"This one's a slam-dunk!" Joe Carlino told Assistant DA Dana Kramer.

"That's what they said about the O.J.Simpson case." she replied, " I'd better look for holes in the evidence, so that I can plug them. This witness, Margaret Cavendish - did she identify Carl Hutchins in a line-up?"

"Where are we gonna get enough guys with grey ponytails for a line-up?"

"Then, did you show her a photo array?"

"What wouldna been the point of that?" said Joe, "She only saw him from the back!"

"Then, how did she identify him?"

"I let her look at him through the two-way mirror."

Dana sighed and shook her head. "The defense is going to try to discredit her testimony."

"She saw Hutchins enterin' Grant Harrison's suite!" Joe said, "No fancy lawyer is gonna change that! Besides, you got the gun! What more do you need?"

"Carl Hutchins' fingerprints were not found on the gun." Dana pointed out.

"So he wiped the prints! So what?"

"He wiped the gun, then left it in his own bedroom - when he must have known he'd be a suspect? That wasn't very intelligent of him."

Joe shrugged. "Lucky for us, though."

****

Cass made all the same objections at Carl's Preliminary Hearing, but even so, it was a forgone conclusion that Carl would be bound over to stand trial, nor would the judge consider granting him bail.

Two Deputy Sheriffs took custody of Carl for the trip to the County Jail, where he would be held until his trial.

"I wouldn't want to be drivin’ on the highway tonight." Gary Sinclair said, "The weatherman says there's black ice out there."

"We always drive carefully." they said.

****

Once he was alone in the back of the prison van, Carl fingered the sleeve of his overcoat. The picklock he had slipped into the cuff was still there; it would be the work of a moment to free himself from the handcuffs - but what would be the point? He had been well and truly fitted for a frame, and if he was not going to rot in prison for a crime he had not committed (very ironic, considering all the crimes he had gotten away with over the years), then Fate was going to have to take a hand.

As if in answer, the van gave a sickening sideways lurch, then spun round and round; there was a screech of brakes, then CRASH!

****

"Oooh!" Deputy Forsythe shook his head groggily. The van had come to rest canted at an angle, with a tree halfway through the windshield. His partner was slumped unconscious beside him.

"Harry? Are you okay?" No response.

Fortunately, the radio was undamaged. "23 - We've TA-ed! We need an ambulance!"

It wasn't until Harry was being loaded into the ambulance that Forsythe remembered the prisoner.

The back door of the van was wide open, the empty handcuffs lying on the floor, and Carl was long gone.

****

Steven was watching TV when his program was interrupted for a news flash: "In a real-life replay of THE FUGITIVE, Carl Hutchins, accused killer of former US Senator Grant Harrison, escaped from custody tonight when the van transporting him to the County Jail skidded out of control on a patch of black ice and hit a tree!"

Just then, Carl walked in, exhausted and covered in snow.

"GRA -!" Carl clapped hand over Steven's mouth. "Shh! Not so loud! Where is everyone?"

"Grandma is upstairs with Micky and Franky, and Kirk's playing a video game." said Steven, "And Clara's asleep."

Carl was shivering. "My feet feel like lumps of ice." he said, "These shoes were never intended for cross-country hiking in weather like this."

Steven brought him a cup of coffee.

"Thank you, My Heart." said Carl, wrapping his fingers around the cup to warm them, "You're a thoughtful lad."

"I'll get you something to eat."

"No time for that, Lad. As soon as I've gotten some cash and my cell-phone, I must be on my way, before the police come here looking for me."

"You don't have to leave, Grandpa!" said Steven, "You can hide out here!"

"That's not possible, Lad," said Carl, "Even if I managed to hide from the police search, Rachel would never stand for it."

"Grandma doesn't know about the secret room!" said Steven, "See?"

He pressed a hidden catch in the woodwork, and a section of the wall swung open, revealing a small room.

"No one will find you here." said Steven.

Just then, they heard Rachel coming downstairs. Carl ducked into the room; Steven swung the panel closed behind him, just in time.

"I thought I heard you talking to someone." Rachel said, looking around.

"It was the TV." said Steven.

Rachel noticed the empty coffee cup. "Steven Frame! Have you been drinking coffee?"

"Yes!" said Steven without hesitation.

"It will stunt your growth," said Rachel, "And keep you awake."

"I don't drink it very often."

****

Carl discovered that the closing of the panel did not plunge him into total darkness. A dim light came through a small window. Carl approached it cautiously. On the outside of the house, shrubbery covered it, preventing anyone from seeing in. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Carl was able to see

that he was in a small, panelled room, empty of everything but dust.

By putting his ear to the wall, Carl could hear what was going on in the living room. Soon enough the doorbell rang, followed by the pounding of fists and cries of "POLICE! OPEN UP!"

Rachel opened the door. "We're looking for Carl Hutchins!"

"Well, he certainly hasn't been here!" said Rachel, "See for yourselves!" followed by the heavy tramp of police boots. Carl remained motionless, fearful of making some noise that would betray his hiding place.

After what seemed like hours, the police left, admonishing Rachel to call them at once if Carl turned up.

A few minutes later, the secret panel opened; the sudden burst of light was painful to Carl's dark-adjusted eyes.

"Grandma's putting the Twins to bed." Steven said, "Here's some stuff!" He thrust a bundle into Carl's arms, shoved the rest of what he held into the small room, and closed the opening.

Temporarily blinded again, Carl examined his gifts by touch; the big bundle was a sleeping bag; the rest consisted of a plastic bucket - Clever lad! Steven had obviously tried to anticipate Carl's every need - containing a flashlight - Carl turned it on - a hooded sweatsuit and a pair of thick wool socks! - Oh frabjous day, Callooh! Callay! Carl slipped off his wet clothes and put on the dry ones. They hung loose on Carl's lean frame; BCPD was written on the front. They must be some of Ryan's clothes.

Carl sat in the sleeping bag - tolerably warm at last -and examined the last of Steven's gifts: two sandwiches, wrapped in plastic, and a bottle of something called Snapple. He decided to save them until he was really hungry; Steven might not get another opportunity to give him food for some time. The final item was a cell phone. Carl dialled. "Hutchins here." he said, "What have you found out about the late Grant Harrison?"

****