"Naturally, Russell made nice. Leslie, too. Finally, they got you back, placed you in the carriage, resumed walking. But they were both terribly shaken.

"Next day, Russell changed the locks and personally paid for a new security system for the whole building. He went back to the police, where they ran a background on Tommy and learned of his criminal history. There still wasn't anything they could do, though. After all, it's not a crime to visit your niece. They noted Russell's concern, made a record.

"Russell left the police station more frightened than when he'd arrived. He ended up talking to Greg about taking a leave of absence. He didn't want to leave Leslie alone with the baby, not even for an hour. Greg talked him down. Russell had just received his doctorate. To take time off now would be disastrous for his career. Besides, your mother was no longer working, someone had to earn a living.

"So Russell agreed to continue working, while Leslie made arrangements for her parents to visit. Surely there would be safety in numbers."

"Oh no," Annabelle whispered. Her hand had come up, was covering her mouth. Bobby followed her train of thought. The grandparents she'd been told had died in a car accident. Somehow, he had a feeling the truth was going to be more devastating than a tragic fender bender.

Schuepp nodded sadly "Oh yes. Your mother's parents came. Took you for a walk. Never came home. A uniformed officer found them sitting on a park bench side by side. Both shot through the heart with a small-caliber pistol. You were toddling around the grounds all by yourself, clutching a brand-new teddy bear. Attached to its neck was a gift tag reading 'Love, Uncle Tommy.'

"The police picked up Tommy immediately, questioned him about the shootings, but he denied all involvement. According to him, he'd stopped by the park, given you the bear, and chatted briefly with your grandparents. Everyone was fine when he left. The police searched his apartment but came up empty. Without the pistol, without any witnesses or other evidence, there wasn't anything more the police could do. They suggested your father take out a restraining order. He said his mother had tried that.

"That afternoon, he went to Greg's office and announced that he'd made his decision. He and his family were going to disappear. It was the only way, he said, to be safe.

"Once more Greg tried to be the voice of reason. What did Russell and Leslie know about life on the run? How would they get fake identities, new driver's licenses, jobs? It wasn't as easy as in the movies.

"But Russell was adamant. When he looked at his brother, he saw his father. He had already lost enough to one man's obsessive rage. He wasn't going to lose anything more. And the more he talked, the more he brought Gregory around. It was Gregory's idea that Russell and Leslie move to his home in Arlington. The deed was in Greg's name, utilities, too. Surely it would be difficult for Tommy to trace Russell and Leslie to their new home in Massachusetts.

"Gregory also gave me a buzz, explaining the situation. It just so happened we had an opening in the department, so we worked out the details. Russell and your mother would move to Arlington, I would offer your father a job at MIT. Naturally, I had to enter your father into the payroll department under his real name, Roger Grayson. But I smoothed things over with the right people, and for all intents and purposes, your father became Russell Granger, married to Leslie Ann Granger, parents of an adorable daughter, Annabelle Granger. Only the paychecks and other financial records said otherwise.

"We thought we'd been so clever, but we hadn't been smart enough."

"Tommy found them," Bobby said flatly. Annabelle wasn't talking anymore. She sat shell-shocked, too stunned for words.

"That's what Russell believed. There was a case in the news right as they moved to Arlington, the kidnapping of a young girl who could've been your older sister, Annabelle. Instantly Russell was nervous. He worried that Tommy was in the area, searching for Annabelle."

"Catherine's case," Bobby filled in. "Another guy did it, Richard Umbrio. But the strong physical resemblance between Catherine and Annabelle would've spooked Russell, made him think the worst." He glanced at Annabelle. "Even drive your father to masquerade as an FBI agent, so he could get to Catherine in the hospital, question her."

"Tommy's the one pictured in the sketch," Annabelle murmured. "My father drew a picture of Tommy to see how Catherine would react."

"Probably"

She managed a crooked smile. "Told you there was a logical explanation." But her face remained pale, drawn.

"Umbrio, Umbrio," Schuepp was muttering. "That's right. The police finally arrested this hulking brute of a man, accused him of the crime. I remember now. Still, Russell refused to lower his guard. He took up karate, read obsessively on stalkers. I don't know what it must have been like-first to lose his parents so young, then to feel that the entire tragic situation was happening again.

"I know he felt very guilty for what your mother was going through. I know the few times I saw them together at functions, your father was hyperattentive, relentlessly cheerful. If he could smile broad enough, boom loud enough, then everything would be okay.

"Your mother loved you, Annabelle," Schuepp said quietly. "When the time came, she never hesitated.

"Russell came to my office at the end of October. Tommy was back, leaving gifts for Annabelle at your home, stalking her. It was all his fault, Russell insisted. He hadn't been thorough enough. Bank accounts, IRS records could be traced. It had only been a matter of time.

"This time Russell had purchased new identities for his family, made arrangements to trade your old car for a new vehicle. Everything else was to be left behind. Fast and light, he told me. That was the key. He wouldn't even tell me where you three would be going.

"When he left, I remember wondering if you would make it. Or if I'd simply catch the end of this story one night on the news. For two weeks, all seemed well. And then that young girl, your friend, disappeared. Minute I heard the street where she lived, I knew who'd done it. According to your father, Tommy had never taken disappointment well."

"Did my father know? About Dori?" Annabelle asked urgently "Did he talk to you?"

"He called me three days later," Schuepp supplied. "Said he'd heard on the national news. He didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he was sure it was Tommy. On the other hand, if he returned to talk to the police…"

"Tommy would be able to find him again," Bobby filled in. "What about you, sir? Did you contact the police?"

"I left an anonymous tip on the hotline number. Enough for my conscience to feel like I'd done something, and yet…"

"Not nearly enough to help Dori Petracelli." Bobby gave the man a look. "You knew a vital piece of information. If you'd come forward-"

"The police would've pursued Russell and Leslie," Schuepp stated matter-of-factly "They would have dragged them back here to Massachusetts, exposed them to Tommy. The Petracelli girl was likely dead. I focused on the life that could be saved-yours, Annabelle."

Bobby opened his mouth. Before he could argue, however, Annabelle beat him to the punch.

"Explain that to Mr. and Mrs. Petracelli. They were parents, too. They deserved better than to have their daughter written off, just so their neighbors could get on with their lives." She turned away bitterly.

Schuepp poured another shot of scotch, pushed it toward her.

She wouldn't take it, though. Instead, she pulled herself together, setting her face in that resolute look Bobby knew so well.

"One last question, Mr. Schuepp: Can you tell me my real name?"