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“They've been in the papers a number of times,” Tammy said, feeling weak at the knees.

“I know. I just assumed he had moved on by now. He usually does. Do you know where he lives?”

“She gave us the address.” She read it off to Marlene.

“I'll meet you there in twenty minutes. I think we'd better go up there. He may have her there, drugged up or worse. Do you have a boyfriend or a husband?” she asked bluntly.

“My sister does,” Tammy said.

“Bring him. If he won't let us in, we'll call the police. I don't like this guy, he's trouble.” It was everything Candy's sisters didn't want to hear. Thank God they had called her.

Sabrina called Chris and woke him up, explained what was happening, and he said he'd pick them up in a cab in ten minutes. Tammy wasn't sure if they should wake Annie to tell her they were leaving. She was sound asleep, and there was no reason to think that she should wake up while they were gone. The two women bundled up and put heavy coats and boots on. It was snowing hard when Chris picked them up, and he said he was lucky to find a cab at twelve-thirty on a snowy night. They were at Marcello's address ten minutes later, slipping and sliding across the icy streets. Marlene was already there, in a mink coat over jeans. She was an attractive gray-haired woman in her late fifties with a silky voice.

She spoke in an authoritarian manner to the doorman, and said the prince was expecting them, and not to bother to call. She was so daunting that the doorman followed her instructions, aided by a hundred-dollar bill, and let all four of them up. He told them it was apartment 5E. They were silent in the elevator, and Tammy could feel her heart beating as she looked at the older woman, with her hair pulled back in a slick chignon, and the elegant mink coat.

“I don't like this at all,” she said softly, and the others nodded.

“Neither do we,” Sabrina answered, holding tightly to Chris's hand. He still looked half asleep, and wasn't entirely sure what was going on or what they hoped to find. It seemed obvious to him that if Candy was there, she wanted to be, and might be furious at the four intruders who had come to rescue her. Particularly if she didn't want to be. Whatever happened, it was going to be an interesting scene.

They reached the door to apartment 5E a moment later, and Marlene startled Chris by whispering to him to say he was the police. He looked less than enthused. He was beginning to think they would all get arrested for this caper.

“I'm an attorney. I'm not sure I should do something like that,” he whispered. “I could be charged with impersonating the police.”

“He could be charged with worse. Just say it,” she said to him in a stern whisper, and feeling stupid, he rang the doorbell, waited for a male voice on the other side, and played the game dictated by Marlene. Tammy and Sabrina were deeply grateful to her, and to Chris, for being there.

“Open up. Police,” Chris intoned convincingly. There was a pause on the other side, a long hesitation, and then the sound of unlocking bolts. He kept the chain on when he opened the door to them, and Chris looked immediately stern, and got into it. “I said open the door. I have a warrant for your arrest.” Sabrina's eyes grew wide as she stared at Chris. Maybe that was going a little far.

“For what?” It was Marcello, and he sounded half asleep.

“Kidnapping and false imprisonment. And we believe you are dealing drugs from this address.” The women were standing behind Chris where Marcello couldn't see them.

“That's ridiculous,” he said, as he slid the chain off. “And who do you think I kidnapped, officer?” He hadn't asked to see a badge or any kind of ID, but Chris looked awe-inspiring, standing in a dark coat and jeans. He was a powerfully built man in excellent shape, with an air of authority when he chose. And right now he chose, although he thought they were all nuts. But he was doing it for Sabrina. The door was open wide by then. Chris stepped into the apartment so he couldn't close the door on them, and towered over Marcello, with at least fifty pounds and a lot of toned muscle to his advantage. Marlene stepped in beside him and didn't pull any punches with him.

“I didn't bring charges against you last time because the girl was seventeen and it would have been too hard on her. This one isn't. She's fully capable of bringing charges against you, and so am I. Where is she?”

“Where is who?” he said, looking pale, and it was obvious that he knew and hated Marlene.

“Hold on to him,” Marlene said to Chris, and strode into the apartment as though she owned it.

“I will bring charges against you!” he screamed at her. “You are breaking into my apartment!”