It was a ray of hope. She turned to him and said, "Ray… y-you don't h-have any proof… just hearsay…"

He grinned over at her, confidently, eyes hooded, "You want to bet on that…? Or do you want me to name the time and place?"

"N-No…"

She dropped back into her inner absorption, the maelstrom of her thoughts giving her little comfort, and she didn't notice when they passed Donnie's motorbike parked at the curb a block away from Ray's house.

Donnie, sitting on the curb, watched Donahue's van pass with Charity in the passenger's seat. He whistled through his teeth. Christ! I didn't think he could do it! I wonder what he laid on her?

Morosely, he sat waiting for another five minutes before mounting the cycle and riding the short distance to Ray's parents' home. The house was a California ranch style, set back from the street, low and long, sandwiched between two Victorian houses. Obviously, one of the old homes had been torn down to be replaced with the modern house.

Parking the van in the triple garage, Ray ushered Charity into the affluence of his parents' home. The quality and obvious expense was reflected in the furniture and accessories.

A few moments before, when she had dismounted from Ray's van, she had had a terrific impulse to break away from him and run… run for her life, but his firm grip on her arm had dissuaded her. Now, as she looked around at the costly surroundings, seeing at the same time, the gangly, long-haired youth in his sub-culture garb of jeans, boots, fringed leather jacket and beads, she couldn't help but wonder what it was, in him, that made him want to reject it all.

Charity sank down onto a soft couch and ran her fingers over the richly sculptured material. "I-It's beautiful!" she said. "Such a l-lovely home…"

The sneer on his face surprised her, as he said with derision, "It's only money, doll… but, like my old man doesn't know what to do with it!"