A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

The Last Supper

"It's wonderful of you to have all of us over for dinner like this," Mrs. Mathison told Harry as he stood up to help her clear the table. "We shouldn't wait for special occasions, the way we often do," she added.

Harry picked up four glasses and smiled at his mother. It was a very special occasion—the last night he would ever spend with them, because he was leaving to join Zayn in the morning.

"Are you sure you don't want Carl and me to stay and help put the dining room back to order?" Sara asked as Carl helped her into her coat. "Carl needs to work up a bid for the recreation center, but that could wait for another half hour."

"No, it can't," Harry said, walking quickly into the living room and giving Sara and then Carl a hug. He held them both longer than necessary, and he added a kiss to their cheeks. Because this was good-bye. "Take care of each other," he whispered to them both.

"We only live a mile and a half from here," Carl pointed out drily. Harry watched them walk down the sidewalk, memorizing the moment, then he closed the door. Ted and his father had settled down in the living room to watch the news and Katherine was helping clear the table.

"Sara is such a sweet girl," Mrs. Mathison said when she was alone with Harry in the kitchen. "She and Carl are so good together, so happy." Glancing over her shoulder into the dining room where Katherine was gathering plates, she whispered, "I think Ted and Katherine have found each other again, don't you? Katherine was so young before, but she's settled down and matured, and Ted loved her so much. He never got over her."

Harry smiled somberly as he stacked the dinner plates Katherine was carrying from the dining room into the dishwasher. "Don't get your hopes up too far. I invited Katherine tonight, Ted didn't. He's still seeing Grace Halvers—fighting whatever he feels for Katherine probably."

"Harry, is something wrong? You seem strange tonight. Preoccupied."

Picking up the dishcloth, Harry fixed a bright, attentive look on his face and began wiping off the sink. "Why do you say that?"

"For one thing, the water is still running, the dishes aren't done, and you're trying to wipe the counters. You were always a neat boy, Harry," she teased as Harry hastily tossed the dishcloth aside and returned to his earlier task, "but that's carrying things a little too far. You're still thinking about Zayn Malik, aren't you?"

It was a golden opportunity to prepare his mother for what she was going to read in Harry's letter and he decided to take advantage of it. "What would you say if I told you I fell in love with him in Colorado?"

"I'd say that's a very pointless, painful, foolish thing for you to believe."

"And what if I can't help it?"

"I recommend tincture of time, honey. That cures everything. You only knew him for a week, after all. Why don't you fall in love with Louis Tomlinson instead," she said half-seriously. "He has a good job, and he's crazy about you—even your father noticed."

Realizing the conversation about Louis and the mundane chore of doing dishes were both wastes of what precious time was left with his family, Harry tossed down his dishcloth. "Let's go into the living room," he said, hustling his mother out of the kitchen. "I'll finish the dishes later." Raising his voice, he called, "Does anyone want anything from the kitchen?"

"Yes," Ted called in answer. "Coffee."

Katherine, who had just come in to help at the sink, reached for cups and saucers, but Harry shook his head. "Go and spend some time with Ted. I'll come back for the coffee when it's ready."

Harry was partway into the living room, carrying a tray of cups, when he heard his father hiss, "Ted, turn the television set off, Harry doesn't need to hear that!"

"I don't need to hear what?" Harry asked, stopping in cold dread as Ted dived for the television set. "Leave it on, Ted," he warned sharply, knowing instinctively it was something about Zayn. "They've got Zayn, don't they," he said, shaking so violently the cups on his tray rattled. "Answer me," he cried, looking at four appalled faces.

"They didn't get him," Ted fired sarcastically, "he's gotten himself another victim!" As he spoke, the television commercial ended and Harry saw a stretcher being taken out of a house, the body covered in a white sheet, while the newscaster's voice seemed to loom in the room: "Repeating the news of the hour, Tony Austin, who starred with Zayn Malik and Rachel Evans in Destiny, was found dead in his Los Angeles house today from a fatal gunshot wound in the chest. Preliminary reports indicate that the bullet was a hollow point shell, similar to the one that killed Zayn Malik's wife, Rachel Evans. The coroner has tentatively fixed the time of death at approximately ten o'clock last night. Orange County police officials have confirmed that Austin reportedly received a threatening phone call last night from Zayn Malik and that Malik was allegedly seen in the area earlier last evening. Other members of Destiny's cast and crew who also received threatening calls from Malik have been warned to exercise extreme caution—"

The rest of his words were drowned out by the crash of breaking china as Harry dropped the tray and covered his face with his hands, trying to blot out the memory of the white-shrouded body being put into an ambulance and the recollection of Zayn's cold voice:

"Leave Austin to me. There are other ways to handle him."

"Harry!" Voices rushed at him and hands reached for him, but he stepped back, staring blindly from his mother and Katherine who were bending to pick up the broken china to his father and Ted, who were standing near him now, watching him in alarmed consternation, "Please!" he choked. "I need to be alone now. Dad," he said, reining in his hysteria so tightly that his voice was constricted, "please take Mother home. She shouldn't get upset over me. It's not good for her blood pressure."

Harry turned and walked into his bedroom, closed the door behind him, and sat down in the dark. Somewhere in the house he heard the telephone begin to ring, but it was Mrs. Stanhope's voice that was screaming in his mind:

"Zachary killed his own brother, and he killed his wife. In his movies, he played men who murdered needlessly and then escaped the consequences because they were 'heroes'... He can no longer separate reality from fantasy... Zachary is insane.

"If he had gotten help, Rachel Evans would not be lying in her grave... For your own sake, turn him in. Otherwise, there will be another victim someday, and you will live the rest of your life carrying the same burden of guilt that I must bear..."

Tony Austin's famous, charismatic face swam before Harry's eyes, his smile endearing and sexy. He wouldn't smile again. Like Rachel Evans and Justin Stanhope, he was dead. Murdered.

She heard Liam Payne's warning, "We also discovered evidence that points to Diana Copeland ... Emily McDaniels ... Tommy Newton."

Reaching into the nightstand drawer, Harry took Zayn's letter out and clutched it to him, but he didn't need to read it; he'd memorized every word. Wrapping his arms around his stomach, he bent forward, rocking back and forth in a tearless agony, pressing the letter to his heart, silently keening Zayn's name in the dark.

* * *

Muted voices came from the living room. Slowly dragging him from the abyss where nothing existed for him except the torment of the moment, voices that forced him slowly to his feet. Voices of people who need to know ... to help ... to tell him...