His voice was deep and frightened her a little in its intensity. The early evening shadows had passed by the kitchen and Harry was standing in near darkness. The remaining light passed through the slats on the blinds and cast stripes across his face. He looked like he was behind bars.

"I brought food for Miguel," she answered.

"Oh yes." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Let's not forget HIM. The famous gray parrot who not only entertains with his endless collection of TV trivia, he also is capable of life-saving diversionary tactics."

Harry all but disappeared as the sun completely set. He was a disembodied voice. Still unfamiliar with the apartment's interior, Diane scanned the wall with her eyes for a light switch.

"Would you like me to fix something for YOU to eat, Harry?" she shot back. "I think Miguel has some sunflower kernels left over here. What could I get for you?"

In the darkness he was quietly pacing. Then, before thinking, he spoke out, "You do have something I want, Detective Russell. But I'm on probation with you, aren't I? Are you ever going to enlighten me on the terms of this emotional incarceration, or are you just waiting for me to violate my parole?"

There was no mistaking Harry's meaning.

He was beginning to really unravel her, and she tried desperately to keep in mind his illness and fatigue. She wondered if that's all there was to his apparent transformation into Mr.Hyde.

Rubbing the back of her neck she tried a diversionary tactic of her own. "Well, come on then, Denby. Do it! Is that really all you want? You think you can take me?"

He said nothing.

After an eternity of silence, she heard him walking toward her, appearing out of the shadow like a specter in his black sweater. He had lost ten pounds during his last two hospital stays, and it gave him a tall, angular silhouette. Just as he was close enough to breath in her scent, he turned and went to the front of the couch to sit down.

"No Diane," he said in a deep whisper, "I can't take you."

The leather creaked as Harry sat back, stretching out his lean body on the couch and resting his head on the worn throw pillow. He held his full cup of coffee on his stomach and it rose and fell with each breath.

Diane could read him. Harry was backing down and trying to keep cool.

In spite of his present lack of charm, her own desire grew as she looked down. His sweater had bunched up above his jeans, revealing just enough abdomen to make her catch her breath. The familiar fine line of dark hair that began at his chest disappeared beneath his waistband.