Jackie pushed the button to open the driveway gate, moved to the front door, tugged it open, and waited impatiently. A scowl pulled at her lips as she watched a little white hatchback careen up the driveway, and her irritation only intensified as the car squealed to a halt in front of the house.

"You're early," she snapped, glaring at the young man in the drugstore uniform as he sauntered up to the door. "I told the girl not to send the order until two-thirty P.M. It's only one-thirty P.M."

The guy wasn't a day over twenty and had longish hair that he now brushed back in an affected manner as he offered her a charming smile. His nametag read Darryl. "I was passing, so thought I'd stop and see if you were in early. You are. So here I am."

Darryl held up the small drugstore bag, his expression expectant, but Jackie continued to scowl as her mind raced over what she should do. She'd spent most of the night pondering ways to bring a meal to Vincent. Just before she'd dropped off to sleep, she'd come up with this one.

Jackie had a prescription for birth control that she hadn't bothered stopping after breaking up with her last boyfriend. It was near needing renewal. She'd decided to have her drugstore fax the prescription to the nearest neighborhood drugstore, then call and ask for it to be delivered... at two-thirty P.M.

Vincent usually got up between three and four, but Jackie had intended to wake him just a bit early to see him fed. She was hoping the saboteur had been watching long enough to know that three was the earliest Vincent usually woke up. If so, he might not be watching when this delivery was made. If he was already out there somewhere watching, she hoped he'd just think it was a plain old delivery for her. Jackie could see Vincent fed and save anyone from being marked for death at the same time. Brilliant. Or it would be if Darryl, the delivery guy, hadn't decided to deliver early. Now she wasn't sure what to do. Did she wake Vincent up to feed? Or did she send the guy on his way and find some other way to feed him later?

Jackie debated the issue briefly, but there seemed little to debate. If she didn't wake up Vincent then a perfectly good opportunity to feed would be wasted.

"Come in," she sighed with irritation and turned to lead the way up the hall. "I need to get my purse. Follow me."

There was a moment of silence, but then she heard the shuffle of feet and the door closed.

"Do you want me to wait here?" Darryl asked uncertainly as she started up the stairs.

Jackie scowled at him over her shoulder. "I said follow me, didn't I? So follow."

"Right." Darryl rushed forward, the bag swinging from his fingers as he hurried to catch up to her.

Muttering under her breath, Jackie shook her head and continued upstairs, knowing Tiny wouldn't come out of the kitchen to see what was up. He already knew. She'd talked to him about it before making the necessary calls to set the matter in motion. Jackie had needed to know his opinion on the matter, wanting to be sure he didn't think it was disgusting that she was dragging unsuspecting fellow mortals to the house to be fed on by a vampire. She herself could hardly believe she was doing it.

Fortunately, for her conscience, Tiny had merely shrugged and rumbled, "He has to feed. Think of it like they're making unknowing donations to the blood bank."

Sensible Tiny, Jackie thought and felt some of her tension and irritation slip from her as she recalled his words. She'd needed him to say exactly that to make it all right.

"So, let me guess, your purse is in your bedroom, right?"

Jackie glanced over her shoulder at the knowing comment from Darryl and caught him ogling her behind as he followed her up the stairs.

Great! Jackie thought with disgust. Now the guy had the completely wrong idea. Still, she decided that idea would make things easier, so played along, forcing a smile to her face when he finally deigned to glance up and saying, "As a matter of fact, it is. You don't mind, do you?"

She'd tried to instill a sexy purr into her voice, but suspected it sounded more like a growl. Jackie wasn't the sort to play games, especially when she didn't mean it. It was a flaw of her character that could hamper her at work at times.

"No baby, I don't mind," Darryl assured her with a leer. "Lead the way to your boudoir of love."

Jackie managed not to roll her eyes until her face was forward again, then she let the eye rolling rip. Men, she decided, especially young men, could be the most egotistical idiots on the planet when they thought they smelled the possibility of sex. Honestly.

Pausing at Vincent's bedroom door, Jackie turned to glance back toward the delivery guy and froze. Her mouth—which she'd opened to speak—stayed there, hanging loosely as she saw that Darryl had started to strip. The drugstore package now sat on the hall table at the top of the stairs. His shirt lay in a heap several feet past that, and he was already working on the zipper of his jeans.

Snapping her mouth closed as the zipper went down, Jackie turned sharply and opened Vincent's door without knocking. She was desperate to get Darryl to Vincent before the idiot was completely nude.

The room was in complete darkness which took her by surprise. Jackie wasn't sure what she'd expected, but she hadn't expected pitch black. Moving cautiously, she hissed Vincent's name in a bare whisper and moved in the direction she remembered his bed was in from the day she'd come in search of Allen Richmond and found him in Vincent's room. Jackie immediately stilled as the bit of light coming from the hallway disappeared when Darryl stepped into the door frame, cutting it off.

"Wow, you like it dark, huh?"

"Vincent?" Jackie hissed, ignoring the man as she felt the edge of the bed bump her knee.

"No babe, my name's Darryl. You can call me Vincent if you like though," he added quickly as if afraid she might change her mind if he didn't play the game.

Jackie's slightly panicked mind had just registered the fact that Darryl's voice had grown closer, when he suddenly stumbled into her back, plunging them both forward onto the bed.

"Whoa, babe. There you are." Darryl chuckled and squirmed on her back as Jackie quickly struggled to get out from under him. She managed to do so, rolling to the side and onto her back beside him, only to have him lunge on top of her again so that they were now face to face.

Jackie froze as she felt his naked legs rub across hers. She then reached out to push at his stomach, misjudged her aim and found herself with a handful of Darryl's jewels. They were nothing to write home about.

"Dear God, you're completely naked!" she squealed, wondering how he'd been so quick. Jesus. He had to be some sort of quick-change artist, but then, perhaps most horny young guys were.

Releasing Darryl's dangly bits, Jackie threw her hand out to the side and thumped at the bed. "Dammit Vincent! Wake up!"

Much to her relief her hand hit something hard. A knee or hip bone was her guess as a grunt sounded from the top of the bed.

"Trust me, baby. I'm awake."

Jackie screeched with frustration as Darryl's hands began roaming over her body. Reaching out, she thumped her fist at the mound in the bed she'd hit moments ago. This time, instead of a grunt, there was a sleepy "Hey!" then the lights went on.

Jackie blinked in the sudden brightness and found herself staring at Vincent, who was now sitting up in bed and blinking right back. He stared with incomprehension at Darryl, who had his hands closed over her breasts, then his gaze dropped to her face with incomprehension and Jackie closed her eyes briefly, and said through gritted teeth, "Will you control him please?"

"What?" Vincent asked blankly, apparently still not quite sure what was going on.

"Control him!" Jackie snapped. She took advantage of Darryl's confusion to shove him off and roll quickly closer to Vincent to hiss, "Slip into his mind and blank it out."

"Hey, you know, I'm not into threesomes with other guys," Darryl said with a frown. "Maybe if your friend here was a girl... we could talk, but I'm not into the gay scene. I have?

Jackie sagged on the bed as the young man suddenly went still and his face went blank.

"What's going on?" Vincent asked with confusion. "Why is he naked?"

"He thought I was luring him up here for sex and stripped on the way upstairs," Jackie explained wearily as she got to her feet beside the bed.

"Were you?"

To give him his due, Vincent obviously wasn't quite awake yet. Still, Jackie found herself stiffening with offense. Turning, she glared and snapped, "Feed."

"Feed?" Vincent seemed no less confused by the instruction than anything else happening in that moment.

"Yes, feed," Jackie repeated succinctly. "Feed, then wipe his memory, have him dress and send him on his way."

She started for the door, then paused abruptly and turned back. "I almost forgot. Here."

"What's this?" Vincent asked as she moved back to hand him money.

"It's for the prescription," she explained. "With a big tip. Give it to him when you're done."

Jackie turned away again and started past Darryl, then paused to kick him in the leg.

"That's for groping me. I know I let you think it's what I wanted, that's the only reason I'm not really hurting you," Jackie told the blank-faced young man and then stomped out of the room, weaving around Marguerite, who had appeared in the doorway.

Vincent stared after Jackie, a slow smile easing across his face as his befogged mind finally grasped what was happening. Jackie was feeding him. She'd brought the drugstore delivery guy up here for him to feed on just as she'd had Tiny order a pizza last night for him to be able to feed. She was taking care of him... which must mean she cared about him... at least a little. The idea made him feel all warm inside.

"It took you long enough to wake up."

Vincent glanced toward his aunt as she crossed the room to set what he suspected must be the delivery guy's clothes on the foot of the bed. Marguerite arched an eyebrow at the bewilderment on Vincent's face and shrugged.

"I couldn't believe you slept through that racket. I woke up when they were halfway up the stairs. I was beginning to think I'd have to step in myself when she finally thumped you one."

"I had trouble getting to sleep this morning," Vincent explained with a grimace. It was something of an understatement. He'd gone to talk to Neil, discussed the saboteur situation with him, then come to bed, but had lain awake fretting over the attack that day and worrying over the fact that if he went out and tried to feed, he might be marking whomever he chose to feed on for death... Something he wouldn't do.

It had been after noon when he'd finally drifted off to sleep, which was why he'd been so slow to wake up.

"After noon," Marguerite murmured, obviously reading his mind. She shook her head. "Which explains why you still look so groggy."

Vincent nodded.

"Feed," Marguerite suggested. "After you have finished I shall wipe his memory for you and see him out."

Vincent almost protested at his aunt taking care of him, but then gave in. He was tired, and while he should have too much pride to allow two women to take care of him, it felt so good he was reluctant to pass it up. No one had cared much for him since his mother's death three hundred years ago, he thought, then acknowledged that this wasn't really true. Aunt Marguerite and his cousins had always cared for him, or would have if he hadn't avoided them as much as he had over the years. Vincent had found it painful to be around them and see the close, loving family unit they were when his own relationship with his father had fallen apart with his mother's death. He hadn't even been able to cope with his aunt caring until now.

However, with Jackie trying to look after him too, it seemed different. It made him feel good instead of sad. It made him feel cared for in a special way rather than like the poor, pitied orphan cousin.

"You were never the poor, pitied, orphan cousin, Vincent," Marguerite said quietly. "You were family. Now, feed."

Vincent shifted off the bed and walked to the delivery boy.

He made quick work of his meal, then left Darryl to his aunt's tender mercies and went into his en suite bathroom to shower. He was in an exceptionally good mood and even found himself whistling show tunes in the shower.

Were anyone to ask him what had him in such good cheer, his answer would have been one word. Jackie.

Truthfully, Vincent shouldn't be as happy as he was. A saboteur was out to ruin him, people around him were getting hurt and even killed, and now he feared feeding and endangering whomever he fed on.

In effect, Vincent should be miserable. And he probably would be, if it weren't for one thing... Jackie.

As far as he could tell, Bastien had been right on the money in sending Jackie to him. Vincent had every confidence in her ability to quickly clear up the problem of the saboteur. But that wasn't why he found himself smiling as he shampooed his head and sang, "I'm gonna wash that saboteur right out of my hair," taking liberty with the lyrics as he went. Vincent was smiling because of what Jackie had just done. And last night, she had ordered the pizza with the specific intention of seeing him fed. He knew that went against her very nature and beliefs. This was the woman who had been offended on catching him snacking on one of the laborers, yet when his aunt had commented that he needed to feed, she'd immediately turned to Tiny and asked him to order a pizza.

He was rather amazed that Jackie was allowing herself to care for him at all, having been warned by Bastien that she had some attitude toward immortals, and learning about Cassius from reading Tiny's mind. But he was glad she did. The more he knew her, the more he liked her, and the more he found himself attracted to her.

After showering and pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, Vincent jogged downstairs and into the kitchen on a natural high.

"Good afternoon!" he said brightly to the trio seated at the table as he made a beeline for the coffeepot. One sniff of the air told him it was fresh coffee and he sighed with pleasure. Vincent suspected he was becoming addicted to the drink and didn't care. Carrying the coffee back to the table, he settled in the seat across from Jackie, smiled at her widely, then managed a more solemn expression as he said, "So? Did anything happen while I was sleeping? And what are we going to do today?"

Jackie opened her mouth to speak, but before she got out even a word, Vincent added, "Thank you for my breakfast, by the way. That was really sweet. No one's ever brought me a meal before. I've always hunted my own. Well, except when I was a kid of course, we had nursemaids then, but no one's brought me a meal since I started to hunt for myself and this was even more special, you bringing me breakfast in bed like that."

Jackie blinked at his words, then started to blush and Vincent grinned.

She cleared her throat, then said, "I'm sorry about waking you up. I asked the drugstore to send the delivery at 2:30. He arrived early. I wasn't sure what to do when he got here, then decided it would be better for you to feed while he was here. You could always go back to sleep afterward."

"Oh no, no sleeping. I'm up now and wide awake. I've had enough sleep," he assured her, eliciting something of a snort from his aunt. Fortunately, Jackie didn't appear to hear it.

Smiling and in a much better mood than she'd been in after grappling with the delivery guy in his room, she nodded. "Good."

"So what are we doing now?" Vincent asked, standing as he spotted the muffins on the kitchen counter. Tiny had made blueberry muffins. God, he loved the big guy. Such a good cook and he always made the tastiest stuff. Moving to the counter, Vincent fetched a muffin then glanced back toward the table to ask, "Anyone else want one while I'm up?"

He waited until everyone had said, "No, thank you," then moved back to the table.

"That kid wasn't high or something, was he?" Jackie asked as Vincent sat down and began to take the paper baking cup off the bottom.

Vincent blinked in surprise. "No. Why would you think that?"

"You seem rather... er... cheerful," she said finally.

Vincent opened his mouth to say that yes, he was, then recalled that he really shouldn't be. He'd had to close plays. People were dying. Stephano, a good friend and excellent vice president, had been attacked. The fact that he liked Jackie and thought she might like him back shouldn't nullify all that, he lectured himself. And it didn't, he realized. Thinking about Stephano and the poor dead girl he'd fed on managed to dampen some of his good cheer.

Frowning, he glanced toward the door and commented, "I should go check on Stephano. Is Neil still here?"

"Yes. He's working from Stephano's room. He had his portable brought over and moved the fax machine and printer up from your office," Jackie announced. "Stephano hasn't woken up yet."

Vincent frowned at this news, but wasn't really surprised. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since the start of the turning, and Stephano had been badly injured.

"You go check on Stephano and talk with Neil," Jackie suggested. "I want to grab a notepad and pen. I had an idea while we were waiting for you to come down."

Vincent considered asking what the idea was, but decided he'd find out soon enough, and simply stood to leave the room.

It was a short visit. Stephano wasn't awake yet and Neil wasn't in a mood for chat. His voice was brusque as he announced that he hadn't been able to contact his mother in Europe, and Vincent knew he was worried that she would hear the news that her son was dead before he could contact her and explain the true situation. However, Neil didn't want to leave such news on an answering machine, so had simply left a message for her to call him back at Vincent's home.

Neil then took him by surprise, by asking if he should be arranging a funeral. When Vincent simply stared at him nonplussed, he pointed out that if Stephano were really dead they would be having a funeral for him, and as they wanted the saboteur to think he was dead, shouldn't they be arranging a fake one? Neil had nearly lost his brother once, and wasn't willing to risk him again. He would do whatever it took to keep the saboteur from hunting Stephano down and finishing the job.

Vincent had agreed that this would probably be a good idea, but said he'd talk to Jackie about it first. If she agreed, they'd start making phone calls to arrange it. Vincent would, of course, cover the costs. He then frowned, and added that he'd talk to Jackie about Neil at least seeming to interview replacements for Stephano as the daytime vice president as well. This, too, would be something they'd have done if he was dead.

It was as he was about to leave to return downstairs that Neil had suddenly blurted, "Thank you, Vincent."

Surprised, he paused by the door he'd been about to open and glanced back. "For what?"

"For saving Stephano." His expression was solemn. "I realize what you gave up by turning him."

Vincent stilled as Neil's words sank in. I realize what you gave up by turning him. It was only at that moment that Vincent realized just what he'd done. It had been instinct. Stephano had been dying, attacked by a saboteur who was trying to hurt Vincent. It was his fault. He'd done what he had to do to save him... without considering for a moment the ramifications.

He could turn only one.

He'd turned Stephano.

"Vincent?" Frowning, Neil moved to his side and grabbed his arm as if he thought he might need steadying. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," he said weakly, but wasn't at all sure it was true. Vincent didn't regret what he'd done and would do it again in a heartbeat, but it was still heart wrenchingly painful to accept what his actions meant for him... and for his future. Whether he could read Jackie or not, whether she was his life mate or not, he could never turn her. He may have finally found the woman he was meant to live out his life with and she was now forever beyond his reach. Or, at least, she would be there for only a heartbeat of time in the many centuries that his life was likely to last.

Vincent turned to the door and pulled it open.

"I... er... I have to go," he muttered and hurried from the room, desperate to be on his own.

Neil didn't try to stop him and Vincent stumbled out of the room, then along the hall to the top of the stairs where he paused and closed his eyes. His mind was whirling. A great, huge ball had lodged itself painfully in his throat, his chest was aching, and he felt nauseous.

All Vincent had ever wanted his whole life was a life mate of his own and now he could never really have one.

"Vincent?"

Blinking his eyes open, he stared down at the foot of the stairs. Jackie had apparently returned from retrieving her notepad and pen from the office and spotted him at the top of the stairs. She was now staring up at him with concern.

"Are you all right?"

Vincent forced a smile and started downstairs. "Yes. I was just thinking."

"They must have been pretty grim thoughts. You looked upset," she commented as he reached her side. "Is Stephano all right?"

"Yes," he answered and felt a little of his distress ease. Stephano was alive. He was alive. Jackie was alive. And where there was life, there was hope.

His smile becoming a little less forced, he took her arm to lead her to the kitchen where Tiny and Marguerite waited. Vincent quickly told them about Neil's suggestion about the funeral and putting out feelers for a vice president to replace the supposedly dead Stephano and as he did, the pain in his throat began to ease. The one in his chest didn't, however. He suspected it never would.

"He's right," Jackie said slowly when he finished. "Neil should at least seem to be arranging a funeral until Stephano wakes up and we know if he recalls who attacked him. And you're right about his putting out the word that a new daytime vice president will be needed. Both of those are things that would be done if Stephano were really dead."

She tapped her pen on the notepad she'd fetched while he was upstairs, then nodded. "We'll have to at least start the arrangements of the funeral. If Stephano can't name his attacker, it may even be a good idea to carry it out. The attacker will surely be one of the people who attend."

"Why are you so sure he would attend?" Marguerite asked curiously.

"Because of the letters. He seems to be enjoying taunting Vincent with what he's doing. I think he'll want to see how much he's upset him by killing Stephano."

Vincent frowned, once again searching his mind for someone, anyone, he might have hurt in any way, even unintentionally. But there was no one he could think of who could possibly want to harm him this way. Pushing these frustrating thoughts aside, he glanced at the notepad lying on the table. "What are we doing now?"

Jackie drew the notepad closer and said, "I called the computer whiz I usually use in New York about retrieving the files the saboteur erased. Unfortunately, he can't fly out until the day after tomorrow. But, I was thinking, while we can't access the computer files, we can still get started on the list another way."

"The list of employees on the Dracula play?" Vincent asked.

"Yes."

Marguerite frowned. "But we won't need the list if Stephano can tell us who his attacker was."

"If he can," Jackie agreed. "But there is no guarantee that he'll be able to, and I'd rather not waste time just sitting around waiting for him to wake up, then find out that he can't."

Vincent nodded in understanding. He had no desire to sit around waiting either. Having something to do would make the time pass more quickly. "How can we work on the list?"

"You name off all the people you remember being in the play and then we go to them and see who they remember and so on. We might actually have the list made up before my computer whiz gets here."

"Maybe you should call and cancel having him come out here then," Tiny suggested. "He can be pretty pricey."

Jackie shook her head. "No. I want to be sure we have everyone listed. Besides, Vincent will need the files for work anyway, so he has to have them pulled up."

"You're right," Vincent agreed. "We will need those files back, but this list is a good idea."

Jackie smiled slightly, then picked up her pen and began to make columns on the page. "So, let's see. I guess we can start by listing the departments. Security, production, actors..." She stopped writing and glanced up at him. "Shall we start with security?"

Vincent nodded. "Max Kunstler headed security."

"Max Kunstler? The security chief at V.A Productions?" Jackie asked with surprise. She'd met the man the day before while going from department to department with Vincent in search of files the saboteur might have missed.

Vincent nodded again. "Uh-huh. Unless there's a problem, there isn't really much to do around the production company most of the time. Max schedules the security guys, and so on, but other than that..." He shrugged. "Max doesn't like to just sit around twiddling his thumbs, so he often oversees the setup of security for the plays. He goes to the theatre, decides what needs doing and how many men should be on site, hangs around for a couple weeks to be sure everything's running smoothly, then returns to the company to take up the reigns there again."

"Oh." Jackie wrote his name down, then glanced at Vincent and said, "So he knew about the sabotage attempts before we spoke to him?"

"He knew, but he didn't believe they were sabotage."

Jackie's eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"The same reasons I didn't. The male actor who broke his leg was a drunk, the actress injured when the set fell on her just seemed bad luck at the time, the fires seemed accidental..." He shrugged.

"And when the'contagious anemia' cropped up?" Jackie asked, arching one eyebrow. "He didn't wonder then if it might be more than an accident?"

"Oh yes," Vincent said dryly. "He knew that wasn't an accident. He thought that was me."

"Well, surely you explained to him that it wasn't you, that you hadn't been biting them," she asked with a frown.

"Yes, of course I did," he assured her. He added, "That doesn't mean he believed me."

Jackie began to rub her fingers over her forehead, then shook her head. "I didn't like Max much. Until you got firm with him, he seemed..."

"Arrogant? Patronizing? Disrespectful?" Marguerite suggested.

"That about covers it," Jackie's voice sounded dry. "Met him before, have you?"

"No. I've never met Max or anyone else who works for Vincent." Marguerite glanced toward her nephew briefly and when he didn't protest explained, "However, I've seen that attitude in others. I fear Vincent's condition makes some of our kind feel superior to him."

"Superior?" Jackie asked slowly.

Marguerite nodded. "Immortals like to think of themselves as perfect. Perfect health, peak strength, peak intellectual abilities..." She shrugged. "And some mistakenly believe that the genetic anomaly that prevents Vincent's feeding off bagged blood—like the rest of us—suggests he isn't quite perfect."

Jackie was silent for a minute, then shook her head. "But this anomaly wouldn't have shown itself until about fifty years ago or so when everyone switched to bagged blood."

"Yes," Marguerite agreed.

"So, up to that point, everyone accepted him as fine, immortal, equal?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then, when you all switched to bagged blood and he and his father found they couldn't feed that way, some of the others..."

"Began to look down on them and consider them inferior," Marguerite finished.

Vincent heard the anger in his aunt's voice, but he was used to it. It bothered her more than it did him. Vincent had enough confidence in himself he didn't much care how others thought of him.

Except Jackie, he acknowledged to himself now. Vincent was very interested in her reaction. Had she turned a pitying look his way, he would have been upset. Instead, she looked merely bewildered as she turned to him to ask, "Why would you keep someone like that working for you then?"

Vincent felt himself relax. Smiling faintly, he shrugged, "If I refused to hire anyone with that attitude, I wouldn't have any immortals working for me. It's pretty common. Besides, Max is good at his job, and he never pushes too hard with me."

Jackie nodded a slow acknowledgment to that. She'd noticed that while Max had shown a hint of arrogance, and seemed a touch patronizing and just that bit disrespectful, he hadn't been foolish enough to make any of these attitudes terribly obvious. On the other hand, she'd also noticed that some of Vincent's natural good humor and easygoing attitude had been missing at the office, replaced with a cool steel she hadn't seen in him before.

"Okay," she said finally. "So, Max was there. Who else was in security?"

"There was a Bob, a Tony, a John, and a Francis."

Jackie bit her lip as she wrote the names down and then asked, "I don't suppose you caught their last names?"

"No, sorry." He grimaced. "I didn't need to know their last names."

Jackie waved his apology aside. "We can get a list of the other security people from Max. Let's move on to production. I imagine you took Lily, she?

"No." Vincent shook his head.

"No?" she asked with surprise. "But she's your production assistant."

"Yes, but she was on vacation at the time," he explained, "So I took Sharon instead."

Jackie blinked. "But Sharon's a secretary, why would you take her as a production assistant?"

"I didn't really need a production assistant. I was the lead actor, so we had a different producer on the play. What I really needed was more of a personal assistant and Sharon could handle that easily enough."

"I see," she murmured, crossing out Lily's name and putting Sharon's in place instead. Jackie then raised her head and said, "Why don't you just start listing off everyone you can think of and I'll write them down. Then we'll pick the brains of those people to see who they recall."