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Remington Steele sat at his desk in the executive office of Remington Steele Investigations and perused the comics. Things had been slow all week. It was one of those times when it seemed no one needed a detective. Even the newspaper headlines reflected very little in the way of crime. No one had been murdered, no great robberies, no embezzlement. The world was, for this week at least, a very peaceful place. Reflecting upon it, he realized how ironic it was that when things were going well for society, the detective business became very boring. Rather than spending his time pondering this slightly cockeyed fact, he'd opted to catch up on the trivial news of the day... which took all of fifteen minutes before he became tired of city council meetings and state highway improvement bond elections. At least the comics were diverting for a little while.

Just as he finished the last strip and was contemplating diving into "Dear Abby", the intercom on his desk came to life.

"Boss," came the voice of Mildred Krebbs, "there's a Mr. Weiland on line one. Says he has an important matter to discuss with you."

"Weiland?" Steele concentrated for a moment. "I don't recognize the name. He's not a client by any chance?"

"Not yet, as far as I know. Want me to handle it?"

"No, no," Steele replied quickly. At least it would provide a momentary diversion and perhaps this was in regard to some wonderfully juicy crime that could occupy his mind and throw Laura and him into an exciting case. "Steele here," he announced as he lifted the receiver to his ear.

"Mr. Steele. You don't know how good it is to finally be speaking to you. My name is Charles Weiland and I have something rather important to see you about."

"So my secretary informs me. What precisely is the nature of your problem?"

"Oh, it isn't exactly a problem," Weiland explained, "at least not anymore. What I have to discuss is of a highly personal nature. Could you possibly meet me in my office at 3:00 this afternoon? I assure you, it will be worth your time."

"Well..." Steele paused. No use in sounding too anxious. "I'll have to check my appointments."

"Would half a million dollars be sufficient enticement for you to rearrange your schedule?"

"Half a million dollars?" Steele sat straight up in his chair. "And you can't give me some idea what this is about?" Steele's voice trailed off as the connecting door into the smaller room off the executive suite opened and Laura Holt peered in with a curious expression. Steele motioned her in.

"Be patient, Mr. Steele," advised Weiland. "All your questions will be answered at 3:00, or at least most of them."

"That's rather cryptic, Mr. Weiland, but as it happens, I do seem to have an hour or so free this afternoon."

"Good. I've taken the liberty of giving your secretary my address. I'm looking forward to meeting you."

"Goodbye." Steele stared off into space for a second before replacing the receiver.

"What was that all about?" Laura inquired.

"Eavesdropping again, Miss Holt?" Steele teased.

"I hardly had to, the way you shouted 'half a million dollars'."

"That's what this Mr. Weiland assured me it could be worth if I came to his office this afternoon."

"Perhaps he has some monumental case for the Remington Steele Agency." Laura grinned with relish. "It certainly would be a relief to know that the world hasn't gone completely honest."

"Laura," Steele feigned indignation, "whatever happened to your sense of right and wrong."

"It suffers when I'm bored," she pouted.

Steele couldn't help but nod in understanding. "Well, perhaps you're right. Although, Weiland said it was of a highly personal nature."

"Are you suggesting I shouldn't come?" Laura looked highly offended.

"No, no, not at all," he added quickly. "After all, I have no secrets from you, do I?" He gave her a slanted smile as she sighed and shook her head.

"Well, whatever it is, it has to be better than the Ladies Home Journal article on twenty-two new ways to serve grapefruit."

Steele chuckled. "My, my, we have sunk to a new low. You reading recipes and me catching up on the adventures of 'Terry and the Pirates'."

"Let's hope Mr. Weiland has a more substantial adventure for us this afternoon."

Steele nodded in agreement.

The Law Offices of Bernard, Fairchild, Weiland and Shaw were well appointed, conservative and smacking of financial success. As Steele held the door for Laura to enter before him, he took note of the decor... hardwood floors, panelled walls, expensive furnishings and a lovely young woman behind the small, but elegant oak desk. There was nothing out of place, from the original art on the walls to the hair on the blonde's head.

"May I help you?" she greeted.

"Remington Steele and my associate, Laura Holt," Steele announced. "We have an appointment with Mr. Weiland, I believe."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Steele. Mr. Weiland is quite anxious to meet with you." She stood and headed for the door just behind and to the right of her desk. "If you'll step into his office, he'll be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Laura responded as she and Steele stepped through the door. As they entered the room, a young woman who had obviously been surveying the attorney's bookshelves turned expectantly toward them. She was strikingly beautiful, tall and slender, with clouds of dark hair framing her face. There was something about her that seemed familiar to Steele, but he couldn't place it. One glance toward Laura and he knew she was thinking the same thing. He could always tell by the set of her features, when her investigator's mind began to work.

"Mr. Steele, this is Caitlin O'Connor. Miss O'Connor, Remington Steele and his associate, Miss Holt."

"A pleasure, Miss O'Connor," Steele greeted. "If we're interrupting, we could wait outside until Mr. Weiland is finished with your business."

"Miss O'Connor is here on the same matter, Mr. Steele. If you will all have a seat, Mr. Weiland will be here in just a moment." With that, the secretary exited the room, leaving the three remaining occupants in a slightly awkward silence.

"Do you have any idea what this is all about?" Laura inquired at length.

"No," answered Caitlin. "I'm afraid I don't. I was about to ask you the same thing. All I know is Mr. Weiland phoned me this morning and told me it could be worth $500,000 if I came down here."

"That sounds very familiar," Steele remarked to Laura. "Pardon me, Miss O'Connor, but do I hear a touch of Irish in your voice."

"I'm really rather surprised it can still be detected, Mr. Steele. Yes, I was born and raised in Dublin. I left when I was 16." She smiled and a gleam lit her blue eyes. "And how long have you been away from the old sod?"

Steele chuckled. "Touche, Miss O'Connor. Several years also."

"I wonder if your common link to Ireland could have anything to do with why you were both asked here?" Laura speculated.

"Quite a bit to do with it," came a voice from the office doorway. They turned to see a tall, distinguished looking man in his late forties close the door behind him. "Pardon me, but I couldn't help overhearing, Miss...?

"Laura Holt," Laura supplied.

"Miss Holt is my associate," Steele explained.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Holt, but I'm afraid this doesn't concern Mr. Steele in his capacity with your agency. The matter I have to speak of is personal."

Laura and Steele exchanged a look, then Laura nodded reluctantly and started for the door. "As you wish."

"Ah, Mr. Weiland." Steele reached his hand out for Laura's arm. "In any case, I would prefer to have Miss Holt present."

Laura looked at him with a pleasantly surprised expression. Steele nodded almost imperceptibly to indicate he truly wanted her to stay. It was a small show of trust on his part, but he knew his willingness to share whatever Weiland had to say would go a long way in proving himself. That was something he seemed never to be able to do enough. Besides, he knew she was just as curious as he was.

"Very well," Weiland conceded. "Would you all please take a seat." They did so while the attorney proceeded to his desk, sat down and picked up a stack of papers.

"Let me begin by saying it has taken me almost six months to locate the both of you. Perhaps if I'd hired your agency, Mr. Steele, it wouldn't have taken nearly so long." Remington smiled obligingly at the compliment. "Six months ago, a very wealthy client of mine passed away and left me with the duty of seeking out two people before the conditions of his will could be fulfilled. You are those two people, and now it is my duty to inform you that you have been named in my client's will to receive a bequest of $500,000. each."

"Just who was your client?" Steele asked.

Weiland smiled. "This is the unusual part. You see, my client wished that the inheritance be made anonymously. One of the conditions is that you never know his identity."

"You mean there's nothing you can tell us?" Caitlin O'Connor demanded. "Why us?"

"Because," Weiland paused and looked first at Caitlin, then at Steele, "the man I represented was your father."

"My God!" Caitlin's hand flew to her mouth.

It took Steele a moment to comprehend the weight of the lawyer's statement. He felt as if he couldn't breathe and the office around him seemed to go white. How could this be? After all this time, after two futile trips in search of his identity, for it to happen like this was beyond belief. He became aware of Laura's hand on his arm and he forced himself back to reality. "I'm not sure I understand what you're saying." His voice was barely a whisper.

"First, let me assure you that I know about your backgrounds, or at least enough to verify that you are indeed my client's offspring. Remington Steele is not your real name and you never knew your father. And you, Miss O'Connor, your aunt and uncle raised you and you also were never told the name of your father.

"How?" Caitlin managed in a voice almost as weak as Steele's.

"I've had detectives on this case for six months. Miss O'Connor, you were not so difficult to trace, but due to the stipulations of the will, I had to locate Mr. Steele as well and present both of you with your inheritance at the same time. From all accounts, Mr. Steele, you have led a rather colorful life before coming to Los Angeles a few years back and establishing the agency that bears your 'name.' In fact, there are several large gaps of time unaccounted for, but I have ascertained enough evidence to convince me you are my client's son, and rightful recipient of his bequest."

"Mr. Weiland..."

Weiland held up his hand. "I know this comes as quite a shock to you both, with no warning, but I have a responsibility to my client to fulfill his last wishes to the letter. I have no desire to disrupt your lives any further and none of this information will leave this room. Your pasts are your own business. Mine is just to tell you what I have and see that you get the money."

"Why can't you tell us who...?" Steele began.

"Your father was?" Weiland completed. "It was his desire to see that both of you were taken care of after his passing, but he had a legitimate family and didn't want them to be disgraced by his actions. With his death, there's no reason for you to seek him out now and he wanted to avoid as much emotional strain to his family as possible. The children, in fact, do not even know of your existence."

"Why didn't he acknowledge us before he died? Why wait until it's too late and leave us with the money? To ease his conscience?" accused Caitlin.

"Perhaps in some small part," Weiland admitted. "But deep down, he was a good man. I knew him for years and was involved in business dealings with him. The knowledge you were out there, somewhere, was a cross he bore all his life. He assumed you had both built your own lives and he didn't feel he had the right to impose himself into them. Then, there were his wife and children. His wife knew about the affairs and the offspring they produced. She forgave him and remained with him on the condition that he never try to contact either of you. She is a very proud woman and would not accept the public shame of her husband's private indiscretions. That's why he set up the will in this fashion."

"Mr. Weiland, you don't understand," said Caitlin. "I've longed all my life to know who my father was. My mother died giving birth to me. When I was small, my grandmother told me my father was killed before I was born. After she passed on, when I was three, I went to live with my aunt and uncle. They made sure I knew my mother had disgraced the family by having an affair with a married man and getting pregnant with his child, but they never told me anything about him. They even implied they'd been paid well to keep quiet. They're both gone now, too. I thought I'd lost my last chance. Now you sit there and tell me you not only know his name, but you were acquainted with him, spoke to him, discussed me with him, and yet you can't tell us who he was? Who we are?"

"That was your father's wish and I have no choice. As his legal counsel and the trustee of his estate, I am bound to obey his instructions."

"And if we try to find out on our own?" Steele interjected.

"If you seek the identity of your father, you forfeit your inheritance," Weiland replied. "It's as simple as that."

"I don't care about the money!" Caitlin jumped to her feet. "I just want to know."

"I'm sorry, but my hands are tied. Now, if you'll excuse me, I feel I should leave you alone. I'm sure you need to discuss this revelation. The funds will be prepared for transfer to you in about a week. It will take that long for the paperwork to be completed. I'm at your service if you need me, but I've told you all I'm at liberty to divulge. Please, take your time, the office is yours."

As he left, Steele felt Laura's grip tighten on his arm. "Are you alright?" she asked quietly.

"Yes." He turned toward her. He saw that look of deep understanding in her eyes that he'd seen before... in Ireland when the watch sent to him by Patrick O'Rourke led him nowhere, and in England after being so sure he had finally found his father, only to learn that the Earl of Claredge was not the man he sought. His thoughts and emotions were all confused and it would take some time to sort through what he was feeling, but the loving expression on Laura's face told him she would be there for him.

He smiled at her. "Yes, I'm fine."

His eyes turned toward the young woman who now stood at the window staring out at the sun-drenched Los Angeles skyline. While the possibility of someday having contact with his father was something he had lived with, even hoped for, the idea that he was not alone in that search was very new and very strange. If what Weiland had said was true, this was his sister... his sister!

A whole new flood of emotion ran through him. This woman was a stranger and yet, perhaps she was closer to him than anyone else in the world. As he watched her for a moment, he sensed her vulnerability. She must be going through much the same thing as he, but while he had Laura's support, she was alone. To her, he was just as much a stranger.

"Laura...?"

"I understand," she interrupted before he could find the words. "Just take it slowly. I'll be right outside." She gave him an impulsive hug and kissed his cheek before pulling away and leaving the room.

Steele stood in silence for a few moments before speaking. It was hard to know how to begin. "Miss O'Connor..." he started then chuckled softly. "I suppose that's a little formal. Considering the circumstances, I guess we should be on a first name basis." He took a deep breath and began again. "Caitlin, I know this is as much a shock to you as it is to me. I, too, have wondered of my parentage, although for quite a few years, it didn't seem to matter very much. I had no ties and I never wanted any. That was before I came to Los Angeles. My life changed, and I realized I needed to find my roots."

She turned slowly to face him. "But you're a detective... a formidable one from all I've read... and you couldn't even find out who your father was?"

He smiled sadly. "Even the best of detectives, which I personally am not, would have difficulty tracing back over thirty years. I have taken a stab at it, twice in fact, but with no success."

"Until now."

"Yes." He took a step toward her and she backed away. "Caitlin, what are you feeling now?"

"I'm frightened," she confessed. "It's a strange feeling for me. I've always been rather self-sufficient, independent." She wrapped her arms around her shivering body. "I just never expected anything like this to happen."

Steele sighed. "Neither did I."

A prolonged silence was finally broken by Caitlin. "I'd given up any hope. But I prayed some day he might find me, that he'd been searching for me all these years. It was like a dream I pushed to the back of my mind, but it was always there."

Steele nodded. "And what happened today is as if someone opened the door just a crack, then slammed it shut and locked it."

"Yes." Tears filled her eyes. She looked up at Steele. "One thing I never considered, not at all, was the possibility of... of having a... brother."

"Believe me, I know. When you live your entire life alone, it's unsettling to say the least to learn there is someone else, someone like you."

"Are we alike... Remington?"

He took a deep breath. "You said yourself you've been on your own since you were sixteen, that you were independent and self-reliant. I've been taking care of myself a lot longer, after being passed around from aunts and uncles to cousins, feeling like I belonged nowhere. Unwanted..."

"Unloved," she added. Steele nodded.

"I realize this is very new to you. It's new to me also. I think we should make an effort to get to know one another, don't you? We could have very much in common."

"How can we know one another when neither of us knows the truth? How can we know for sure we are brother and sister if we never learn all the facts?"

"You want to know." It was a statement.

"More than anything else in the world," she declared. "I'm not wealthy, Mr. Ste... Remington. I'm a secretary and I've done a little modeling on the side. I'm not starving... not anymore. I could certainly use $500,000., but if there's a chance of learning this man's name, I'd gladly forfeit that money."

"You're sure of that?".

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life." Her eyes locked with his.

"Then we'll do our best to find out," he assured her.

"But you said you've already tried and failed."

"Ah, but the trail was cold then. Weiland's investigation opens things up. His detective had a new angle to come at it. Now there just might be a chance... a very good chance, of breaking through that locked door."

"How?"

"To start with, we know one person who has the key."

"Weiland? He won't tell us any more."

"Just because he won't give us the key doesn't mean we can't find a way to get it," Steele replied cryptically.

Caitlin smiled, really for the first time since Weiland had broken the news. "I believe you may be right about how much we have in common, Remington," she acknowledged. "I like the way you think."

Steele smiled back as he stepped up and took her hands in his. "Caitlin, it's going to take some time to get used to the idea, but I already think I like having a sister."

"My friends call me Cait."

"Cait, then." He looked into blue eyes that were a mirror of his own.

"Remington," she said, still with her hands in his. "I'm not scared anymore."

Laura Holt sat in the reception area of Weiland's office, her eyes glued to the door she had closed behind her. Her mind was awhirl with thoughts. Weiland's revelations had left her head spinning. She could only guess what it had done to Mr. Steele. Maybe it was her investigator's training that made her suspicious. Everything Weiland told them made sense. Why else would someone give away a million dollars?

And what if it were true? How would it affect Remington to never know who his father was, to lose all hope of finding out what kind of person the man had been? It worried her more than a little. It was the one area in which he was most vulnerable. She had seen him hurt before... in Ireland, in England. She knew that her intense need to know his past was one of the reasons he had begun the search. She had wanted him to tell her his name as a symbol of some form of commitment between them. How could he do that when he didn't know.

Whatever happened, she was determined to support him, to help him come to some kind of reconciliation of this mess.

Then there was Caitlin O'Connor. Laura recalled the moment they had walked into the office and she first laid eyes on the girl who could be Steele's sister. She should've know then. In fact, subconsciously, perhaps she did. Their coloring was the same: the hair, the skin tone, the eyes... that was it. Caitlin's eyes were the same shade of blue as his. He had seen it too, Laura had noticed. Now it all made sense. Yes, it was definitely evidence to support Weiland's assertion that they were brother and sister... actually half brother and sister, if Laura followed Weiland's narrative correctly. That would help to explain why neither of them knew of the other's existence.

As she sat lost in thought, the office door opened and Caitlin and Steele stepped into the room. Laura came to her feet and walked up beside Steele. "Everything alright?" she asked.

"It will be." Steele turned to Caitlin and repeated. "It will be."

"Thank you, Remington. I'll call you tomorrow then?"

"Yes, but if you want to talk... about anything... before that, you have my numbers." He took her hand and squeezed it. "Take care, Cait," he added as she stepped away and out the doors.

Laura put her hands around Remington's arm. "Why don't we go somewhere? Or if you want to be alone, I'll understand, but..."

"No. I need to talk. Let's go to my place where we can have some privacy."

"Okay," she replied.

"And Laura..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you." Steele put his hand over hers.

"Anytime, Mr. Steele."

Laura finished making the coffee as Remington showered and changed. More than anything else, at that moment he needed to relax and Laura had insisted on it. She set the tray on the coffee table just as he came out of the bedroom wearing jeans and a sweater.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Yes."

She sat next to him on the sofa and handed him a cup of coffee which he held without sipping. His expression was far away and Laura hesitated to intrude but he'd said he needed to talk. "What are you thinking about?" she asked softly.

"Cait. Do you think she looks like me?"

Laura smiled. "Yes, I do. She has your coloring and features. She almost has your eyes."

"Almost?" he asked.

"Well, no one could ever have eyes just like yours."

He smiled. "Flattery, Miss Holt?"

"Just the truth, Mr. Steele." She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I think she could really be my sister."

"You aren't sure?"

"How can I be, Laura? Weiland was hardly a fountain of information on the subject of our alleged father. You know, if the man thought he was doing us a favor, he certainly was wrong. There are so many questions that have no answers."

"Like?"

"Like why didn't he try and find us before he died if he was so bloody interested in our welfare? Why can't we at least know his name?"

"Weiland said it was his wife. She would have left him if he'd made any attempt to find you and she would have taken his other children away. I suppose now she's afraid you might make some claim against a larger portion of the estate."

"That's absurd!" Steele stormed. "I don't give a damn about the money... any of it... and neither does Cait."

"Are you sure?" Laura asked.

He stared at her. "What are you implying?"

"Don't get upset," she soothed. "I'm just trying to consider all of this from a logical point of view. You're too emotionally involved to be objective. I know you're trying to cope with the idea of having a sister, maybe even warming up to it, and, yes, she may very well be your sister, but you don't know a thing about her. You don't know what she's really like. She could be a very good actress."

Steele shook his head. "No, I can't believe that. I can feel it... I can't explain how... I only know I trust her to be just what she appears to be. Why would she turn down a 'no questions asked' gift of half a million dollars if she were a con artist? I do have some experience with that type."

"What do you mean, turn it down?"

He leaned toward her. "We talked about it and we both agree. We don't want the money. We want the truth."

"Weiland won't tell you."

"Then we'll find out on our own. For that, I have to ask your help. You're the best, Laura. If anyone can find out, you can. I'm asking you to take me on as a client. Help me find the answers."

She nodded. "I suspected as much. First, though, I have to ask you something."

"Anything," he promised.

"Why? Why do you really want to know?"

He looked at her incredulously. "Laura, ever since O'Rourke sent me that bloody watch and started that wild goose chase, I've been trying to discover who my father is. You've helped me before and you know how hard I've tried to find out."

"Yes, but for what purpose?"

"To know who I am."

"You're Remington Steele," she stated quietly. "Isn't that enough for you?"

"Is it enough for you?" he countered.

She smiled. "That's what I thought. You're doing this because of my desire for a commitment from you, because you can't tell me your name."

"That's part of it," he admitted, "but not all."

"I want to be sure you aren't doing this because of me, tossing it all away. I don't need that anymore."

Steele looked closely at her. "What are you saying, Laura?"

"I created Remington Steele and I made him the perfect man. I gave him all the attributes I admire. When you stepped into the role, you didn't fit that image and I fought it. I fought you and my feelings for you. But as time passed, the role changed. You didn't become the Remington Steele I imagined. He never existed and never could. He was fantasy, not flesh and blood. Remington Steele became you. He became the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you quote old movies, the way you care about people. There is no other Remington Steele and there never could be again."

"But that doesn't mean I'm not curious and that I'm not concerned about how your past can affect our lives now, but your former identity is no longer a concern for me. I don't need to know what your name was before I met you. You're Remington Steele and that's all I ever want you to be... need you to be."

"Laura." He whispered her name as he pulled her into his embrace. He held her tightly for several seconds before his lips sought hers for a long impassioned kiss. The taste of her mouth made him hungry for more. His fingers combed through her long hair, his hands holding her face against his. He felt her soft touch on his face with the same purpose. At last, simply to catch their breath, they separated. Still only inches apart, they looked into each other's eyes. "How did I deserve someone like you?"

"You don't deserve me," she replied with an upturn of the corner of her lips, "but you're stuck with me anyway."

Again they kissed, this time Steele's hand moved behind her back, supporting her as he lowered her onto the sofa in one fluid motion, without their lips ever losing contact. Once more they parted for air, but only for a second, as their senses began to whirl and the passion they both felt for each other began to grow from a comfortable warmth to a raging inferno. Just as Steele reached for the front of her blouse, the telephone rang, startling them both with its intrusion. Steele pulled away slightly and stared for a moment at the instrument. Then with a soft curse that made Laura smile, he sat up and reached for the receiver.

"Steele here," he managed with very little conviction.

Remington? I'm sorry to disturb you. It's Cait."

"Yes, Luv, what is it?" Turning to Laura, he mouthed Cait's name.

"I'm just being silly, I know, but I need to talk to someone and there's no one else who would... who would understand."

"Why don't you give me your address and I'll come pick you up and take you to dinner," he suggested, giving Laura an apologetic look.

"I... I don't want to impose," Cait stammered.

"Nonsense, we'll make it casual. Grab a burger or something. After all, what's a brother for?"

"I'm not sure. I've never had one before."

"And I've never been one before, but I think we have to start somewhere." He could almost hear her grin.

"Great, I'll be ready when you get here. Got a pencil?"

He grabbed for the pen and pad on the end table. "Fire away." He took down the address. "I'll be there in half an hour."

"Thank you, Remington."

"You're welcome, Cait. Bye, bye." As he hung up the phone he turned to Laura.

"Now you know what I feel like when Francis calls at the most inopportune times," Laura quipped. "Is she alright?"

"She's just confused, and a little frightened, I think. She needs someone who can understand how she's feeling. I couldn't turn her down."

"Of course not," Laura replied with understanding, "and I wouldn't want you to."

"Laura, about all this... you may have launched me on my search, but somewhere along the way it became my need as well. If there's any way, I have to know him, what he was like. Maybe in that way I can understand why he turned his back on me. I never had much interest in the past or the future. I've always lived for the moment. That's the way I wanted it, until I met you. The future is important to me now, and if I am to know where I'm going, I have to do everything I can to know what was before. Can you understand that?"

She kissed his cheek. "How could I not understand? If I had the chance to find out what happened to my father, to learn where he went, why he left us, there's no way I couldn't try. At least I have memories of him... a lot of them good memories. I knew him for sixteen years. How can I not help you?"

He ran his hand through his hair again. "Thank you, Laura. I could never have known how fortuitous it was the day I stepped into your office. Perhaps when all this is settled..."

She put her finger on his lips. "I don't want any promises from you tonight. I can wait until things are settled. You have someone waiting for you who needs you more than I do right now. I envy her."

"Why?"

"She's got a wonderful man for a brother and she gets to discover how lucky she is." He leaned over and gave her another kiss. Not as long as before... he didn't dare if he still planned to meet Cait. "Go on," she prompted. "I'm going to go down to the office and start running some things through the computer."

"Don't work too late," he cautioned. "I may need you in the morning."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Steele." She saluted him. He squeezed her hands then rose, grabbed his keys and headed for the door. "Call if you need me?" she offered as he turned back before closing the door.

"I will," he promised, then he was gone.

Laura sat alone for a few moments, lost in thought about the man who had just left. She was determined to find out who Weiland's client was and if, in fact, he was Remington Steele's real father. She would not allow him to be hurt if this was some hoax or scam or some terrible mistake. She cared too much to let that happen. Grabbing the coffee cups and tray, she headed for the kitchen to tidy up before going to the office for a long night's work.

"Cait, I believe you got me out here on false pretenses," Steele teased with mock sternness in his voice.

"What do you mean?" she asked around the bite of hamburger in her mouth.

"You said you wanted to talk. I think you just wanted a free meal!"

She laughed as she swallowed. "You're mean! Is that what I have to look forward to?"

"If you con me into burgers and beer again, it is."

"Not your cup of tea, Brother?" she asked.

Steele held up his mug of beer. "Now that you mention it, I do prefer a more delicate vintage."

"I'm sorry, but you said burgers and this is the best burger place in town." Steele glanced around the sparse decor. The cafe was one step up from a fast-food restaurant. The section they were in, near the front windows was practically empty, which Steele felt was a blessing since they needed the privacy.

"Uh, yes, and the burgers are delicious," he replied. "And everything is included: two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a..." he frowned at the seedless bun. "Oh, well, can't have everything I guess."

Cait laughed. "You're incorrigible."

"You've been talking to Miss Holt. That's her opinion of me to a tee."

"I know what you're trying to do."

"Oh? And what am I trying to do?"

"Make me relax. Make this easier."

"Am I succeeding?"

She nodded. "Quite well, actually. You take me out for burgers and beer when your palate obviously is used to much finer cuisine. You act the clown for me. But most important, you were there when I called. I really am sorry about that. I should know how much you have on your mind and I'm a perfect stranger to you."

"Cait, Luv, nobody's perfect, not even the great Remington Steele."

She planted her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand as she scrutinized him. "Speaking of which, Mr. Weiland said that wasn't your real name. Just exactly how did you acquire it, along with the detective agency, that car out there...," she motioned through the window at the Auburn, "...those expensive clothes you were wearing today... everything?"

"My, my, full of questions aren't we?"

She pulled her arm off the table and dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry. That's prying and even if you are my brother, your life is none of my business."

"It's natural you should be curious," Steele replied. "In answer to your question... it was fate. I stepped into the right place at the right time and became someone new. That's something I used to be very adept at... I've been quite a number of people in my life."

"And Remington Steele is just the latest?"

"No, Remington Steele is the last. I've never felt I belonged anywhere before. Now I do."

"Because of Miss Holt?" She paused, then shook her head again. "Damn it! I shouldn't be this nosy. Forget I asked."

"Cait, if you ask me something I don't wish to answer, I'll tell you so. Yes, Laura figures prominently in my reasons for staying. We have a... not-yet-defined relationship, but we're working on it."

"You're very fortunate." Cait sipped her beer. "I'm still looking for that someone, that someplace that I can really call home. I feel like I've been a wanderer all my life. Something inside me tells me to keep looking. There's someplace out there for me if I look long and hard enough. Then there's the little voice that keeps telling me I should give up and be satisfied with what I have. It's a helluva lot better than what I used to have." Her expression became dark with memory.

"Tell me," he prompted.

"Have you ever slept in a garbage dumpster? Had to steal enough food to keep you alive? Have you ever been so alone you felt like if you just curled up into a ball, tighter and tighter, you'd eventually get so small you'd disappear entirely and no one would even take notice? Have you ever been so lonely you cried until you had no more tears...?"

"...Then shook with sobs after tears would no longer come?" he completed. "Yes, Cait, I've done and felt all of that. I lived on the streets of Dublin before I was ten. I learned what it took to survive that way... stealing food, money to find myself a bed for the night. I learned how to survive, because in those days that was all I could hope for... survival. And I was luckier than most. Along the way I found some people... friends, who took interest in a dirty, angry kid, maybe for just a little while, then I would have to move on. I hated anyone who had the things I didn't. I wanted to take those things away from them... their homes, fine clothes, warm loving families. I wanted them all to feel what I felt.

"Then I met a man who took more than just a passing interest in me. He saw something I couldn't see in myself and he took me under his wing and set me straight about quite a few things. Daniel was the closest thing to a father I ever had. He got me off the streets and introduced me to the finer things in life and taught me how to use my wits to get them." He winked at her. "I became very adept at... acquiring things."

"You became a thief!" she concluded, her eyes sparkling.

"Of sorts," he admitted. "I found I had certain skills in areas that were valuable in the trade. Daniel taught me well, and I was very successful. I recovered stolen jewels and objects d'art."

"Recovered them."

"Right. In fact that was what I was doing when I came to Los Angeles and met Laura. After I became Remington Steele, I found that my talents could be utilized in an even more legitimate trade and I converted to the side of law and order."

"That's quite a tale," Cait remarked.

"It's all true, I swear, but I must have your solemn promise that you'll not tell anyone what I've just told you. I'm not in the habit of discussing my past with..."

"Strangers?" she finished.

He smiled sheepishly. "Well, you are the first sister I've had occasion to deal with... my own, that is."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't tell a soul. But I am a stranger to you. Why have you told me all these things you've kept so secret?"

He thought for a minute. "I don't know if I even know why. I feel as if I've known you for a long time. I feel I can trust you. Perhaps that's odd, but..."

"No, not at all. I've felt the same way since this afternoon. That's why I had to talk to you. I had to see you again and find out if I still feel the same way."

"And?"

"...I do. You may not know what a monumental thing this is for me to say. I've never really trusted anyone since my grandmother died. But I do trust you. I think, because, in a way, it's like peering into a mirror."

Remington closed his eyes for a moment before looking at her again. "I understand."

"Do you think anyone else would?"

He shook his head. "Probably not. What was it Mr. Spock used to say? It isn't 'logical'."

"But it exists... the feeling, I mean. Remington, I've never put my faith in anyone before and it's a little scary now, because I don't seem to be able to help myself. I know you wouldn't hurt me."

He reached out across the table and took her hands in his. "Not if it was in my power. Though I'm only human, Cait... And one of the frailer of the species. Don't expect too much of me."

"I'll try and keep that in mind." She smiled.

"Now, on to the matters at hand. I've spoken to Laura and she's agreed to help us find out who Weiland's client is and if he's the genuine article."

"Our father."

"Yes."

"You don't think Weiland is telling the truth? But why would he lie? What would he have to gain? He's giving us a million dollars."

"I agree with you. It seems the only logical deduction on the surface."

"But appearances can be deceiving. That word again... 'logical'."

"You're a quick study," Steele complimented. "Chances are everything is as Weiland stated, but we're not only going to find out for sure, we're going to prove to ourselves that Weiland's client was or wasn't our father. Are you sure you still want to go through with this? If we do seek his identity, we forfeit any claim on the inheritance, and anyone who can write a will as complex as this one has surely taken care to make it iron-clad."

"I'm positive. When do we get started?"

"Laura's at the office tonight running some preliminary computer checks. Tomorrow, we start my favorite part of the detective business... legwork." He cringed and Cait laughed at him.

"Then you'll let me know what you find out?"

"You'll be the third to know."

"Third?"

"Laura will be first, because she'll undoubtably be the one to figure it out. She'll tell me, then I'll tell you."

"You care very much for her, don't you?"

"What makes you ask?"

"Oh, something about the way you talk about her, the way she looked at you this afternoon. I wonder if I'll ever find someone who'll look at me that way."

Steele leaned across the table and kissed her on the forehead. "I have a feeling you will."

"But first, with your help, I have to find myself. What've I got to offer someone if I don't even know who I am?"

Steele could think of nothing to say. It was exactly how he'd felt so often when thinking of Laura. "It's getting late. I'm going to take you home then I'm going home and we are both going to get some sleep, okay?"

"Alright. You know, for someone with no previous experience, you certainly sound like a big brother."

Remington shrugged, took a last sip of beer and grimaced as he grabbed their coats.

"Mr. Steele!" Mildred exclaimed as the agency's figurehead came through the door. "You're certainly in early."

"We've got a lot to do, Mildred," he replied quietly. "Is Miss Holt here?"

"No, she left a note on my desk saying that she'd be in a little late this morning. Seems she worked well into the night." There was a slight note of accusation in Mildred's voice that made Steele sigh. He missed those days when Mildred was his ever-loyal assistant, always trying to please him, and looking up to him as the most wonderful man alive. Since she'd learned the truth in England, that he was nothing but a fraud, things just hadn't been the same.

"We all may put in some late hours before this one's through," he informed her.

"Big case?" Mildred was suddenly interested.

"Depends on your point of view. To me, it's the most important case I've ever been involved with."

"Can you tell me about it, Chief?"

Steele couldn't resist a smile. When she wanted something, Mildred's tune could certainly change. "After Miss Holt gets in, Mildred. I'll be in my office."

"Boss?" Steele turned back toward her. "Is something wrong?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You seem a little quiet, maybe a little down this morning."

Steele gave her a tired smile. "Just didn't get much sleep last night, Mildred," he replied as he continued into his office.

It was less than an hour later when Steele heard a commotion in the outer office.

"Wait a minute, Miss. You can't go in there," he heard Mildred call just as the door to his office opened and Cait came rushing in.

"Cait!"

"Oh, Remington, I'm so frightened," she cried.

He rushed around his desk as she ran into his arms, sobbing. "Good Lord, what's wrong?"

"A man... a man came to my apartment this morning. He claimed he was a plumber, but I told him I hadn't called anyone. He said the landlord sent him to check the pipes. I wanted to call the landlord to check and he said that was fine, but when I turned away from the door, he started kicking at it! I ran into the bedroom and locked the door, then I climbed out the fire escape. I hailed a cab and came straight here, but when I came in downstairs, I saw the man get out of a car and follow me!"

Steele led her to the sofa and sat down with her, his arms still around her. "It's alright," he whispered softly. "You're safe here. No one's going to try and do anything in the middle of a busy office building like this in broad daylight." He looked up at his secretary. "Mildred, would you get us some coffee, please?"

"Sure, Boss, right away." Steele noted the curious expression on her face.

"Why would somebody try to break into my apartment and why would he follow me here?" Cait asked.

Steele took out his handkerchief and dabbed at her tears before handing it to her. "I don't know, but I intend to find out. I said I wouldn't let anyone hurt you and I meant it. You're far too important to me."

She looked up at him. "But we only met yesterday..."

"Yes, but what a meeting!" His reply made her smile. "Now that fate has brought us together, I'm not about to lose you so quickly." He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "What's taking Mildred so long," he remarked as he turned and saw her standing in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee, and staring wide-eyed and jaw dropped. "What is it, Mildred?"

She quickly recovered from the shocked expression, as her eyes narrowed toward him. "Nothing, Mr. Steele," she snapped tersely, emphasizing his name much the same way Laura had a habit of doing to let him know he was doing something she didn't like. He had no time to analyze it at the moment, however.

"Just bring us the coffee, please," he instructed her. He took a cup and handed it to Cait. "Drink this. Slowly." She took a couple of sips. "Just try and calm down, Luv. You're safe." She nodded and managed a smile. "Now then, can you describe this man?"

"He was tall and huge, looked like a football player, with dingy blond hair and a dark moustache."

"I want you to wait here," he told her as he started to get up.

"No, don't..." she began.

"It's alright," he assured her. "Mildred, stay with her. I'm going to check out this floor and the lobby. Call security and ask them to keep an eye out for this man." He finished the instructions as he headed out the door.

"Remington, please be careful!" Cait called.

"You'd better drink your coffee, dear," Mildred told her rather brusquely as she headed for the phone.

Steele walked all the way down the corridor in both directions from the elevators. He didn't see anyone fitting the description Cait had given. He punched for an elevator and took it down to the lobby. With a quick look around, he still couldn't spot the man. He stopped and spoke with the security guard.

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Steele, I do think I saw the man you're talking about hanging around a few minutes before your secretary called. I didn't notice where he went."

"Hanging around the elevators?" Steele asked. "Good Lord, he was probably watching to see what floor Cait stopped on! If he followed her up there..." Without finishing the thought, he broke for the lifts with the security guard right behind, giving orders into his walkie-talkie. They caught a car almost immediately and impatiently rode to the eleventh floor. As soon as the doors were opened, Steele was bounding down the hall to his office.

"Cait! Mildred!".

"Yes?" Mildred answered calmly from his office.

He ran into the room and, seeing them both where he had left them, sighed in relief then turned to the security man. "Please have your men keep an eye out for that bugger. If you find him, detain him. I have a few questions for him, as might the police."

"Anything you say, Mr. Steele." The guard left the office.

"What happened?" Mildred asked.

"The man was in the lobby, but he doesn't appear to be anywhere around now. Perhaps he just wanted to see where you were going."

"And like an hysterical idiot, I led him right to you. I've put you in danger," Cait exclaimed.

"You did exactly the right thing, Cait," he assured her. "If this has something to do with the Weiland thing..."

"What else could it be?" she asked. "I certainly don't lead the kind of life that has crazed men coming after me."

"Whatever it is, you're not going back to your apartment," he informed her firmly. "I want you where I can keep an eye on you."

"Oh, my gosh! I completely forgot about work! I have to call them and tell them I won't be in today."

"Tell them you've had a family emergency and have to go out of town and probably won't be back for the rest of the week," he instructed.

"Remington, I don't have a lot of seniority. I could lose my job."

"You can always get another, Luv," he said soberly.

She nodded. "Of course, you're right."

"I'm always right." He gave her a wink and a grin. Cait couldn't help but laugh. "You go ahead and call, then just relax for a little while. I'll be right outside if you need me."

"Thanks."

Mildred followed Steele into the outer office. He grabbed the phone and dialed Laura's number. He heard the ring, but there was no answer. "She must be on her way in."

"Miss Holt?" Mildred asked.

"Yes." He hung up and started to pace.

"I'm surprised you have time to think about her," Mildred commented acidly.

Steele spun around and fixed her with a stare. "Mildred, what is wrong with you this morning?"

"Me? The way you've been acting, you're asking what's wrong with me?"

"Yes, I most certainly am. What's with this attitude of yours?"

"My attitude? Hah! What's with you and the bimbo?" She pointed toward his office.

"The what?"

"You heard me," she replied. "You were in there a while ago feeding her that line about how important she was to you. Oh, Mr. Steele, how could you do such a thing to Miss Holt?"

"How could I..." he began, then it dawned on him what this was all about. He chuckled. "I see." He stepped up to Mildred and put his hands on her shoulders. "It's not what you think, Mildred. I'm not two-timing Miss Holt with Caitlin in there. The fact is, well, Miss O'Connor is my sister."

"Ha! That's a good one. You expect me to believe that?" Mildred was indignant. "I'm hurt that you'd lie to me like that, Boss. Hurt and disappointed." She turned away from him.

"But it's the truth, I swear. I appreciate your loyalty to Miss Holt. I applaud it, in fact, but I wouldn't lie to you, Mildred. Please believe me."

She turned and looked at him appraisingly. Before she could say anything else, the office door opened and Laura came in. "I'm sorry I'm late, but I was here until about 3:00 getting the last run off the computer and..." She glanced from Steele to Mildred and back again. "What have I missed?"

"Cait's in my office. Someone tried to break into her apartment this morning and then followed her here."

Laura looked at him with concern. "Is she okay?"

"Just a little shaken. I don't want her going back there. She's calling her office now to tell them she'll be gone for a few days. Can she stay at your place?"

"Of course," she replied, then noticed Mildred's puzzled look. "Is something wrong, Mildred?"

"Ah, Miss Holt, that woman in there, is she...?"

"Mr. Steele's sister," Laura finished.

"Huh?" Mildred dropped her jaw in disbelief.

Steele looked at Laura closely. "Did you discover anything last night?"

"I ran a check on Cait and everything she says pans out. Adding that to your feeling about her and the strong physical resemblance, I think the chances are very good you two are brother and sister."

"You had me checked out?" Cait asked from the doorway behind them.

Steele saw the disappointment in her face. "Cait, I..."

"No, it's alright, really. I understand." From her expression, it was evident she didn't completely feel what she was saying.

"I ran the background on you," Laura confessed. "Mr. Steele didn't ask me to. He told me last night he trusted you completely. But I'm a detective and I didn't have any such feelings. I felt, for Mr. Steele's own good, I should make sure you were telling the truth. I'm glad the check confirmed your story."

Cait smiled. "I think if I were in your shoes, I would have done the same thing. After all, you're right, you don't know me. I'm sorry I took offense." She looked back at Steele. "As you said, feelings aren't logical."

Laura's eyebrows went up quizzically as Steele and Cait both broke into laughter. "Did I miss something?" she asked.

"Just a little family joke." Remington winked at Cait.

"I suppose." Laura shook her head. "Anyway, I also looked into Weiland's records. He appears to be legitimate and extremely well off, I might add. Besides the law practice, he's made some very profitable investments over the last two or three years. I remembered his comment about his client being straight-forward and generous in his business dealings and how they'd been friends. On a hunch, I pulled up the names of the companies Weiland has interests in and ran a cross check with other major stock holders. One name kept appearing... Terrence Flynn."

"Flynn?" Steele asked. "That name isn't familiar."

"No, but it is Irish, so I decided to dig a little deeper into Mr. Flynn's ties to Weiland."

"And?" Cait prompted.

"Terrence Flynn died six month ago."

"Good Lord!" Steele leaned against Mildred's desk.

"That's how long Weiland said he'd been looking for us," Cait commented.

Laura continued. "Flynn was 59 years old, had a wife and two children, and was killed in an automobile accident. He was very wealthy, thanks to a lot of good investments. He was born and raised in Dublin. He left there twenty-five years ago with his family and relocated to New York. He's been in Los Angeles for the last five years."

"It has to be him," Steele stated. "Terrence Flynn."

"It's just a name right now. Until we can get Weiland to confirm it, it's only circumstantial evidence."

"How are we going to get Weiland to say one way or another?" Cait wondered.

"We play a little game that's become synonymous with America's wild west folklore," Steele replied. "Poker."

"I don't get it," said Mildred.

"We bluff." Laura grinned.

Charles Weiland stood up as Laura entered his office. "Miss Holt, it's a pleasure to see you again so soon, but I admit I am surprised."

"I understand, Mr. Weiland, but I felt I had to come and tell you something I think you have a right to know."

Weiland frowned. "What is it?"

"I'm having a hard time with my conscience these days. You see, I'm a detective not only by profession, but by temperament. When I learned a few years back that Mr. Steele was not who he claimed to be, I did some investigating."

"What are you trying to say, Miss Holt?"

"I knew who Mr. Steele's father was a long time before yesterday. When I found out, I contacted Flynn and..."

"Flynn?" Weiland asked, his eyes wide.

"Yes, Terrence Flynn, your client. As I was saying, I contacted him and he persuaded me not to reveal his identity to Mr. Steele."

"Are you saying Flynn knew Steele was his son?"

Laura shrugged. "Of course."

"But he told me he didn't have any idea where the two children were. I spent all that time and money looking for them and he knew all along?"

"Actually, he didn't, Mr. Weiland. I'm sorry to have tricked you this way."

"What? I don't understand." Weiland shook his head.

"I needed you to confirm our suspicions about your client. You've just done that." She rose and headed for the door. "If you'll bear with me a moment?" As she opened the door, Steele and Caitlin entered the office.

"I demand to know what this is all about," Weiland postured.

Steele looked at Laura who gave him a nod. "Mr. Weiland, my sister and I decided we'd rather know our father's identity than just accept the money and leave it at that."

"But you couldn't have found out. You couldn't have had proof," Weiland sputtered.

"We didn't," Steele replied. "We only had suspicions, which you've been kind enough to confirm."

"As I said before, I am sorry we had to resort to these methods, but..." Laura added.

"You are good, Mr. Steele," Weiland conceded. "You've certainly lived up to your reputation. I don't know how you managed to come up with Flynn's name overnight when it took my detectives six months to find yours."

"As you said before, perhaps you should have engaged the Remington Steele Agency in the first place," Caitlin reminded him.

"That may be true, and you have succeeded in learning your father's identity, but it will do you no good at all, and it will cost you each $500,000."

Steele smiled at the attorney. "We happen to think it was worth it."

"Well, let me assure you that if you are after a larger chunk of your father's estate, you'll be very disappointed. His will is quite specific. The only funds you were entitled to, you've now forfeited. You're both specifically prohibited from collecting any of his other assets. And if you have a lawsuit in mind, my legal advice would be to forget it. The will is solid."

"Mr. Weiland, you may not understand this, but that thought never crossed our minds," Cait told him. "We just wanted, no... needed, the truth."

Weiland sat down in his chair and leaned back. "I suppose I can accept that. I'm still not happy with the way you accomplished your purpose, but I suppose there was no way to stop you from finding out somehow, considering your determination. I'll inform Mrs. Flynn that the one million dollars allocated for delivery to you will be returned to the estate. I think our business is concluded."

"Thank you, Mr. Weiland," replied Steele as they prepared to leave. "I understand your position but there was no other way. Good day, sir."

As Steele reached the door, Weiland called, "Mr. Steele."

"Yes?"

"Next time I have occasion to use a private detective, I will call you." He smiled at Steele.

"We welcome your business," Steele nodded in reply, then closed the door as he left.

The house was Georgian in design. Its red brick facade seemed enormous as Steele, Cait and Laura got out of the limo at the front steps.

"I think I want to run and hide." Cait looked up at the huge white front door.

"Stout heart, my dear," Steele encouraged. "This may not be an easy visit."

"Remington, I don't exactly feel right about subjecting these people to the unpleasantness our being here could cause."

"Cait, it's not only important to find out, but to learn if there's any connection between these people and the man who broke into your apartment this morning."

"Yes, you're right," she agreed, then smiled at him. "I know... You're always right."

"I knew you were a quick study," he shot back with a crooked grin.

"Let's just take it easy," Laura cautioned. "We'll make it clear you want nothing but information about the man himself."

They stepped up to the door and Laura rang the bell. A few seconds later, a uniformed butler responded. "Yes?" he inquired.

"We'd like to see Mrs. Flynn," Laura told him. "It's very important and concerns her late husband."

"I'm afraid Mrs. Flynn is not here," the butler informed them. "She has gone to New York and won't return until late tomorrow."

Laura glanced at Steele and Cait and saw the disappointment registered on their faces. "Perhaps we should come back then," she suggested and was about to turn away when...

"Jordan, who is it?" The voice belonged to a young blonde woman who had come into the entry hall behind the butler.

"Someone to see your mother, Miss Moira."

She stepped up to the door. "You have business with my mother, Mr. ...?"

"Remington Steele. And yes, we do, but we can come back tomorrow."

"Wait!" The girl's eyes grew large. "Remington Steele? It's about father, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Steele admitted. He didn't want to discuss the matter with a girl who appeared to be no more than 18. It wasn't their intent to divulge family skeletons to Flynn's legitimate children.

"You must come in. I do need to talk to you."

Steele looked at Laura who nodded. As they followed the girl to the study, she leaned over to Steele and Cait and whispered, "Be careful."

"Don't worry," Steele replied. "I have no intention of walking up and introducing myself to that child as her bastard brother!"

"Won't you all have a seat?" Moira directed them to a sofa and chairs in the library. "Would you like something to drink?"

They all declined and she nodded to Jordan. The butler bowed, then left, closing the door behind him.

"I'm afraid I didn't introduce myself very well out there just now. I'm Moira Flynn."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Flynn. This is my associate, Miss Holt, and my... ah... secretary, Miss O'Connor."

"Miss Holt, Miss O'Connor." She smiled at them both. "Mr. Steele, I know what a great detective you are. I've read all about you, and I'm so glad you're investigating Father's death."

Steele and Laura exchanged a quick glance. "Why don't you tell us exactly what you know of your father's accident, Miss Flynn?" Laura suggested.

"First of all, it wasn't an accident. They said he was drunk, driving too fast on the mountain road and lost control of the car."

"And I take it you don't buy that," Steele surmised.

"Of course I don't. Father didn't drink. Not anymore. He used to have a bad time of it with alcohol. When he drank, he forgot where he'd been and what he'd done. He finally quit all together, and that was fifteen years ago. I can barely remember my father ever drinking and I've never seen him touch a drop of alcohol since then."

"Did you tell the police that?" Laura inquired.

"Certainly, but they didn't believe me. The autopsy showed he'd drunk a large quantity of scotch, which is absolutely crazy."

"Why?" asked Cait.

"Even when my father used to drink, he detested the taste of scotch. He used to say the only use for it was starting fires! He only drank Irish whiskey. My father was very proud of his heritage and always considered himself an Irishman first and foremost."

"Didn't the rest of your family substantiate your father hadn't been drinking?" Laura wondered.

"Mother was too broken up by the accident, and Aaron..." She shook her head and laughed. "Aaron hated Father."

"That's a pretty strong sentiment," Steele remarked.

"But true. They never got along. My brother is a lot like my mother, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I hate to admit this, because I love my mother, but she's not a very warm person. She doesn't show her feelings easily. Most people consider her downright cold."

Laura fixed the girl with a stare. "Miss Flynn, do you think your brother hated your father enough to stage the accident?"

Moira Flynn looked down at the floor for a moment before answering. "I don't want to believe it, but yes," her eyes finally met Laura's. "It's a bloody awful thing to say about one's own brother, but it's true. Aaron could have done it."

"Miss Flynn," Steele began, "do you know anything about the provisions of your father's will? Anything that might suggest a motive for someone to murder him?"

"I know more than I'm supposed to know, Mr. Steele," she informed him. "I know that my father's estate has been held up for six months while his attorney searched out two mysterious beneficiaries."

"You don't know anything about them?" Laura asked.

"No," she answered. "Well... I have my suspicions." She looked at Steele. "My father and I were very close and he used to spoil me terribly. You know, give me extravagant gifts, jewels, cars, vacations. Once he gave me this beautiful diamond necklace. It must have cost a fortune. I told him there were other people in the world who needed the money he spent on me for food and clothing and that he should give the money to charity instead of buying things for me that I really didn't need. That's when he made this strange remark, and I'll never forget the look in his eyes when he said it."

"What was it?" Cait seemed almost mesmerized by Moira's tale.

"He said, 'Moira darlin', there are people out there who deserve a better lot in life and heavy is my heart at not being able to help them. I could have once, but that time is past. Since I'm unable to provide for them, and your brother doesn't appreciate anything, won't you allow a tired old man the joy of spoiling his beautiful baby daughter.'"

"He sounds like a very good man," Cait observed.

"Yes, but I don't understand what this has to do with the missing beneficiaries," Laura remarked.

"When I learned of the will's provisions I realized that whoever the people were, my father cared about them. They were some of those people he wanted to help. I'm just sad it wasn't until his death he was able to do something. I wish I knew who they were... I think Mother knows, but she would never tell me. We aren't what you'd call close."

At that moment, the butler appeared at the door. "Miss Moira, it's time for your medication," he informed her.

"Thank you, Jordan. I'll be right there," she replied dismissively.

"Are you ill?" asked Cait.

"Not really." The girl laughed. "I take a pill every day and I'm fine. Hardly worse than taking vitamins."

"Well, I think we've taken up enough of your time." Laura glanced at Steele.

"Yes." He smiled at the young woman who could be his half sister. "We should be going now, but I would like to speak with your mother and brother."

"Mother will be back in town tomorrow, and Aaron has his own apartment. I can give you the address."

"Thank you," Laura said. "How about your father's business associates? Is there anyone we could talk to who might be able to help us?"

"Charles Weiland was father's attorney and Lloyd Bannister managed all of his investments. I'll give you their numbers." She searched for a note pad and jotted down the information.

Steele accepted the paper from her as Laura and Cait headed for the door of the library. Behind him, he heard Cait suddenly catch her breath. He turned to see her staring at a portrait over the fireplace that had been behind them during their conversation. "Miss Flynn," Cait's voice shook a little, "was this your father?"

"Yes," Moira replied. "That was painted ten years ago."

The man in the painting was ruggedly handsome. His hair was dark, except for wings of gray at the temples. As he stared at the painting, Steele felt a strange sadness come over him. Here was a man he had never known, who he would never have the chance to talk with. A man who could have been his father. From what Moira had said, he was a good man who'd led a troubled life. But he had thought about the children he'd fathered and left behind. Even if he hadn't done anything about it, he hadn't been cold and indifferent toward them, and that was important to know.

"You're mother must have brown eyes," Laura deduced.

"Yes, she does," Moira replied. "I'm afraid Aaron and I inherited them from her. I always thought it would have been wonderful to have had father's blue eyes. They were so beautiful and expressive. That portrait doesn't do them justice."

"Blue eyes," Steele whispered as he stared at the portrait again and saw the eyes that appeared to look down upon him. He wondered what Terrence Flynn would say to him at this moment if it were the man himself standing there and not just a portrait. What would he have said to his long lost son and daughter?

"Mr. Steele?" He suddenly became aware of Laura at his side.

"Yes?"

"We really must be going."

"Of course." He turned to Moira. "Goodbye, Miss Flynn. Perhaps we'll see you again tomorrow when we call on your mother."

"Yes," she replied. "Mr. Steele, there is one thing I'm curious about."

"What's that?"

"Who hired you to look into my father's death?"

"I'm afraid we aren't at liberty to divulge our client's name at this point," Laura responded quickly.

"Of course," Moira murmured. "I was just wondering."

"Believe me, Miss Flynn, our client wants to determine the circumstances of your father's untimely death as much as you do," Steele assured her.

"I'm glad." She smiled. "It's good to know that even though I'm the one who received the benefit of Father's love and generosity, I'm not the only one who cares."

As they walked down the steps to the limo, Steele put his arm around Cait. He could feel her trembling and knew she could use the support of his touch at that moment. Once in the privacy of the car, they were finally able to voice their feelings.

"I just can't believe it," Cait exclaimed. "Is it possible that someone killed our father?"

"I'm inclined to put some faith in what Miss Flynn told us. She's a very smart girl. Smarter, I suspect, than her family gives her credit for."

"Be careful, Mr. Steele," Laura warned. "You're objectivity is not it's greatest in this case. I wouldn't put all my trust in her story until I'd spoken with the widow and the son, not to mention the business manager."

By the time they arrived back at the office, it was after six... too late to contact Lloyd Bannister. Recognizing what an emotionally strained day it had been, Steele insisted Laura and Cait go on to the loft. After they left, he sat for a long time in his darkened office, staring out the window at the lights of Century City.

It was the first moment he'd had for reflection after the reality of the situation had sunk in. He still wasn't sure what he was feeling. It was a kind of numbness in his brain. There was still no proof that Terrence Flynn had been his father, and yet he couldn't see what purpose anyone would have to make up such a story. He could still see the eyes in the portrait... blue eyes. Of course, lots of people had blue eyes, and lots of people had come from Dublin. Laura was right about it all being circumstantial. He wished he felt as sure about Flynn as he did about Cait.

Cait. He had to smile when he thought of her. She was so much like him. He felt as if he'd known her forever. Try as he might to be cautious, to heed Laura's warnings about letting his emotions get the best of him, he just couldn't help feeling as if she'd always been a part of him. Rationally, he knew the physical similarities between them might be coincidence, and if someone had set this up, they would certainly have tried for a physical resemblance.

Perhaps the reason he felt so close to her was because of the similarity of their backgrounds... a kinship spawned by mutual loneliness and their individual needs to find their past. When Cait spoke of living on the streets, stealing food to eat, he had seen himself as a child. He understood what she was feeling better than anyone who'd not experienced the struggle to just stay alive could ever hope to. It was reasonable to assume that this was the strongest basis for his almost immediate acceptance of her.

And yet...

He had shared memories of those bad days before, with mates who'd gone through the same things. There had been a comraderie in knowing you weren't alone in your suffering, but never to the depths he felt with Cait. It was a oneness. Not just sympathy or even empathy. He was drawn to her, not just by her vulnerability and his sense of protectiveness, but by something deeper. Some attraction that defied definition. Something beyond anything he'd ever experienced in his colorful past.

Perhaps this was a kind of love.

The thought of that particular emotion immediately turned his thoughts to Laura. The change in his life began with her. The life he lived had suddenly seemed so empty and unappealing. She made him look beyond himself and the here and now. For the first time in his life, he wanted a future... a future that brought with it belonging. He'd never belonged anywhere before and never wanted it any other way. It was Laura who caused him to see there was more to life than living for the day.

She made him want more of himself. He wanted to be the man she'd envisioned Remington Steele to be. But failing that portrait of perfection, he wanted to become the best he could be... for her.

There was much she'd taught him. To care, because she cared so deeply. To recognize the value of honesty... a strange concept to someone with his experience. She taught him to love, a kind of love that required commitment, demanding and at the same time generously giving, and she became the object of that love.

For Cait, he felt a oneness of understanding, feelings of protectiveness, of deep friendship. They were strong emotions... these feelings for Cait.

With Laura, it was much different. From the very beginning, he'd seen they were different and so had she. They'd spent the better part of four years working them out, but their differences only made things more interesting. It started as tension between them. A feeling so deep and sudden it couldn't be described in words. And the longer he stayed, the stronger it grew, until he knew it was too late to escape, if he even wanted to. The truth was, it was too late the first time he saw her. That's why he hadn't left after the Hunter case.

With Laura there was the passion... the fulfillment of which had been denied. But it hadn't ebbed. On the contrary, it had grown. Despite the frustrations and their attempts to deny their feelings, it was there... ever stronger. No matter how much they fought it, it wouldn't go away. He was in love with Laura and had been from the moment they'd met. He would never leave her, because it would be like leaving himself and going off hollow and empty.

The ringing of the phone cut through the silence of his contemplation with a jolt.

"Steele here," he stated as he grabbed the line.

"I thought you might still be there," came the familiar voice. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

He smiled as he replied softly. "I was just thinking about you."

"Me? With all that's happened in the last two days, you're thinking about me?"

"You're my constant in this whole mess, Laura," he told her. "Like an anchor in a storm."

She chuckled. "I never thought being called an anchor could sound so nice."

"I was just thinking about how good it is to have someone to depend on, someone who will always be there." He paused, but she didn't say anything. "Laura, I'll always be here for you. I want you to know that. I have no intention of ever leaving. You told me last night I'd become Remington Steele to you, well, I guess I've become Remington Steele to myself. I've never been so connected in my life, and the strange thing is, I find I want it that way."

"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked.

"Maybe because I just realized it enough to put it into words. Maybe because this thing with Flynn has made me think about my life. I want to settle this, one way or another, and put it behind us, along with the rest of my past. I want to think about the future for a change."

"We'll find out about Flynn, I promise. If he was your father or not, and if he was murdered or not, we'll find out."

"I know we will," he answered. "We're a team. There isn't much we can't do together."

He could almost hear the smile. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? I talked Cait into taking a shower and she's asleep on the bed right now. She's emotionally drained. I know you are too."

"I guess you're right," he agreed, stretching. "Tomorrow we have to talk with Bannister and Aaron Flynn, then we have to see Mrs. Flynn." He sighed. "Maybe we'll start coming up with some answers."

"I called Mildred when I got home. First thing in the morning she's going to start looking into all of Flynn's business interests. We can see if either the computer or Lloyd Bannister can come up with any other suspects and/or motives for Flynn's murder."

"If it was murder," he reminded her."

"We'll find that out, too," she assured him. "Now go home."

"Yes, Miss Holt," he replied. "I'll see you in the morning."

"If you need me, call?"

"I will," he promised. "Good night, Laura."

"Good night, Mr. Steele."

As she hung up the phone and curled up on her sofa, Laura smiled to herself. They had indeed come a long way. The man she called Remington Steele had made a commitment to her tonight, although he might not realize it. If she was honest with herself, he had tried to make more of a commitment to her before, but she was always shying away... always afraid of being hurt. She was finally coming to realize how selfish she'd been. Every time he tried to move their relationship forward, she ran away. She'd been so afraid of being hurt, she had hurt him. It was time she faced the fact that she was in too deep to get out and her fear would only serve to drive him away. She would be accomplishing the very thing she feared most... being deserted... again.

Now he'd given her the assurance she wanted to hear. He had no intention of leaving. Surely the last four years were evidence to that. With all the messes they'd been in, all the times it would have been so much easier for him just to run away, he was still here. He no longer wanted to wander... he'd begun to sink roots. Roots with the agency, roots with her, now with Cait, he was developing a sense of family. She prayed he wouldn't be disappointed again.

"Penny for your thoughts."

Laura shook herself from her reverie and looked up to see her houseguest wearing her bathrobe and standing by the sofa. "Cait, I thought you were asleep."

"I was, but I guess I just need to talk to someone. I've been feeling that way a lot lately and it's very strange, because I never had anyone to talk to before. At least not about the important things."

"Sit down," Laura invited, as she moved over on the sofa to make room for the younger woman.

"You looked so deep in thought a minute ago, I didn't want to disturb you."

"Just a lot on my mind," Laura replied. "But not nearly as much, I suspect, as you."

"Laura, I wanted to tell you that I understand you checking me out. I guess I reacted the way I did at first because I've never had anyone I trusted so completely as Remington, and just the thought that he might have doubts about my sincerity, well, ..."

"It hurt," Laura finished.

Cait nodded. "Yes."

"Mr. Steele never doubted you. In fact, I've never seen him put his trust in someone so quickly before. I knew if you weren't what you appeared to be, he was setting himself up for a terrible fall. I'm really very glad I was wrong." She put her had over Cait's.

"You really care a lot for my brother, don't you?" Cait asked with a mischievous smile.

"Our caring for each other has never been in question," Laura answered. "That's the easy part. We have a complicated relationship. Just when we work through one part of it, it seems something else comes along that throws up another barrier between us. But we've come this far and we both want it to work."

"I asked Remington the same questions last night," Cait told her.

"What did he say?"

"Practically the same thing. That you haven't quite defined your relationship yet, but you're working on it."

Laura just smiled.

"I'm glad," Cait continued. "I'll tell you the same thing I told him. I think he's lucky he found someone who means so much to him. Someone who he can share things with, good and bad. He told me a little about his history last night and I get the impression that since he met you, he's changed... he feels for the better."

"I don't know," Laura admitted. "Sometimes I wonder if he doesn't resent my taking him from the life he used to lead."

"Laura, the life he used to lead isn't all it's cracked up to be. Believe me. Being on your own, responsible to no one, independent, it all sounds wonderful, but there's another side to it. The loneliness, the fear that keeps you running, never having anyone you can tell how you really feel. I've been there, too, Laura, and I'm still not quite out of it yet. I've lived all over the country since coming to the States. I've never lasted more than two years anywhere. No real friends and no family. I think perhaps for Remington it was worse. He knows what he's found here, and he isn't about to jeopardize it for anything, especially not to go back to a life of running alone."

Laura gazed at her for a long time. "You're so much alike. No wonder he's taken to having a sister so easily. It goes way beyond the physical resemblance." She leaned closer toward her. "You've only known him for two days, how can you possibly understand him so well?"

"What I understand is the part of his life that was like my own. You're a very caring person, Laura, but you have to put yourself in his shoes. Commitment is the scariest thing on the face of the earth because he's never known any kind of it. He's spent a lifetime learning to trust no one but himself. And yet, he's stayed with you and the agency for four years. That counts for something."

"What about you, Cait? How has all this affected you, or have you had time to think about it?"

Cait grinned. "Well, I've surprised myself in the last two days. You don't know what a revelation seeing myself through Remington's eyes has been for me. It's forced me to evaluate my life and try and figure out what I want from it." She grinned again. "I still don't know the answer to that, but I'm trying."

"Looking ahead, not behind," Laura remarked.

"Yes. Looking ahead." Cait's eyes took on a far away expression that was so familiar to Laura. She'd seen it in his eyes before, when their conversation was serious, when they spoke of their relationship. Then once again, the eyes focused on her and she could almost feel them seeing right through her. She shook herself, then realized it wasn't Cait's eyes she was seeing, for they still looked off into the distance of thought. It was the image of his eyes her memory had conjured up, that had touched her. The blue eyes, the dazzling smile, the gentle expression on his sensitive features. She sighed deeply. "I think we should both get some sleep. We do have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow."

"You're right," Cait agreed. "Just one last thing, Laura. I'm glad we're friends."

"So am I." Laura gave her a hug before they turned in for the night.

Laura sat on the corner of the desk pouring over the autopsy report on Terrence Flynn and hitting the highlights for Remington Steele's benefits. It seemed Flynn's blood alcohol level was extremely high, indicating he'd consumed a great deal of alcohol in a short period of time. His car had crashed over a very steep embankment, but miraculously had not burned. The police report indicated this was probably due to the fact his gas tank was almost empty. A drained bottle of scotch was found in the car and another on the ground near the wreck. Flynn had been crushed inside the vehicle when it smashed on the rocks.

"With the evidence of intoxication and considering the hazardous route he was taking, the police concluded it was an accident." Laura closed the file and turned toward Steele. He looked awful, she noticed. She was certain he hadn't slept a wink in two nights and the emotional strain was taking its toll. He was paler than usual and those usually sparkling eyes of his seemed glazed. His voice even sounded tired when he spoke.

"It could be he was forced to drink all that alcohol then someone put him in the car and sent it over the side. That road is fairly isolated."

"True. Let's suppose for the moment that Moira Flynn was telling the truth about her father's abstinence. Either he was made to drink all that scotch or something happened that shook him up badly enough, he needed to take a drink."

"It would have to have been something pretty bad if he detested scotch as much as Moira claims.

"Alright." Laura nodded. "He was coming down the mountain road when the accident occurred. If something happened to upset him, it's logical to assume it happened in that small hunting community at the top of the mountain. It's really the only place the road goes. He probably got the scotch there. The question is, what was he doing up there and what could've caused him to fall off the wagon?"

"If he fell off on his own," Steele added.

"That's what we have to find out. I suggest we speak to Mr. Bannister first."

"Right." Steele rose from his chair with an effort.

"Ah, maybe I should take care of this interview alone. I'd feel much better if you'd stretch out on the couch for a while."

He shook his head. "I appreciate your concern, Laura, but I'm fine, and this is one case I plan to be totally involved in."

"Well, I just want to be sure you're able to see this one through. I convinced Cait to stay at my place and take it easy today. I'm sure it would be a lot easier on both of you if you'd let me do the preliminary investigation."

"Laura, I trust you and I know how good an investigator you are, but I have to be there myself. Please try to understand, this could be my father we're talking about."

She sighed. "Okay. We've got a lot to do today, but this evening, I want you to get some sleep. If you don't look a lot more rested tomorrow, I'm going to lock you in this office!"

He smiled as he placed his hand on her shoulders. "You'd do it, too!"

"Damn straight!" She tried to suppress a smile.

"Alright," he relented. "I promise I'll get some sleep tonight. Now let's go see Bannister."

Lloyd Bannister's office was in an exclusive high-rise office building in downtown Los Angeles and the decor matched the image... sleek, modern and very expensive. As Laura and Steele entered his office, the stocky, gray-haired businessman stood to meet them.

"Mr. Steele and Miss Holt," he greeted as he shook their hands. "What may I do for you?"

"Mr. Bannister," Steele began, "we're looking into the death of Terrence Flynn and we were wondering if you could fill us in on some of his business dealings."

"Well, I'm afraid a great deal of that information is confidential," Bannister replied casually. "I will, of course, help you in any way I can, but I find myself wondering why you're interested."

"There is some question as to the circumstances surrounding Mr. Flynn's death," Laura responded. "For instance, we understand he was not a drinking man, and yet the police report indicates he was highly intoxicated. Do you have any idea what could have caused him to... shall we say... tie one on that particular day?"

"His investments were sound and profitable," Bannister informed them, "so if you're looking for financial difficulties as a reason for some sort of depression, I'm afraid you're off base."

"Do you have any idea why he would have been in Mountain View? Did he have any business dealings there?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Bannister replied.

"Mr. Bannister." Remington tugged at his ear. "Would you know of anyone who had any grudges against Mr. Flynn? A business rival perhaps?"

"Why, no one. Terrence Flynn was a responsible, highly ethical businessman. I don't know of anyone who ever dealt with him that didn't think the world of him."

"Mr. Bannister," Laura's eyes narrowed, "forgive me, but it sounds a bit naive to me to think that a man as successful and wealthy as Terrence Flynn, no matter how nice a person he was, hadn't made an enemy or two along the way to that success."

"Oh, certainly there were business differences. Terrence was even involved in a lawsuit once, but that was a long time ago and I promise you there've been no problems of remotely the kind of magnitude that would provoke someone to violence. In fact, I can't think of anyone who would hate him so much they would murder him. He was a very up-front, honest man."

Steele and Laura exchanged glances. It was obvious they weren't going to get anywhere here. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Bannister," Steele said as he and Laura stood to go.

"You were very welcome to it, Mr. Steele. If there's the slightest chance someone caused Terrence's death, I want this person found and punished. Terrence Flynn was my friend as well as my client."

"We certainly intend to do our best to come to the truth, Mr. Bannister," Laura told him. "Good day."

As they left the manager's office, Steele turned to Laura. "Well, it's nice to know that the man who could have been my father was such a paragon of virtue, but it certainly isn't any help in finding out who may have wanted to kill him, is it?"

"No, it's not. Flynn couldn't have been that lily white. I get the feeling Bannister is trying to cover something up."

"What do you suggest we do now?" he asked.

"Pay a call on Mrs. Terrence Flynn."

Steele nodded as they headed for the Auburn.

Steele stood, hands in pockets, before the portrait of Terrence Flynn in the mansion's library. His eyes took in every feature, every line and crease of the careworn face. There were so many things he wanted to ask this man, but he knew what the first question would be if it were possible: Are you my father?

He felt Laura's hand on his arm and realized he had been standing there silently for several minutes. "Sorry," he whispered. "Just... thinking."

"I know," she replied. "I could see it in your eyes."

"He had blue eyes, Laura. Do you think there's any resemblance?"

She looked at the portrait for a moment. "Yes, around the eyes, and the bone structure of the face is very close. I'll admit, it isn't as striking a resemblance as the one between you and Cait, but it is possible."

"Possible isn't good enough, Laura. I have to know." Steele could hear the urgency in his voice that was surprising, even to him.

"I know you do," she told him softly. "And we're going to find out."

He turned and looked into her warm brown eyes and saw her concern for him. He was about to tell her how beautiful he thought those eyes were when the door opened.

"Mr. Steele?" Augusta Flynn stepped into the library. She stared at Steele with antagonistic appraisal for a moment. There was a malice in her glare that Steele could feel. He suddenly remembered Moira's word for it... cold... and thought it completely appropriate.

"Mrs. Flynn," he heard Laura say as she offered the woman her hand. "I'm Mr. Steele's associate, Miss Holt."

"I'm really not interested, Miss Holt." The woman brushed aside Laura's gesture. "What is it you want from me?"

"Ah, well, we're checking into the circumstances surrounding your husband's death and..."

"You know, there is a resemblance," she said to Steele. "I'm not quite sure what it is. Terrence was terribly handsome too, when he was younger."

"Then you're aware of why I'm so interested in your husband."

"Of course." She walked over to a chair and sat down. "Charles felt it his duty to inform me. He figured you'd be after a share in the estate."

"I assure you, neither Miss O'Connor nor I have any intention to lay claim to any of your money. We began this investigation just to prove Mr. Weiland's claims that Terrence Flynn was our father."

"Well, if your sister looks anything like you, I'd say it was fairly certain. You have his coloring and even his manner. Mr. Arledge was quite sure after the investigation, I'm told."

"Arledge?" Laura asked.

"Yes, the detective hired to find you. Frankly, Mr. Steele, I couldn't care less if you are Terrence's offspring or not. All I want is to get his mess straightened out. The estate has been tied up for six months. I'd just as soon put the whole thing where it belongs... behind me... and get on with my life."

"And if your husband's death was not an accident?" Steele inquired.

She laughed. "No one would have wanted to kill Terrence. He just got drunk and drove his car off a cliff."

"Mrs. Flynn," Laura began, "we understand your husband had sworn off alcohol many years ago. What would have caused him to start drinking again, and so heavily."

"Well, if you must know, it was Aaron, our son. Terrence went up there to have it out with him. Predictably they got into a rather heated argument and Aaron told his father he never wanted to see him again. I gather they both said some rather unpleasant things to each other. Aaron was very upset about his father's death and felt responsible."

"How do you know all this, Mrs. Flynn? Did Aaron tell you?" Steele questioned.

"Yes, he filled in the details. But Terrence called me from Mountain View Lodge just before he left. He told me we had no son. I could tell he'd been drinking."

"Why didn't you tell this to the police?" Laura queried.

"Because my family's business is no concern to them," she stated flatly. "I'm a very private woman, Miss Holt. I'd been through enough with Terrence's little affairs. I wasn't about to air our dirty laundry in public.'

"You say your son had a violent argument with his father," Steele said. "Do you think he could have been capable of causing your husband's death?"

She glared at him with pure hatred. "That is utterly ridiculous. The fault was not with Aaron but with his father."

"And you know of no one else with a motive to kill your husband?" Laura asked.

"I've already told you, no," she snapped. "This murder thing is just a product of my daughter's imagination. I know she spoke to you yesterday. I do appreciate the fact you didn't tell her the real reason for your visit."

"Mrs. Flynn, we have no desire to hurt you or your children," Steele assured her. "All we want is the truth."

"And you have it, Mr. Steele," she replied. "Now if you don't mind, I'd rather you leave my house. I want no more contact with you or the other one."

Steele felt himself beginning to boil. "The other one's name is Caitlin O'Connor," he stormed. "She is a human being and deserves some measure of recognition as such."

"I told you I don't give a damn about either one of you," August Flynn retorted. "All you are to me are reminders of my husband's weakness and infidelity. I want nothing more than to forget about your existence!"

"And that's why you kept your husband from trying to find us, contact us, for all those years?"

"You're damned right I did," she shot back. "He needed me. Needed the money my father left to start his little empire, needed the social position I gave him. He was nothing when we met but an ambitious upstart from the wrong side of town. If it hadn't been for me, he would have gone nowhere. But did he show me any gratitude for any of it? Never... not once. He'd get drunk and go out and have his disgusting little liaisons with street whores like your mother!"

Steele's blood was racing as he drew back his hand to strike at the woman, but he felt someone grab his arm and pull him back. He fought to shrug off the grip, but it held fast.

"I think it's time we left, Mr. Steele," Laura urged.

"I'd say you've already overstayed your welcome... not that you were ever welcome," Augusta Flynn remarked, then turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

"Calm down," Laura hissed, still holding his arm tightly.

"Laura, I came this close to slapping the hell out of that woman." He indicated an inch space between his index finger and his thumb.

"I know you did, and if you ask me, you'd every right to. The only reason I stopped you was I figured you'd end up regretting it. She would've filed assault charges at the drop of a hat."

"It might've been worth it," he intoned icily.

"Come on." Laura slid her hand down his arm and entwined her fingers with his. "Let's get out of this place."

Their attempts to contact Aaron Flynn were unsuccessful, so Laura and Steele started off on the long drive to the hunting community at Mountain View. On the way, they stopped at the site of Terrence Flynn's wreck. There was almost no evidence left that anything had happened there. The weeds and underbrush had long since covered any trace of the car that plummeted over the embankment. Steele had said nothing since leaving Flynn's house and remained by the Auburn as Laura made her way down a little to get a better look at the area. She stumbled over something metal, and reaching down, found a bent and twisted hubcap, most likely from Flynn's car. It was no help to the investigation; just a grisly reminder of what had taken place in this serene and isolated spot.

She looked back up at Steele just standing on the side of the road looking down. She knew he wasn't really seeing her, but a scene his mind was creating. Any easing of his tension she'd managed that morning had been wiped out by Augusta Flynn's tirade. Damn that woman! His past and especially his unknown father were Remington Steele's Achilles' heel. This whole case was giving him an emotional beating that would take some time to recover from. But the hardest blow was the remark about his mother.

Laura couldn't help but wonder. He'd never known his father, but she knew absolutely nothing about his mother. Did he even remember her? All those aunts and uncles and cousins who had passed him between them, were they her relatives? He must have been told something about her at least. But his past

had always been something he never wanted to discuss. After the first two abortive attempts to find out who his father was, Laura realized why. It was just too painful. It was a part of his life that was dark and foreboding. Something he had overcome, and all this was bringing it back to him.

No matter how curious she was about his mother, she could never ask him, and especially not now after Augusta Flynn's searing jab. Yes, she was curious, but it didn't really matter. The only legitimate reason she had for wanting to find out was so that perhaps she would know what to say to him. But it was his business, not hers. What she told him had been the truth. His past no longer mattered to her, only his presence in her life now and the reassurance that he would stay there. Whoever his mother had been or whatever she had done was something he would have to tell her, if he ever felt the need to. She would never ask.

She climbed back up to the road and stepped up beside him. "Nothing here to help us out," she informed him. "Let's head for Mountain View."

His eyes remained focused on the rocky terrain below for a couple more seconds, then as if coming out of a trance, he blinked and turned his head toward her. "Yes, you're right," was all he said, then they climbed into the Auburn and continued up the mountain road.

Mountain View was hardly more than just a wide place in the road. The lodge, a gun shop/hardware store, a service station, a grocery, a drug store and a liquor store. The main road ended in front of the lodge, though several less traveled and extremely rugged trails splayed out into the surrounding mountains leading to private cabins and fishing and camping spots.

The manager of the grocery store recognized Aaron Flynn's name immediately. It seemed he was a frequent visitor to the community when he came up on hunting trips. He owned a cabin about a mile up one of the trails. The man remembered hearing about the accident, but he hadn't known Terrence Flynn. The pharmacist also knew him as a frequent customer.

A survey of the other stores proved fruitless. That was to be expected since the accident occurred six months before. No one could be expected to remember one particular man. The only exception was at the combination gun shop and hardware. The clerk showed a record of selling a hunting rifle to Aaron Flynn about two weeks before Terrence Flynn's death. It wasn't very relevant to the case, however, since there was no evidence of any bullet holes in either Flynn or his car.

The last stop was the liquor store. As Laura talked to the clerk, Steele perused the stock of whiskeys. He spotted what he was after just as Laura finished her questioning.

"He doesn't recognize the names either. It was a long shot," she reported.

"I think I may have found something." Steele pulled a bottle off the shelf and handed it to her.

"Irish whiskey," Laura noted, then turned to the clerk. "Have you had this in stock for very long?"

"Sure. It's one of the top sellers. There's an old woman who lives up in the mountains who drinks that stuff like water."

"Is there a possibility you could have run out of stock about six months ago?"

He shook his head. "No way! Old Helen would skin me alive. I keep a big supply of it in the storage room and at least ten bottles on the shelves all the time."

Steele moved down the aisle. "There are plenty of brands of scotch, but not the one that was found in the car."

"That means someone bought it in the city and brought it up here. That rules out Flynn getting drunk out of desperation over the argument with his son, unless he drank the scotch at Aaron's cabin. We still haven't come up with anything solid."

"And it doesn't bring us any closer to determining who might have killed Flynn," Steele concluded, "unless Moira was right and it was Aaron."

"I'd like to get a look at Flynn's cabin, but it's getting late. Let's go back to town and see if Mildred's come up with anything new on the computer," Laura suggested.

They headed back up the sidewalk to where the Auburn was parked. Across the street in the doorway to the gun shop, a young man watched their progress. Heavy dark brows narrowed over brown eyes as Laura and Steele climbed into the vintage car and headed back down the mountain road. He watched until they were out of sight, then stared at the dust cloud that remained in their wake. Finally, he moved from his hiding place and headed for the liquor store.

"Oh, my God!" Laura exclaimed as she and Steele stepped through the office door to find the lobby in a shambles. Plants and furniture were overturned and papers from emptied files covered the floor.

"Someone really trashed the place, alright." They looked up from the mess to find the familiar face of Detective James Jarvis of the L.A.P.D.

"Jarvis." Steele waved his hands around the room. "What happened here?"

"Well, either your janitorial service stinks or someone's vandalized your offices. I vote for the latter."

"Where's Mildred?" Laura asked, suddenly frantic.

"Oh, she's going to be fine. They took her to the hospital, though, just to be safe. Whoever did this gave her a real lump on the noggin."

"Why are you here? You're still assigned to homicide, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he replied. "But I'm the one who found it this way. I got a call from a Miss Moira Flynn about the death of her father not being an accident. I was just going to pass it off as hysteria, but she said that you two were investigating, so I thought I'd check with you and see if there was anything to it. If this is any evidence, I'd say maybe there was."

"Remington?" Cait emerged from the executive office. "Thank God you two weren't here. I was so afraid whoever did this might have taken you off somewhere."

"What are you doing here, Cait?" Laura asked.

"We were trying to locate you and Mr. Steele and she answered your phone," Jarvis explained.

"When he told me what happened, I came right down. Does this have anything to do with Terrence Flynn?"

"Since we aren't working on anything else at the moment, it's a safe bet," Steele remarked.

"Did our vandal leave any clue to his identity?" Laura asked.

"Nothing that we've found so far," Jarvis answered. "Now, would you care to fill me in on this Flynn thing?"

"There's really nothing to tell you yet, Jimmy," Laura told him. "We've spoken to his wife and daughter and to his business manager, but so far we don't have anything concrete."

"I'd say someone thinks you have," he conjectured. Jarvis looked at her appraisingly. "You would tell me if you knew something, wouldn't you, Miss Holt? You wouldn't hold anything back?"

"Believe me, Jimmy, you'll be the first to know when we come up with some evidence."

He pursed his lips as he looked from her to Steele and back again. "I'd better be." He headed out the door.

"This is extremely frustrating," Laura complained. "Why would anyone ransack our office when we haven't come up with one solid piece of evidence to implicate anyone?"

"I don't know but maybe this will help." Cait handed Laura a matchbook. "I found it on the floor in Remington's office near the desk. It might've fallen out of someone's pocket while he was jimmying the lock on the drawers."

"The Blue Parrot." Laura read the cover. "That's a bar down by the pier."

"You didn't show this to Jarvis?" Steele asked.

Cait bit her lip. "No, I didn't. My experience with the police has never given me much confidence in them. I figured you two would have a better chance of finding out something at that place, if that's where the bugger hangs out."

Remington smiled. "My dear, we just may make a detective out of you!"

"Oh, no!" She shook her head. "One in the family is quite enough."

Laura and Cait stopped by the hospital to check on Mildred before going back to the loft. The secretary was sleeping when they looked in, so Laura spoke to the nurse to make sure everything was alright, then they continued on home.

Steele had decided to make a call at the Blue Parrot. It was rather seedy, much as he expected. Although he made a habit of avoiding this kind of place these days, there was a time when he was all too familiar with this particular sort of drinking establishment. The clientele was rough, mostly seamen and longshoremen from the nearby docks. The place was dark and smelled perpetually of fish. Steele was glad he had stopped by his apartment and changed into suitable attire. This was one place he'd rather not stand out.

He took a seat at the bar and ordered a whiskey, slowly nursing it as he scanned the interior of the bar.

"You're new, ain't ya?" asked the bartender.

"That's right, Mate," he replied in a heavy cockney accent. "And Ah'm lookin' ta find a way t'make some extra quid. What's a fella do in this town for that, eh?"

The bartender stared at him for several seconds in appraisal, then motioned over toward the back of the bar. "Bennie over there's always lookin' fer a few good men, if ya get my drift."

Steele narrowed his gaze at the table in the corner. There were three men there, all rough looking customers. Taking a deep breath, he ordered another whiskey, then carried it over.

"Evenin', Mates," he greeted. "Name's Johnnie Todd. Barkeep said ya might be lookin' fer a little muscle."

"Oh, he did, did he?" growled a rather large man across the table. He was not the sort you'd like to meet in a dark alley. The stubble of beard on his face could not cover the scar that stretched from the corner of his left eye all the way down to his chin.

"That's right," Steele answered with a grin.

"You got experience?"

"Three years in Bristol," Steele told him. "But the weather got a mite hot over there so I thought I'd try me a new climate."

"You don't look very tough to me," the man observed.

"Looks ain't everything," Steele advised with a smile, then tossed back the whiskey. "Gimme a try. You won't regret it."

"I'll think 'bout it. Siddown." He looked at the other men around the table. "You guys got any small potatoes we could throw to this Limey?"

"Yeah, Bennie. Got a man on Owen Street wants his lady roughed up," offered one of the men.

Steele shook his head. "I ain't into beatin' up ol' ladies. 'Sides, that ain't gonna prove nothin'."

"How 'bout you, Morty?" Bennie asked the other man.

"Well, just that job Harvey was doin' for the suit downtown. Harvey got the jitters. Almost got caught this afternoon trashin' the dick's office."

Steele's mind came to attention. "Wait a minute, Mate. I ain't sure 'bout tanglin' with the coppers on my first job. Why do ya think I had to leave Bristol?"

"This ain't no cop," he assured him. "Private dick. The suit downtown hired us to scare this broad and the detective she's chummy with."

"What for?" Steele asked.

"Ta get 'em off his back, I'd say," Morty replied.

"Sounds right up my alley," Steele told him. "What 'bout this Harvey? Where's he?"

"Last time I saw him he was passed out in back of the Sullivan warehouse. The stupid jack ain't got no guts." Bennie looked at him closely. "You ain't got a drinkin' problem, do ya?"

"Never when I work," Steele replied. "Tell me who these blokes are and I'll start right in." He flexed his fingers into fists.

"Nothing permanent," Morty warned. "The suit just wants ta scare 'em off."

"'Kay, what's the names?"

"Remington Steele and Caitlin O'Connor. Steele's got an office in Century City. Harvey scared the broad out of her apartment and he couldn't find where she was stayin'."

"I'll find 'er," Steele promised. "Now, what do I get paid fer this little job."

"Fifty," Bennie replied.

"Fifty?" Steele looked disgusted. "I need at least a hundred."

"You gotta prove yourself, remember? You wanna work for us?"

"I also wanna eat and find a flop for the night."

"Okay, I'll make it seventy-five, payable after the job's done," Bennie relented. "Now get out of here and get to work."

"You got it, Guv." Steele tipped his cap to them and left the bar.

It didn't take him long to locate Sullivan's warehouse, and sure enough, there was a man passed out in the alley behind it. Steele pulled out his flashlight and shined it on the man's face. He matched the description Cait had given him. Putting the flashlight aside, Steele grabbed the man by the lapels and began to shake him. "Wake up, Mate," he called. "Got us a little talking to do."

The man stirred then slowly opened his eyes. "Whaddya want? Lemme alone."

"We're going on a little trip, Harvey, my Boy," Steele told him as he pulled him to his feet by his coat.

"Do I know you?" the drunk asked, unable to see anything in the darkness.

"No, but Bennie sent me. Seems you didn't finish the job you started."

"A cop walked in on me!" he whined. "I seen him before. Name's Jarvis. He walked inna 'toffice an' I hadda sneak out when he went inna other room."

"And that scared you, huh, Chum?"

"I ain't gettin' paid 'nuff for that," Harvey stated.

"Who is this suit downtown, anyway, and why does he want Steele and O'Connor scared off?"

"I dunno know. I don't ask why. The man paid me good, so I do the job. But not when a cop walks in on me."

"Who is the man, Harvey?" Steele asked urgently.

"What's it to ya?"

Steele tightened his grip near the man's throat. "I'm takin' yer place, Mate, and I'd like to make me own deal with the man."

"Bannister," Harvey replied. "Lloyd Bannister."

Steele released him for a moment. "Bannister? You sure?"

"Course I'm sure."

Steele started pulling Harvey after him as he walked out of the alley. "Come on, Mate. I have a friend I'd like you to tell that story to."

"No," Harvey protested. "I ain't going nowhere."

"Have it your way." Steele reared back and delivered a solid right cross that rendered Harvey unconscious once again. Then he hoisted the dead weight over his shoulder and headed for the spot where he'd left Fred and the limo... discreetly out of sight.

Steele turned Harvey over to Jarvis, then gave Laura a call to fill her in on what he'd found out. Exhausted after the long and tiring day, he headed for home, but on the way, decided to make a stop.

As he carefully pushed open the door of the hospital room, Mildred's head turned in his direction.

"Boss?" She squinted to clear her vision.

"Yes, Mildred." He moved beside the bed and reached for her hand. "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied. "I've got a beauty of a headache, but they're letting me out tomorrow."

"Good." He nodded. "Then I want you to stay home for a few days."

"But Boss, I..."

"No 'buts' about it, Mildred. That's an order."

She looked at him sheepishly. "Did Miss Holt say it was okay?"

He smiled resignedly. Mildred knew the truth, and those days of her responding immediately to his every word were gone forever. "Yes, Mildred," he assured her. "Miss Holt says it's okay."

"I'm sorry," she apologized, noting his expression.

"Don't worry," he told her. "I'll get used to it."

"Have they found out anything about who did this?" She pointed at the bandage on her head.

"I found him tonight and he's in jail as we speak."

"You found him?"

"He's the same man who chased Miss O'Connor. After he attacked you, I couldn't let the man stay free on the streets, now could I?"

She shook her head with a smile. "Thanks."

He grinned. "You're welcome, Miss Krebbs." He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Get some rest now."

"You look beat. Why don't you go home and get some sleep."

"Perhaps I can now. Goodnight, Mildred."

"Goodnight, Boss," she called as he disappeared out the door.

Laura had just filled in Cait about Steele's call when the phone rang again.

"Miss Holt?" The voice was very muffled.

"Yes," she answered. "Can you speak a little louder? I can hardly hear you."

"Lloyd Bannister was embezzling money from Terrence Flynn. Check the records." There was a click as the man hung up.

Laura stared at the receiver for a moment. "I wonder what that was all about. Strange. We don't seem to be able to come up with anything, and now, it's as if someone is giving us Bannister on a silver platter."

"Who was that?" Cait asked.

Laura shook her head. "Someone telling us that Bannister was embezzling money from Flynn. That just about seals it up if it's true. It gives Bannister a motive."

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not," Laura stated. "It was all too easy." She reached for the phone. "But I'd better call Jarvis and have him check it out."

As she dialed the number, she started going over the entire case in her head. Something just didn't fit, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

As Laura walked into the office, she heard the sounds of paper rustling in Steele's office. Quietly she made her way across the reception area to the open door and peaked in.

"You're a little early, aren't you?" Laura asked when she saw Remington Steele behind the desk.

"I thought I'd get an early start at straightening up this place. I gave Mildred a couple of days off, so I'm afraid we'll have to clean this up ourselves."

"You saw Mildred?

"Yes, last night after I left Jarvis. She's doing fine, but I think she can use the rest."

"So can you," Laura admonished. "You didn't go home last night, did you?" she accused, resting her hands on her hips.

He smiled sheepishly. "No, I guess I didn't."

She walked over behind the desk and leaned against it facing him. "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"I'm not sure, Laura. We may know that Bannister is the one who killed Terrence Flynn, but we still don't know if Flynn was my father and Cait's."

"I know how important this is to you," she told him. "We can ask the detective Weiland hired, what was the name Mrs. Flynn used? Arledge. We can find out what evidence he had to connect you two to Flynn."

"Do you think we'll ever know for sure?" he wondered.

She slipped off the desk and sank to her knees beside him. Taking his hands into hers, she looked up at him tenderly. "We'll know," she promised.

He reached down and took her face in his hands, bringing her close enough so their lips could meet. She wrapped her arms around him as he kissed her deeply. "I need you, Laura. Everything I did before we met seems like another life now. I could never imagine going on without you."

"It's a little frightening," he admitted, "to need someone so much. You remember telling me once that you were afraid that if you let yourself go and loved me, you might lose yourself in me?" She nodded. "Well, I feel as if I've lost myself in you... the self I was before... and have emerged as a totally new person."

"Remington Steele," she told him.

"Yes, but no matter how new Remington Steele is, he's still connected to that man who I was before. There's a part of my past that will never let go of me, Laura, and I don't want that part to hurt you."

"I understand. That's one reason it's so important to know if Flynn was your father. I want to know because you need to know. There will always be a little Michael O'Leary and Richard Blaine and Harry in you. They're all part of what makes Remington Steele."

"Yours or mine?" he asked.

"Ours." She kissed him again.

The ringing of the phone interrupted the moment. As their lips parted, Steele smiled. "I wish just once we could get through a kiss without that happening."

Laura sighed, stood up and reached for the phone. "Remington Steele Investigations."

"Laura? Jarvis."

"Hello, Jimmy," she greeted, glancing at Steele.

"I thought you'd want to know. We've arrested Bannister. The books prove he'd been embezzling and when we confronted him, he confessed to it, but he denies killing Flynn or hiring Harvey Fleming to harass Mr. Steele and Miss O'Connor."

"Does he have an alibi for the day Flynn was murdered?" she asked.

"No," Jarvis replied. "As a matter of fact, his secretary admitted he never came into the office that day. He says he was sick, but she told us she tried to reach him at home several times and he never answered. We got a search warrant for his house and found he stocks his bar with the same brand of scotch found in Flynn's car. It's all circumstantial right now, but I think the case is strong enough to make it stick."

"Yes," she agreed thoughtfully. "It does appear that way."

"Thanks for your help, and give Mr. Steele my regards."

"I will. Bye Jimmy." Laura hung up the phone.

"Well?"

"Bannister confessed to embezzling, but denies the murder. Jarvis still seems to have a strong case against him."

Steele sighed. "So now we're back to where we were, investigating Flynn's past."

"No," she corrected. "I'll start the check. You will go home and get some rest."

"Laura..."

"I mean it. You're going to collapse if you don't sleep soon. Bannister's in jail and so is Harvey Flemming. I can handle this part of it. Will you let me do that much for you?"

He leaned his head wearily back against the chair and closed his eyes. "Alright, but you'll call if you find out anything, or if you need me?"

"Of course I will," she promised.

He heaved a deep breath and rose from the chair. He grasped her hand and she walked with him to the glass doors of the office. He took her in his arms again and gave her one last tired kiss. "I'll call," she assured him before he asked again. He nodded and left for the elevator.

Laura stood by the doors for a moment before heading for her office. It took some time, but she finally located the file containing the police report of Flynn's accident. Something about the whole thing wasn't right. It was just too damned convenient. Who had called with that tip about Bannister's embezzlement? Who could have known about it besides Terrence Flynn?

Attached to the autopsy report was a summary of the results of Flynn's last physical. One particular notation caught her attention. She jumped up from her chair and started rummaging through the folders near her filing cabinets until she found the one she was looking for... the insurance records of the agency. She located the one marked "Remington Steele - Medical Records" and spread it out on the desk. Locating the entry she was looking for she compared it to Flynn's report. She turned to her computer terminal and, within half an hour, she had the answer to the question that launched this case. It had been right there all the time, but the quest for Flynn's killer diverted her attention from such an obvious detail. She closed the files and started to leave the office.

No, she thought, not yet. He needs some rest. Besides, there were a few questions she needed to answer before the whole story would be clear and she had an idea where she would find them.

The cabin may have been remote, but it didn't lack for creature comfort. It was furnished with electricity from a generator in a shed out back. It contained a television and well-stocked bar. That was where Laura found the first item she sought... the scotch. The same brand found in the car and in Bannister's apartment. There was half a case of it in the cellar, too. Laura was certain this was where Terrence Flynn had been force-fed the alcohol found in his body.

As she checked further in the cellar, she found the second incriminating item... perhaps even more damaging than the presence of the scotch. Hidden behind some crates was a poker she had noticed was missing from the fireplace upstairs. It bore dark red stains. "B-negative blood, I'll bet," she said to herself... or at least so she thought.

"You are persistent, Miss Holt."

Aaron Flynn. She knew it immediately and suddenly everything was beginning to fit together. "This is what you hit him with, isn't it Aaron?" she asked as calmly as she could, grasping the poker firmly.

"Yes, it was," he admitted.

"But it didn't kill him, just knocked him unconscious or groggy enough to enable you to pour that scotch down him."

"It wasn't too hard," the young man confessed. "I'm sorry you didn't settle for Bannister. I thought he made a perfect scapegoat."

"Yes, a very neat little package." Laura began to ease toward the stairs.

"Stay were you are, Miss Holt," came another voice from the top of the cellar steps. Laura looked up to see Augusta Flynn pointing a hunting rifle at her. "I'd rather not have to shoot you here. It could be tricky to explain."

"You were in on this too," Laura surmised. "I guess I should have suspected as much. I'll give you credit. It was a great plan. Who came up with it, you or Aaron?"

"I did, of course," Augusta replied with a smile. "I love my son, but he doesn't always think before he acts."

"Then he did call you from here... after he hit his father with the poker, perhaps?"

"He provoked it!" Aaron insisted. "We had a bloody awful row. He accused me of being in on the embezzlement with Bannister. He'd just gone over the books and found out. He said he was going to disinherit me. I grabbed the poker and hit him. You're right, he was out for a while."

"And you came up with the perfect plan, didn't you, Mrs. Flynn?" Laura continued. "Aaron called you and told you what had happened. You told him to pour whiskey down his father's throat and send the car off the embankment to make it look like an accident. If the authorities bought it that way, everything was fine. If not, you always had Bannister to take the blame. Either way, you were rid of your husband and you'd have your hands on all his money."

The woman smiled. "Go on," she urged. "I'm anxious to hear what else you have to say."

"There was a snag. You didn't know about the unusual terms of your husband's will. You had to come up with a son and daughter to inherit the $500,000. each so you could get the rest."

"Yes, Weiland hired an investigator, but he hadn't had any luck in tracing the bastards."

"So you paid Arledge to invent some evidence."

She nodded. "It wasn't too hard for him once he had the right incentive."

"How did you come up with Mr. Steele and Miss O'Connor?"

"One of Arledge's buddies had gotten drunk once and told him about this old friend of his; a man with a very unclear past who was doing alright for himself. He told Arledge that the man was Remington Steele. Arledge had seen Steele's picture and knew of the resemblance to Terrence. When he checked out the story, he learned of your boss's attempt in England last year to find his true father. Perfect."

"And Cait?"

"I found her. There was a layout in one of the fashion magazines I had seen and she was one of the models. She bore enough resemblance to Terrence to make it work. When Arledge checked her out, he found she was also an orphan with a murky past. It fit like a glove."

"Except you didn't expect them to turn down the money."

"No. Knowing Steele's reputation, I figured he would investigate Terrence's death, so we left him something to investigate."

Laura nodded. "A perfect trail to lead to Bannister. It was Aaron who hired Harvey Fleming to harass Cait and to tear up our office using Bannister's name, knowing we would find him and he would incriminate Bannister. And it was Aaron who called me last night with that tip about Bannister."

"I'll admit that may have been a little sloppy, but we couldn't count on you or the police to come up with a motive on your own."

"You made a couple of mistakes, Mrs. Flynn. Fleming attacked Cait before we ever talked to Lloyd Bannister. He had no way of knowing we were investigating your husband's death at that point. That's what bothered me, that and the fact that when things seemed to be leading toward Aaron, who had conveniently been unavailable for us to interview, suddenly everything fell into place against Bannister."

"That's enough," Aaron cried. "Mother, what are we going to do with her?"

"Get rid of her, of course," Augusta replied. "But I want it done in such a way that it can't get back to us. Tie her up down here for the time being until I can make the necessary arrangements." As Aaron started toward her, Laura raised the poker. "I wouldn't do that, Miss Holt. I don't want to kill you here, but I will. Now, drop that poker."

Laura looked at the woman holding the gun and complied. Aaron grabbed her roughly and forced her to the ground where he bound her hands behind her back. Reaching for another length of rope, he tied her feet together at the ankles. Then he climbed the stairs to join his mother.

"You won't get away with this, Augusta," Laura threatened.

"Yes, I will, Miss Holt," the woman returned with a cold smile. "Just relax. It'll be all over for you very soon."

As they closed the door behind them, Laura tried straining against her ropes, but it was no use, they were too tight. There was nothing she could do at the moment but bide her time and hope she got a better chance later.

It was dark when Remington Steele awoke. He shouldn't have been surprised at how easily he'd fallen asleep after his long soak in the tub. His body had finally given in to the strain of the past few days and he'd slept soundly.

Realizing what had suddenly awakened him, he reached for the phone beside his bed.

"Hello?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Remington?" It was Cait.

"Yes, Luv. What is it?"

Cait paused before answering. "Ah, is Laura with you?" There was a touch of embarrassment in her voice.

"No." He sat up, suddenly alert. "What time is it?"

"Almost 3:30 a.m. I spoke with Detective Jarvis this afternoon and he told me about Bannister's arrest. I figured maybe the two of you had started checking into Flynn."

"That's what Laura was going to do. She sent me home to get some sleep and I'm afraid that's exactly what I did. You haven't heard from her at all?"

"No. And I tried the office about 10:00 and again just a few minutes ago... no answer."

Steele threw off the covers and grabbed for his pants. "I'm going down there. You stay put and I'll call you." He hung up before she could say anything else.

He reached the office in record time, but found it empty. He was about to step into Laura's office, when Cait arrived.

"What are you doing here?" he scolded. "I told you to stay at the loft."

"I'm tired of waiting at the loft," she retorted. "I may not be an investigator, but maybe there's some way I can help."

Steele's features softened. "I'm sorry. Come on, you look in there." He motioned toward the office. "I'll take Laura's office."

Cait nodded and disappeared through the door.

Steele stepped over the debris still on the floor as he made his way to Laura's desk. There were files open and a pad with some writing. He noticed, with surprise, that one of the reports was his medical history. He picked up Laura's notes and a computer printout and began to read through them. Looking back at the files he scanned down the notations until he found the one he wanted in both his and Terrence Flynn's files.

Slowly he released the breath he had been holding and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Find anything?" Cait asked from the adjoining door to the executive office.

"Not yet," he answered casually, closing his file.

"Remington, I've been thinking. Laura said something last night after that man called."

"What man?" he inquired.

"I don't know, he didn't tell her who he was. He just said that Bannister had been embezzling from Flynn, then hung up. Laura called Jarvis, but she told me it all seemed too easy, too pat."

"Like a frame," he mused.

"Exactly," Cait replied. "Do you think Laura could've figured out who framed Bannister and gone after him alone?"

"Probably," Steele admitted. "Damn her! I told her to call me. I should've known she'd go off and get into trouble." He looked back at the pad. "There are some notes here she obviously made this morning after I left." He squinted at the scrawl. "Looks like... 'where was F. killed'... and then something I can't read... 'cabin'! My God, she must have gone up to that cabin." He threw down the paper and ran for the door. It wasn't until he reached the elevator that he noticed Cait was right behind him. "No," he ordered. "It's too dangerous for you to come."

"I'm not letting you go up there by yourself. You're my brother, Remington."

"Cait, I..."

"No, you are. I know it. I don't have to know about Flynn to know you're my brother. I can feel it. For the first time in my life, there is someone I can trust, someone who's a part of me and me of him and I'm not going to lose you before I've really had a chance to know you. Besides, Laura's my friend. She's risked her neck for me and I'm not about to walk away from this. You'll have to lock me up to keep me from coming with you."

He smiled. "Are you quite through?"

"Yes."

"Good. Let's get going, Little Sister."

She grinned as the elevator doors opened and they were on their way.

The sun was beginning to come up by the time they reached Aaron Flynn's cabin. There was a jeep a few yards down the bumpy road from the building itself. Steele parked the Auburn behind it and he and Cait went the rest of the way on foot. As they neared, Steele could see Laura's Rabbit in front of the house. Telling Cait to stay put, he made his way to the side of the structure and up to one of the windows. Inside the main room he saw a young man he assumed to be Aaron Flynn pacing back and forth across the floor while his mother spoke to someone on the phone. Her free hand rested on a hunting rifle laid across the table.

He tried to hear through the glass what she was saying but could only make out a few words... they were enough to make his heart pound. "... snooping... locked in the cellar... get rid of her."

Moving around the building, he found the outside entrance to the cellar. It was secured with a padlock. Quickly, he pulled out his pick and set to work. Just as he snapped the lock open, he felt a hand on his arm.

"Good Lord, Cait! You took ten years off my life."

"Sorry," she apologized. "I got tired of waiting. What are you doing?"

"Rescuing Laura," he informed her. "That is the plan, is it not?"

"Well, well. If it isn't the bastards themselves."

Steele started to spin around. "Hold it right there, Mr. Steele. I would hate to have to shoot you before you can be reunited with your associate."

"Mrs. Flynn," he greeted. "And this must be your murderous son." He nodded toward Aaron Flynn who stood beside his mother.

"So you've figured it out, too," she concluded. "I should have known Miss Holt told you something of her theory before coming up here. Now that you've opened the cellar, why don't we go inside and have that little meeting."

Steele opened the door and he and Cait preceded the Flynns down the cellar stairs. He saw Laura bound on the floor near some crates as he reached the bottom.

"Mr. Steele!"

"Hello, Laura."

"What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious," broke in August Flynn. "He came to rescue you and he obligingly brought Miss O'Connor with him. Now we have you all in a nice neat little group."

"What are you going to do with us?" Laura asked. "Another convenient car crash... this time with three victims?"

"Perhaps. In any case, we'll be rid of you all forever."

"No!" screamed Cait. "I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" She turned as if to make for the stairs and Aaron grabbed her. As Augusta whirled toward them, Laura kicked out with her bound feet and hit the woman hard on the shin. Steele grasped the rifle and began to struggle for the weapon, wrenching it from Augusta.

Cait, in the meantime, instantly recovered from her feigned hysteria, planted a hard knee in Aaron Flynn's groin. As he doubled over in pain, she clubbed him over the back of the head with both hands, sending him sprawling onto the floor. As Steele leveled the rifle at Augusta, he smiled at Cait.

"Nice work, Miss O'Connor."

"Just a little something I picked up on the streets, Mr. Steele," she replied as she moved past him to untie Laura.

"I bet that move has come in handy more than once," Laura added. She sat up and rubbed the circulation back into her hands as Cait untied her feet.

"Now, Mrs. Flynn," said Steele, "if you'll assist your son to his feet, I think we will adjourn upstairs and place a call to the authorities. I'm sure they'll be pleased to take the two of you off our hands and show you to a nice warm jail cell."

"I guess that just about wraps things up," Steele said as the police cars pulled away with their two prisoners.

"Not quite," Cait replied. "We still don't know if Flynn was our father."

Steele looked at Laura and knew she was trying to come up with the words to tell him what he already knew. "He wasn't, Luv. I guess we'll just have to look a little longer."

"You knew?" Laura asked. "How?"

"I saw the medical reports on your desk. You marked a certain entry about an unusual medical condition Flynn had. From the computer research you did, it appears to be hereditary."

"Yes," Laura confirmed. "It's a very rare chemical imbalance with some long unpronounceable name, there's no cure, but it's easily controlled with daily medication. It's almost unheard of but in the families it affects, the percentage of offspring to also develop the condition is 94 percent."

"Ah!" Steele exclaimed. "Moira Flynn has to take her daily pills."

"And the druggist in Mountain View recalled Aaron came in often to refill his prescription," Laura added. "I tapped into the pharmacy's computer system and found that he took the same medication as his father. I double checked your last physical and the information from Cait's insurance exam and confirmed that neither of you shows any sign of it. While it's not conclusive, it makes it highly improbably..."

"...that Flynn was our father," Steel completed.

Laura nodded, a look of concern on her face. "Aaron and his mother confirmed it."

Cait looked at Steele in surprise. "You knew before we came out here, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't the time."

"But that means that... that we aren't... "

Steele moved to her and put his arm around her. "The hell it does. It only proves Flynn wasn't our father. We may still have had the same father. But that doesn't really matter, does it, Luv? You're my sister, Cait. I've accepted that and so have you. Remember what you said just before we left the office? Why question it now?"

"The detective who found us..."

"He was paid by Mrs. Flynn to find two people to fit the mold," Laura explained. "She just wanted someone to satisfy the conditions of the will so she could get her hands on the rest of the estate."

"Then there is no connection between us."

"There's a lifetime of connection between us, Cait," Steele said softly. "I know how you feel and I feel the same way. Maybe there's nothing logical about it, but that's not important. We're the same... you and I. We come from the same world, we've been through the same hell. We may never know for sure if we had the same father, but no one will ever convince me you aren't my sister."

As she looked up at him, Steele saw the tears falling from the blue eyes that were so like his.

"We're family, Cait. We both have a place to belong." He looked over at Laura. "I found mine four years ago." He turned back to Cait. "Now you've come home, too."

"Oh, Remington," Cait sobbed as she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his sweater. As Steele rubbed her back, he looked at Laura once again. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. As he smiled at him, one of them fell down from her cheek.

"Welcome home, both of you," she whispered. Steele reached out an arm and she fell into the three-way embrace. They stood there hugging each other for a long time; content just to be together.

Laura hung up the phone as she sank down on the sofa beside Remington Steele. "That was Jarvis. He said they collared Arledge and the man is singing like a canary."

"A rather overused metaphor, isn't it, Laura?"

"Those are Jarvis' words, not mine," she replied.

"Now that I can believe." He put his arm around her and pulled her close as he looked off in the distance thoughtfully.

"What are you thinking about?" Laura asked.

"Moira Flynn. I was thinking how strong she is. To lose her father who she adored and then to learn that her mother and brother were the ones who murdered him... But she's going to be alright. And I think she'll eventually find her long lost half brother and sister, now that she knows they exist." He looked back at Laura. "And now that this Flynn mess is behind us, there are a few things I want to tell you."

She looked at him with curiosity. "Oh?"

"Yes, about my past."

She put her fingers to his lips. "It isn't necessary. I told you that and I meant it."

"I know you did. Once again the need is mine, not yours." He took a deep breath. "When August Flynn called my mother a whore..."

"She had no idea who your mother was," Laura reminded him.

"No, of course not. I only have vague memories. I remember her as being very beautiful... dark hair and blue eyes, like mine. She went away when I was no more than three or four and I never really knew why. Before she left, she said she would only be gone for a while and would be back for me, but she never came. My relatives who shuffled me about after that never would talk about her. I don't know very many facts, only feelings I've held onto all these years. I know she loved me and I know she loved my father. She never told me much about him, but I remember once she told me that I was born because they were in love."

"That's beautiful."

"Yes, and that's how I've always thought of her... a beautiful woman whom I loved very dearly."

She loved you, but still left you, Laura thought. Now she began to understand better his inability to make a commitment. He'd been hurt, too. She recalled how she felt when her father left. That and the episode with Wilson had left her too afraid to give herself to anyone... to allow herself to care for anyone... until now. That's why her trust in him had always been so important. He needed the assurance as much as she did.

"Her name was Catherine," he said softly. "I've always thought that was a wonderful name."

"Catherine?" Laura suddenly pushed away from him.

"Yes. Is something wrong with that?"

"No, no, it's just that..." She took a deep breath. "Cait and I did a lot of talking while she was staying with me. She told me she was named after her mother... Caitlin being the more traditional Irish version of..."

"Catherine!" Steele completed. "Good Lord! Cait said her mother died when she was born. You don't think..."

"The timing is right. Cait's about four years younger than you. It could explain why your mother left if she were pregnant and why she never came back for you."

"God!" he exclaimed, then chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Laura asked.

"We've been trying to prove whether or not we had the same father and all this time... we could have the same mother!"

"I doubt there's any way to prove it unless you find any of those relatives of yours and get it out of them."

Steele shook his head. "No, it's too late for that. It was too long ago." He thought for a moment. "Besides, it doesn't really change anything. Cait's my sister. The past is over and done. What matters is that I have a family now. I have a sister..." he looked at Laura, "... and I have you."

"Yes," she agreed.

He pulled her close to him again and drew her lips to his. She felt the same sensation she did every time he kissed her: head spinning, heart pounding, a sudden warmth that flowed over her body, sparked by the fiery heat of his touch. There was a difference this time. The barriers were done. All the arguments her mind had used before had dissolved. She let go and gave herself totally to him.

Suddenly felt lips withdrew from hers. She opened her eyes and looked into his penetrating blue ones. She could see he had felt her release, the letting go of restraint. His eyes were asking if she were sure before his voice asked the same question.

"Laura, do you really want this?"

"As much as you do," she assured him. "I love you, Remington Steele."

She saw the relief wash over his face. "Oh, Laura, I love you so much." His lips captured hers again and this time refused to let go. She felt the pressure as his passion mounted and her body responded as it lay beneath his. His kisses left hers lips and trailed down her neck... nimble fingers opening the buttons in the front of her blouse that barred his way. She smiled as she placed her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him away. He looked at her questioningly as she rose from the sofa.

She reached her hand out for his and drew him off the couch before her, then her hands moved to the front of his shirt and began to slowly open each fastener. He allowed her to push the shirt off his arms, letting it fall to the floor. Then he reached for his belt and completed what she had started.

As he did, she removed her own clothes, slowly, deliberately before his hungry eyes, until they both stood naked before each other. He started to reach for her, but she stayed his hand for a moment. She reached for the telephone and lifted the receiver off the hook, placing it on the table beside the phone itself.

"No more interruptions, Mr. Steele," she said in a voice husky with the passion she felt. This time when he reached for her, she allowed him to enfold her back to caress her hips. She felt her body melt against his and she was content to just experience his touching before initiating any of her own.

Just as she was about to lose herself in the feelings he was creating, he reached down and in one swift move, lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her own arms around him tightly and buried her face in his neck as he carried her toward the bedroom. Before moving to the bed, he closed the door behind him, shutting out the world from the moment that belonged to just the two of them. The moment they had both wanted for four years and only now had finally surrendered themselves to.