Loose ends

3.

I think I'm starting to get the hang of this sneaky stuff, Alex Whitman thought. Who would have guessed? Except in his wilder daydreams, Alex had never imagined himself the James Bond type. Yet here he was, trailing a dangerous, possibly lethal, suspect through the exotic setting of a gigantic cavern, eight hundred feet below the ground. It's amazing, he thought, what hanging around with aliens can do to perk up an otherwise dull lifestyle.

Locating Liz's mysterious assailant had been no problem; Alex had found the scruffy, heavyset stranger milling about outside the gift shop, looking impatient and irritable. The tricky part was going to be keeping an eye on the nameless shooter without blowing his cover. Alex hung out by the entrance to the underground cafeteria, pretending to be fascinated by a rock formation in the shape of an ice cream cone. Too bad there's no newsstand down here, he lamented; in the movies, private eyes and secret agents always hid behind their newspapers when shadowing suspicious characters.

Watching the alleged gunman out of the corner of his eye, Alex couldn't blame Liz for being spooked by this joker. Even if he hadn't already shot one of Alex's best friends, the big, imposing bruiser just looked like trouble. A trucker, maybe, or a convict, or both. The kind of brutal, bullying thug that ate mild-mannered high school kids for breakfast. Did he have to be quite so big and mean-looking? Alex asked silently, registering a complaint with whatever higher power was plotting his fate. After all, unlike Max or Michael, he wasn't equipped with his own personal force field and death ray. What do I do if he catches me following him? Run like heck, I guess.

Alex suddenly remembered the disposable Kodak camera he'd purchased at the Visitors Center uptop. He had intended to use the small plastic camera to snap some candid shots of his friends as they explored the caverns, but now a more devious application occurred to him.

Fishing the camera from the pocket of his jacket, he took a few random shots of the spacious cavern, just to establish his cover, then waited until Mr. Bad Attitude's sullen pacing brought him in front of a suitably photogenic stalagmite. Alex's index finger hovered over the shutter-release button of the compact camera, stalling until the elusive gunman was framed in the center of the viewfinder, then clicked the button.

The resulting flash was brighter than he would have preferred. Gulping, Alex felt his blood rushing toward his feet as the flashbulb's momentary discharge caused Bad Attitude to glance in Alex's direction. He hurriedly shot several more photos, in every direction except the mystery man's, before furtively risking a glimpse back at his unwilling (and highly intimidating) photographic subject. To his relief, the surly gunman was no longer paying any attention to Alex, having shrugged off the presence of the lanky teenage shutterbug. Thank goodness! Alex thought, feeling his racing pulse slow to something closer to a normal human rate. Now the only question was, having already pressed his luck this far, did he really have the nerve to keep on trailing the dangerous suspect? His resolve was tested only ten minutes later when the looming target of his surveillance checked his watch and grunted in approval. Carelessly tossing an empty candy wrapper onto the concrete floor of the rest area, Bad Attitude stomped toward the passage to the Big Room. What was he waitingfor? Alex wondered, giving the guy a few seconds' head start before sticking his camera back in his pocket and taking off in pursuit.

Once he realized the shooter was definitely heading for the Big Room, Alex grew worried that Bad Attitude was going to run right into Liz and the others. He considered running ahead to warn them, but quickly decided that would be jumping the gun, no pun intended. The Big Room was big, after all; chances were, the burly gunman would completely miss Liz and Co. in the vast, crowded recesses of the enormous cavern.

Certainly, Bad Attitude wasn't interested in sight-seeing. He hiked right across the paved, level surface of the Big Room, ignoring such popular attractions as the Painted Grotto and the Rock of Ages. Instead he marched straight to the far end of the gargantuan cavern, where he paused in front of a gaping chasm that a nearby sign identified as THE BOTTOMLESS PIT.

Alex gulped, finding it all too easy to visualize the bad- tempered hoodlum throwing him bodily into the Pit, where he would probably fall for several long minutes before ending up impaled on some razor-sharp stalagmite. Knock it off, he told his overeager imagination. No more of that now. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he ambled casually over to the end of the cave, faking an interest in one odd-shaped calcite deposit after another. Boy, could I use that newspaper! he thought yearningly.

Meanwhile, Bad Attitude waited with growing impatience by the Pit, tapping his foot restlessly while searching the faces of the tourists parading past the chasm. He was looking for someone, Alex deduced, but was it Liz? At one point, the man's bellicose gaze passed directly over Alex without any flicker of recognition or interest, and Alex had to resist an urge to sigh loudly in relief. Despite the chill atmosphere, he was sweating heavily beneath his sweater, the perspiration causing the fabric of his T-shirt to cling to his back. "Keep cool," he whispered to himself, avoiding eye contact with the menacing lone gunman. "We can do this, for Liz's sake."The hefty suspect, who had been known to fire off guns in public places, had grumpily checked his watch at least three times before another man finally approached him. "About time," Bad Attitude snarled, his raspy voice not sounding any friendlier or less intimidating than the rest of him. "You're late."The newcomer murmured something in reply, but Alex couldn't quite make it out. He took a second to scope out the Johnny-come-lately, risking a quick stare at the stranger, before concentrating, or so it seemed, on a rounded rock formation that bore a surprising resemblance to a Teletubby. Don't mind me, he thought, wishing he possessed some small fraction of Isabel's telepathic gifts. I'm just checking out Tinky-Winky here. Nothing for you to worry about…

Bad Attitudes tardy visitor could not have been more different than the disreputable-looking gunman. Clean-cut and neady groomed, the second man wore an unscuffed leather flight jacket, aviator-style sunglasses, and newly-pressed blue slacks. Alex had relatives in the military, so he recognized the type right away. Some sort of cop or soldier, he guessed, a theory confirmed only seconds later when he heard Bad Attitude address the other man as "Lieutenant."Probably from Fort Bliss or White Sands, he surmised; both military bases were only a few hours' drive from Carlsbad-and strictly off-limits to civilians. What sort of business could this lieutenant possibly have with a gun-wielding thug like Bad Attitude? He considered trying to snap a photo of the nameless officer, but was afraid that would give him away for sure. The region around the Pit was murkily lit, the better.to show off the colored spotlights illuminating the chasm; there was no way either the gunman or the lieutenant could miss the flash when it went off, and Bad Attitude had already let Alex take one "accidental" snapshot of him. Trying for a second surveillance photo would definitely be pushing his luck, maybe all the way into the waiting Pit.

"Over here," the shooter said gruffly, nodding toward a vacant corner of the cave, where they could better converse in privacy As the two men relocated, Alex stealthily circled around the nearest gnarled stone column, keeping the immense pillar between him and the unlikely pair. He still couldn't hear everything being said-the caverns irregular contours made for strange acoustics-but he could make out snatches of the conversation.

"Look, Morton, I got (inaudible) as soon as I could," the Lieutenant complained. From his tone, Alex could tell this was no friendly rendezvous. "You don't understand the pressure I'm under… (something, something) watching me all the time."The shooter, whose name was apparently Morton, was less than sympathetic. "Yeah, yeah. Have you (mutter, mumble) the merchandise?"The lieutenant lowered his voice, making it harder for Alex to eavesdrop. "(Something) hidden…(mumble) not here… (whisper) too public… (mutter) the money?"You'll get the money when (something)," Morton said firmly, if not entirely audibly. Alex wished he could somehow turn up the volume on the two co- conspirators. Whatever they were up to, it was obviously something fishy. "Tonight. Midnight. (Mumble, mumble) Slaughter Canyon."Alex recognized the name as the site of one of the less touristy caverns Max had mentioned earlier, a short drive away. Slaughter Canyon sounded like something out of a Scooby-Doo cartoon, but it was a real enough place to serve, so it seemed, as the locale for some sort of illicit transaction between Morton and the lieutenant. Is this about drugs? he wondered. Military secrets? Illegal aliens, of the non-extraterrestrial variety? This close to the Mexican border, it was easy to imagine all kinds of nefarious smuggling operations. We never did find out, he recalled, what that gunfight in the Crashdown was all about.

Having dispensed with the meat of their discussion, the two men wandered back toward the Pit, forcing Alex to shift position in order to keep out of their line of sight. "You stay here for a while," he ordered the lieutenant, making it pretty clear who was calling the shots in this partnership. "Don't leave too quickly." He spit rudely onto the floor of the cavern. "Let me get out of here first."Sure," the lieutenant said nervously. "Of course." Alex guessed that the unnamed military man was acutely afraid of being caught at whatever shady business he was up to; why else would he be wearing shades eight hundred feet below ground? Thoughts of international espionage raced through Alex's hyperactive mind. What in the world have we gotten into this time, he wondered, his heart pounding, and when did my life turn into a never-ending episode of The X-Files? Assuming that Morton would be heading for the elevator next, Alex decided he needed to report back to Max and the others before Morton left the caverns entirely. Making a break for it, he darted out from behind the tapered column and made tracks for the secluded grotto where he had left his friends, zigzagging through and around clusters of strolling tourists. Damn it, he thought impatiently, in a hurry to get where he was going, did the Big Room have to be so darn big? By the time he reached the grotto, maybe ten minutes later, he was out of breath and panting. At first he didn't recognize the redhead in the yellow sweater, tucked between Max and Maria, then he did a double take when he realized it was Liz. Whoa, he thought. That's just too weird.

Bent over gasping, his hands resting on his knees, he hastily told the others what he had seen and overheard. "Morton's probably on his way to the elevator now," he concluded, "although I got a pretty good start on him."Good work, Alex," Max said succinctly. His stony expression belied the volcanic intensity of his eyes. Max was your classic still-waters-run-deep kind of guy, Alex knew, but it was obvious that those waters were pretty stirred up at the moment. Max's fist collided with his open palm and he stared past Alex with a keen, determined gaze. "Now it's my turn," he said. 4.

"What are you talking about?" Michael challenged Max. Water dripped somewhere nearby, each steady drop echoing through the subterranean grotto. "Haven't you heard a word we've said? It's too dangerous, Max!"The dark-haired alien teen was undaunted by his friend's fervent outburst. "I told you all before," Max said. The once and future king of a distant alien world, he had seldom sounded more resolute. "I'm not going to let him get away."Isabel approached her brother, laying a concerned hand upon his shoulder. "But you don't have to follow him now," she pointed out. "You heard what Alex said. We know where he's going to be tonight. At that place, Slaughter Canyon."Slaughter…The name sent a chill through Liz, rattling her already jangled nerves. She knew she ought to have some opinion about Max's reckless plan, but she was still too stressed-out to think straight. Every time she tried to concentrate, she kept flashing back to that day at the Crashdown. Angry voices exploding. A noisy scuffle at the booth. Watch out! He's got a gun! "I don't care," Max said. "What if he gets spooked and doesn't show up at midnight?" He paced restlessly across the floor of the grotto. "I'm not going to take that chance."Okay, okay," Maria conceded, knowing as well as any of them how stubborn Max could be when he felt strongly about something. Like when he tried to get me back, Liz thought, after that whole scene with Tess. "But don't you at least want to know what Morton's up to before you do something stupid?"It felt strange, Liz thought, to actually have a name for the man who had once nearly killed her, and even stranger that she had gone all this time without knowing it. Morton. It was a surprisingly mundane label for such a malignant presence in her life. Is that his first name or his last name, she wondered, and did that really matter? Meanwhile, Maria was still reading the riot act to Max. "Use your super-powered, Czechoslovakian brain, Max!" She threw up her hands in sheer exasperation. "Right now you have no idea what you'd be getting yourself mixed up widi."Her cautionary words must have gotten through to Max, because he paused and mulled them over before replying. "All right," he said, sounding slightly less combative. "I won't do anything rash until we know more. But I am going to follow him and find out where he's going now."Okay," Michael grudgingly agreed. "But I'm going with you, just to make sure you don't get carried away on this whole avenging boyfriend kick."Was that what was driving Max? Liz asked silently. Even in her own distracted state, she was aware that Max was acting more recklessly than usual. Does he feel he has to pay Morton back for hurting me? Or does he blame Morton for making him reveal his powers, putting them all in danger from the Special Unit and the Skins? "Fine," Max told Michael. "Let's go." He marched briskly toward the grotto's exit, then paused right underneath the natural limestone archway. "The rest of you, look after Liz. Make sure she gets out of here okay." He slowed long enough to look back at Liz with concern. "We'll hook up with you again later."A sudden fear that Max was going to get himself hurt, or worse, over some misguided chivalric impulse flashed through Liz's brain. She saw the murderous gunman firing his weapon again, this time at her boyfriend and soulmate. "Please, Max," she urged him. "Be careful!"Yeah," Maria seconded that anguished emotion. "Both of you, play it safe, will you?" Worry radiated from her naked, openly emotional face. "Remember, we know this guy is armed and dangerous."So are we," Max reminded them before disappearing into the tunnel outside the grotto. Liz listened as his and Michael's footsteps swiftly receded into the distance.

"Boy," Alex commented, shaking his head in disbelief. "When did Max turn into such a hard-ass? He was starting to sound like Dirty Harry there."He's just worried about Liz…I think," Maria said doubtfully "The scary part is, we're expecting Michael to be the sensible one?" She gave Liz another encouraging hug, perhaps to reassure herself as much as her shell-shocked best friend. "Well, what do you say, girlfriend? Are you up to blowing this underground popsicle stand? I don't know about you, but I'm ready to see the sun again." She toyed with the silver pendant around her neck. "If cool chicks like us were meant to live underground, then we wouldn't look so great with a tan."Okay, I guess," Liz said. Her legs still felt a little rubbery, but she supposed she could manage to make her way back to the surface again. Maybe III feel less trapped, less frightened, once I get out of these endless caves. A pang of regret stabbed her heart as she wondered whether her upsetting run-in with Morton had ruined the caves for her forever. Only this morning, Carlsbad had represented carefree childhood memories to her; now she just wanted to get as far away from these gloomy caverns as possible.

Her arm around Liz's shoulders, Maria guided Liz out of the grotto, into the press of foot traffic surging through the Big Room. Alex stuck close to Liz as well, so that she was bracketed protectively between her friends as they slowly made their way back toward the rest area. "Isabel?" he called out after a moment or two. "You coming with us?"The glamorous alien teenager shook her head. "Not right away. There's something else I have to do first."Huh?" Alex said, mystified. He lingered upon the trail, blocking traffic somewhat, torn between keeping up with Liz and Maria and finding out what his frequently enigmatic dream girl was planning. "Why? What-?"No questions, Alex," she instructed him decisively. Like her brother, Isabel could seldom be dissuaded once she'd made up her mind. They were royalty, after all, Liz remembered, albeit not from this planet. "Help Maria get Liz to the surface. I'll join you there later."But-?" Alex began, completely disoriented by this baffling turn of events. Liz had to admit that she didn't understand either.

"Just do it, Alex," Isabel insisted, turning her back and heading the other way. Alex strained his neck to keep hei in view, but, within moments, she had disappeared into the milling mob of amateur spelunkers.

"Come on, Alex," Maria said, calling him back to the task at hand; namely, ferrying Liz back to the world above. "I'm sure our friend, the space princess, will find us once she's finished her mysterious alien business." Lowering her voice, she whispered clandestinely into Liz's ear. "What oni earth is that all about?"I have no idea, Liz thought.

Lieutenant David Ramirez, currently assigned to White Sands Missile Range, was wishing he'd never heard of Joe Morton. How the hell did I get mixed up in this mess? he asked himself gloomily, but he already knew the answer. Morton had plenty of dirt on him-the drugs, the gambling, the whole thing-plus connections with enough cash to let Ramirez pay off his debts and start a new life somewhere else if he had to. Blackmail and bribery were a potent combination, one that he had been unable to resist. I should have never opened my mouth about that damn UFO! He leaned against the metal guardrail, staring morosely into the unplumbed depths of the Bottomless Pit, which seemed about as black and abysmal as his current prospects. He had no illusions what would happen to him if his superiors found out about his dealings with Morton. At best, he'd be talking court- martial; at worst, he'd just quietly "disappear" without any fuss, as though he had never existed at all. This was high treason, after all, involving some of the government's most closely-guarded secrets.

Maybe it won't turn out that way, he thought desperately.

Maybe the entire operation will go off as planned. He had to think so, otherwise he might just as well hurl himself into the Pit right now. Think of the money, he told himself, trying hard to look on the bright side. If I don't get caught, if Mor ton comes through with his side of the bargain, III be set for life.

He could just serve out his term of duty, exit the air force with an honorable discharge, then settle down to live a life of luxury someplace very far from here, where no one has ever heard of Roswell or the Crash "Yeah," he murmured wistfully. That was the ticket. Someplace nice and warm, on a beach, maybe, with a big house, big cars, and a sexy babe or two, with long blond hair and built like- "Excuse me, do you have the time?"Startled, he looked up from the Pit to find his fantasy standing right next to him, only inches away. He blinked behind his sunglasses, taken aback by the breathtaking vision that seemed to have stepped right out of his steamier daydreams.

She was young-eighteen, nineteen, probably-and quite simply gorgeous. Lustrous, sandy-blond hair falling down over her shoulders. Glossy, pouting lips. Smooth, flawless skin. Even bundled up against the coolness of the caverns, wearing a partly opened tan suede jacket over a blue cashmere sweater, she obviously possessed the enticing curves of a good, old-fashioned pinup girl. Seductive brown eyes locked onto his, and Ramirez felt his heart skip a beat.

"The time?" she asked again. She had a diroaty, sultry voice that pushed his buttons in all the right ways. He was over six feet tall, but she was tall enough to look him directly in the eyes. Talk about hot! he thought eagerly.

"Oh, yeah, right. No problem," he burbled. Somehow he managed to tear his eyes away from hers long enough to peek at his wristwatch. "It's about 12:45," he told her helpfully.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. Encouragingly, she didn't seem to be in any hurry to move on now that he'd answered her query. "Sorry to bother you, but there's just no way to tell what time it is down here, away from the sky and all." She unzipped her jacket the rest of the way, revealing more of the amply- filled blue sweater underneath. "It's like we've stepped outside of time, you know? Into a whole new world, with completely different rules."I'd like to break a few rules with you, he thought lewdly. Part of him knew he had more important things to worry about than trying to make time with some chick, no matter how sensational she was. Another part of him, however, welcomed the distraction. God knows this babe was easy on the eyes, and a hell of a lot more appealing than Joe Morton. "Yeah," he agreed readily. "This place is pretty impressive, isn't it."I'll say!" she breathed huskily. She leaned over the guardrail, gazing down into the Pit. "Wow, that's a long way down," she exclaimed, then stumbled backward, tottering unsteadily upon her shapely, denim-clad legs while placing a hand over her forehead. "Ooh, I feel dizzy…," she whispered, swooning so dramatically that he had to rush forward to keep her from collapsing onto the floor of the cavern. His arms slid deftly beneath hers as her weight sagged against his chest.

"Hey, there!" he said, feeling her taut body press against his. The heady scent of her hair rilled his nostrils, while his hands gently stroked her back through, in his opinion, far too many layers of clothing. "Are you okay?" he asked, marveling inwardly at his luck. This keeps getting better and better! "I'm fine, I think," she murmured, her head rested on his shoulder. She clung to him for support, perhaps waiting for the dizziness to pass. He was perfectly happy to hold onto her for as long as necessary, and then some. "Just a touch of vertigo." She shivered delectably. "You must think I'm terribly weak."No, not at all," he assured her. As far as he was concerned, her sudden vulnerability just made her sexier. "That's a pretty steep drop-off." He laughed in what he hoped was an irresistibly debonair fashion. "They don't call it the Bottomless Pit for nothing."She lifted her head to look up at him with grateful brown eyes. A devastating smile melted away the worries of the day, at least for the moment. "That's sweet of you to say so," she declared, "but I'll bet you're never afraid of heights."How could he resist a cue like that? "Actually, I'm a test pilot," he volunteered, "for the air force."Really!" Her awestruck tone was a tonic to his ego, which had been seriously battered by recent events. Never jails, he thought smugly Chicks love the whole Top Gun thing.

Blushing, she seemed to realize that she was still snugly clasped in his arms. He repressed a frustrated sigh as she (reluctantly?) extricated herself from his grasp and took a few steps backward. She was still close enough, though, that he could smell her hair and savor the contours of her voluptuous figure. "My name's Isabel," she said. "Isabel…DeLuca." She looked him over flirtatiously. "What's yours?"He hesitated, uncertain whether to divulge his real name. There was a lot at stake here, and he didn't want to make a fatal mistake just because this girl was a knockout. Then again, he thought, scoping her out from top to bottom, where's the harm? He wasn't violating any regulations by spending the weekend at Carlsbad; as far as anyone knew, he was just checking out the local tourist attractions-and talent. Behind his shades, his eyes greedily devoured Isabel as, fanning herself with one hand, she slowly slipped out of her jacket, which she folded over the metal guardrail. She leaned back languidly against the rail, coyly watching him watching her. In fact, he rationalized, mouth watering, he might get himself into more trouble if he started fabricating things unnecessarily. What was that old saying about lies and tangled webs? "Lieutenant David Ramirez at your service," he said confidently. Throwing caution to the winds, he removed his sunglasses and tucked them into one of the inner pockets of his flight jacket. "Currently stationed at White Sands Missile Range."Her eyes widened just like he hoped they would. "Isn't that where they're testing the 'Star Wars' missile defense system?" she asked, displaying rather more knowledge of current events than he expected. "Are you involved with all that?"Conveniently, he had a perfectly legitimate excuse for being evasive. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss my specific duties," he said ominously A little intrigue and mystery could only enhance his image, he figured. "Matters of national security, you understand. Strictly classified, on a need-to-know basis."Oh, right. Of course," she said, nodding. "I should have realized." Her baby- doll pout deepened, and she peered up at him through thick, curling lashes. "Can't you give me just a hint, though?"Sure," he said lightly, "but then I'd have to kill you." He laughed again, to make it clear he was joking, sort of, while hastily pondering his next move. Should he try to lure her back to his motel room in Whites City, or just try to get her phone number? A red-hot afternoon fling would sure take his mind off his midnight meeting with Morton, and everything that could go wrong there, but what if she accidentally stumbled onto the merchandise? Then he might have to kill her for real.

"So, are you from around here?" he asked curiously. If she was a tourist, visiting from God knows where, then he'd have to move quickly if he wanted to score with her. Even with the whole Morton mess hanging over his head, it would be a crying shame to let an opportunity-and a hottie-like this go to waste.

"Oh, sure," Isabel replied. "I was born and raised in…Artesia."That's south of Roswell, right?" Until today, he hadn't gotten off the base much.

"By about fifty miles or so," she confirmed. "Midway between Carlsbad and Roswell, actually." Sultry, brown eyes probed his. "You ever been to Roswell?" she asked innocently.

He mentally kicked himself for even mentioning the R-word, just when he was finally succeeding in getting his mind off classified government secrets and their sale. "Say you got any plans for this afternoon?" he inquired impulsively, changing the subject. "Maybe we could go for drinks, or something?"This isn't too smart, he realized, even as he stepped closer to the alluring young woman, flashing his most ingratiating smile. Now that he knew she was local, he should just play it cool and look her up after his business with Morton was wrapped up. I can't help it, though, he thought, unable to resist the almost magnetic attraction drawing him onward. I mean, look at her! Unfortunately, her immediate response to his invitation was an embarrassed wince. "Gee, that sounds great, but I promised my friends I'd hook up with them uptop." She glanced at the paved walkway leading away from the Bottomless Pit. "In fact, I'm probably running late already."Damn! He knew a brush-off when he heard one. So much for a world outside of time, he thought irritably. His restored spirits, and mounting excitement, went into a nosedive. Time-wasting little tease! Don't tell me she wasn't flirting with me shamelessly this whole time.

Then, after he had already written her off, Isabel smiled slyly and said, "You know, Mr. Lieutenant, I'd love to see you in uniform sometime. I'll bet you look just like Tom Cruise." She reached over and adjusted the lapel of his flight jacket. "Maybe you can give me your phone number?"Maybe his lurid fantasies weren't quite dead after all. "Sure," he said, "if you'll give me yours."Another sheepish wince, followed by an inviting gaze. "I'd rather give you a call, if that's all right." She shrugged her shoulders, tossing her flowing blond hair at the same time. "It's complicated," she explained vaguely.

A jealous boyfriend? he speculated. Overprotective parents? Frankly, he didn't need those kinds of hassles, either. Seeing nothing to lose, and plenty to gain, he scribbled down his cell phone number on a scrap of paper he found in his wallet. "Here," he said cheerfully, handing her the improvised note. "You can reach me there most of the time, except when I'm on duty, of course."Naturally," she replied. She folded the slip of paper carefully and placed it in her back pocket. "I've got to run," she said, retrieving her jacket and slipping it back on. "But I'll be in touch, I promise!"I sure hope so, Ramirez thought, eyeing her hungrily as she hurried onto the trail back to the rest area and the elevator. Chances were, he might never hear from her again, but even still, his accidental meeting with this hot little number was the luckiest break he'd had in a long, long time.

Now he just had to get through this weekend without ending up behind bars.

Or worse.

Men! Isabel Evans thought with disdain. Human or alien, they were all the same; flirt with them a little, bat your big brown eyes adoringly, and you could get them to do almost anything. Lieutenant Ramirez hadn't even put up a fight. Whatever his full story was, he'd been just as easy to manipulate as the high school boys she was used to wrapping around her little finger.

As she rushed back toward the elevator, she worried briefly about whether she had maybe laid the vamp act on a little too thick. Had that whole dizzy spell routine been too much? What if she'd tipped her hand when she fell into his arms, raising his suspicions instead of lowering his defenses? Naah, she decided promptly. He'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker, she could tell. Another woman would have seen through that transparent ploy right away, but, as she'd learned repeatedly since sixth grade at the latest, subtlety was lost on most members of the male gender. Sometimes you couldn't be too obvious, especially where men were concerned.

Besides, she reflected, I could have been even more blatant, given the setting. Stalagmites, caverns, unexplored nether regions… the possibilities for smutty double entendres had been almost too readily available. Not that 1 needed them, she thought with a smirk.

Her confidence in her own time-tested techniques and tactics gave way to unsettling fears and suspicions as she considered the information she had managed to extract from the lecherous lieutenant. Classified military experiments at White Sands? Isabel chewed nervously on her lower lip, disturbed by the possible implications of Ramirez's background. Visions of top secret alien autopsies and extraterrestrial artifacts paraded behind her fretful brown eyes, awakening deep-rooted fears and anxieties that were never very far from her thoughts.

What was an air force test pilot doing with the man who shot Liz two years ago? Could these shady goings-on have anything to do with RosweUs hidden alien secrets? The last few years had taught Isabel to be distrustful of almost everything and everyone, including herself. A high school counselor, a congresswoman, a deputy, a waitress, new friends and admirers… all had proven to pose hidden dangers. She couldn't help worrying that her unearthly heritage was about to catch up with her again.

Won't it ever end? she asked bitterly, waiting in line for the elevator back to the surface. Won't we ever be safe, anywhere on this planet?