now
been three long months ago. <While I was still wearing that
harness.> Then he'd gotten swept back into his dual life at LSoP and
the firm and failed to return Sid's last few calls.

His cell phone rang, tugging Nick back to the daily grind. Checking
his watch, he grabbed his briefcase, answered the phone, and scurried
to his next appointment.

< I am eternally late. >

********

The following week Nick flew to Montrose, rented a convertible, and
drove the sixty-some-odd miles to Telluride. It was mid-June, the end
of spring in the Rockies. While the mornings still held a definite
chill, the afternoons promised to be warm and sunny enough to drive
with the top down.

As he drove south, he thought of the events that occurred just four
months earlier. He and Sid had been hurt and stranded, shivering in
the back of her wrecked car during a massive snow storm. Derek
Claussen, Telluride's police chief, pronounced the wreck was not an
accident, and had even posted guards at their hospital doors.

< Wonder what happened with that investigation? I haven't heard a
thing.>

Then there was that blasted figure-eight harness. He'd worn it for
six weeks straight. After he'd returned to Pittsburgh, his
orthopedist had taken a look at the x-rays of his broken collarbone
and had said gleefully, "Oh boy, it's a mess in there!"

Nick shook his head and laughed to himself. < Comments like that are
always good. >

His shoulder had not completely healed, even now. The two bone
fragments were forming calluses and finally starting to knit. The
doctor assured him that they would hook up and ultimately realign
themselves. Eventually.

********
Telluride looked completely different without snow. A few tourists
meandered down Colorado Avenue. It was too early to check into The
New Sheridan, but Nick still wanted to drop off his suitcase

< Then I'm going to surprise Sid.>

He easily pulled into a parking spot. It was so different than ski
season! He grabbed his gear, entered the L-shaped hotel lobby, and
waited for someone to come to the front desk.

"She should not be selling to some foreigner!" boomed an angry male
voice from a loveseat around the corner.

"Now, Pittsburgh is not so foreign," said a calmer man, "at least the
guy buying Triple Y is supposed to be an American."

Nick's ears perked up. He took a couple of steps forward and peeked
around the corner.

"Things should stay local, and you know it. If we dilute ownership
and start selling our businesses to outsiders, the next thing we'll
see in Telluride is a Wal-Mart where Harvey Jasper's cows are
grazing."

Nick saw that the angry speaker was an older, grizzled man with a
shock of white hair and a bushy moustache. His worn-out jeans and
cowboy boots told the tale of a high-altitude rancher whose property
was now in demand for multi-million-dollar homes. His way of life had
become an historical oddity in a modern modem world.

The calmer voice spoke. "We'll never have a Wal-Mart here or a
McDonald's, and you know it. We don't have chains in Telluride, and
we never will. The Town Council would never give in. But if she wants
to sell, it's her business, not ours."

"God damn it, it certainly is our business. Look at what's happened
on top of the mountain. Mountain Village? Bah! Just big business
developments owned by a bunch of foreign companies. And now they've
all got their eyes set on Colorado Avenue and Sidney`s playing right
into their hands."

Nick listened with interest. Clearly, the town was a-buzz with Sid's
decision to sell her company to Larry Barton. He inched over so he
could get a better view of the second conversationalist, and saw a
middle-aged man with a bland face and demeanor.

"It won't matter. Scott and Nancy are supposed to stay, even if Sid
does sell. The store will stay the same. Nothing's going to really
change except the tax forms. "

"Humph. Sid's not staying, and she's the force behind the company`s
success."

The second person murmured, "When do the negotiations start?"

"Tomorrow morning, bright and early. That lawyer from Pittsburgh is
supposed to be flying into Montrose today. I sure would like to read
Sid the riot act and then stop that meeting from happening."

Nick suddenly decided this would not be the best time to check his
bag. He quickly left in search of Sid and some explanations.

********

Nick popped his suitcase into the trunk of his car and walked across
the street to Sid's store, Yippee-Yi-Yo. Two window cleaners were
removing some graffiti from the store's leaded glass windows.

When he entered the shop, Nick noticed two people in deep
conversation standing behind the back counter. A slightly overweight
man finally looked up and noticed Nick. Then the other person turned
around, scowling.

< Oh, no! It's Nancy Harding. >

He nodded hello and started to speak but was interrupted by raised
voices coming from the back of the store.

"You've got to be kidding," an angry female said. "Fuck `em. Just
fuck `em!"

Nick knew that voice. It was Sid, and she was not in a good mood.
Nick studied the floor, listening intently.

Now a male spoke. "My people can't be everywhere. . ."

"Fuck them for thinking they can influence me. And fuck you, Derek
Claussen, for not protecting my store. I'll do what I want. It's my
store, not theirs."

A quiet pause. Derek Claussen said something unintelligible.

"Leave me alone," she snapped. "Get out. Just get the fuck out of
my store."

During this tirade, the man talking with Nancy approached Nick. "Can
I help you?" he asked, embarrassed by the din.

`Uh, I'm just waiting for. . ." Nick pointed toward the back of the
store. He stopped talking and watched a very angry Derek Claussen
storm out the front door.

Nancy Harding walked to the offices in the back of the store, quickly
joined by the middle-aged man. More voices, subdued this time.

Then Sid emerged, red faced, clad in a simple long-sleeved black T-
shirt and black jeans that accented her curves. She limped quickly
through the store with the aid of a cane that was painted with
colorful squiggles and swirls, her dark red curls springing in rhythm
to the rapid pace of her uneven walk. Sid was not a happy camper.

The angry store-owner crammed a black cowboy hat on her head and
spoke to the man. "God damn it, Scott, just leave me alone. I'm
in no mood to. . ." Then she saw Nick, head bowed, hands in pockets,
standing near the front display.

"Nick, you're here," Sid said tensely, no dazzling smile in
sight. "Please, tell me you have wheels."

Nick nodded, first glancing at the cane and then at the man who he
thought to be Scott Harding. "Uh . . . I'm parked across the
street. . ."

"Do you have anything planned for today?" she asked urgently.

Nick shrugged and shook his head. "Negotiations aren't until
tomorrow."

"Good. Get me out of here. I need fresh air," Sid hissed. "A lot of
fresh air." She looked directly at a bewildered Scott. The angry
woman furiously strode out of the store, her cane bashing the highly
polished hardwood floors at a quick tempo.

Scott Harding trailed after Sid, trying to get the store-owner's
attention. "Sid. Sid? You can't leave now! Tomorrow's the
negotiations and Clayton. . ." he whimpered.

Nick watched the scene as if it were a movie. Then he quickly exited
the store eager to escape Nancy Harding, who was guarding the cash
register as if he were going to don a facemask and rob the store
blind.

Sid crossed the street. "This is your car?" she asked.

Nick caught up with her and nodded.

"Good. Let's get out of here."

Scott was still trailing Sid. "Sid, at least tell us where you're
going. We all need to know, just in case. . ."

"Shit!" Sid heaved a frustrated sigh. "Okay, Scott, I know, I
know." She eyed Nick and then made a hasty decision. "We'll be in
Delores. Now just. . . leave me the fuck alone!"

Scott Harding drew back, unaccustomed to being on the receiving end
of Sid's foul temper.

Nick pulled the car onto Colorado Avenue, glancing at Sid with
uncertainty in his blue-gray eyes.

He was not aware this entire scene had just been observed by a
handful of influential Colorado Avenue business owners. Or that a
white car pulled out just behind them.

Sid clenched her fists and tried to calm down. "I hate this little
town, Nick. Everyone knows everyone else's business, and everybody
thinks they can tell me what to do."

Nick continued driving. He had no idea what to say, but he did want
to tell her about the conversation he'd just heard at the hotel.

"I heard two guys talking about the negotiations in the lobby of The
New Sheridan."

"Yes, we are the tasty topic of choice today," she said
tersely. "The word is out: I'm selling. How it got out is a
mystery, but everybody knows. There are people in TCA — the Telluride
Conservation Association — who are not very happy about this."

She slowly shook her head. "It's going to be a mess," she said
miserably.

Nick continued driving, now passing a new complex of ski condos on
the edge of town. Across the street were cows grazing in a dazzling
field of verdant grass.

< Harvey Jasper's cows? >

"Are you okay with that? For this to turn into a mess?"

"I don't stay in the lines, Nick. I'm messy. I will not be staying
within the unreasonable lines drawn by TCA."

Nick took a deep breath and glanced at Sid, not really understanding
what the woman was talking about. "Uh, I need directions. . ."

"Oh. Turn south after Airport Road."

Nick flinched at the thought of turning down Highway 145. "Isn't
that where. . ."

"Yeah," Sid sighed, with a grim look on her face.

Nick turned south, seemingly oblivious of the white car that
continued to follow his convertible.

Finally Sid took her first good look at Nick Fallin. The last time
she'd seen him, his face was red and peeling. The fat black eye and
huge lump on his forehead made him look like he'd come straight from
a horrible ski accident.

"How are you Nick? How's your collarbone? Are you all healed?"
Still not a smile in sight.

Nick shrugged and tilted his head. "First I should ask how your leg
is." he responded, keeping his eyes glued to the winding road.

"Ugh. I check into Denver Memorial week after next," she
grimaced. "My orthopedist is re-breaking my leg and starting all over
again with plates and screws. It didn't heal properly the first go-
round. That's why I'm limping and have to use the cane. Just think!
My third operation. Six more months and I'm supposed to be good as
new."

They wound up the steep curves into the San Juan Mountains, passing
the snow gates and approaching the unguarded pullout where the wreck
had happened.

"The pullout is just ahead. Do you want to stop?" asked Sid. "I
always stop. I *have* to stop."

Nick did want to see what the ravine looked like without snow. He
pulled off road onto the tiny gravel pull-out and shut off the engine.

Sid did not get out of the car right away. She watched the white car
pass them, motoring south toward Delores.

"Do you think about it?" she asked Nick with haunted eyes, first
looking at the curve and then at the rocky ravine.

Nick drew a deep breath and shuddered. "No." It was true. Although
his collarbone was still healing, the wreck had been just one moment
in his fractured life. And that was followed by another moment, and
then another. No, Nick did not re-live the wreck.

"I think about it. But then, I have to pass this place every time I
go to the Heritage Center." Sid was beginning to grow nervous. "I
dread doing this."

She got out of the car, the gravel crunching noisily beneath her
tooled leather cowboy boots. Sid slowly walked to the edge and then
peeked over it. Nick watched her from the car, admiring the woman
for trying to come to terms with her feelings about the wreck.

He joined Sid at the edge of the pullout. It was amazing to see the
ravine without snow. It all looked so different now, just rocks
leading far down to a valley.

"They towed both cars away after the snow melted," Sid said, taking a
calming breath. "I stood right here and watched the whole thing. I
think they took your car straight to the wrecking . . ."

Sid's face froze. She grabbed Nick's arm and held onto it for dear
life, looking at Nick with frightened eyes. He watched her face first
register panic — and then resolve.

"I am not going to run this time," she said quietly, talking to
herself.

Nick heard the cause of Sid's sudden behavior change. A vehicle was
coming around the curve exactly where the yellow truck had traveled
four months earlier.

One look at Sid's face and Nick knew she was fighting demons honed
from bent steel, a long, frozen fall, and broken bones. With
shoulders hunched, she stared blankly down the slope, her back
defiantly turned away from the highway.

"I'm not going to run," she said again, this time with more
emphasis.

Nick was not sure how to react. He simply stood next to the woman,
watching her intently, allowing her to hang onto his arm.

Finally a lumbering RV came around the curve, stayed in its lane, and
continued toward Telluride.

Sid took a couple of shaky breaths, closed her eyes and listened to
the pounding of her heart. She let go of Nick's arm and ran a
trembling hand across her mouth.

"It's. . .it's going to be okay," Nick said awkwardly.

"*When*, Nick?" Sid asked, still trembling. "*When* will be it be
okay?"

Nick didn't know what to say. They continued to stand at the pullout,
both silent, studying the steep slope.

Sid finally spoke. "Every time I stop here, someone drives around
that curve and I expect them to knock me off the highway again. But
this is the first time I didn't run," she said with a slight
smile. "Life is improving. One day I won't have to stop here anymore."

They turned and walked back to the car. As they left the pullout,
Nick asked, "What ever happened to the investigation, Sid? Did Derek
catch the person driving the yellow truck? He had evidence."

"No one has been arrested. Derek's still convinced that it was not a
wreck, but he's been very closed-mouthed about the whole thing. He
even went so far as to tap my phone lines!" Sid rolled her eyes. "I
finally talked him into dismissing that poor guard. Basically,
nothing`s happened."

********
They continued their drive to Delores. The white car picked them up
again just on the other side of Lizard Head Pass.




End Part Four
 
The Need To Know – Part 5

The ribbon of highway meandered through the San Juan Mountains,
heading down to Delores. The trees were a brilliant green, the sky a
deep Colorado blue, the hint of summer a just around the corner.

Sid threw her head back against the car seat and sighed. "Well,
that's over. Now I can relax. I can't enjoy the trip to Delores
these days until I finish at the pullout."

"You enjoy making this trip? Delores is 80 miles away."

Sid nodded. "I do enjoy it. Even after eleven years. It's a
transition between my worlds. The one in Telluride is business and
money. The one in Delores is public service and academia. The time
in-between is mine. No phone calls, no interruptions, no demands on
my time. It's just me, the mountains, and the highway. And today —
you," she winked.

Nick glanced at Sid. He was not expecting *that* answer. His lips
curled into a small smile.

The two were quiet for a while, taking in the kaleidoscope of colors
spring had provided. Every shade of green imaginable was present, no
matter where Nick looked, like confetti tossed in celebration of
warmth. The numerous high-altitude meadows were grassy havens
inviting deer and elk to graze.

Nick broke the silence with a question he wasn`t sure he should
ask. "What happened to Ethel May. . .wrecking yard?"

Sid took in a deep breath. "Totaled. I had her delivered to a friend
who's an avant-garde artist in Sedona." She shrugged her
shoulders. "I have no idea what she'll do with Ethel May."

"Have you bought another car yet?"

"No, I'm just borrowing a friend's Jeep right now. I haven't decided
what to buy next."

"Well, remember, Larry Barton will be glad to throw in the new car of
your choice," Nick said, sounding very much like a lawyer.

Sid carefully considered that information. "What if it's a
collectable car instead?"

Nick chuckled. "That, too, I suppose. Within reason, of course."

Sid looked at Nick with playful eyes. "Speaking of cars, you reckon
it's warmed up enough to put the lid down? If it's too cold you can
always put it back up."

Nick raised his eyebrows and smiled. He pulled along the shoulder of
the road and hit the controls to lower the convertible top.

The brisk air whipped through the car as Nick pulled back onto the
road. It felt good, energizing. Sid took off her hat, red ringlets
flying, and laughed the rich, deep laugh that Nick remembered so
well. "A whole, entire day with nothing really planned. Isn't that
fabulous? I don't have enough of these kind of days."

< I never have those days. >

Nick was accustomed to living life over-scheduled and then falling
into bed each night exhausted. He thought a minute longer. < Today is
an unscheduled day. > He wondered if he would be able to cope, and
glanced at Sid expectantly.

She had her eyes closed and her face turned to the sun. Nick
continued to drive, sneaking glances at Sid, entranced by this woman
who enjoyed something so simple as warming herself in the sun. She
seemed very comfortable in her skin, so at ease with herself. Nick
admired that. He took pleasure in watching the red-head enjoy the
ride. He relaxed and realized that he might have a good time today,
too.

The white car continued following Nick and Sid at a discrete
distance.

********
Sid directed Nick to The Depot, the best — and only — hamburger joint
in Delores. As they were waiting for their lunch, he decided to
broach a potentially touchy subject.

"Sid, is Triple Y going to be in trouble if you sell? Larry Barton's
not going to be interested in the company if. . .

She held up her hand and interrupted. "Do you know anything about
small town politics?"

Nick shook his head. "I don't like politics."

"There's quite the political climate in Telluride. Environmentalists
against developers, locals against tourists, natives versus new-
comers, Mountain Village versus Colorado Avenue. I profit from
tourists and new-comers, not locals. The store won't be in trouble."

"I saw some graffiti. . ."

"Yeah. Someone scrawled 'You're selling out' all over my leaded
windows." Sid shook her head in disgust. "Had to be a local. Most
likely a fringe member of TCA. They're anti-chain, anti-selling to
outsiders."

Sid paused, thinking about how ridiculous it all was. "I was an
outsider eleven years ago," she said incredulously. "TCA is dedicated
to the *preservation* of Telluride. Some of its members are just more
rabid than others."

"Rabid enough to drive a yellow truck?"

Sid flinched. "Now you're sounding like Derek Claussen, Nick."

"What do you know about the yellow truck?"

"It was stolen from Denver and wiped clean. No fingerprints. The
magazine article with the notes on the back was the only thing found
in it."

"That note seems. . . too personal." Nick paused, considering how to
say what he was thinking. "You know, that rancher in the lobby of
The New Sheridan was pretty upset this morning. Said he wanted to
read you the riot act and stop the negotiations. That seems too
personal, too, like he knows too many details."

She nodded thoughtfully, considering what Nick said. Was the rancher
full of hot air, or did he personify Derek's theory — the wreck was
no accident? Did someone want the negotiations stopped bad enough to
drive a yellow truck?

"Now you're really sounding like Derek. What did this guy look like?"

A shock of white hair, a moustache, dressed in western garb. . .Nick
described the fellow as best he could, although peeking around the
corner at The New Sheridan did not afford him the best view.

"You just described every other man with white hair in San Miguel
County, Nick," Sid said with laughing eyes. "It's just too much to
think about. If Derek can't figure it out, I am not going to worry."

********
After lunch, Sid directed Nick to the Anasazi Heritage Center,
located on the outskirts of Delores. Adjacent to Lowery Ruins, the
museum was Sid's other home, her other life. She took him on a tour
of the public areas of the museum, shyly pointing out the interactive
exhibits she had designed.

Next came a tour behind-the-scenes. Sid led Nick into a temperature-
controlled collections vault, a room filled with ancient artifacts
carefully unearthed by their team of archeologists. She donned white
cotton gloves and picked up various pieces, describing their uses,
identifying the era and the style of each piece. Nick admired her
depth of knowledge, intrigued that someone so academic could also be
a savvy business owner.

Last on the tour were the administrative offices. Sid introduced
Nick to a surprised Penny Nelson, administration's overworked
secretary, who had not expected to see the exhibits whiz until next
week.

"Don't worry, Penny," Sid said reassuringly, "I'm here for fun today.
I just wanted to show Nick my office." She led him past Penny's
desk, unlocked her office door, and said, "After you, Mr. Fallin."

Nick entered her office. It was serene, muted, and very classy.
Sid's windows had the best view in the entire building. A glass
wall overlooked a section of the Anasazi ruins that were off-limits
to the public. Utah's La Sal Mountains filled the horizon.

Nick was impressed with the elegantly appointed furnishings. Two
light brown leather chairs sat in front of her immaculate desk. One
wall held a massive archeological library, accented by Native
American black-on-white pottery.

Sid closed the door and stuck her cane in the umbrella stand,
watching Nick's reaction to her office.

"Very nice," he said with an appreciative smile. "I'll have to admit
I was expecting something more like Yippee-Yi-Yo."

He watched Sid limp over to her desk and perch herself along its
edge. He liked the way her simple black outfit complimented her
figure.

"Yeah, some people accuse me of living a Cowboys and Indians
existence. Cowboys in Telluride, Indians in Delores. But remember,
Nick, I really do live in two different worlds."

He turned to her, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her
close. "I'm not doubting you," he said quietly, with an intense look
that told of his attraction to her.

Sid laid her hands on Nick's chest and looked at him with serious
eyes. Then she gently trailed her index finger across his lips,
studying his face, searching his blue-gray eyes.

"Nick," she whispered, "I've missed you."

She drew a deep breath as he pulled her closer. He kissed her
longingly, deeply, forcefully -- as if trying to make up for the four
long months they were apart.

Nick cupped her face in his hands. "Sidney Hunter," he murmured,
reveling in each freckle on her face and her lush mass of shiny dark-
red curls.

He smoothed his hands over her taut, athletic body and then pulled
her even closer. They kissed again, more urgently this time, lost in
the reverie of the moment, lost in the sensuality of the new. They
wanted — needed — to go even further, anxious to explore their
deepest, most passionate urges.

Then, an interruption of the highest magnitude: The intercom buzzed.
Undeterred, Nick kept his arms around Sid's waist as she twisted to
hit the intercom button on her desk. As she talked, he slowly nuzzled
her neck, trailing soft kisses up her slender throat. She did not
push him away, enjoying the heated moment.

"What, Penny?" she asked in a slightly irritated tone, trying to
concentrate on what the secretary might say.

"Sorry, Sid. It's Scott Harding. He's on Line 2."

Sid stiffened and picked up the phone. "Scott," she said, trying to
keep the irritation out of her voice. Nick continued to hold Sid,
studying her face as she talked to the store's general manager.
Between hearing her end of the conversation and feeling her subtle
body language, Nick realized that Sid had been pulled back into the
real world. Their intimate moment had indeed been interrupted.

She hung up the phone and told Nick about the call. "Clayton Griffin
is having a fit and wants me back in Telluride ASAP. He needs to
talk with me about tomorrow. Says it can't wait."

She smiled slightly and gently caressed Nick's cheek. "Nick, I — "
she began in a soft voice.

"Shhh." He placed his fingers on her lips.

Sid took his hand and gently kissed his palm. The sensuousness of
that act sent an electric spark through the young attorney that
aroused him even further. Nick gazed at her with acute desire and
kissed her once again.

Sid pulled back. "We have to stop, Nick. It's going to take a couple
of hours to get back to Telluride. We have to leave."

She smoothed her hair behind her ears and looked at Nick
hopefully. "I do think we can easily pick up where we left off," she
said, eyes twinkling.

Nick nodded. It was difficult to stop holding this magnificent woman
in his arms. It was difficult to stop kissing her. Very difficult.
He lightly brushed his lips against hers once more and then released
her.

It was time to return to Telluride.



End Part Five




The Need To Know, Part 6

Nick Fallin and Sidney Hunter began their trip back to Telluride, the
highway seeming to wind uphill forever, deep into the heart of the
mountains. Sid figured they would get back to town just before
dinner.

The two began the ride in silence. Sid was enjoying herself, lost in
her own thoughts, oblivious to the mess the wind was making of her
hair. Nick glanced at her, thinking about their brief encounter in
her office. He wanted to bury his face in that hair, nuzzle her
creamy neck again and then softly brush his lips against hers. He
longed to caress her body again and feel the swell of her breasts. . .

Nick's sexy thoughts of Sid were rudely interrupted with a brief look
in the rear view mirror. A white car was behind them. . . again.
Nick thought he'd seen it behind them earlier in the day, too. Had
he seen that car before, or was it just his imagination? After all,
there was more than one white car in the world. Nick began turning
the events of the day over in his mind.

He finally broke the silence just before driving through the small
mining town of Rico. "There's been a white car following us since
Delores."

"Well, there are only a few passing lanes," Sid answered, turning
around to glance at the vehicle motoring along several car-lengths
behind them. "They probably like your driving speed and don't want to
pass."

"Yes, but they could also be tailing us."

"Tailing us?" Sid asked incredulously. "That's a creepy idea. You
*are* sounding more like Derek."

"And Derek Claussen still thinks the yellow truck was meant to run
you — or us — down, right?" Nick asked simply.

"Yes, but nothing has happened since then. Absolutely nothing. . ."

"What about the graffiti on your windows?"

Sid considered what Nick suggested and slowly nodded.

"I've been thinking." Nick paused, pressing his lips together,
choosing his words carefully. "After the wreck you decided not to
sell Triple Y. You postponed negotiations so your leg could heal.
Maybe that's why nothing else happened — until this morning. Now
the word's out that you're selling and I'm in town again. Suddenly
your windows are filled with graffiti, a rancher at The New Sheridan
wants to stop the negotiations, and a white car is tailing us."

Nick's logical recitation of the facts made Sid feel uneasy. What if
he was right? Had the decision to sell the company placed them both
in a precarious position? How did word get out that Triple Y was up
for sale? How did the rancher at The New Sheridan know so much? Was
the white car really following them?

Sid closed her eyes and shook her head. < Negotiating in Pittsburgh
might have been a really good idea after all.>

After a few moments she said,"Let's talk to Derek about this when we
get back to town."

"Okay," Nick gave a curt nod and ran a hand down the back of his
head. He continued driving, checking the rear-view mirror from time
to time. The white car was still back there, always maintaining the
same distance behind them.

Sid stirred restlessly as they went over Lizard Head pass. Nick
glanced at her troubled face and wondered what was bothering her.

"The pullout's just ahead, " Sid said. "I have to stop. Clayton
Griffin will just have to wait a few more minutes."

Nick nodded and slowed as he rounded the final curve before the
pullout. They were surprised to find a black Explorer parked there.
It's vanity tag read, "LITIG8R."

"That's Clayton's car," Sid said, perplexed. "What's he doing here?"

There was barely enough room for two cars on the pullout. Nick inched
his convertible into the tiny space. The cars now faced each other
hood-to-hood.

Sid folded her arms and shivered. Nick didn't know if it was because
the sun had dipped behind the mountains and the air was chilling
quickly, or because the woman was back at the pullout again.

"He must have had car trouble," Sid sighed, looking at the car's
tinted windshield. It was impossible to tell if anyone sat in the
vehicle. "I'll go see if he's still here. He might need a lift."

She left her cane in the car and limped the few steps to the driver's
side of the Explorer. "Clayton?" Sid called.

The SUV's door jerked open and a red-faced and angry Clayton Griffin
moved quickly toward Sid.

Nick flinched. It was the rancher at The New Sheridan who wanted
to "read Sid the riot act" and stop tomorrow's negotiations. Clayton
Griffin!

"You bitch!" Clayton bellowed, rushing at Sid. He shoved her with
such force that the store owner stumbled and fell backward. Her body
hit the gravel with a resounding thud that knocked the breath right
out of her.

The white-haired attorney stood over a dazed Sid and continued his
tirade, wagging a finger in her face. "You should have died right
here four months ago. That yellow truck? I drove it, you idiot."

"Hey!" Nick yelled. "Stop. . ." He fumbled with the car door and
hopped out.

"No, *you* stop. Don't move," said a cold voice. Nick stopped short.
It was Nancy Harding, part viper, part witch. She had gotten out of
Clayton's SUV and now stood by its hood, pointing the long barrel of
a hunting rifle at Nick's chest. He froze, holding his hands up and
away from his body in a reconciliatory stance.

At the same moment, Clayton manhandled a woozy Sid to a standing
position and shook her like a rag doll.

"No outsiders! You will not sell to outsiders. You shouldn't sell at
all!" Clayton shook her forcefully with each word that he
uttered. "What part do you not understand?"

Sid looked at Clayton with hazy, unfocused eyes.

Nick's mind reeled as he watched Clayton shake a very confused Sid.
Could he rush Nancy before she pulled the trigger? Should he dodge a
bullet and rush Clayton? He knew he would have to disable Nancy
before he could get Sid away from Clayton Griffin.

He tried to make eye contact with Nancy Harding. "You don`t want to
do this," Nick said with an air of practiced calm. "Put the gun down,
we`ll talk."

Nancy cackled derisively. Nick realized his plea had fallen on deaf
ears, so he turned his attention to Clayton. "Leave her alone," he
yelled.

"Oh, shut up," Nancy snarled. She cocked her weapon and cradled its
butt on her shoulder, finger on the trigger. "Haven't you gotten it
through your thick, arrogant skull? Sid is *not* going to sell.
Yippee-Yi-Yo stays locally owned."

"Okay, she doesn't have to sell," Nick said lightly, hands still in
the air, trying to sound cooperative, trying to defuse this vile
woman`s nasty temper. Nick's game face masked his growing fear. He
hoped she would listen to reason.

Nick's attempt to calm Nancy Harding failed royally. She swaggered,
moving a little closer to the young man with a menacing gleam in her
eye, the rifle still aimed at Nick's chest.

Nick was breathing heavily now and he felt an overwhelming urge to
run — the old "flight or fight" adrenaline was pumping through his
body overtime. But where could he go? He looked around for a quick
escape route. To his left was the steep ravine he knew so well. In
front of him stood a gun-toting Nancy Harding. There was no room to
retreat; the pullout was too small. The convertible blocked a hasty
run toward the highway.

Nick was stuck, a sitting duck. Nancy had him in her sights. One
false move and she would pull the trigger.

He watched helplessly as Clayton continued to shake his own twisted
version of sense into Sid. "I am so sick of your hard-headed
decisions and your big plans," he growled. "You're not protecting
Telluride, your company, your employees . . . so I will. Say goodbye,
Sid. You`re going over the edge."

"No!" Nick shouted with heightened alarm. "You can't do that. . ."
He took a couple of small steps toward Nancy. There had to be
something he could do, but what?

It was horrifying. The angry lawyer grabbed Sid's arm and began to
drag her toward the edge of the pullout and the steep, rocky ravine.
Although she was groggy, Sid understood what Clayton intended to do.
He was planning to kill her at this horrible spot.

"No, Clayton," she said thickly. "Stop. . ." Sid glanced at Nick with
terror-filled eyes and began to struggle, digging her heels into the
gravel, trying to pull away from the attorney who she'd trusted for
so long.

"You're next, asshole," screeched Nancy in Nick's direction. "We
don't want any witnesses, do we?" Nancy licked her lips, enjoying
her power and anticipating the violence that would soon occur. Nick
Fallin had been a thorn in her side long enough. It would be fun to
watch him squirm before she killed him.

Nick ignored Nancy completely. Attempting to communicate with her was
impossible. He spoke to Clayton Griffin again. Maybe he would listen
this time.

"Mr. Griffin, stop this," Nick pleaded, inching a bit closer to
Nancy, still calculating the best way he could disarm her and then
overpower Clayton.

Clayton ignored Nick and continued his rant. "Everybody in town knows
you're fearful of this pullout and that you're depressed about your
leg. Poor, mixed-up Sid! At least you changed your will and left the
company to Nancy and me before you committed suicide."

Nick shook his head in disbelief. < So that was it. > Clayton
Griffin had explained it, gathering up the loose ends of this mess
and tying them into a neat and deadly bow. Clayton and Nancy didn't
want to simply control Triple Y behind the scenes — Sid was too
smart, she would have discovered their treachery somehow. No, this
greedy pair planned to get rid of Sid altogether and own Triple Y
outright.

< And get rid of me, too. >

"Mr. Griffin," Nick started again," you won't get away with this. . ."

"And you — " Clayton glared at a wide-eyed Nick. "You messed up a
perfectly good murder in February. You won't get in my way this
time," he snapped.

Sid's struggle with Clayton Griffin was useless. The angry man was
large enough to simply overpower her. When he yanked Sid forward, she
stumbled and fell again, this time between the two cars, much closer
to Nick, much closer to the edge of the pullout and the steep
ravine.

Nick could not see Sid now, but he could hear her moaning
softly. "Clayton, don't. . ."

Clayton jerked the unfortunate owner to a standing position again and
shoved her to the very edge of the pullout — the spot Sid feared
most. Nick held his breath when he saw the toes of her cowboy boots
teetering at the precipice. Pieces of gravel flew off the edge and
danced down the ravine ominously, bouncing off larger, chunky rocks.

"N – no, C-Clayton," Sid stammered in a stronger, clearer voice. She
was breathing heavily, staring down at the ledge where she had been
stranded four months earlier. She steadied herself, putting most of
her weight on her good leg.

Nick watched fearfully as Sid slowly turned and faced her attacker
with a look of grim determination. It pained him to see one side of
her face covered with abrasions made by her fall on the sharp gravel.

Sid slowly pushed her hair off her face. Nick was amazed at how calm
she looked. There was no way she could be. The heels of her cowboy
boots were hanging over the rim of the pullout.

It was quite a strain to stand like that; the tightened muscles in
Sid's injured leg were shrieking in protest. She knew she could lose
her balance at any moment and fall down the steep slope, Clayton
Griffin or no Clayton Griffin.

"I am not *falling* down there again," Sid spat angrily, her jaw
jutting out in defiance. "If you want Triple Y, you're going to have
to push me."

Dr. Sidney Hunter was a spitfire, saying what she meant with style
and resounding strength, even if it was the last sentence she might
utter.

A look of total surprise crossed the older attorney's face. This
impossible woman was much more resilient than he'd thought. He was
sure she'd be a quivering coward here at the pullout, so frightened
that he could easily force her over the edge.

What Nick observed next took his breath away. Clayton stared at Sid
for a long, heated moment. The deranged man's eyes narrowed, his face
contorted into a look of hatred and bitter resentment. "Then I`ll
kill you right now, you bitch!" he screamed.

All hell broke loose. The warped attorney lunged at Sid, covering the
small space between them in just a couple of steps. At the same
moment, Sid threw herself forward and a little to the right. She lay
in a heap on the gravel near Nick's feet. Every muscle in her body
ached and her heart was beating a million miles an hour. Sid felt her
awareness unravel bit by bit, until she finally blacked out.

It was too late for Clayton Griffin. He was unable to stop his
forward movement. Nick watched as the demented man lost his balance
and disappeared from sight, falling down the steep slope.

"Clayton!" screamed Nancy. The shrew dashed toward the edge of the
pullout. Nick was ready. He sprang, tackling Nancy around the waist
in a classic football move, knocking her down and away from the rim.

Nancy held onto her weapon during her fall. She raised it over her
head and buffaloed Nick, whacking him hard just above the ear with
the butt of her rifle.

Everything became muddled for a moment. Nick saw stars. He was dazed,
momentarily disabled by the sharp blow to his head. He was aware of
laying in a heap atop an armed and screaming Nancy Harding, but he
simply could not move.

Nick felt Nancy extract herself from his limp form, rolling him onto
his back in the process. His vision was blurry. Was that crazy
woman still holding her rifle? Nick tried to shake the cobwebs from
his head to find out.

"Clayton!" the seething woman screamed again. She took several steps
to the rim and peered over the edge. He was down there alright, some
fifteen feet below the highway, having landed on Sid's ledge. Clayton
Griffin was very still and did not answer Nancy's call.

The enraged woman turned back to Nick and aimed the loaded rifle at
his chest. Nick covered his face with one arm and held the other out
in a desperate attempt to protect himself from gun fire.

He heard the gun go off. Nick closed his eyes and waited for the
bullet to tear into his flesh. But it didn't.

Nick opened his eyes and sat up, confused. His head throbbed, but he
found he was able to focus. He saw Derek Claussen running from a
white car that was now blocking the highway, gun in hand.

Nancy Harding lay on the gravel between Nick and Sid, moaning,
suffering from a gunshot wound to her shoulder.


End Part Six


 
The Need To Know, Part 7

"Don't move! Stay where you are, " Derek Claussen yelled as he ran
toward the pullout from his white unmarked car. Nick Fallin cringed.
It wasn't the first time he'd heard that command today; he certainly
hoped it would be his last.

He stayed seated on the gravel, holding up his hands and hunching his
shoulders as if to say, `I didn't do anything wrong.' His head was
already throbbing thanks to Nancy's rifle butt.

Nick looked at the deranged woman, laying on the ground just a few
feet away. She'd come dangerously close to falling down the slope
when Derek had shot her. Now she was crying dramatically, incensed
that she'd been wounded, upset that no one was checking on Clayton
Griffin, and angry that their plans to own Triple Y had been ruined.
The rifle lay easily within her reach.

Derek approached Nancy, keeping his weapon aimed at her. He quickly
nudged the hunting rifle away with his boot and then peeked over the
rim to confirm Clayton Griffin's location.

Chief Claussen glanced first at Sid and then at Nick, his gun still
trained on Nancy. "You guys okay?" he asked urgently. "Sid, you
alright?"

The store owner did not respond. She lay on her stomach, her head
near the front tire of Nick's convertible.

Derek looked Nick. "You okay?"

The young man nodded silently. He was still fuzzy after Nancy's
sudden attack. When she'd buffaloed him, the butt of her rifle must
have sliced his scalp over his ear. He could feel the warm blood
trickling down his head and neck.

"Here," Derek said, pitching his handkerchief to Nick. "You're
bleeding. Put some pressure on that wound."

Derek's attention was pulled back to a moaning Nancy Harding. "Help
is on the way," Derek said in an official police tone. He checked out
her shoulder. "It's not that bad, Nancy. In the mean time, you're
under arrest."

As Derek read Nancy her rights, Nick stood and walked over to Sid on
wobbly legs.

"Sid, it`s over." Nick knelt by the unconscious woman. One side of
her face was planted in the gravel, the other side covered by her
dirt-filled hair. He gently pushed the ringlets out of her
face "Sid?" he asked quietly, concern in his voice.

Her eyes fluttered and finally opened. She stared blankly and tried
to push Nick away. "Stop it, Clayton," she moaned. The anguish on
her face showed the battle she was still fighting with Clayton
Griffin.

Nick pressed his lips together and glanced quickly at Derek, unsure
about what to do next. The police chief was still busy with Nancy
Harding.

He tried again, shaking her arm. "Sid, it`s. . .it's Nick."

Her eyes finally focused. "Nick?" she murmured.

"Everything is okay. It's over," he said softly, helping the red-head
roll over and then sit up. Tiny drops of blood oozed from the
abrasions on her face, giving Sid a surrealistic, lop-sided
appearance.

As he helped her to a standing position, shrill sirens sounded in the
distance. More police cars and an ambulance were on their way to the
pullout.

********
The ambulance soon left with a squalling Nancy Harding and a tough-
looking police woman. The San Miguel Rescue team had just arrived to
retrieve Clayton Griffin's body. Derek had taken preliminary
statements from Sid and Nick and was now sending the duo to
Telluride's tiny medical center for a thorough check-over.

"I've got a few things to wrap up here," Derek said to them,
closing the cruiser's door. "I'll meet you at the clinic in a little
while." He directed his next comment to the police officer behind the
wheel. "Keep a close eye on them. Sid and Mr. Fallin could still be
targets. Others might still be involved."

As the cruiser sped its passengers to the clinic, Nick continued to
press Derek's handkerchief on the cut over his ear. He had a wicked
headache, thanks to that wound. He was very glad to be leaving the
pullout, but did not look forward to informing the clinic's doctors
about his flirtation with cocaine. He did not like sharing this
information. If it were up to him, Sid would never know about his
electric past.

Sid must have been glad to leave, too. She'd been very stoic when
answering Derek's innumerable questions. She'd planned on staying
strong, for her own sanity if nothing else. But after they left the
pullout, her faηade crumbled. Sid covered her face with both hands
and wept quietly.

Nick had no idea how to console her. It made him uncomfortable
watching Sid cry, so he decided to simply ignore her. He stared at
the floor of the car and then shifted his gaze out the window. Sid
continued crying softly, her shoulders shuddering, her fragile
emotions overriding her need to be strong.

Much to his surprise, Nick found he could not ignore her. He started
to say something - anything - and then hesitated. < What could I say
to calm her, to make her stop crying? Nothing. There's nothing I
could say. >

Were her tears a reaction of delayed fear or sheer relief? Either
way, it didn't matter. She was crying just the same. Nick sighed. He
wordlessly wrapped his arm around her, pulled her close, and
awkwardly patted her shoulder. Sid cried all the way to the clinic.

********

"Both of you are staying at my place," Derek Claussen
announced. "You`ll be safe there."

Nick and Sid were sitting in the waiting room of the clinic, having
been checked out by the medical center's doctor, treated, and finally
released.

"Derek, that`s crazy," Sid said wearily. She was on the other side of
her crying jag and was now feeling physically and emotionally
spent. "You live in a one-bedroom apartment. There's not enough
room."

"Well, I'm not going to let you go to that big old house of yours all
by yourself. And Nick shouldn't stay at The New Sheridan. It's too
public."

Nick started to protest, but Sid cut him off.

"We'll all get a better night's sleep if we go to my house," she said
flatly. "There's plenty of room. If anything does happen — and I
don't think it will — you'll still be right there."

"Okay," Derek agreed reluctantly. What she suggested did make more
sense.

Derek sent an officer to retrieve Nick's suit bag and briefcase. The
night was quite black as the trio headed down Colorado Avenue. They
stopped by Yippee-Yi-Yo to pick up Sid's spare house key, and then
continued to the redhead's refurbished Victorian home.

********

"Would either of you like something to drink? A beer? A glass of
wine?" As worn out as she was, Sid still played hostess, welcoming
Derek and Nick into her home.

"I don't drink," responded Nick, slipping his hands in his
pockets. "Water will be fine." Derek opted for a long-neck beer and
Sid poured herself a glass of Merlot.

"Nice house." Nick was impressed. The furnishings oozed casual
elegance and Sid's attention to detail was flawless.

"When I decorated, I kept renters at the front of my mind," she
commented. "My family pictures and personal stuff are at my cabin in
Delores. . .my *real* home."

Nick remembered that Sid rented the house every ski season. And what
a house it was. He was sure she demanded — and received — top
dollar, businesswoman that she was.

Yet right now, Sid did not feel like a businesswoman. She did not
feel much of anything, just. . . empty. Too much had happened
today. Her brain had switched from overdrive to neutral. She sipped
her wine in silence.

Everyone was tired but felt the need to put some sort of closure on
the events of the day. For Nicholas Fallin, questioning Derek
Claussen was at the top of his agenda. They settled in the den on
butter-colored leather sofas.

"You followed us in the white car today," Nick began quietly, looking
straight at Derek.

The police chief nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. He took
a long pull from the beer bottle. "Actually, we've been tailing Sid
ever since she got out of the hospital."

"What? I thought you dismissed that police guard." This was news to
Sid.

"I let the one in Montrose go, but I've had you followed since the
wreck."

"I didn't know. And you didn`t tell me?" Her jaw dropped as she
shook her head in disbelief.

"You didn't need to know. I wanted you to just go about your normal
business."

Sid stared into her glass of Merlot, mulling this statement over.
<I didn't need to know? Why not? >

Nick continued his questions to Derek in a smooth, lawyerly
tone. "You thought something might happen during negotiations?" He
took a sip of water and waited for Derek's response.

"Something like that. Whoever drove the yellow truck wasn't finished
with Sid. She upped the ante when she decided to sell, so I waited
for someone to make the next move. I just didn't know when that
would be."

Derek continued filling Nick in. "You're the one who clued me in on
Nancy Harding."

"Well, I'm glad I did." Nick had never met a more grating woman. The
cut over his ear would remind him of Nancy for some time to come.

"What about Nancy, Nick?" she asked incredulously. This was more new
information for Sid.

"She told me to go back to Pittsburgh and forget about negotiating."

"When? Why? That's not her decision to make, it`s mine." It was hard
for Sid to digest that Nancy — her trusted CPA and supposed friend —
was involved in this mess. Yet she'd seen the woman holding a rifle
on Nick at the pullout and cackling like a wicked witch.

Derek propped his feet on an ottoman, crossing his cowboy boots at
the ankle. "Nick told me about Nancy's rude behavior just after the
wreck last February. I put a tail on her as well. It didn't take long
to discover that Nancy and Clayton were seeing each other secretly.
And Scott didn't have a clue."

< Neither did I. > Sid was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Clayton usually came to the store when Nancy was there alone." He
tilted his head at Sid. "While you were at the Heritage Center. We
think that's when they did most of their planning."

Suddenly someone banged on screen door. Everybody jumped.

"Get down and stay down," Derek directed in a loud whisper. He moved
swiftly and quietly toward the front door, hand on the butt of his
weapon.

Nick and Sid dove behind the sofa. They were both jumpy already, and
this fright added another insult to their nerves. They waited
silently for the next round of trouble.

"Who is it?" Derek yelled gruffly.

"It's Officer Tompkins, sir. I've got Mr. Fallin's luggage and
briefcase."

Derek breathed a loud sigh of relief and opened the door. Nick and
Sid popped up from behind the sofa, feeling nervous — and relieved.

********
It had been a long and very weird day. This latest scare told Sid
that it was time to stop, take a hot bath, and then get some much
needed rest.

"You can sleep in here, Nick," she said tiredly, stopping at the door
of a guest room. "It's quiet and doesn't get the morning sun."

She'd already given the room in the center of the hall to Derek. The
police chief had quickly said good night and continued talking on his
cell phone about search warrants and Clayton Griffin`s office.

"Thank you," Nick said, entering the room and gently rubbing his
throbbing head. "This is very nice."

The guest room had been decorated with male guests in mind. Darkly
stained hardwood floors gleamed under Native American scatter rugs.
Western-style furnishings and vintage accessories gave the room a
comfortable yet rugged feel.

Nick put his belongings on the bed and returned to the doorway. "Are
you going to be alright?" he asked attentively. It was easy to see
the shock in Sid's weary eyes.

"I'll be fine. I just need to get a good night`s sleep. And I know
you do, too," she murmured. Fatigue was overtaking her quickly.

She softly grazed his lips with a quick kiss. "Good night, Nick."
Sidney Hunter turned and slowly limped to her bedroom at the other
end of the hall.

********
Sid didn't fall asleep right away. Too much had happened. She tried
to corral her thoughts, but they were all over the place. She did
know she was glad to be home and thankful to be safe. She was
grateful that Derek had followed them.

< And I'm very pleased that Nick is here. >

She enjoyed spending time with Nick Fallin. It felt right. Very right.

********
Nick took a long, hot shower and then eased into the bed.

< Ahh, this feels so good. >

He could not go to sleep. Nick's mind was reeling over the events of
the day. The pounding in his head was relentless. He wondered if he
would get a lump on his head *every* time he visited Telluride.

As he lay there, eyes wide open, he thought about Larry Barton's
deal. It was sure to be postponed again. Sid had lost her company's
attorney and CPA. She'd no doubt fire Scott Harding, too. He'd
claim that he didn't know about Nancy and Clayton's subterfuge, but
was the man *that* stupid? Nick made a mental note to call his
father in the morning and fill him in on the latest mess he and Sid
had gotten into.

Sid. She was so close – just down the hall. < Alone.> He fought the
urge to creep down there, take her in his arms, and make love to her
the rest of the night. But with Derek sleeping in the bedroom next
to Sid`s, Nick was compelled to ignore his sexual urges —
temporarily, anyway.

He finally fell asleep, but it was not a restful night. He tossed and
turned, his brain working overtime. When he did sleep, he dreamed
vividly about yesterday's horrible event. . . and the softness of
Sid's lips.


********
Coffee soon drifted into Nick's dreams. Mmmm, a jolt of hot caffeine
would taste really good. He was happily drinking espresso and
laughing with Nancy Harding —–

His eyes flew open. < That's not a dream, that's a nightmare! >

The coffee's aroma wasn't a dream, either. It was real enough and
wafting from Sid's kitchen. Nick rolled over and checked his watch.
It was very early. Still half an hour or so before dawn.

< Is Derek getting ready to go to work or did Sid have a sleepless
night, too? >

He got dressed and quietly padded down the hall in search of coffee.
When he came around the corner he saw Sid, staring out the kitchen
window. Nick did not interrupt; he stood at the door, watching her.

She was wrapped in a faded blue robe and her curls were pulled into a
messy ponytail. Tiny pink abrasions covered one side of her swollen
face. As she stared out the window, she played absent-mindedly with a
stray ringlet at the nape of her neck, twirling it between her
fingers.

Nick suddenly felt like an intruder. He stuck his hands in his
pockets and studied the highly polished wooden floor for a few
moments, hoping Sid would notice that he was there and invite him in.
He exhaled a slow sigh and shifted his weight, shyly casting another
glance at the red-haired beauty.

The sigh snapped Sid out of her deep thoughts. She turned to find
Nick bashfully lingering at the door.

"Come in. You're up awfully early," she drawled.

"So are you."

"You could have slept late."

"I couldn't," Nick said with a small smile. "That coffee smells too
good." He walked to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup.

"Short night, huh?" Sid asked. She looked tired, but seemed more
focused than last night.

"Yeah," Nick agreed. He leaned against by the counter, sipping the
coffee and enjoying this private moment with Sid. They hadn't really
been alone together since they had stopped at the pullout.

Sid lurched over to the counter to pour herself a second cup of
coffee and accidentally brushed up against Nick. Her brief touch
brought his desire for her closer to the surface than he was ready to
admit. Nick Fallin grasped his coffee cup tightly and stared at the
brown liquid in a concentrated effort to get his sexual urges under
control.

"I tossed and turned all night trying to think things through," she
finally said, giving Nick a tiny smile.

Nick nodded with understanding and sipped his coffee. < I tossed and
turned, too, and not just because of Clayton Griffin. >

Sid limped back to her spot by the window, very aware of the
inadvertent sparks that had ignited the young man standing in her
kitchen. She had felt them, too.

He joined her at the window and stood close, enjoying the lemony
scent of her skin. The sun was beginning to rise.

"Let's go sit on the patio," Sid whispered. "It's a little chilly,
but I don't want to wake up Derek."

Nick nodded in complete agreement; he wanted be alone with Sid as
long as possible.

The morning air was brisk but tolerable. It was quiet except for the
cheery birds flitting in and out of Sid's small backyard. The
landscape reflected her passion for high-altitude gardening and the
vista was stunning — her backyard was ringed with tall mountains, as
was all of Telluride.

After settling down at the patio table, Sid looked Nick in the eye,
shook her head, and sighed. "I've got to create something positive
out of this mess or I'll go crazy."

Nick was silent, but attentive. He furrowed his brow, wondering what
she would say next.

"I'm afraid of what Nancy's done with my financials over the past few
months. I'll have to hire a forensic CPA to go over my books. And
evidently Clayton's re-done my will without my knowledge. Who knows
what else he`s done behind my back?" Sid shook her head in
disgust. "I'm going to fire Scott, too."

She rested her chin on her hand. "What a mess. I've lost my senior
management team and almost got killed by my own attorney."

Nick studied this woman with fascination. How could she be this
calm, this together, this focused — after everything that happened
yesterday?

Sid continued. "I was going to sell the company to Larry Barton,
insisting that Scott and Nancy be given long-term contracts. My
vision for Yippee-Yi-Yo would stay intact because they helped me
grow the company from the very beginning. I can't just leave it to
complete strangers, Nick. My company is like. . ." She fumbled for
the perfect words and shrugged. "It's like my baby."

Nick rubbed his chin and then leaned over, speaking in a very
confidential tone. "You don't have to leave your stores to strangers,
and you can still sell."

Sid raised her eyebrows. "How?"

"I know you want to sell Triple Y. I can structure a deal where you
can quietly sell to Larry Barton and still be in the loop. No one in
Telluride would ever have to know. You'd still do the same things as
you do now, only you'd be working for Larry as president of the
Triple Y division."

< And you'd have to come to Pittsburgh occasionally, too. >

She nodded, digesting what Nick had suggested. Could she do that?
Let someone else own her company and still work for Yippee-Yi-Yo?

"I'll think about it. But for now, the negotiations are postponed —
again." She shook her head in wonderment. "Nick, how could this
happen — twice?"

He shrugged. "We just went for a ride yesterday."

"Well, it was a hell of a ride!" the curlytop laughed with that
deep, rich, laugh that Nick appreciated so much. He soon found
himself chuckling, too.

They stopped mid-laugh when they heard footsteps on the old kitchen
floor.

"Good morning," interrupted a bleary-eyed Derek Claussen. He was
already dressed and standing at the French doors holding a cup of
coffee.

Nick heaved a big sigh and gazed at Sid with a mixture of frustration
and longing. Their private time was over.

"What are you two doing outside?" The police chief fussed. "It might
be dangerous out there."

Nick and Sid suddenly felt very self-conscious and vulnerable. Even
though her beautiful back yard was surrounded by a tall privacy
fence, unwelcome eyes could be peering through it — or over it. They
both stood and scurried inside.



End Part Seven

The Need To Know, Part 8

Derek continued fussing as Nick and Sid came into the
kitchen. "Listen, we don't know if others from TCA are involved, or
if this mess was planned by Clayton and Nancy alone. Both of you need
to stay *inside* the house and away from windows until we know for
sure."

Sid nodded sheepishly. It had been foolish to sit on the patio, but
who thinks about being attacked in your own back yard? She limped to
the refrigerator and peeked inside, hoping to find something that
would hit the spot for breakfast.

"I've got cream cheese and bagels, pizza, and left-over Chinese. Any
of that sound good to you guys?"

"Maybe a bagel later," Nick replied. Food was not on his mind this
morning. He still had questions for Derek. Important questions.

< When will Nancy Harding be interviewed? What about her husband,
Scott? Other TCA members? When will search warrants be issued?>

The chief declined breakfast, too, and continued to sip his hot
coffee.

"Well, I'm really hungry. Hope you fellas don't mind," Sid warned,
tightening the belt on her robe.

When she reached for the beef fried rice, Nick cringed. She ate it
straight from the container — cold — while leaning against the
counter like a flamingo, her injured leg bent at the knee and propped
on her good one.

Sid caught Nick staring at her unlikely breakfast choice. "Non-
traditional breakfast eater," she said with a grin.

While Sid ate, Derek sat with Nick at the square kitchen table and
answered his questions candidly. He would talk with Nancy this
morning; Scott was detained last night. Other TCA members would be
interviewed shortly. Search warrants should be issued later in the
morning for Clayton's home and office. Nancy's, too.

Nick was satisfied. Derek had been busy for a good portion of the
night making sure all bases would be properly covered.

Sid was still eating when the doorbell rang. She put down her fork
and stared at Derek with uneasy eyes. <Will I always feel this unsafe
when someone's at my door?>

"That's probably your new police shadow." Derek put down his coffee,
pushed his chair back and stood. He noticed Sid's expression and
squeezed her arm on his way to answer the door. "Everything's fine,"
he said reassuringly.

Derek led a police officer to the kitchen. "Nick, this is Steve
Andrews. He's my replacement for today." Nick gave the man a silent
nod and continued sipping his coffee.

"Hi, Steven," Sid murmured.

Derek checked his watch. "I'll be back this afternoon," he announced
as he grabbed his cowboy hat. "Remember. Stay inside and away from
the windows."

********

Nick found a quiet spot to work in the living room. He called his
father and told him about yesterday's events, leaving out the part
about the cut over his ear.

< No sense in upsetting Dad any more than I have to. >

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. "Are you
alright, son?" a shocked and concerned Burton Fallin finally asked.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." Nick assured his dad everyone was safe — for
the moment, anyway. He promised to call with more information when it
became available. Nick then steered the conversation to the busted
Larry Barton deal. Could the structure of the transaction be changed?

After a long discussion, Nick hung up and smiled to himself, lost in
thought. Burton had actually liked his suggestion for Sid to sell to
Larry and become a division president. After a moment, he snapped
himself back to his work. He grabbed the Three Rivers Furniture
Group files from his briefcase and got busy making notes on a legal
pad.

Sid stayed occupied in the den, fielding phone calls and re-thinking
her business plans. There was a lot of re-organizing to do now that
Clayton, Scott, and Nancy were out of the picture.

The morning passed quickly. Shortly before noon, Sid stuck her head
in the living room. "Steven is going to order sandwiches from The
Village Market. Come tell him what you'd like to eat; he's got the
menu memorized," she chuckled.

Nick put down his work, glad for a break, glad to spend some time
with Sid. As they walked together toward the kitchen, she stopped at
the hall leading to the bedrooms.

"I've already placed my order, Nick. I'm going to take a bath and
lay down for a while. Why don't you order your sandwich and eat lunch
with Steven? I'll catch up with you later this afternoon."

Nick did not reply. The young attorney slipped his hands in his
pockets, studied his shoes for a moment, and then watched Sid limp
down the hall. He stroked the back of his head and made his way to
the kitchen.


********
"The Village Market makes the best sandwiches in town," Steve Andrews
commented.

Nick had to agree. His roast beef sandwich was piled a mile high
between tasty slabs of freshly baked sourdough bread. The two men sat
at the kitchen table and enjoyed their hearty meal.

"Have you known Sid long?" Nick asked.

"I've known her since she set up shop here."

With a little prodding, Nick got the police officer to tell him about
Sid's early years in Telluride. She'd inherited money from her
grandmother and used it to open her first store. The locals had
snubbed her and made things difficult the first couple of years. Sid
had persevered, her company had flourished, and she'd finally made
believers – if not friends – out of her enemies. She'd become a
leader in the community, and her decision to sell Triple Y had hit
the town like a avalanche.

"Why does she want to sell?" Nick wondered out loud. "Her stores are
highly profitable."

Steven shrugged. "She told my wife her heart belonged to archeology,
not retail. Maybe she's just sick of it. Have you asked her?"

Nick pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I don't really
need to know why, unless it impacts the purchase."

********
Derek returned to the house mid-afternoon, looking very
pleased. "Where's Sid?"

"Sleeping," Nick replied quietly.

"I need to take your official statements. Then I have some
interesting information to share."

After Nick finished his statement, Derek's cell phone rang. "I've
got to take this," he said, checking the number on the display
screen. "Would you mind waking Sid? I want her statement next."

"Sure." Nick walked down the hall to Sid's bedroom. He knocked on
her door tentatively.

"Sid?"

There was no answer. He cracked open the door and poked his head
inside. "Sid?" he called again softly.

Still no answer. Sid was sound asleep, laying on an antique iron bed
with her back to the door.

Nick took a couple of steps inside and looked around her bedroom,
appreciating its design. A floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace dominated
the wall opposite Sid's bed. A third wall featured south-facing
French doors that allowed extraordinary sunlight into the room
throughout the day. Beyond the doors, a lush private patio and
outdoor hot tub awaited guests.

Nick approached the sleeping woman quietly and drew a short breath
when he saw ugly, fingerprint-sized bruises encircling her upper arm.

He touched her shoulder. "Sid?"

"Huh," she answered thickly.

Nick stepped back, crossed his arms, and looked around the
room. "Sid?"

She rolled over and cracked open her eyes. "What is it?" she slurred.

"Derek's back and wants to talk with you." Nick averted his eyes,
pressed his lips, and then stole a look at Sid.

She covered her face with both hands, and groaned. As she sat up, a
spaghetti strap from her dark blue nightgown fell off her shoulder.

Nick couldn't help but notice the dangling strap — and the matching
ring of bruises on her other arm.

She caught him staring. "Bruising, compliments of Clayton Griffin,"
Sid grimaced.

Nick furrowed his brows. <I didn't know she had bruises. Not like
this.>

Sid ran her fingers through her red spirals and snapped herself into
focus. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

She hauled herself out of bed and patted Nick on the arm. "Thanks,
Nick," she said with a tiny smile, locking her eyes with his.

There was a long pause. The electricity between them was intense.

"You`re welcome," Nick finally whispered. He watched as she limped
off to the closet in search of clothes.

< That limp is also compliments of Clayton Griffin. And you still
have to undergo another round of surgery. Compliments of Clayton
Griffin. >

********

Sid grabbed her sandwich from the kitchen and padded barefoot into
the living room. Napping had been time well spent. She had been able
to gather her thoughts about her business problems. Should she sell
to Larry Barton and become his employee? She still wasn't sure. But
she was confident that she would figure that out, too — and soon.

Dressed in a tank top and paint-spattered overalls, she did not look
the part of a successful business owner. But looking and feeling were
two different things. Because Sidney Hunter, now that she was awake,
felt refreshed, energized, and ready to do business.

< I`m bouncing back a lot quicker than I thought. >

"Derek, how'd it go?" she asked curiously. She peeled back the waxed
wrapper and took a big bite of her corned beef sandwich.

"I'll tell you after I take your statement," he answered with a
jovial gleam in his eye. "Nick, will you excuse us?"

"Sure." Nick walked to the kitchen and got a glass of water,
wondering how long Sid's statement would take.

It didn't take long. She quickly gave Derek her official version of
events at the pullout and called Nick back into the living room.

Derek began, first glancing at Nick and then focusing on Sid. "Nancy
knows it's all over. When she found out search warrants were issued
for her office, Clayton's office, and their financial accounts, she
was very forthcoming. The IRS is gonna love Nancy
Harding."

Sid's brow furrowed. "She messed with my books?" she asked
incredulously.

Derek nodded. "Looks like you've been supporting Clayton's gambling
and Nancy's drug habit for quite some time."

"What?" Sid put her sandwich down. She was no longer hungry.

"Nancy's been shifting money out of Triple Y and into a private
account for about three years. Seems like Clayton got in deep playing
high-stakes poker and owes money to a loan shark. . .who's also been
providing Nancy with coke. If you sold your company, their piggybank
would dry up."

"How much did she embezzle? My books have been audited every
year . . ." Sid trailed off, unable to complete her sentence.

"Two sets of books, Sid. You didn't miss any money because your
business continued to make a good profit. Nancy was smart – she just
skimmed off some of the excess. And there was *lots* of excess.
Obviously you've made a hell of a lot more money over the years than
you thought. You'll know more after you hire a forensic CPA."

"I've got one coming in next week," Sid said in a tiny voice. Nothing
could have prepared her for what Derek was saying. This was too
unreal. Sid held her head in her hands and shuddered. "I wonder how
much money I have left?"

There was a long pause. Finally Nick spoke. "Clayton and Nancy
planned all this themselves? Not TCA?"

"Clayton *was* very upset that Sid would sell to an outsider, as are
many members of TCA. It was logical to be suspicious of them.
Clayton Griffin was clever; TCA served as the perfect scapegoat. But
this show belonged solely to Clayton, Nancy . . . and their bad
habits."

Sid's stomach sank. Her face told it all – she was heartsick. All
that hard work, and for what? For Clayton to gamble it away and Nancy
to snort it up her nose?

< How did I not see this happening? >

"What about the yellow truck?" Nick asked quietly, stealing a glance
at a very disheartened Sid.

"The loan shark arranged for it to be stolen in Denver and delivered
to Delores. Clayton planned to run Sid off the road himself last
February. He followed her all the way from the Heritage Center."

"From the Heritage Center?" Sid was numb. She didn't remember seeing
a yellow truck following her that day. But then, she didn't notice
Derek's white car, either. < And that was just yesterday. >

"Security tapes show a yellow truck leaving the Heritage Center
parking lot just after you pulled out. We were unable to ID the
driver from the videotape, but the plates matched the one abandoned
at the airport."

"But the truck looked like it was out of control on the curve,
sliding across an ice patch. . . could Clayton drive that well?"
Nick asked.

"I imagine so. We all have to know how to drive on these mountain
roads."

"After Nick and I were rescued, Clayton and Nancy backed off. Since I
postponed selling to Larry Barton, their cash cow stayed in place.
And then last week I decided to sell." Sid shook her head in
disgust.

"Clayton was freaking out," Clayton explained. "He was desperate to
stop the negotiations. That's why he called you guys back to
Telluride early yesterday. If Sid sold the company, his carefully
planned future with Nancy would collapse. If Sid
were `accidentally' killed at the pullout, Triple Y would be his —
because he re-wrote her will. You were just in the wrong pullout at
the wrong time, Nick — just icing on the cake."

Sid stared blankly at Derek. < I just thought I'd bounced back. This
is awful. >

********

It was time for Nick to leave. He was taking the last plane of the
day from Montrose. He'd just have time to drive the sixty miles,
check in his rental car, and catch his plane.

Sid watched Nick wistfully as he gathered his papers from the desk in
the living room.

< He's extremely smart. Deliciously handsome. And the way he kisses
me. . . >

She yearned to spend more time with this man. More private time,
away from any thoughts of business.

Nick placed his luggage and briefcase by the door. "Derek, may I have
a moment with Sid alone, please?"

Derek paused before answering. He looked at Sid and Nick with new
eyes, sensing an intimate connection he'd not recognized
before. "Sure," he finally said in a surprised voice. He left and
walked to the kitchen, glancing at the two before closing the door.

Nick watched the kitchen door close before speaking. "I just wanted
to say good-bye," he said quietly.

"It seems like you are always leaving," Sid sighed. "Just once I'd
like you to visit Telluride without something awful happening."

"I think something great happened on this trip." His voice was silky
as he wrapped his arms around her.

Nick held her tightly for a moment, enjoying the feel of her body and
how the curve of her breasts flattened against his chest. He leaned
over and kissed her tenderly at first and then more urgently. It
would be a kiss he would long remember when he was back in
Pittsburgh.

Then he drew back and tilted his head. "When is your operation?"

"In two weeks."

"I'll call you," he said sincerely, giving her a short nod.

Sid smiled, believing that he meant well. . . but that he probably
wouldn't call. < He didn't last time. >

********
Derek watched from the living room window as Sid walked Nick to his
car. The two seemed to be in a serious conversation.

< Probably something about business. I hope. >

As Nick drove away, Sid waved from her porch. When she turned to
come inside, Derek noticed the expression on her face. It was a
thoughtful look, yet a small glimpse of hope twinkled in her eye. Was
it because she was attracted to Nick or because she had made a
decision about Triple Y?

< Or both? >


********
After he was seated on the small puddle-jumper that would take him to
a connecting flight in Denver, Nick pulled the Triple Y file from his
briefcase. He studied it briefly and then began writing notes.

As the plane took off, he watched the twinkling lights of Montrose
grow smaller. < Another wild trip to Telluride. > But this time was
different. He'd gotten to know Sid a bit more, again under stressful
circumstances.

Sid. She was an amazing, complicated woman. And an astute business
owner. As she'd walked him to his car, she'd told him that she'd
come to a decision. After the forensic CPA had straightened out the
company books, she'd sell her company to Larry and become a division
president. And after recovering from her next round of surgery, Sid
would come to Pittsburgh to close the deal.

Nick smiled to himself. He'd won.




To Be Continued in Suzanne Moore's "The Hidden Truth"