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.'At least I don't think it is.He loves us -- maybe too strongly.He has always been the one to take on responsibility without help, protecting his girls from harm.Whenever there was a problem, Mom never raised a hand to help him.She just sat back and relied on Dad.Somewhere in his mind, he believes he has done all of this to protect his family.''All this time.and we never knew.'Laura nodded.She tried to look down and continue reading the diary, hoping to block her thoughts from what was about to occur.But it was senseless.Anticipation rubbed against her raw nerves.David.After all this time, David was still alive.She was going to see him soon, hold him, tell him that they were never meant to be apart.Just a few more minutes.James crept down the darkened hallway.He moved past a media room, past an empty water cooler, past the visiting team's locker room.On his left, he saw a large garbage canister stuffed full with paper cups and programs.He checked the other end of the corridor.Nobody in sight.Everything had been going so well until Mary realized that David Baskin was Sinclair's son.Then she panicked.She flailed around until she awoke the sleeping past.The mask that hid all of his deceptions -- his useful deceptions - began to crack and fall away.He tried to keep Mary still, but how could he protect Laura and David's relationship without telling his wife what she had made him do all those years ago? The whole foundation that supported his family would crumble into worthless ruins.Families, like lives, are fragile things.They are held together with flimsy tissue.Stretch that tissue too far.He moved forward.Up ahead, he could see the entrance ramp.The players jogged down this very hall and out that ramp to the sound of swelling applause or boos.Light cascaded in from the playing area.The sound of dribbling became louder.James had been in this building just a few days ago for the opening game of the Celtics' new season.He had come with high hopes, with the genuine belief that the worst was behind them.But he was so wrong.That visit to the Garden, that damn opening game, had unraveled the spool of lies like no other occasion ever had.Judy had been only one loose thread that needed immediate attention.The other had been Stan Baskin.Stan had recognized James at the basketball game.He knew that James had killed his father.But instead of seeking vengeance, Stan Baskin had decided to turn a profit by playing a little game of blackmail.Disgusting.What kind of sense of family did a man like that have? James quickly realized that a pay-off would do no good.Any man who could be bought off by his father's murderer could not be trusted to remain silent.Furthermore, this scum was seriously involved with his oldest daughter.James would not allow Gloria to fall in love with such a man.So once again, what choice did James have? Only one, really.He silenced Stan for good.The entrance way was only a few yards away.The time had come.No more mere clipping away at the weeds to improve the appearance.He needed to dig deep and rip up the evil by the roots, to destroy it in one bold stroke.Then they would all be safe.Drastic situations called for drastic measures.And in this case, that meant murder.He would not shy away from the unpleasantness of what must be done.Personal feeling had to be put aside.One last murder.He pressed his back up against the wall.He leaned forward and peered out.David was performing dribbling drills near center court.He was stationary, the ball moving in a figure eight between his legs.'It's good for the hand-eye coordination, Dr Ayars.''Please.Call me James.'He closed his eyes and pushed the memory away.Then he dared another peek.David's back was to him.Silently, James moved out from the entrance way and ducked behind a row of courtside seats.David had not heard a thing.He just continued dribbling in figure eights, now using two balls, each traveling in a different direction.James slowly raised his head and glanced out like a soldier in a foxhole.David stared straight toward the basket at the opposite end of the court.He did not watch the basketballs as they moved in a blur beneath him.The orange spheres were like well-trained animals who obeyed his every command.'How do you do that, David? How can you dribble so fast without looking down?''I practice
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