"From the minute we were all rescued by the state police," Vanessa corrects.

"Yes. We should have done that."

"That too," Cynthia concurs, reddening with embarrassment at the correction.

That last incident was a close call.

And if not for the state police-never mind.

Because that is water over the dam.

The question before the house is what Randy Buck is doing right now.

These days, rather.

At this moment, middle of the work week, he is undoubtedly at his office downtown, across the river, directing his business interests with his usual, driving expertise.

But at night, on weekends, what?

How does the perverted monster spend his leisure time?

What is the creep doing to keep himself amused, satisfied?

"How long has it been, Vanessa?"

"Six months."

"Six months," Cynthia repeats.

"So that, if history repeats itself, then he is just about to recover from licking his wounds and try, try again."

"Right. So?"

But she already knows the answer.

Which comes in the form of a question.

"If not us, who? If not now, when?"

"I'll set up surveillance at once.

"There are several excellent detective agencies who-"

"Who will not be able to find out anything. Not in time.

"And time is of the essence. You know that, Vanessa, from personal experience."

She does indeed know that.

It was Buck's murderous intent toward his helpless victims at the Brotherhood's facility that caused her to suddenly go over to Cynthia's side, joining forces with her after she and Nancy had broken in, actually leading the operation which rescued the girls and, ultimately, destroyed the castle-like structure, burying Buck's fiendish henchmen in the rubble of the explosion, detonating the pre-placed charges, put there by Buck himself in order to cover the contingency of a hasty retreat.