“Come on, Zach, humour me. I took time to come over here, so sit down and have another drink.” The visitor shoved a kitchen chair at Zachary. “Now.”

Zachary stepped back, dragging the chair with him. He shouldn’t have opened the door for anyone this damned Halloween night. But once he’d seen who was there, Zachary had seized the chance to tell his side of things. He’d realized, too late, that his guest didn’t want to listen.

“Forget the glass.” The visitor stood at one end of the pine table and slid the rye whisky bottle closer to him.

“I don’t want another drink,” Zachary said. “Let’s just talk, okay?”

His visitor yanked a steak knife from the wooden block on the counter. Zachary gripped the back of the chair. His legs weakened and he wanted to sit, but keeping this chair between them was his only defence.

“My sister-in-law hates it when people touch stuff in her kitchen.” He licked dry lips.

“I said drink!” The knife slashed the air.

Zachary recoiled. “Please! I can fix this.”

“How? The damage is bloody well done.”

Zachary’s hopes sank.

“Pick up the bottle, Zach. Everyone knows rye whisky’s your favourite.”

Zachary lifted the bottle slowly. “You, uh, want some?”

“No. Hurry up. I haven’t got all night.”

“Why do you want me to--”

“Now!”

Zachary winced at the rage behind this word. He chugged until his throat burned, then plunked the bottle down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. His thumping heart forced him to take quick, shallow breaths.

“Yummy, isn’t it, Zach?”

Zachary nodded. He glanced at his visitor’s plastic pumpkin pail on the table, the white sheet stuffed inside the pail. Gloria and Max wouldn’t be back for hours. Nearby, he heard the excited shouts of trick-or-treaters.

“Kids won’t come to a house with no lights on at the front. And they sure as hell won’t walk around back,” his visitor said. “You should have gone out for Halloween. But big mistakes are your trademark, aren’t they?”

Zachary lowered his head.

“Drink up, Zach.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” His visitor edged nearer.

Sweat trickled down Zachary’s ribs. He drank and tried to keep the knife in sight. Booze spluttered down his shirt.

“Please. I won’t cause any more trouble, I swear.”

For several moments, the room was silent.

“My car’s parked out front. Walk me to the door.”

Zachary didn’t move. “Look, if you wanted to scare me, you’ve done it. I’ll back off. Won’t say another word.”

His visitor lifted the pail. “Let’s go.”

Zachary’s shoulders sagged. “I feel sick.”

“Too bad. I want you to come with me.”

Nausea roiled in his stomach. “Why?”

“Do it!”

Terrified, Zachary threw the chair at his guest and raced along the narrow hallway toward the front of the house. Halfway down the hall, he bolted through an open door leading to the basement. Finally, a chance. He’d been rewiring for Max down there. Lights couldn’t come on. He might make it if he got the basement door open in time . . . reached the Pearsons’ place. It’d only take a few seconds.

At the bottom of the stairs, Zachary fumbled to his work table. His fingertips flitted over a bag of nails, tools. He picked up a hammer.

Footsteps pounded down the steps and Zachary’s stomach somersaulted. He scurried forward in the dark, touching the washer, dryer, the door.

Zachary struggled to slide the rusty bolt. He placed the hammer on the dryer, then pulled harder. The bag of nails tumbled to the floor. By the time the bolt started moving Zachary was panting.

A sharp pain struck him between the shoulder blades. Gasping, Zachary collapsed against the door. Hands grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.

“Get up those bloody stairs, or I swear to God I’ll kill you right here!”

Zachary staggered through the basement, up the steps. Near the top, he spun and kicked his enemy in the chest.

He reached the hallway. Hands clamped around Zachary’s ankles and yanked him onto the cold ceramic floor. A wave of white heat seared his shoulder. The visitor took hold of his wrists and dragged him toward the front entrance. Zachary tried to press his feet against the walls to stop what was happening, but he didn’t have the strength.

Near the door, his wrists were released. Zachary groaned and rubbed them. “Please, I can put this right. Give me a chance.” In the darkness, he saw a flash of silver. “No! My kids need me. Don’t!”

“They don’t need you, Zach. Nobody needs you.”

Zachary heard the deadbolt turn. The door opened just enough to let cool air waft inside. Somewhere on the street, firecrackers exploded and children yelled, “Trick or treat!”

“Help! I’m--”

A kick in the chest knocked the words out of him.

“Get up.”

He tried, but he could barely breathe and his legs gave out. Sweat soaked his shirt.

“It’s Halloween, Zach. You really should answer the door.”

Using the wall for support, Zachary pushed himself up. The smell of fireworks and damp filled his lungs. A sharp pain slid through his insides. Moaning, Zachary dropped to his knees. His forehead smacked the cold, ceramic floor.

Alex stepped out of his Mustang and, scanning the parking lot to make sure no one was looking, tugged on his bright green tights. Lena had promised to make tonight’s Halloween party up to him with a home-cooked, gourmet meal next week. At this moment he felt like she’d struck the better deal. Tonight’s humiliation would top every other humiliation he’d experienced, even the time he’d peed his pants on the Ferris wheel when he was four. Still, the party was important to Lena. It was his own fault for not asking what they’d be wearing until she’d already sewn this stupid getup.

“Aren’t you going to open the door pour moi, Kermie?” Lena asked in her high-pitched, Miss Piggy voice.

“Sure.”

He did try to talk her and her friends out of choosing kids’ TV show characters as a party theme, but they were too excited about the idea to be swayed.

Alex grabbed the paper bag containing a small bottle of Ballantine’s, the only size he could afford. He didn’t indulge often, but this occasion called for mind-numbing Scotch.

Alex opened the door and took Lena’s extended hand. Long, lavender gloves covered most of her arms. Rhinestone bracelets circled both wrists.

“How do I look?” She swept her hand down the front of her gown. “Are my ears on straight?”

Alex looked at the satin, pig ears attached to a sequined hair band. He noticed that she hadn’t fastened a snout to her face. “You look good.”

Glowing, in fact. Lena was playing the diva she’d dreamed of being, which was why he knew this idiotic frog costume wasn’t created to embarrass him. She could have left out some of the stomach padding, though. And why he had to wear green slippers instead of ordinary running shoes, he’d never know. Who cared about feet?

“Come on,” Lena said. “We’re late.”

While they walked towards Simon Fraser University’s student-resident complex, music and laughter came from several apartments. Six years had passed since he’d graduated from commerce and economics on this campus. What he most remembered were the parties. Lots of good times. But at twenty-eight, he sometimes felt ages older than twenty-year-old Lena and her friends.

Among the trees were clusters of townhouses occupied by apparent Halloween worshippers. Bats and ghosts decorated windows. Glowing jack-o-lanterns guarded front doors. Skeletons and grisly, beheaded creatures hung from trees.

In front of one of the few unadorned windows, Lena pointed to a guy typing at a computer screen. “Some people just don’t know how to have fun.”

Alex envied the guy. “Maybe he wants to work now so he can party later.”

“Speaking of work, have you given any more thought to taking the systems-analyst job with McKinleys’ Department Store?”

Crap. Third time this week she’d brought it up. “No, and I thought Halloween was about fun, not work.”

“I’ve been worried about you,” she replied. “You’ve been between temp assignments awhile, and I’ve seen that growing stack of bills on your desk.”

Alex frowned. He didn’t need reminding.

“Ever since Carl froze the store’s computers and quit,” she added, “the McKinleys have been desperate to hire another analyst.”

“Why? You said Carl’s predecessor fixed things. There’s been no hacking since then, right?”

“No, but our lousy system’s been crashing for ages. Carl helped, but now that he’s gone things are worse again. Anyway, the McKinleys finally realized they should have decent security installed, and you’re the perfect geek for the job.” Lena giggled. “You know I mean that in a nice way, don’t ya?”

“Yep.”

“And I’d be your secretary.” She put her arm around him. “We’d make a great team.”

A knot formed in Alex’s stomach. Lena was fun to be with, most of the time, but he couldn’t stand the thought of working with her. Besides, retail wasn’t his idea of a stimulating environment. Nailing a smart-assed punk for virtual vandalism would be cool, though. Still, the cons outweighed the pros.

“I thought you were tired of freelance work,” she said.

He was, but good hi-tech jobs were hard to find. Ever since Revenue Canada, or Canada Revenue Agency as it now called itself, fired him eighteen months ago, he’d been trying to live on temp work until something interesting came along.

“Face it, you need the bucks, Alex,” she said. “Christmas isn’t far away.”

“But the job’s only temporary.”

“Where’d you get that idea?”

“Les Silby told me about the systems-analyst assignment a few days ago.”

“How does he know about it?”

“Silby & Morrow prepare financial statements for some of the local McKinley stores. Maybe all of them, I’m not sure.”

Silby took his Chartered Accountant designation seriously, and never divulged much about his clients. He had mentioned that he knew the McKinley VPs well, though. Alex figured Silby did their personal tax returns too.

Alex first met Silby just before Revenue Canada gave him the boot. Since then, Silby regularly recommended Alex’s accounting and computer services to Silby & Morrow’s clients. Alex had never understood why. He knew Silby didn’t like him, and even though they were both CAs, they had little in common. Still, even Silby couldn’t deny that he worked hard for a reasonable price.

“You’d enjoy working with Oscar.” Lena squeezed his arm. “He’s mega-great. Best accountant the store’s had in a long time.”

“I met that mega-great guy at your company picnic last July, remember? He spilled a drink over my pants. Didn’t even offer to pay for dry cleaning.”

“Oscar makes lousy first impressions, but he really is nice.”

Alex had his doubts.

“It’s been three weeks since Carl quit,” Lena said. “The McKinleys are getting antsy.”

Alex didn’t want to admit that the sudden resignation of the department store’s latest analyst had intrigued him. According to Lena, the man’s tumultuous relationship with Oscar reached the breaking point when a vice-president told Carl to assist Oscar with certain tasks. Two days later, Carl reset passwords for all user accounts so no one could access their terminal. He then walked out on his employers.

Lena sauntered up to a partially open door and adjusted her fake blonde locks. “Ready, Kermie?”

“No.” He tugged on his tights again.

“You look adorable.” Lena adjusted his tight-fitting green cap and collar of felt triangles. “You should have let me shave your eyebrows.”

“A man’s got to draw the line somewhere.”

“Hey, I know it’s not easy being green, but cheer up, honeybun. If we win the prize for best costume, I’ll give you a kiss and turn you back into a prince.”

“Better be one hell of a kiss.”

She stroked his green cheek. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Well, I know how much you love Halloween.”

“It’s more than that. This is our first Halloween together. Call me a crazy romantic, but I want it to be memorable.”

Alex grimaced. It would be memorable all right.

“That you, Lena?” a woman said from behind them.

“It’s Miss Piggy, dahling.” She turned and blew kisses at Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

“You two look fabulous!” As Minnie squealed, Alex tried not to wince.

He glared at Mickey, who had the gall to stand there in short, baggy pants, laughing at him.

Lena pushed the door open further and stepped inside, raising her hands. “Hello, dahlings!”

The moment the crowd got a look at Alex, laughter and choruses of “Rebbit! Rebbit!” shredded what remained of his dignity. “

Your frog’s so cute,” a female Winnie-the-Pooh said as she held hands with a beer-chugging Christopher Robin.

“I know. I made him,” Lena replied, gliding into the room.

Alex shuffled behind, gripping his paper bag and wondering how much he’d have to drink before the suicidal thoughts went away.

A guy sporting a tool belt and hardhat gaped at Alex. “You poor bastard,” the guy said.

Alex stared at his costume. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Bob the Builder.”

“That’s a kids’ show?”

“Yep.”

“Great. Wish someone had told me.”

“Could’ve been worse. You could have been SpongeBob SquarePants.”

Alex gritted his teeth and jostled his way past Sylvester, Tweety, Road Runner, and Wile E. Coyote. Women shrieked with delight and applauded his costume. The guys gave him pitying looks.

Finally, he reached a quiet spot on the other side of the room. He was hoping the worst was over when Lena grabbed his arm. “Say cheese, dahling!”

A camera flash blinded him. Alex flinched. There was another flash, then another. Soon he couldn’t see anything but big red dots.

“What a hoot!” Lena beamed. “Isn’t this awesome?”

“Rebbit.” Alex removed his Ballantine’s from the bag, twisted off the top, and gulped down the only good time he was likely to have this Halloween.

With her kids in tow, Gloria marched toward her house and silently counted to ten to keep her temper in check. She didn’t want Devon and Kimberly to know how angry she was with their father.

Drugs. Always the bloody drugs. Max’s nose candy had ruined too many parties. Why did he have to spoil Halloween too? This was supposed to be a fun family night, not another excuse to snort cocaine. After Max had totalled the Volvo last month, he’d promised to stop, but he hadn’t. He’d drained their savings and then promised to stop again. But he hadn’t. And she, like a true moron, had believed the kids should have a father, no matter what.

Gloria stomped across her front yard, not caring if the overgrown grass stained her leopard boot covers. She’d never dress in a cave-woman costume again. How could her idiot husband have asked her, in front of everyone at the party, to wear this outfit in bed tonight? Thank God all the kids were down in the rec room at the time. Max would be lucky if she allowed him in the house, never mind their friggin’ bedroom.

Gloria hadn’t bothered to tell Max she was taking the kids home. He wouldn’t care. He’d been euphoric most of the evening, dancing on the Quesnels’ fancy living-room sofa with his arms raised to the ceiling, singing the Monster Mash at the top of his lungs. Gloria had never seen him that high before. Was he on something new? Crystal meth? God, she hoped not.

Gloria started up the front steps. “Hang onto the railing, kids. It’s dark.”

Since Zach had been in one of his sulky moods and wanted nothing to do with Halloween, they’d kept the porch light off and the living room dark. Gloria removed her house keys from her coat pocket. Glancing at the sky, she spotted only a handful of stars through the smog and suburban lights. When she was first married, she’d loved looking at the stars, making plans, daydreaming. When did the stars and dreams vanish?

“Damn,” she mumbled, stepping onto the porch. “He must have forgot to shut it.”

Just after they had left the house for trick-or-treating, Max went back for his wallet. She’d told him he wouldn’t need it, but Max never listened to her these days. Gloria pushed the door, but it hit something.

“What in blazes?”

She spotted a long, dark shape on the floor. Kneeling down, she smelled booze and sweat. Oh great, was that Zach? Typical. This wasn’t the first time her brother-in-law had fallen down drunk. What was it with these Ternoway men and their addictions?

“Zach?” She nudged the door against him. “Wake up.”

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Devon asked.

An eight-year-old didn’t need to know that his beloved uncle had passed out.

“Nothing. Your uncle’s fallen asleep in front of the door, that’s all.”

“Why isn’t Uncle Zach sleeping in his own bed?” six-year-old Kimberly asked.

“Good question, honey.”

Gloria reached through the opening and tapped him.

“Zach, can you hear me? Wake up.”

When he didn’t move, fear started to gnaw at her. Was he hurt? Had he hit his head on her new ceramic floor? Gloria nudged harder. No response.

Fear turned to dread. Gloria stood and fumbled for the light switch inside the door. She switched it on, then squeezed her head through the opening. Zach was curled up on his left side with his back to her. Blood seemed to be oozing from his stomach.

“Oh!”

“Mom?”

She shut the door and turned to her kids. “Uncle Zach’s hurt himself, so I need you to go to the Pearsons’ house while I help him.”

As the kids gaped at her, Gloria struggled not to shout at them to get going. God, what the hell had happened to Zach?

Kimberly asked, “Is he bleeding?”

“A little bit.”

“Wow,” Devon said. “Can I see?”

“No. Now please go see Mrs. Pearson. She’ll be home ’cause Shelly still has the chicken pox.” Gloria reached for her children’s hands. “Come on.”

A fence separated the two families’ backyards. Jimmy Pearson had installed a gate last year so the kids could easily visit back and forth.

Gloria’s heart pounded. She was desperate to run around back and open the kitchen door, but a mad dash would only scare the kids. Devon already looked worried.

When her children reached the Pearsons’ yard, Gloria said, “I’ll come get you in a few minutes.”

She rushed up the steps and found the back door unlocked and the kitchen light on. Glancing at a toppled chair, she raced down the hall.

“Zach!”

The sight of a blood-covered knife near his abdomen made her gasp. She reached for his wrist. Zach’s pulse was weak and his chest barely moved.

“Oh God!” She dashed for the phone in the living room.

“I need an ambulance!” Gloria yelled at the 911 dispatcher. “My brother-in-law’s been stabbed. He’s still alive, but there’s barely a pulse. I don’t know what to do . . . Yes, he’s breathing, but he’s been stabbed in his belly, I think, maybe lower, I don’t know . . . Blood? Yeah, there’s some, not much. That means an artery wasn’t hit, right? He could be okay if he gets help fast.”

While the dispatcher asked more questions, Gloria fought a wave of nausea.

“His name’s Zachary Ternoway and he’s forty-two . . . No, he doesn’t have any allergies or medical conditions that I know of,” Gloria answered. “He’d been drinking, though . . . Check for more wounds? Oh, I don’t know if I can. I’m not good with blood.”

Still gripping the cordless phone, Gloria hurried to Zach and scanned his body. “I think his abdomen’s been cut. The bottom of his shirt’s soaked red.”

The dispatcher’s incessant questions began to annoy her. “How should I know when it happened, I wasn’t here! We took the kids out at seven, then went to a neighbour’s party, and I just got back. When’s the ambulance coming?”

Feeling light-headed, Gloria closed her eyes, but this only made her dizzier.

“Yes, I touched his face,” she replied to the dispatcher’s question. “It was cold and clammy. Oh, that’s shock. I remember that from a first aid course years ago. So, I should keep him warm, right? . . . Hold on.”

Gloria placed the phone on the floor, removed her coat and draped it over Zach. He didn’t move. She picked up the phone.

“Done . . . The weapon? No, I haven’t touched it. The knife’s here on the floor, exactly where I found it.” She stared at the handle. “Holy shit! It’s one of my steak knives! They were a present from my neighbours, the Quesnels. That’s where we were. At the Quesnels’ party the next street over.”

Gloria sank onto her new ceramic floor, her back against the wall. What would she tell the kids? And Max needed to know.

“God, I’ll never eat steak again. I mean, there’s blood all over the blade! . . . I am trying to stay calm and rational! You try it when your brother-in-law’s stabbed in your foyer. Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

She tried to sweep her hand through her hair, but it collided with a big plastic bone clipped to the top of her head.

“I’m just glad my kids didn’t see him,” she murmured, her hand on her queasy stomach. “They love their Uncle Zach.” She started to cry.

While she listened to the dispatcher’s calming words, Gloria wiped her eyes. She stared at her beige tights and leopard mini-skirt with the jagged hem. She thought about changing her clothes before help arrived, but it’d take too much effort.

“I don’t know why Zach was at the door with my steak knife. I don’t understand any of this.”

Gloria’s stomach churned faster. She tried to stand to make it to the bathroom, but she was trembling so hard that the plastic bone jiggled.

She didn’t know which would unnerve the paramedics more: a motionless stabbing victim, or a middle-aged mom in a skimpy, leopard-print costume puking her guts out. She heard sirens.

“Gloria?” a man called from the back of the house. “It’s Jimmy. I tried knocking, but there was no answer.”

She saw the big man poke his head into the hallway.

“You okay?” he asked. “Devon said that Zach was bleeding. Is that true?”

Unable to speak, Gloria whimpered.

“What’s happened?” He moved toward her.

Nausea bubbled and rose. A moment later, she leaned over and heaved.

Alex gently bounced three-month-old Kerri-ann Wells in his lap and tried not to listen to Lena complaining about her job again.

“Tristan, you ready to go?” he called, swivelling his chair toward the bamboo screen. “I’m starving.”

“Kerri’s bottle’s almost ready,” Tristan replied from behind screen. “She won’t take long to gulp this stuff down.”

Lena sat on the desk and draped her long legs next to his chair. “So, have you finally decided if you’ll become McKinleys’ Department Store’s latest analyst?”

“Not yet.” He smiled as the baby leaned forward and reached for Tristan’s keyboard. “Want to see the flowers, Kerri-ann?”

Alex found the page Tristan had bookmarked, and treated Kerri-ann to a picture of vibrant, blooming flowers that danced and swayed to a lullaby.

“You’re taking forever to make up your mind.” Lena opened the newspaper she’d been carrying. “Aren’t you worried about your future? Judging from the way you fuss over that baby, one would think you wanted to have your own kids.”

Alex caught her meaningful gaze, then looked away. Oh no. Was she thinking about nesting? He and Lena had been together eight months, and he wasn’t anywhere ready to make a permanent commitment.

Lena scanned headlines. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but the hacker started messing with our system again two days ago. Customer accounts have gone wonky.”

Alex sighed. How many times had he told her that criminals were hacks and hackers were merely people who craved know-ledge about different systems? Hacks, or crackers, were malicious assholes who belonged in prison, preferably in tiny barred rooms with no electronic access to anything.

“What do you mean by wonky?” he asked.

“One of the girls in accounting discovered that a customer owed a hundred million bucks. Our store doesn’t give that kind of credit,” she added, her expression serious. “Then one of our deadbeat customers miraculously had his debt wiped out.”

Les Silby hadn’t mentioned this development. “Oscar’s the controller, so what’d he say about it?”

“Except for swearing a lot, not much.”

“That’s a lot more serious than boobs popping up on screens, like last month,” Tristan said, stepping out from behind the screen and shaking drops of milk onto his wrist.

Alex agreed. The hack first started with virtual mouse drop-pings popping up on screens and the cursor changing into the middle finger. There’d also been other stupid pranks that any halfwit could have downloaded from websites. The day a list of executives’ salaries showed up on everybody’s terminal, things became more personal. The pranks disappeared after that incident, until now.

A warm wet spot formed on Alex’s trouser leg under Kerri-ann’s bottom.

“She’s leaking, Tris. Still having trouble with those cloth diapers?”

“I’m doing the best I can, dude.” He picked up his daughter. “Cut me some slack.”

“I’ll change her,” Lena said. “I’m great with babies.”

“Thanks, but it’s okay.” He stepped behind the screen again.

“Why doesn’t he use disposables?” she whispered.

“Can’t afford them.”

Alex had been worried about Tristan since Kerri-ann’s mother walked out on him two months ago. He’d already lost weight, the colour in his face, and most of his energy. He’d also grown irritable. It was as if parenting had already defeated him. Annoying as Tristan had been sometimes, Alex missed the confident, woman-ogling wild man who used to find life a cheap thrill a minute.

Alex wished he had an excuse for his own irritability. He supposed he could blame the weather. Thirteen days of constant downpours had washed the colour out of Vancouver. Office towers, mountains, and clouds blurred together in dull shades of grey. It was like living under a cold wet tent where dampness invaded clothes, hair, and lungs.

“Carl could wind up in jail if he’s not careful.” Lena turned a page.

“Who’s Carl again?” Tristan asked from behind the screen.

“Until three weeks ago, Carl Appanheimer was the store’s systems analyst. He’s the one who got pissed off, froze the whole system, and quit.”

“No bad language around my daughter,” Tristan said. “She listens, you know.”

“Well, jeepers.” Lena grinned. “That’s got to be tough on you, Pops.”

Alex smiled. Until Kerri-ann’s birth Tristan had used profanity the way some people used salt on fries--far too much.

“Anyway, T.J. thinks Carl’s the one who’s been messing with the computers.”

“T.J.’s one of the VPs, right?” Tristan asked.

“Of finance, yeah. His father owns the chain of stores.” Lena scanned another page of newsprint. “If T.J. can get proof, he might even have poor Carl arrested.”

“Poor Carl?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“He was a nice guy, even though he caused all kinds of problems with that freezing thing. I don’t think he’s behind this other stuff.”

“Why?” Tristan asked.

“Because Carl only did what he did out of, like, total frustration. He was trying to help the McKinleys find the hacker, not hurt them, but T.J. wouldn’t listen.” Lena swung her leg back and forth. “Carl’s the most honest man I know. I’ve seen the guy pick a quarter off the floor and try and find its owner.”

“Those stunts weren’t about stealing,” Alex remarked. “They were about causing mischief and getting attention.”

“Who else has a grudge against the McKinley family?” Tristan asked.

Lena snorted. “Pretty much everyone. The family’s laid people off and are talking about cutting salaries. Staff morale’s lousy.”

“Will somebody get me another diaper?” Tristan asked. “She just pooped on the fresh one.”

Alex reached into the big plastic bag propped under the window. The bag overflowed with clean unfolded diapers.

“If I was Carl, I’d be worried about a lawsuit for freezing their system,” Tristan said.

Alex reached around behind the screen where Tristan had set up a changing table, bassinet, bar fridge, and microwave oven. Good thing he had his own bathroom in this office. After Kerri-ann’s mother took off, Alex thought he’d work out of his home, but it hadn’t happened.

“Carl should also be worried about whether he’ll work again in this city.” Lena flipped through more pages. “The McKinley family won’t give him a reference, and they know tons of people. Carl could have used their connections.”

“Too bad,” Tristan remarked.

“Especially when he’s innocent,” Lena replied. “Some of us think the hacker’s out to ruin the McKinleys.” She peered at Alex. “Oscar says they’re close to bankruptcy and, as the controller, he should know.”

Alex stared out the grimy, rain-splattered window. Why would a controller confide this to a secretary? “He told you that?”

“I’m the only close friend he has there.”

Alex believed her. At the picnic in July, he remembered a smugness about the guy. He didn’t remember Carl Appanheimer at all. “Was Carl at the staff picnic we went to?”

“No, Carl was too shy to socialize much.”

Alex shook his head. A disgruntled systems analyst, an employer close to bankruptcy, and a controller who couldn’t keep his mouth shut was hardly a healthy work environment. Client confidentiality would have kept Les from mentioning the store’s financial situation, but did he know about the morale problem?

“If you found the hacker,” Lena said, returning to the headlines, “job offers would come pouring in.”

Alex crossed his arms. He’d take just one good offer.

Tristan reappeared, feeding Kerri-ann. “Shouldn’t the McKinleys call the cops? Mucking around with customer accounts sounds like a criminal thing.”

“Oscar said they don’t want their problems becoming public.”

“They probably need someone more experienced than me.” Alex’s empty stomach rumbled as he checked his watch. Would they ever get out of here? “Normally, I just set up systems and get rid of viruses.”

“If Oscar’s right about the store’s financial problems, then the family can’t afford a real expert.” Lena turned another page. “Anyway, you’re the one who’s always going on about how commercial criminals get away with too much shit. Doesn’t that apply to hackers?”

“Language, Lena.” Tristan sat in a chair on the other side of his desk.

Alex watched water trickle down the windowpane. Each drop looked like it had a purpose, some place to go.

“Here it is.” Lena tapped the newsprint with her long, red fingernail. “The headline says, ‘Halloween Murder Still Haunts Locals.’ Scary stuff.” She glanced at Alex. “And then it says, ‘No suspects have been arrested for the murder of Zachary Ternoway on Raven Drive early Saturday evening on October thirty-first. Coquitlam RCMP have not ruled out the possibility of attempted burglary.’ Interesting, eh?”

“Raven Drive?” Tristan started to smile. “How Edgar Allen Poe-ish.”

Lena ignored him. “It’s scary and interesting because I know Zach. Met him at a staff picnic two summers ago,” she said with what Alex thought was too much excitement. “He tagged along with his brother Max, who was the store’s controller before Oscar.” She turned to Alex. “I told you Max was fired when they found cocaine in his desk, remember?”

“Vaguely.” Lena had told Alex so many stories about McKinleys’ employees that they all kind of ran together.

“I met Zach again at Max and Gloria’s New Year’s Eve party last year,” she added. “Zach’s wife had thrown him out and he was crashing there. He never did leave ’cause his alimony and child support payments were so high. The guy had, like, the world’s worst lawyer.” She placed the newspaper on the desk. “I can’t imagine what Max must be going through.”

Alex could. His experience with death had been intimate and life-altering. While his grandmother’s terminal illness had permanently changed his family’s dynamics, the violent death of his best friend, Andy, had changed him personally. He’d lost his dreamy optimism, his belief that life was one big adventure where most things would turn out okay. Lots of things didn’t turn out okay, and sometimes failure was permanent.

Lena leaned over and removed his eyeglasses. “You’ve got spots again.” She cleaned them on the hem of her skirt.

Tristan’s smirk embarrassed Alex. He’d tried, a thousand times, to tell Lena to stop fussing, but she never paid attention.

“Half the staff think Max is behind the computer pranks, as payback for being fired.” She handed Alex his glasses. “From what I hear, his drug problem’s worse than ever, and now his brother’s dead. If he does more drugs to cope, he’ll wind up dead too.”

A loud baby burp erupted as Tristan rubbed Kerri-ann’s back. “Is the brother a suspect?”

“Could be.”

“Aside from Carl,” Alex said, “does the VP know of anyone else who might have played with the system?”

She nodded. “T.J.’s convinced that either a current or former employee’s behind this ’cause not many people would know how to infiltrate their ancient system.”

“Tell me more about Max,” Alex said. He couldn’t help asking. A murder victim whose brother had been fired from the store intrigued him.

“Max works for the company that processes the store’s payroll, so he could have supplied the salary list that showed up on the terminals.” Lena twisted strands of burgundy hair around her finger. “Max knew how paranoid T.J. was about revealing salaries, which is why a lot of staff think he did it.”

“Why would they have let the firm hire Max, knowing he has a drug problem?” Alex asked.

“Oscar says that T.J.’s sister, Elizabeth, arranged it, and let’s face it, the McKinley name has a lot of clout. Word is she felt sorry for Max because he has a young family and he apparently swore he’d give up the drugs.”

“Does Elizabeth work at the store too?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, VP of marketing,” Lena replied. “I’m sure she arranged it that Max wouldn’t have access to McKinleys’ data, but Max knows his way around a computer, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he got his hands on that salary list.”

“Guy sounds like trouble,” Tristan said.

“Or even dangerous. Rumour is that just before Zach was killed, Max went back to his house when he was supposed to be out trick-or-treating with his wife and kids,” Lena said. “The cops might think that Max had opportunity, maybe even motive.”

“Then Zach was alone at the house when he was killed?” Alex asked.

“Well, the killer was there.”

Alex stared at her. “Any idea what Max’s motive would have been?”

Lena stood and straightened her snug black skirt. “What if Zach found out that Max was the hacker and they argued, and things got out of hand?”

Tristan placed Kerri-ann’s empty bottle on the desk. “Would the guy really kill his own brother over that?”

“Maybe,” Lena answered. “If Max was busted for breaking into our system, he’d lose his job and maybe his family. He could have been strung out that night. Violent and paranoid.”

“Why would Max bother with the store?” Alex asked. “He’d been gone awhile, and though a McKinley fired him, another got him a new job.”

“Who knows?” Lena shrugged. “You’re the one who likes to ask questions and investigate stuff. And if you proved that Max was behind the pranks, you might also solve a murder. You already know a lot about what goes on at the store because of me.”

Alex didn’t buy her theory about Max, although she did make him wonder if there was a connection between the murder and the McKinleys’ computer problems.

Tristan laid Kerri-ann’s snowsuit on the carpet, then gently placed his sleepy daughter on top of it.

“In case I forget later, I want to thank you guys for taking Kerri-ann and me to dinner. It’s been ages since I went out on a Friday night. Any night, actually.”

“You’re welcome,” Alex murmured as he picked up the newspaper. “But we’re not going anywhere fancy.”

He couldn’t afford fancy. Even this meal was stretching his budget. Still, he felt bad that he hadn’t taken Lena out since Halloween two weeks ago. She took him out to a movie last week. He hadn’t felt good about that either.

Alex poured over the article that Lena had read aloud. If the cops hadn’t ruled out a burglary attempt, then they weren’t sure what the motive was.

“If you don’t want the McKinleys’ assignment, I wouldn’t mind taking it,” Tristan said. “Especially if I can work from here.”

Alex glanced at him, then looked away. After Revenue Canada fired him, Alex had thought about starting an investigation firm specializing in commercial crime. The idea was Tristan’s but, although it had held some appeal, Alex hadn’t had the bucks to start a company. He’d had no idea that Tristan had fallen in love with the thought of being self-employed until he quit Les Silby’s firm to start his own accounting practice. Other than a couple of friends who’d thrown work Tristan’s way at income tax time, business was non-existent. Tris’s tumultuous relationship with his high maintenance ex-fiancée hadn’t helped; nor had the economy.

Lena unbuttoned her blouse, then stood in front of Alex and bent over. “What do you think of this one?”

Alex studied the red rose tattooed on her left breast. Ever since Lena had decided she needed a tattoo, she’d been sporting a variety of washable designs, hoping to find one that “spoke to her”, whatever the hell that meant.

“Nice. Good location.”

“By the way, my mom called today and, somehow, we started talking about you,” Tristan said. “She says you’re welcome to spend Christmas with us again if you’re not going to Palm Springs.”

“He hasn’t made up his mind, and he’s still avoiding his sister’s call.” Lena buttoned her blouse while she tossed an exasperated look at Alex. “Even if you don’t go to the reunion, you’ll still have to buy gifts.”

Alex wasn’t sure which of these two annoyed him more: Tristan for raising the subject, or Lena for reminding him that he was still the poorest and least settled among his four siblings.

“Look, if someone really plans to destroy the store, you could save jobs by stopping him,” Lena added, “and make some bucks while you’re at it.”

“Finding hacks isn’t that easy.” Alex stood. “Ready to go, Tris?”

“I just have to pack up Kerri-ann’s stuff.”

That would take time. Alex slumped back into the chair.

“Oscar told me that the police talked to the McKinleys about Max a couple of days ago,” Lena said.

Alex perked up. Oscar seemed to know a lot about what went on there. “Does he know what was said?”

“No, but seeing as how the police were asking about Max, don’t you think he could be both killer and hacker?” She paused. “It might not be as hard to find the bad guy as you think.”

Possibly. If incidents at McKinleys’ Department Store really were tied to Zachary Ternoway’s murder, then identifying the hack could be a hell of lot more important than he thought. Adrenalin surged through Alex.

“There’s tons at stake here, honeybun,” Lena said. “My job might suck right now, but I can’t afford to lose it. On the other hand, unemployment would give us more time to hang out. I might even have to move in with you for a bit.”

Oh hell. Alex strolled around the square room to stretch his legs and think. When he passed by an open drawer in Tristan’s filing cabinet, he spotted six thin file folders and several cans of powdered formula.

Maybe Tris could earn some cash by helping out. The job could also become too demanding to leave for a stupid reunion in Palm Springs. If he succeeded, the McKinleys might introduce him to movers and shakers at hi-tech companies. But if he failed, his reputation would be crap to the McKinleys, to Les Silby, and, worse, to himself.

Tristan put on his coat, then picked up his daughter. “You two never told me how the Halloween party went.”

Alex winced as Lena broke into a big grin. “We won first prize!”

Tristan looked at Alex and laughed. “Wish I’d been there, Kermie.”

“Don’t worry,” Lena said as she picked up the diaper bag. “I have photos.”

“I want an eight-by-ten glossy.” Tristan grinned.

“I’ll take the McKinleys’ job,” Alex said to her, “provided you don’t give him a picture.” He turned to Tristan. “And I’ll see if you can be part of it, provided you don’t badger her for a photo of any size or type.”

Lena yelped and threw her arms around Alex. “Awesome!”

“Are you hoping to find out if the hack and killer are the same guy?” Tristan asked.

“I’m curious, yeah. And I do need the bucks.”

“Just don’t make any leap in logic on the murder angle, okay? It could backfire big time. As someone who’s stretched logic beyond the breaking point, I should know.” He kissed his daughter’s head.

“What’s so illogical about my theory?” Lena asked.

“For one thing, a guy killing his brother and leaving the body for his kids to see.” Tristan headed for the door.

“What if he was strung out?” she asked. “He wouldn’t have been thinking straight.”

“Even if the murder’s a separate issue, I still hate the idea of a punk playing with people’s lives.” Alex helped Lena put on her coat. “Suppose the cops caught the kid. He’d probably end up with a fine, a little community service, then a lucrative job writing anti-virus programs. If I find this guy, maybe I’ll have a little fun with his life. It’d be a better cure than the courts.”

Tristan opened the door. “You know how tough it is to find a hack unless he’s a complete idiot.”

“But you already have two suspects,” Lena said, “Max and Carl.” She hugged Alex. “This’ll be great, you and me together, day and night.”

Right. Yahoo. “I’m only staying until the guy’s caught, Lena. And if I find a connection between him and a murderer, the police’ll have to take over.”

“Leaping, leaping.” Tristan switched off the lights.

“I know, but every so often I have this compelling need to throw myself off a cliff.”

“Who doesn’t?” Tristan replied.

“What does starting a new job have to do with suicide?” Lena said, stepping into the corridor.

“It’s about risk.” Alex followed her. “Taking chances, living on the edge.”

“Swimming upstream,” Tristan added. “Not accepting the status quo.” He shut the door. “How many more clichés can we come up with before she gets it?”

Lena reached for Alex’s arm. “Just as long as you stay out of trouble.”

“Stay out of trouble,” Tristan repeated. “Another cliché, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied. “Every time someone warns me to stay out of trouble, I get it wrong.”

Tristan chuckled. “That’s what makes you so much fun, Alex.”