****126:

George ushered Tracy down the hall, and they entered an identical suite, just as the elevator opened and two bewildered looking protesters stepped onto the landing. Seeing Tracy, looks of hostility crossed their faces. But George's assistant, Alex, a very young, very good looking, very well muscled man, urged them forward.

Alex spoke. "I thought you might want the ring leaders. There are only about six of them anyway. I brought the two most vocal."

"Thank you, my friend." George said politely and Alex shut the door behind the four of them. "I'm George Lanning, as you may already know, and this is Tracy McCaffrey, the woman you are so highly degrading out in the parking lot. She has expressed to me the desire to understand why you two specifically would like to ruin her life."

He indicated for them each to take a seat in the comfortably arranged living room. Tracy glanced now at George's attire, tan slacks, blue button down, smart sports jacket, tie. She was casually adorned, and now regretting it, in her too big blue jean over alls, and a too tight yellow half top, she'd worn two years ago. She had chosen this outfit to remember... and with the very deeply underlying hope, that if Richard saw pictures of her today, and she had planned to take the children on a boat ride on the Seine, then he'd remember too. Sneaky, underhanded, using the media like that....she felt uncomfortable right now, wished she were in some sort of business suit. Both of the protestors wore skirts, they were both young women in their late twenties, and they both wore T-shirts that read, Tracy, Burn In Hell. There were huge pictures of Casey on the flip side.

"You killed Casey, Bitch! Whore!" the first of them said.

"Ah ah! There will be no name calling." George said, with a tight smile.

"Well, I was simply going to ask you your name, since you already know mine." Tracy announced and was glad her voice wasn't shaking.

The obvious younger and more nervous of the two piped up. "I'm Candice, and this is Prissy."

Tracy nodded, pursing her lips, she glanced at George, not quite knowing what to say, he gave her an encouraging nod, blinking beneficently, as if to say, I am fulfilling your dream. She took a deep breath and then looked the most hostile one in the eye.

"I don't even know you. I have no idea what your life has been like. I wish I could know the people personally who listen to Sgt. Pepper's music, and those who cared about Casey and the band. That's a sincere wish on my part, Prissy. But I can't even begin to understand what impression I gave you that I killed my friend Casey. And what gives you the right to stand out there and show his son that you hate me, I am Casey's choice for the mother of that son. He's old enough to see you out there, he doesn't think you are doing this for his good."

"You killed Casey. You drove him away when he gave you everything, and you quit the band, the only thing he loved. It's your fault he died." Prissy was near tears now, and waving her sign around her knees, twisting it in her work roughened hands.

Tracy swallowed, as bravely as she could. "I'm not going to change your mind, I can see that. But it was nice to meet you. I wish you could see that the only one you are really hurting anymore is you."

Now Candice had to put her two cents in, since it seemed like the amazing interview was almost over, she wanted to have something to tell her friends. "Yeah, but we hurt you before. Arnest got your freak Army dude."

Tracy's heart stopped. She clutched her chest with a hand that had gone numb. She felt the edges of her vision sliding out of perspective. That was not... not what she had expected to hear, she had to have heard wrong, these people could not possibly be connected to Raine's death, it was too preposterous, here in this foreign place at this time, too outrageous. Inside a scream was building....

George leaned forward, immediately, intensely. "Young woman!" he began. And the hostile Prissy suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth and grabbed her younger friend and was heading for the door. "Wait a second here!" George yelled ominously.

"We don't have to stay here, you can't make us, we came of our own free will and we're leaving of our own...." She looked at Tracy's stricken expression. Her face was completely devoid of color, and she was wavering on her seat as if she were going to pass out. George noticed her as well, and in that split second, he smacked a button on his phone and called for his assistant, and hotel security, then he grabbed for Tracy as she slid to the floor, not passed out, but not lucid either. She had covered her face with her hands and was shaking.

The door opened, Alex and others came in, grabbing the two hostile women, one fearful, and the other stupidly high on something. It was now readily apparent. There was some sort of scuffle at the door, several security men were bombarding the place, paparazzi had managed to sneak in as well, and flashes were going off.

But Tracy was hearing an inner voice. "We got your army dude...." And she knew she had to get back on her feet and acquire information immediately, it might be her only chance. Get a hold of yourself, she mumbled through the sudden onslaught of hostility build, the sudden emotions playing havoc with her system. Get up!

She used the arm of the chair, and turned back into the yelling, wild voices and accusations being thrown around.

*****