Two Days Later
Gwen, the hair stylist, held up the mirror. "How does that look?"
I frowned, trying to be objective. It wasn't a style I would have chosen for myself. I tried to take myself out of the image and imagine meeting a boy with headfur like this. Some of the boys here favored short cuts of this type, though not usually quite this short.
"If you were a femme, we'd call this a 'pixie cut'. On you, I guess we'll just say, 'windblown'."
Yeah, that about described it. I suddenly realized the frown was exactly the problem. I had always been attracted to furs who looked like they were happy about the way they were.
I looked across at Runner. His stylist, Patty, was just finishing combing out his hair, while exclaiming again how beautiful it looked. "And I don't think I've ever seen headfur this black. And the way it shines, I thought it would be greasy or oily, but it's not. It just does that on its own." Patty hadn't wanted to make any changes other than to even out the ends, just beyond shoulder length.
I smiled at Runner's continued wide-eyed wonder at everything around him.
There, I thought, looking at my own reflection again. I was right. The smile helps a lot.
I had to admit that Gwen had succeeded, in some subtle way, in making my headfur look stylish, even though it was barely an inch long anywhere. Some had been longer than that, but Gwen had needed to even it up. I grinned at Gwen, who was biting her lip. "Thanks, Gwen. You did a great job with what there was to work with."
I frowned, trying to be objective. It wasn't a style I would have chosen for myself. I tried to take myself out of the image and imagine meeting a boy with headfur like this. Some of the boys here favored pixieish cuts of this type, though not usually quite this short.
I suddenly realized the frown was exactly the problem. I had always been attracted to boys who looked as though they were satisfied with themselves as they were.
I looked across at Runner. His stylist, Patty, was just finishing combing out his hair, while exclaiming again how beautiful it looked. "And I don't think I've ever seen headfur this black. And the way it shines, I thought it would be greasy or oily, but it's not. It just does that on its own." Patty hadn't wanted to make any changes other than to even out the ends, just beyond shoulder length.
I smiled at Runner's continued wide-eyed wonder at everything around him.
There, I thought, looking at my own reflection again. I was right. The smile helps a lot.
I had to admit that Gwen had succeeded, in some subtle way, in making my hair look stylish, even though it was barely an inch long anywhere. Some had been longer than that, but Gwen had needed to even it up. I grinned at Gwen, who was biting her lip. "Thanks, Gwen. You did a great job with what there was to work with."
Gwen smiled back. "Thanks. You should come back in a couple of weeks, after it grows a little. I can do a bit more with it then." She removed the cloth from my neck.
"I'll do that." I looked across. "Are we ready to go?"
Runner gave me a blank look. "I don't know." He looked up at Patty.
Patty smiled. "All done here."
Runner grinned at me. "It didn't hurt! When I saw all that stuff," he gestured at Patty's instrument tray, "I thought it might be like..." He pantomimed Carol drawing blood from his arm with the needle.
I smiled and shook my head. "I promise I'll let you know when something might hurt. That doesn't happen very much." I looked up at Gwen again. "You heard we've got a puppyboy, right?" Puppy was with Marcus and Zuchter, experiencing some new variations on the sexual play he liked, as the two boys cemented their friendship with him.
Gwen laughed. "Yeah, I heard that. Not something I would have expected."
"Could I bring him here in a day or two? He won't exactly understand what's happening, but I can keep him calm. His hair will start out like mine just was. I want you to do this same thing to it." I indicated my new style.
Gwen grinned. "I'll give it a try."
Late Afternoon
I returned from the Dean's office, where I'd been on the phone to both Detective Reed and Ted, and found that Zuchter had moved on from letters and was now doing numerals with Runner. This was a little different for Runner, as he already knew the names for the numbers from one to nine, and now only had to learn the symbols. Runner expressed puzzlement that none of the shapes of the numerical symbols seemed to have any connection with the amounts they stood for, but accepted the explanation that once he learned them, that would never bother him again.
Runner had discarded his clothes, of course. I had done my best to explain the difference between public and private places; Runner, as usual, asked endless questions. Runner liked the softness of the cotton, but he still preferred to be naked, as he had been his entire life until a few months ago. I had assured him it was okay in a room with friends — that counted as a private place.
Runner looked up and grinned at me as I entered. "Zuchter just tried me with some of the flash cards. I knew some of the numbers."
I returned his smile. "I think you'll know all of those by the end of today." I had tried to word that carefully, avoiding implying that Runner would then know everything about all numbers. Wait until he gets to putting the digits together to make bigger numbers, I reminded myself. That might take awhile.
Reluctantly, I went on, "Are you going to be okay tonight? With me not here?" I hated to leave Runner so soon, but I really wanted to help Detective Reed trap Andrew tonight.
Runner nodded. "Marcus and Zuchter are going to take me to the caf to eat. I can work more on learning to use the..." He hesitated, frowning. "...upencils?"
I smiled. "Utensils. The fork and spoon and knife are called that." I had worked on those with Runner at breakfast and lunch.
Runner flashed the grin he always gave for new words. He would probably not forget that one again. "Then after that, Holden is going to work with me on hanging. And I want to show him the Game..." Runner was referring to the one with rocks and circles, "...and then I'll sleep with him, and he's going to show me new ways to sex."
I was so glad to have three close friends to help with Runner's education. Runner's thirst for knowledge was more than any one person could possibly quench. Gradually, as Runner came to know more of the boys, the job would be split more ways.
There was more to it than that, of course. I was anxious to make sure that all of Runner's needs could be taken care of when I was gone. I had not yet told Runner that I was planning to die within the next couple of months. I wasn't sure yet how to bring that up. Any prey anthro in my world was happy to see a friend or lover achieve a satisfying snuff, but I was uncertain how Runner would see it. Luckily Runner had learned in childhood of a prey anthro's need to become fur, but I suspected Runner might picture that happening in an indistinct far future time. I needed to feel out Runner's understanding of the subject soon.
Through the window to the courtyard, I saw Marcus with a Frisbee, playing Fetch with Puppy. Puppy showed no interest trying to catch it in his mouth, as real dogs seem to do instinctively. That was just as well: the anthro jaw wasn't really built for that. But Puppy seemed to be learning to anticipate where the Frisbee would land, galloping each time to that spot to snatch the Frisbee off the grass in his teeth and running back to Marcus with it. Once Marcus took it, Puppy would bark at him until he threw it again. Puppy sounded happy.
Puppy's needs also had to be provided for. Unlike Runner, Puppy would not be able to anticipate or understand my permanent departure. Nonetheless, I felt optimistic about Puppy's future. Puppy still showed a strong preference for the company of Runner or me if we were around, but Puppy was starting to become attached to Marcus. And Runner, of course, would be here a long time.
I held out my arms. "I'll be back tomorrow."
Runner sprang off the bed to give me a tight hug. We kissed, and I reflected on how well Runner had learned to do that — and suddenly realized it was reminding me just a little of Zuchter's kiss. Of course. Given how excited Runner gets when he's learning something, obviously he's kissed Zuchter several times today.
I rubbed my cheek against Runner's, brushed my hand down Runner's back and broke off the hug. "When I come back, tell me all about your night with Holden."
Runner nodded vigorously. "I will."
I was startled to find my lip quivering as I closed the door. I was worried about separation being hard for Runner. I didn't even think about me.
I headed for the Dean's office. Detective Reed should be there by now.
I sat beside Detective Reed in the second seat of the limo, behind Karl, the driver. I was completely out of the habit of dressing this way — the dark blue trousers and matching jacket, the white shirt, the carefully knotted tie. I'd chosen a dark blue slave choker to go with the suit. I said, "I know this restaurant, but I've never been there as a slave. Slaves are okay there, right?"
Reed nodded. "They don't mind, as long as you sort of recede into the background. Until your big moment, of course. I'll order for you. Just remember to speak only to me."
"The hard part will be not saying anything to Andrew. We'd have lots to talk about." I frowned at Reed. "I don't understand why you don't have enough to arrest him already."
Reed sighed. "He had a long time to plan, and he's been careful. We keep running into all these dead ends. We thought we'd got lucky when we traced those two femmes who took you — a married couple, by the way. They used a stolen credit card and matching fake identification at the limo rental agency, but the clerk was able to describe one of them well enough that we got a good sketch, and we got a call identifying her after her picture was put out on TV. But right away we found that she and her sister were both dead. They'd apparently used the money they got for pulling the job to stage a huge catered party, with themselves as the main event, something they'd always dreamed of. Their dads hanged them together, with the whole neighborhood watching. Kind of surprising they didn't ask you for some tips on hanging while they had you." Reed gave me a small smile, then sighed again. "Nobody in their family knew anything about where the money was from. They suspected it was something illegal, but couldn't give us anything useful even when we dangled a reward in front of them. And of course, the information that they'd taken you to Purity Island died with them too."
I shook my head. "But still, knowing it had to be Andrew..."
"Well, you can't say we exactly knew that for sure. But we checked all we could on him. His whereabouts during the kidnapping were easy to determine, and he wasn't anywhere near the action — he was actually in the hospital waiting room at the time. We checked his phone records, but whatever arrangements he made don't seem to have been done on his personal phone. Nothing actually pointed to him at all, other than what Mr. Bloom passed on to you and your Dean. That got us a warrant to search his house and dungeon, which he's now equipped as an exercise room, of all things. We wanted to get at his personal computer, but the warrant didn't cover that — invasion of privacy and all that. We were only allowed to try to look for your physical presence on his property. We got one interview with him with his lawyer present, and since then they've managed to shut us down."
"I understand Ted hired detectives on his own. Couldn't they find anything?"
"Oh!" Reed laughed. "I thought you knew. That would be me. And my staff."
"What?" I stared at him. "But you're with the police."
"I'm not employed by the police, no. But I've done a lot of work with them in the past, and they trust me. We share ideas and information. When I've been saying 'we' all along, I mean the team of people trying to find you, including police."
"But at the dock... Lieutenant Sims introduced you as 'Detective Reed.' Aren't you... I'm sorry. Isn't that like impersonating an officer, or something?"
Reed smiled. "Not at all. I am a detective. Sims has taken to introducing me that way because it adds an aura of authority. As long as he and I don't actually say I'm with the police department, it's all legal."
"I... please, don't take offense, I'm just wondering... why not have an actual, official police detective doing the work you're doing?"
"No offense taken. But when the trail got cold, I assumed a more active role. The police have other things to do. I don't. They moved on to those other things, and I stayed with this. One thing I've done is have an associate hack into Andrew's e-mail account. Nothing there worth noting. Aside from that, I've been working on learning his habits. That's how I know where he'll be eating dinner tonight. I know who his friends are, who he sees on a daily basis... I've been hoping to catch him with some shady characters, but I suspect that since the snatch, he's severed all contact with his point man, whoever it was."
I shuddered. If I hadn't had Runner's and Puppy's help, I would never have gotten onto the ship. And without the ship, it turns out that Ted would have been my only other hope. Nobody else had continued searching. A tear ran from my eye. "Thank you. I really appreciate everything you've been doing. I'll thank Ted later too."
When we arrived at the restaurant, Karl declined the offer of valet parking and drove into a nearby lot. The three of us walked to the restaurant. It was familiar: my family had occasionally eaten there in years past. It was one of the best in the city; Reed had needed Ted's influence to get a reservation on such short notice.
I carried the large overnight case that reminded me of Runner's carry-all bag. To outsiders, it looked as if I was carrying the necessities for my "master" — Reed gave a brief head-nod to a man seated nearby. I looked questioningly at Reed, who nodded back. When we arrived at our table, Reed indicated a particular chair to me. I followed slave protocol, and stood behind the indicated chair. I waited for Reed and Karl to take their seats before I did. As I sat, I put the case on the floor beside me in easy reach, its top open.
While Reed was studying the menu, he murmured to me, "Andrew's reservation is for a half-hour from now. His table is the one directly behind you." I had noticed the "reserved" sign on it. "I'll tap your thigh when he comes in. Absolutely don't turn around to watch at that point." I nodded, and Reed went on, "You're sure he won't recognize you from behind?"
I smiled and brushed my hand along the side of my head. "I can't imagine how. He's never seen my hair like this."
Reed nodded. "It helps that he'd never expect to see you here. But I just want to make sure we won't tip him off too soon."
The waiter came, and Karl ordered a huge chateaubriand steak. Reed opted for a chicken dish, and ordered an artichoke salad for me.
Reed and I tried to make small-talk while we waited for our food, but I responded absently. Later on, I couldn't remember any of what we talked about, except for one question about what I'd eaten on the island. I picked at my salad once it arrived, my heart speeding up as I waited.
I saw Reed's hand moving toward my thigh to make the Andrew-is-here signal before it got there. I heard the movement behind me, the chairs scraping the floor. I heard a female voice murmur, and clenched my fist when I heard Andrew's laugh in response. It's him! He's five feet away from me now!
Reed completed the diagram he had begun earlier on a napkin, now showing Andrew's location in relation to me.
My heart was thumping hard now; I felt sure Andrew must be able to hear it. I tried to still my shaking hands. I looked down at the napkin, then up at Reed, who gave me a quick double-blink.
I quietly reached into the overnight bag and scooped up my prop for the evening: a satellite phone, slightly battered and grimy. Reed had purchased it and banged it up for the occasion. I held it at my side, inconspicuous. Then I concentrated on a mental image of Runner, how eager Runner would be to show me what he'd learned in bed with Holden tonight. The smile, nearly a laugh, it brought to my face was just what I needed. I swung that expression around to my right, twisting in my chair to face Andrew. Andrew, his eyes drawn to the sudden movement, looked up.
The expression on his face made everything easier. The surprise, sliding down through astonishment into shock as his mind registered the impossibility of what he was seeing. His body frozen, not even breathing. The hand half-lifted off the table and then held immobile.
Across from Andrew, his date looked back and forth between Andrew and me. She was a giggly bunny in a tight red dress that showed deep cleavage. She instantly (mis)understood the situation and looked irritated.
My nervousness gave way to excitement, the grin spreading more widely across my face. My hands had stopped shaking. Andrew hadn't said anything yet, so I moved on to the next step in the script. I held up the phone, shaking it playfully, watching Andrew. I remembered Reed's warning not to say anything whatever at this point, not "Look familiar?", not "Lose something?" — just show it.
Abruptly Andrew stood up, his chair skidding across the floor behind him, and pointed at the phone. "No!! That's not the same one! You're just..." He choked off further words, his face contorted in an expression that said how much he wanted to call back the ones he'd already spoken, torn out of him by shock before his rational mind had a chance to censor them.
The restaurant was now utterly silent and still. The man Reed had nodded to earlier stood and walked over to Andrew. "Andrew Cameron, you are under arrest for grand theft and abuse of property. You have the right..."
As the cop continued speaking, I looked at Andrew's stunned blonde companion and whispered, "Is this his first arrest with you, or have you known him a while?" The bunny glared at me, transferred the glare to Andrew, threw down her napkin and stormed out.
I suddenly realized how hungry I was. The artichoke salad looked very good.
Karl stopped the limo in the circular drive in front of Ted's house. The wide double doors at the top of the steps flew open, and Ted walked out and trotted down the steps. He had a huge grin on his face. As soon as I got out of the car I found Ted's arms wrapped around me.
I hugged him in return. "Thank you so much, for everything."
Ted released his grip and smiled at me. "I heard it went well. Jase called and told me all about it."
I gave him a puzzled look. "Jase?"
Ted laughed. "I guess you didn't get that far into personal details. Jason Reed."
"Oh!" I laughed as well. "He was kind of busy telling me what to do and what not to do. He's really good, Ted. I don't think Andrew ever would have been caught without him. It didn't sound like the police were that interested."
"They are now. Based on his reaction in the restaurant to a phone that shouldn't have meant anything to him, in front of a couple dozen witnesses, they got an unlimited search warrant for his house. They can hold him while they're executing the search, but they'll probably have to let him go in the morning. There isn't enough to put him out of action for any length of time yet, but Jase is pretty sure they'll find something. Let's go inside." He put his arm around my waist and led me up the steps. Karl trailed discreetly behind.
We entered a huge living room, with one of the longest sofas I had ever seen, and walls supporting tastefully distributed artworks. I turned to Ted. "Does my dad know I'm back yet?"
"He should by now, I think. Your Dean was going to try to reach him before he got the word from Andrew. By the way, he knew all along that we had suspicions about Andrew. He wasn't happy about it, but he wanted whatever was necessary done to find you." Ted looked at me thoughtfully. "You know, he's not really as cold as I thought when I met him before. He really seems to care about you a lot."
I smiled. "He's not real demonstrative about things like that, but you're probably right. Thank you. Again."
I found myself drawn to a watercolor painting on the wall, about two feet across. It showed what looked like a woodland scene, grass, trees, and sky. One tree had a long branch that extended horizontally, about eight feet above the ground. A wolf stood in front of the tree at the left side of the scene. He wore "executioner's" garb: tight-fitting leather pants, a black fur jacket, and a military cap. A naked squirrel stood next to a low stool with an empty noose dangling above it. He was showing the wolf a piece of paper with a seal of some sort: presumably his execution order.
A second squirrel stood on a similar stool, his hands tied behind his back and a noose around his neck. He was doing his best to look serious, but his partial erection betrayed his excitement. At the right side of the picture, two more squirrels dangled by their necks. One was nearly gone; his cock was fully erect, and his legs slightly apart, but the rest of him was limp. The other was still struggling, kicking as he strangled in the noose. His bushy tail was between his legs, caressing his hard cock.
I found myself getting hard. "I'm thinking I've seen this before." The artist's name, Santos Cray, done in elaborate script at the painting's bottom right, sounded slightly familiar.
Ted came up behind me. "It's semi-famous. You've probably run across reproductions of it, one place or another. I got it at an auction. Drink? I have some white wine here, or brandy if you want something stronger."
"Oh, just some fruit juice, please. I've got so little experience with alcohol it'd probably knock me loopy in five minutes."
Karl also politely requested juice; he was on duty. Ted left the room to fetch the refreshments and returned moments later.
While Karl lounged on the sofa at Ted's invitation, Ted continued showing me around the room. We stopped for a time in front of a built-in bookcase, with hardcover editions showing Ted's strong attraction to science fiction. I'd read a few of the books in high school, and I mentioned a few others not present. Ted made notes of their titles for future reading.
After a while, Ted looked at the clock on the wall. "It's pretty late already. Karl, let me show you your room, and then I'll get Wynn settled."
I stopped suddenly in the doorway of a huge bedroom. The color scheme was a pale blue, with polished wood furniture. I looked at the enormous canopied bed that faced the window draperies. I whispered, "Ted, somebody's already sleeping in the bed."
Ted smiled and said in a normal voice, "Not sleeping, exactly. Go ahead and... well, I was going to say 'meet him,' but you've already met."
I gave Ted a deeply puzzled look, then gasped as I realized what Ted might mean. I ran to the bed and quickly yanked the cover down.
Larry, of course, still looked exactly like Zeke Hillcrest. A sleeping Zeke, his eyes closed, one hand under his pillow, the other near his hip. But I was used to seeing Larry as Zeke. I'd had weeks to adapt to his new look. I'd spent many nights in bed with Larry after his surgery, made love with him as Zeke many times.
I reached toward Larry, stopped. "May I touch him?"
Ted responded with a delighted laugh. "Wynn, I'm assuming you'd want to spend the night with him. That's really the reason I invited you here. If you do, I'll sleep in one of the guest rooms." He beamed at me. "You've been through too much shit lately. More than anybody deserves, especially you. And I feel terrible I couldn't do more to prevent that..."
I shook my head. "Stop feeling that way. You couldn't possibly have done more for me than you did."
Ted held up his hands. "Just let me offer you this, and I'll feel better." Ted walked to the bed. Larry's bare shoulder was uncovered by the bedsheets, and Ted stroked it fondly. "I sleep with him sometimes, when I don't have a partner for the night. The rest of the time I leave him hanging by the neck in the next room. I know he'd like that. They did make his neck extra-strong so I could do that." He straightened up and smiled again. "Well, I'll leave the two of you alone."
My eyes started to tear up. I threw my arms around Ted and held him tightly. "This is just one more thing to add to the list to thank you for. I can never repay you for any of it."
Ted gave me a hug in return, rubbing my back. "Just be happy. And have the hanging you've earned. I want to see that, and we'll be even." He kissed me and let go. Seconds later his footsteps clicked down the hallway beyond the door, and I was alone with my dearest friend, for the first time in over a year.
I marveled at the wonderful job Full Body Associates had done with Larry. I didn't see a seam on Larry's skin anywhere, and then I remembered that it was new skin, grown from Larry's original cells. The synthetic fur was a perfect match, in both color and texture. Underneath the skin, I knew all of Larry's meat and organs were gone, replaced with a synthetic substitute. But Larry felt exactly right. His original bones, now connected with clever hinges, moved easily with just the right amount of resistance. His fur was a little cool to the touch, but warmed quickly.
Larry had a typical subtle smile on his lips, familiar from long before he was Zeke. I gently eased Larry's eyes open with my fingertips. Larry looked as though he were lost in some pleasant daydream.
I shed my clothes and climbed into bed with Larry, and pulled him close, entangling my arms and legs with his.
I had so much I wanted to tell him.
"You're not going to believe where I've been..." I gave Larry a nearly minute-by-minute account of my ordeal and rescue from the island, my meeting with Runner, how special Runner was, how close he and I had become.
I moved on to my return. "And Runner is going to be a Hanging Boy! The Dean wants him to get his education so he can meet the entrance requirements. He's learned so much already! You should see..." I described Runner's skills with awe, and how incredibly intelligent and determined he was.
"Oh!!! And you didn't get to see Maverick's hanging! It was so great! He..." I described every detail.
The hours of the night passed. I snuggled with Larry and got him caught up on everything he had missed. At last I drifted to sleep, my body pressed against Larry's. That, too, felt just right.
The Next Morning
Ted beamed as I came into the breakfast room, freshly-showered and dressed. "How was your night?"
I leaned down to hug Ted in his chair. "Thank you so much, again. That was exactly what I needed! And I can see you're taking really good care of him."
Ted smiled. "Well, he's a very special boy. If you want to see him hanging, I can put him back up before you leave."
"I'd like that. Thanks."
After eating, we returned to the living room, leaving Karl working on a much bigger breakfast than both of ours combined.
I looked at the Santos Cray painting once more, Ted's I-don't-know-how-expensive work of art. I frowned, looking at the happy squirrels getting ready to be snuffed. Maybe they all belonged to the "executioner," and were entertaining his guests. It was an age when all prey were slaves. Like Purity Island, but somehow not at all like it. I knew that somewhere outside the frame of the painting, there were work slaves, prey anthros laboring just as hard as the ones on Purity... yet even then in those difficult times, prey had other things they could aspire to. I was sure the life of a personal serving boy was a little romanticized in the painting, but I also knew that it really had been considered a plum position — with rewards as well as duties. Even as slaves, prey did have the opportunity to rise to whatever level their abilities could take them to. And to the extent that life was hard for the work slaves, I remembered that this was all two hundred years ago. In my world, that was all in the past. On Purity Island, life was much harder for prey, more unfair, and opportunities non-existent, today.
"Ted..." I kept my eyes on the painting for a moment longer, then turned to face him. "You're rich, you live alone, you don't have kids. I know you look for ways to spend your money..." I paused; Ted stiffened and blinked in surprise, so I went on hurriedly, "...and I don't mean you're throwing it away, or wasting it, or just spending it on yourself. I'm so, so, so grateful for what you've done to help me, and not just lately. And all the boys at school love the theater you gave us. But... would you be willing to hear an idea about how you could use what you have to change the world, or at least part of the world?"
Ted seemed to relax, and gave me a smile. "Okay, I'm listening."
His eyes lit up as I explained.
Two Days Later
The Dean smiled as I entered his office, and immediately said, "I thought you'd like to know..."
My eyes widened. "Sir?" I hadn't needed to hear his introduction. I could easily read that he was bursting to pass along news. "Something about Andrew?"
The Dean nodded. "His home computer had some... useful information," he said, with an air of dry understatement. "He'd had an e-mail account nobody knew about. He'd deleted all traces of it, but of course, deleting something doesn't just make it vanish from the hard drive. Much of the correspondence had been overwritten, but fragments of a few e-mails survived, including the address itself. The City Attorney subpoenaed the entire record of correspondence from that address, and learned quite a lot about how Andrew had set up the kidnapping. There were also records in the computer's Web browser history of searches for information on drugs that can induce heart-attack symptons, including several pages on Zerlinol, which police believe may have been used on your father. It breaks down into harmless sugars within thirty minutes, so they can't say for sure, but the mere fact of Andrew looking for information about it is incriminating, given the circumstances."
I was growing increasingly excited, but automatically continued reading the Dean. "There's more."
He nodded. "One thing he apparently couldn't bring himself to delete was a video, hidden in an obscure folder, probably unfindable by anyone not looking for that specific type of file. The one of you waking up on the island."
I laughed joyously. "The idiot! He just had to keep that, of course. They can use all of that at his trial, right?"
"No trial. Andrew huddled with his lawyer all last evening, and this morning they reached a plea deal. Abuse of property." That was the term usually used when someone mistreated and/or damaged a slave not belonging to him. "Grand theft charge dropped, but that would have been a tricky one to convict him of anyway, since he never took delivery of you. Six months jail time. Three years probation after that."
I jumped to my feet and pumped a fist in the air. "Yes!!! Six months! That's perfect! I'll be dead by the time he gets out! He's in jail for the rest of my life!" The sentence would have been much longer if I'd been a free anthro rather than property, but it didn't matter. "Sir — may I call Detective Reed... Jase Reed, and thank him? This would never have happened without him. If he'd found out I was back, any other way than the way he did, the way Reed set it up, he would have just junked his hard drive and would have been home free. Reed didn't give him a chance to cover his tracks."
The Dean nodded, and said, "There's someone else who wants to see you first. Down in the conference room."
I gaped at him, and stood. "My dad? He's here now?"
He nodded again. "Go ahead."
I hurried quickly to the conference room.
As I entered the room, I tried reading Father; I got a new emotional state, one I'd never seen in him before. He didn't rise as I entered, merely looked at me with a shaky smile.
I hadn't seen him in nearly four years, but that wasn't what mattered. The Preston Cameron in front of me was one I'd never met at all.
I bent down to give him a hug, to which he responded vaguely with an arm pat. In a husky voice, he asked, "How are you feeling?"
I sat in another of the chairs, on the same side of the room's big table as Father. "Me? I'm doing great. How about... you?" I was shocked to notice a tear creeping down my cheek.
He sighed in answer, not looking at me.
I leaned closer. "Daddy... I'm okay. I'm doing fine."
I realized, suddenly, that this wasn't about me. Not directly, anyway. And I felt stupid for not seeing it before. This was about his elder son being in jail, for a crime Preston Cameron had never seen coming, directed against his younger son. And Preston himself had been used, his health endangered, during the commission of the crime.
He heaved another sigh, looking at the floor, and in that same choked voice, said, "I've never failed at anything before." He absently wiped a tear away. "At least I didn't fail at something I thought I'd be good at."
"What did you fail at, Daddy?"
"Being a father."
I'd never in my life imagined myself having to comfort my father, but I moved my chair closer and took both of his hands. "Daddy, look at me."
He raised his head with effort, as if he was stuck in mud, and focused his eyes on me. More or less.
"Daddy... I came here to the most selective school in the city. I got in... you know eighty percent of their applicants don't? And I didn't just graduate from the most intellectually and physically demanding academic program around, I'm one of their top students. I was second in my class!" I smiled. "And if you'd met the boy who was number one, you'd know what an honor it is to follow him. And now I'm going to put it all to use, as the most valuable kind of slave there is. I'm going to make a lot of people happy and excited, and this school is going to be very proud of me. And you..." I poked my index finger into his chest, "...are my father! Does that sound like you're a failure?"
He sighed once more and shook his head. "Whatever talent, sweetness, and light there is in you, it's all from your mother. I could always see so much of her in you, and I can still see it now."
I continued holding his hands, patiently. "Keep looking at me. Do you know how I got to be so good at what I do? It's because when I decide I want something, I never give up, I keep working for it, as hard as I need to, until I get it. Does that sound like somebody else in this room?"
He chuckled at last. "Okay, maybe a little."
I wrapped my arms around him again for a more complete hug. This time he returned it.
I saw that his lips were pressed together as he sat back. "It's a little irritating that you were back in town a full day before I found out about it."
I frowned. "I know. I'm sorry that happened. But you do know why, right?"
He rolled his eyes. "I guess so. I've been told, anyway. But it's upsetting that Ted Bloom knew long before I did."
"Everybody was following the request of the detective who was investigating the case. He thought it was better if you didn't know until..."
"Until Andrew was arrested. I know. It's still upsetting. I understand you've even been to Mr. Bloom's house already."
I nodded. "Daddy, have you talked to him? I hope you'll call him and thank him for everything he did to help me."
He sat back. "I'm just a bit uncomfortable with that. He and his detective are the ones who got Andrew put in jail." As disappointed and angry as Dad was with Andrew, Andrew was still his son.
"No!" I took his hand again. "Daddy, before you leave today I want you to tell me you understand one thing. What's happened to Andrew, he did it all to himself. Nobody made him do any of that. Not Ted Bloom, not me. Not you either. None of us made him the way he is. He decided to be that way, all by himself. Do you see?"
He hesitated, and nodded at last.
I squeezed his hand. "Okay. I just don't want you thinking Andrew being in jail is somehow Ted's fault, any more than it's yours. It's Andrew's."
He let go still another sigh. "I've talked to Mr. Bloom a couple of times along the way. You know he put up a big chunk of the reward money... well of course, you know that," he said, as I nodded. "He really seems to care about you a lot."
I giggled at the deja vu feeling his words inspired. "Some people do." I grinned at him. "Daddy, promise you'll come to see my hanging? I'll make sure you get an invitation."
He smiled back at me. "I'll be there." His eyes narrowed. "What did you do to your hair?"