The newscaster's words reverberated in my skull. We interrupt this broadcast for some shocking breaking news. This very morning, police discovered the body of a murder-victim in Hilly Springs, Alabama...

Hilly Springs, Alabama...

Hilly Springs, Alabama...

Hilly Springs? Like the hometown-of-yours-truly Hilly Springs? Open-mouthed I stared at the TV. Luckily, nobody noticed, because everybody else was now gazing at the television screen with rapt attention.

Holy shit! This can't be...

"The victim had been stabbed to death several months ago and was found—"

No, no, no!

"—deposited in a freezer."

No!

This couldn't happen now, when things were finally turning out so perfect! It couldn't be her!

But there probably aren't that many dead women stuffed into freezers in Hilly Springs, are there?

Frantically, I looked around to see if anybody had noticed my reaction. But they were still staring at the screen. Elliot's brow was furrowed and his knife had stopped halfway to the butter dish. His grandmother's eyes had widened in horror, Zack had stopped playing with his food, and even old Mr. Winslow had emerged from behind his paper to stare intently at the screen.

"As many of our viewers will remember, Hilly Springs is the very same town which, not too long ago, was shocked—"

Quickly, I made a grab for the remote. But Elliot had grabbed it already. To turn it off? Oh no. What did he do? He turned up the volume! That's the kind of treatment I get from the man I love with every fiber of my being! I'm about to be outed as a murderer on national television, and he turns up the volume! How can he possibly love me?

"—by the murderous deed of the black widow—"

Don't say my name! Please, don't say my name!

"—Cassy McKinney."

"Listen to that, Cassidy!" A grin slowly spread over Zack's face. "You've got the same first name as a serial killer! Isn't that funny?"

"Ha, ha, ha," I said.

"Who knows," he mused, giving me a brazen grin "maybe it's you they're talking about. Maybe you're just waiting for the right moment to murder us all in our beds."

I tried my best to grin back. "In regard to you, I think now would be the perfect moment."

"Shame on you, Zacharias Mahone!" Mrs. Winslow chided. "You shouldn't joke about such things!"

"Psht!" Elliot hissed.

"Several months ago," the newscaster was saying, "Cassy McKinney murdered her husband Matt Simmons by brutally stabbing him to death."

A shocked exclamation escaped old Mrs. Winslow, and I couldn't blame her. I was just as shocked. How could the media spread such malicious rumors? Brutally stabbing him to death? I had stabbed Matt quite gently! He probably didn't feel a thing!

"Now," the newscaster continued, "new evidence has come to light which suggests that these two horrendous crimes might be connected. We have to ask ourselves: is nobody save from the clutches of the murderous widow?"

I glared at the man. Well, you certainly won't be, if you go on like this!

"It appears that shortly before the horrific murder of Matt Simmons, Eve Peterson was helping Mr. Simmons with some small matters around the house that his wife was too busy to attend to. Their relationship was, as Miss Peterson's friends have insured us, perfectly innocent—"

Ha! Innocent my ass! And her ass was involved too, if I remember correctly!

"—but the perverted mind of the black widow must have drawn more sinister conclusions. The current working theory of the police is that she killed Miss Peterson in a fit of jealous rage—"

Oh yeah! And it was one of the best fits of jealous rage I've ever had!

"—and has stolen her papers to evade the police."

A cold shiver went down my spine. The only shield between me and the police had just been destroyed. Now, if I wanted to leave the country, or got stopped by the cops on the street, or had to prove my identity for some other reason, I was done for.

You should just have left the country when you still could.

But if I had left the country, I would never have met Elliot.

But you would be safe from life imprisonment! Now you can't ever get on a plane again. The risk is far too great.

"Citizens are warned that the black widow, Cassidy McKinney should not be approached under any circumstances. The police say that she is extremely dangerous and may be armed."

Dejectedly, I looked down at the spoon in my right hand. Oh yeah. I was armed all right, and with such a dangerous weapon to boot! Laying the spoon down, I hugged myself, shivering. They made me sound so terrible on the news, so dangerous... But didn't people understand that murderers were just like anybody else? We had weaknesses, and feelings, and a right to our privacy. Why did they have to trample all over my private life on TV again and again, just because I happened to have prematurely ended my husband's existence on this earth?

"I wonder what a woman like that looks like," Zack mused, and abruptly jolted me back to reality.

Oh God!

"What she looks like?" Mrs. Winslow shuddered. "Like the monster she is, of course, Zack!"

Please don't let them show a picture of me, I prayed, clutching the edge of the table. Please, my ugly mug is far too hideous to be shown on TV! Plus, I really, really, really don't want my boyfriend's grandparents to know I'm a serial killer! Please!

"And now," the newscaster said, "back to Murder and Mayhem in Rome 3 – the Bloodbath."

And a moment later, the screen was filled with roaring and slashing Roman legionnaires again. Can I just say that never in my life had I been this glad to see a few hundred guys in short skirts and with feathers on their heads?

"Are you all right, my dear?" I felt a hand squeeze mine, and, turning to look, I saw Mrs. Winslow's kind, grandmotherly eyes peering up at me. "I hope it didn't shock you too much, hearing something like that?"

"Not too much, no," I lied, staring into the distance. I still hadn't grasped it entirely. The police knew who I was! They knew who I was now!

"The news is always so horrid these days. It didn't use to be like that when I was younger."

Never traveling by plane. Never using my passport again. The very idea was frightening. I was trapped.

"Elliot?" Mrs. Winslow squeezed my hand again. Apparently, she saw right through my pretended nonchalance. "Elliot, why don't you tell Cassy what you've told me? I think she needs cheering up."

My head jerked up. Tell me? Tell me what?

And there Elliot was, turned towards me, smiling that secretive half-smile of his.

"I've got something to tell you, Cassidy. A secret I've wanted to tell you now for some time."

Yes! He loves me! He really, truly loves me!

"What?" I asked, breathless.

Say it! Say it!

"First, I need to give you something." And he pulled a small box out of his pocket. My breath caught.

It can't be! If he gets down on one knee now...

But he didn't get down on one knee. Instead, he opened the box, and what lay inside? A glittering ring?

No. Two slips of paper and a small model plane.

I gaped.

"And?" he asked, still smiling. "What do you think?"

"That depends. What is it?"

His grin widened slightly. "Have a look."

Slowly, I reached out and picked the two slips of paper out of the box.

"Happy Vacation!" I read. "Lean back and enjoy your trip to Veer Savarkar International Airport in Port Blair, Andaman Islands. Tickets not required—travel aboard the Winslow Industries 1 Jet."

"You see," Elliot said, taking my hand, "I noticed how much the paparazzi have been hounding you lately, and I know that it's all because of me. I wanted to make it up to you and thought you deserved a vacation. What do you say? Want to relax for two weeks on a sunny beach in the Bay of Bengal?"

Sure. Absolutely. Bring it on.

There's just one tiny problem you're missing!

"We'll be going there by plane?" I asked, weakly.

"Sure. A private plane." Raising a hand, he trailed one finger down my cheek, eliciting a delicious shiver. "Only the very best for you, Cassidy. Trust me, first class will look like a dump in comparison."

I swallowed. "I... I do trust you."

"So, Cassidy, are you game?" He looked at me with those deep, midnight-blue eyes of his, and all the excuses I had wanted to make suddenly fled my mind. "What do you say?"

"Oh, Elliot!" Throwing my arms around him, I hugged him close. Close enough so he couldn't see the expression on my face. "That's so... so...! I don't know what to say! Thank you!"

Crap, crap, crap! What am I going to do at the airport with a deep-fried hussy's passport!

He pulled me against him. "You like it?"

"I already know," I said, "this is going to be the most interesting trip of my life."

And in that, I wasn't even lying.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My dear Homicidal Maniacs,

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to Cassy's vacation! I've got to run now, I have a lot of work to catch up on that got left undone while I was sick. I'm not revealing any details just yet, let's just say that you'll have a pleasent surprise to look forward to in the not-too-distant future :)

Cheers

Sir Rob