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Complexity

Dinner was great, Diane noted. She hadn't eaten this much in...she didn't know how long. Afterwards, she helped Trish clear off the table. Diane settled down on the couch to curl up with a good book. And there was no shortage of good books in the Denby household. They had at least six bookshelves that were crammed with titles.

She sat reading for she didn't know how long. She was so engrossed in "The Witching Hour" by Anne Rice that she didn't notice when the doorbell rang. Trish walked into the front room with Amanda behind her and had to clear her throat several times.

"Wha- oh, sorry. Hey Amanda."

Diane reluctantly set the book down on the maple coffee table. Amanda smiled and said hello.

"Well, I'm just going to take a shower. I'll join you two in a little while. It's nice to see you Amanda."

Trish left the room and Amanda sat down on the sofa.

"So, how are things here?"

"Great. Trish and I have a lot in common. And she's so much like Harry it's a little frightening."

Amanda laughed.

"Oh, I know. When I first met Trish and Roger, it was like night and day. And Denby was a mix. But lately he's been acting like Trish more than ever. I suppose I would too, if I had her for a mother."

"So what have you been up to?"

Amanda sighed.

"You mean besides listing to crazy people for hours on end? Nothing really."

Diane laughed this time.

"Diane I uh, wanted to talk to you about Jill and her husband."

"Umm...okay, but I have to run to the bathroom. Be right back."

Amanda just smiled. It was unnerving.

When Diane came back into the living room, Amanda was nowhere to be found. She looked everywhere, but with no avail. Finally, she heard a crash somewhere in the garage, and hurriedly ran in that direction.

She opened to door to find Trish gagged and tied, knocked unconscious and laying on the floor. Diane's face twisted in horror. A voice from behind surprised her.

"You know Russell, you really should be careful about who you tell things to."

Diane spun around to find Amanda pointing a gun at her head. She quickly reached for her own piece, but realized grimly that it was not there. Amanda's eyebrow's rose almost in humor.

"Looking for this? Let me rephrase my statement; you should be careful who you trust."

"Why the hell have you done this? And what do you have to do with Jill and Don."

"Tsk tsk Diane. The answer you seek can be summed up in two simple words; debts owed. You and your sleazy drunk boyfriend should be more careful. That DOA? Rich? Well, he owed money too. The whole thing was a set up. Desiree? A colleague. And you, you got too fucking involved. Jill should have stayed quiet. We would have gotten the kid back, Don would be dead, and everything would be clean. But no, you and your ass hole fuck pal got involved."

"But Denby was your friend?"

"Times change, Diane, and so do people. Harry was just a nosey victim of circumstances to me, nothing more, nothing less. As you are."

Diane tried to back up towards the wall, but Amanda steadied the gun.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Diane froze.

"Now, I'm tired, and I think I'll just kill you and Trish now. What do you think?"

Diane was silent. Amanda rose the gun.

Diane panicked when she heard Amanda's words. As people say, her whole life, or so it seemed, flashed in front of her face. It ran in circles from her abusive childhood, to her alcoholic days, to Bobby, to Denby, and all that had happened. A searing pain ripped through her heart when she thought of Denby. Oh God, she was likely never going to see him again.

Amanda smiled again and cocked the gun. The smile was cold; the coldest Diane had ever seen. She resolved herself to think that that might have been one of her last thoughts. When Amanda's finger tightened over the trigger, Diane squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn't let the bullet of doom hurling at her be her last image of life.

Suddenly, a door banged open, and Diane thought she heard the words "Freeze, police," shouted in panic, but she couldn't be sure. Her mind was probably playing tricks on her. But she opened her eyes against her better judgement, and did so in time to see the bullet slam into Denby's chest. But Denby had popped one off just in time. Amanda fell to the floor, her head a bloody mess, about 4 feet away from Harry.

Diane was frozen for a few precious seconds, but the sight of Harry laying in a heap, bleeding, jerked her back into reality. She rushed to him in tears, and tried to get a pulse. She couldn't feel one. Leaning over his body, the tears ran down over her pale face. She clutched his still form to her body, sobbing even more at the contact.

"Harry!!! Oh God....Harry..."

The words were broken and only she could hear them. Trish was still unconscious, and Diane was glad. She wanted to share this grief with no one. A sound reached her trance like state, and she jerked her head up from Harry's chest. She heard shouting outside, but it wasn't the police. Cursing, she tore herself away from Harry, the most heartbreaking thing she had ever done, and climbed out the window.

Two weeks after the shoot out

Harry was dead. The phone call she had just gotten from one of Amanda's 'people' had just affirmed it. Diane had been hopeful after leaving the garage; maybe they would ship Harry off to a hospital, and maybe he would live!! But this phone call had killed every scrap of hope in her being.

It was as if she was cursed. First Bobby, and now Harry. Oh God, Harry. Not Harry, not after all of this bullshit. Her heart desperately clung to the belief that maybe it was a trick. But her mind screamed back. Harry was dead. DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD...

The air in front of her held the words like a picture frame. And GUILT GUILT GUILT GUILT GUILT followed. She hadn't told anyone, for feared of discovery. Now she regretted it. She had made some lame-ass excuse to the precinct about Harry going on a long vacation. Diane hadn't heard from Trish. The recollection burned in her thoughts.

Diane, regrettably, went into work the next day. Everyone noticed her somber mood, and though it had been there for 2 weeks, it was noticeable today. Greg and Danny approached her.

"Diane, uh, I was wondering..."Danny trailed off, fondling the paper clips in his pocket.

"What the fuck is up with me?"

"Uh, yeah, but not put like that."

Diane sighed.

"Well, you know Danny. Greg. I really don't feel like talking about it. This is work. Not a fucking therapy session."

Her bitter tone caused both Greg and Danny to jump back. Andy, who had been watching this interaction with a hidden eye, walked over to the desk.

"Could this whole PMS phase have anything to do with Denby's sudden vacation?"

The mention of his name caused Diane to burst into sudden tears. If Greg and Danny weren't weary of her before, they sure as hell were now. Diane yanked a tissue out of a box that sat on her desk and tried in vain to wipe her tears away, but only succeeded in making her eyes even redder. Andy leaned into the desk.

"Diane...what is it?"

Diane tried to speak, she really did, but she couldn't over her tears.

"Hmmm?"

"H-harry is...dead."

Andy leaned backwards in shock.

"Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath.

"A-amanda did it. And I haven't heard from his mother. I just got a phone call yesterday. They said....they said not to worry about expecting a phone call from the hospital. That Harry was dead and buried outside of Harlem."

Danny leaned over to her and embraced her in a hug.