"Hey!" a harsh voice yelled. "Who's back there?"

Isabel jerked away from Nikolas and peeked over the top of the counter. One of those rent-a-cop security guys stood there, squinting into the darkness.

"Stay here," Nikolas whispered.

He crawled to the end of the counter and started to circle behind the guard. Isabel could hardly stand to watch. Any second he would get caught.

Max was going to kill her. Michael too. She grabbed her shirt and pulled it on. If she got arrested or something, she wanted to be fully dressed.

The guard moved closer to the counter-and Nikolas made his move. He touched the back of the guard's head, and the guard instantly slumped to the floor.

"Come on," Nikolas called. Isabel ducked under the counter and almost stepped on the guard's hand.

She jumped back, staring down at the man in horror.

Nikolas grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. "Come on," he repeated. He ran out to his bike and swung her on behind him. Then he roared out of the parking lot.

Isabel gasped for air. Nikolas killed that guy, she thought frantically. One second he was kissing me, and the next second he killed someone.

She dug her fingernails into the sides of the motorcycle seat. She would rather fall off than touch Nikolas right now.

At least he was taking her home. He turned onto her street and pulled up in front of her house. She practically fell off the motorcycle and stumbled away from him.

Nikolas snagged her hand and pulled her back. "No good night kiss?" he asked.

"You killed someone," Isabel snapped. She tried to jerk her hand away, but Nikolas wouldn't let her.

"A human," Nikolas answered. "What? You've never swatted a fly or stepped on a cockroach?"

"That's enough with the stupid insect thing! I have to go inside," Isabel said. She knew Nikolas had no interest in humans. But she'd never imagined he would actually kill one.

Nikolas squeezed her hand. "Kidding. I'm kidding. I didn't kill that guard. I just knocked him out."

He climbed off his bike and put his hands on Isabel's shoulders. He kissed her gently. "He'll be fine."

"Really?" Isabel asked, her heart rate slowing a little.

Nikolas kissed her again. "Really. Now no more human talk." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her until she was so breathless, she couldn't talk about anything.

Liz hurried out of the cafe. She wanted to spend the next couple of hours doing research for her debate against Arlene Bluth. Arlene had checked out every book the school library had on their topic. Liz didn't believe Arlene needed every single one of the books to prepare-she just didn't want Liz to have them. That would be assisting the enemy, and Arlene never did that.

So Liz was heading to the public library, hoping Arlene hadn't hit it already. As she crossed Alameda, Sheriff Valenti fell in step beside her.

Liz didn't slow down, but she didn't speed up, either. She tried to keep her face expressionless and her breathing nice and even. Inside she was having a mini-freak-out, but Valenti didn't have to know that.

They walked down the street in silence, side by side. If he wants to ask me something, he's going to have to be the one to talk first, Liz thought. Why should she make it easy for him?

"You're looking well, Ms. Ortecho," Valenti finally said. "I thought you might be grieving for your dead friend."

Liz stopped suddenly. Running away wasn't working. It was time to just get this over with, even though standing next to the sheriff like this made the little hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

Valenti shoved his mirrored sunglasses higher on his nose. Liz hated those things. When she tried to look into the sheriff's eyes, all she saw were two little images of her own face.

"Perhaps I'm mistaken," he replied. "I assumed that the alien who drove his truck off the Lake Lee overlook was the one you were trying so hard to protect when we last spoke."

He paused, letting the silence stretch out between them. Liz's throat felt as dry and rough as sandpaper. She swallowed hard, hoping Valenti didn't notice. She didn't want him to realize how nervous he was making her.

"But I have new evidence to suggest there is still at least one alien in Roswell," Valenti continued. "Maybe that's why I find you looking so well today. Maybe your alien is safe and sound, not putrefying somewhere at the bottom of our bottomless lake."

He got that right. Her aliens, Max and Michael, had been in the truck Valenti chased to the overlook. But they'd jumped out before it had gone over the edge. There was no alien putrefying in the lake, just one old truck rusting.

Of course, Liz wasn't going to tell Valenti that. And she wasn't going to start asking him a bunch of questions or making a lot of protests, either. Talking to Valenti was dangerous. You might not mean to tell him anything, but he had a way of using every word you spoke to manipulate you into saying more and more.

"I know, I know, you don't believe in aliens," Valenti said, answering for her. "But one of those creatures that don't exist broke into the bowling alley last night."

"Yeah, everyone knows aliens love to bowl," Liz couldn't resist responding. "There's no chance it was just some humans out for a good time."

"I might agree with your theory if it wasn't for the security guard," Valenti said. "He was found unconscious. No evidence of a blow to the head. No evidence of drug or alcohol use. No medical condition."

He pulled off his sunglasses and studied her with his cold gray eyes. She couldn't decide which was worse-not being able to see his eyes or seeing them. "I can think of only one explanation," he said. "The guard was incapacitated by an alien's powers."

Nikolas, Liz thought. And if Isabel didn't help, I bet anything she was at least there when he did it.

Valenti stared at her for a few more endless moments, then he replaced his sunglasses. "I suspect that, as always, you know more than you are choosing to tell me. Just remember, next time a human could end up dead-and you did nothing to prevent it from happening."

He turned on his heel and strode away. Liz watched him until he was out of sight.

What are we going to do? she thought. How are we going to keep Valenti from finding out the truth this time?

"Did you know that the man who took the very first photograph of Elvis also filmed the autopsies of the four aliens found at the Roswell crash site?" Ray asked Max.

Max shook his head. It was only his second day on the job, and he was still trying to get used to the way the guy was always saying something outrageous.

"I want you to go on-line and see what you can dig up about him. I think his name is Barrett, something like that," Ray said. "You can use the computer at the information desk. If anyone comes up with a question you can't answer, call me. We get some pretty wackadoodle questions here."

"You got it, chief," Max said. He headed over to the computer and logged on. This should be kind of fun. He always liked reading people's theories about the Roswell Incident. One of his favorites was that the aliens were really angels. It was pretty funny to think of Michael as an angel. Or Isabel. His sister wasn't exactly the angelic type.

He typed aliens and Elvis in the search box and hit enter. He shifted on the hard metal chair. All the rhinestones of his Elvis jumpsuit were sticking into him. He just hoped that Ray didn't decide to do some exhibit on the connection between Marilyn Monroe and aliens because he was not dressing up like her, cool job or no cool job.