Sam was back with several sections of cloth before his dad had too long to think about it. “How bad?” He asked breathlessly as Mac worked with the improvised dressings.

MacGyver didn’t pull any punches. “Bad.”

Sam’s eyes became almost glazed as he seemed to take on the burden of everything that had happened – including Andy’s injuries. “Why?” He mouthed so quietly Mac nearly didn’t hear him.

“I don’t think Andy brought the gun here,” Mac offered ruefully. “I think she got locked in with us, found it and panicked. The footprints in the cellar were the right size to be hers.” He pressed another strip of material over the largest wound as he talked. “The gun is a Colt M1889 – they’re pretty old. And it was covered in dust. That’s what made me think it was one of the booby traps.”

Sam nodded. “That’s why she was freaking out and shaking so bad. The real killer wouldn’t have been so nervous or bothered about taking us out.”

A look of guilt washed over MacGyver’s features akin to the one his son had worn only moments previously. “Yeah, I tried to tell her not to fire that dang thing. I had an idea the barrel was rigged, but she was just too scared to listen.”

Sam passed his dad the last of the strips. His expression said he felt useless, even though his didn’t mouth the words. “So why was she here?”

Mac shrugged. “Maybe the same reason we are, to find the truth?”

As he applied the last dressing, Andy unexpectedly coughed, a bright spurt of blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth. She gasped, then managed to mumble a few words between long sucking breaths. “I …need to find the necklace. I need to…stop…him.”

Sam leaned low so that he was close to her face. “Stop who, Andy,” he asked softly.

Andy’s eyes looked back pleadingly and she tried to repeat her words, but the effort was simply too much and she drifted back off into unconsciousness.

MacGyver put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “She’s bleeding inside. If we don’t get her out soon she’s not gonna make it. We can worry about who and what she means later.”

The sobering words seemed to galvanize Sam into action and he stood quickly. He stared down the stairwell, apparently assessing their situation. “No way can we get out that main door, the oak isn’t gonna budge. And the way the windows are boarded it would take too long to break through.” His brow furrowed in frustration. “We need another bomb, which we just don’t have.”

Mac’s own mind was in overdrive. “I don’t think the attic window was boarded up. Probably because of the height and how small it is, but…”

“Maybe I could get through,” Sam finished.

Mac considered it. Getting one person out was only part of the equation. No way could he climb with his hand, and Andy couldn’t be lowered out that way, it would kill her for sure.

An idea started to form. “Okay, if we can get you out, maybe you can wrap the Jeep’s winch around the locked cellar doors and tear them off. They’d be easier than the main oak door.”

Andy groaned and Sam flinched at the sound. “That’s great, but how do I climb down from the attic? I’m not exactly a mountain goat and there’s not much up there to hold onto. You’re the climber, not me.”

If it had been any other situation, Mac would have quickly pointed out that he was, in fact, also the one scared to death of heights, but given Andy’s situation he didn’t waste time on banter. “Stay here and do what you can to make her comfortable. I’m gonna take a look in the cellar, there might be a rope or something I can improvise with.”

Given his hand, it would have been easier to send Sam, but the whole situation had proved that right now, Mac was the clearer thinker. Sam did have a good track record of finding and using things to his own advantage, but sometimes he let emotion mar that thought process.

Jogging down the stairs two at a time, Mac entered the cellar and tried the lights. They were still out. He used the flashlight in his good hand to swing a beam around the room, pausing at the original booby trap and grimacing.

There were a few rusty tools, empty planters and a hoe, but no rope that Mac could see. He played the beam across the room again more slowly and noted thick cables running from an old backup generator and up through the floor.

Could I cut it to be used like a rope, maybe?

MacGyver moved closer, and shook his head in disappointment. The insulated wiring would probably take Sam’s weight, but he didn’t think there was enough of it to be of any use.

He moved on, checking the corners of the cellar until he came to a large roll of wire garden meshing. It was a little too wide, but definitely heavy enough gauge to climb down. The only problem was it would also most likely cut into Sam’s hands.

You’re in a cellar, think!

Mac moved back to the bench where he’d spotted the tools and rummaged around in the drawers. Where there were garden implements, there were usually gloves.

The drawers were filled with cobwebs, oily rags and an old bike chain, below those was what he was looking for – a pair of thick leather garden gloves – tatty, but definitely usable.

Mac stuffed them in his back jeans pocket, remembering all the time that upstairs, a girl lay dying.

But the puzzle hadn’t quite been solved yet. He had the wire to clamber down, the gloves for protection, but how were they going to fix the wire to anything in the attic?

The tool bench had nothing of use, so MacGyver took another look around, hoping his first two sweeps had missed something.

They hadn’t.

He sighed in frustration, but then his eyes locked on the shotgun that was part of the booby trap.

Mac smiled and quickly retrieved it, along with the roll of mesh. Now for the difficult task of getting both items back up the stairs with just one arm free. He stuffed the twelve gauge down the center of the meshing, making sure the barrel lodged in one of the triangular sections.

Then it was simply a matter of getting the roll under his arm and making a dash for it, with the flashlight strap gritted between his teeth.

Not a pretty sight, he mused as he bounded up the steps, but a necessary one.

At the top of the ornate staircase, Sam was waiting. He looked pale in the muted light, and for a moment Mac expected him to say they were too late.

“How is she?” he dared to ask.

Sam shook his head. “Not good. What’d you find?” He looked warily at the meshing.

Instead of explaining, MacGyver simply handed it over. He was getting tired now the pain from his hand was setting in, and jarring it as he ran around wasn’t helping.

“We’ll have to leave Andy for a few minutes why we get you out.” Mac didn’t wait for a reply and started to look for another set of stairs up to the attic. After trying three doors, he finally found what he was searching for.

Behind, he could her Sam’s heavy footfalls on the bare wooden steps as his son obediently followed him with the meshing and gun.

At the top of the stairs there was another door, and he pushed through it into a much brighter room. Light was cascading in through the narrow window, abruptly making the house seem friendlier.

Sam pushed by with the wire and tossed it down in a space on the floor. He grabbed the window handles forcing the warped wood until it eventually gave and opened outwards. Then he looked back down at the mesh. “So how do we secure this stuff?” He stared at his dad, obviously needing answers.

Mac pulled out the shotgun from its hiding place one-handed and offered it up to his son. “Thread the barrel in and out of one end of the mesh,” he instructed. “Then brace it either side the window and toss our makeshift ladder out…”

“Nice one…” Sam did as he was told, his face suggesting he was pretty impressed.

“Hey, don’t thank me, thank Bruce Willis,” MacGyver admitted. “I saw him do something similar with a gun strap in Die Hard.”

“You watched Die Hard?” Sam’s face contorted in shock. “Did you not notice all the guns..?” Without waiting for an answer he donned the leather gloves and squeezed out the tiny window onto the mesh “ladder”.

Mac held his breath as Sam made his first tentative moves. The meshing swayed and contorted, but the shotgun held it in place. It wasn’t going to be an elegant descent, but it looked like it was going to work.

Sam seemed to sense the same thing and began to move more quickly until he was just a short distance from the ground. He bounced away from the brickwork and then let go, landing in an almost crouched position.

After a second to regain his composure and balance, he made a dash for the Jeep.

As MacGyver watched, Sam vanished from view and then the 4x4’s engine fired into life.

Mac didn’t wait any longer. He needed to get back down to Andy, ready to get her out. Bounding down the stairs just a little too boisterously, he felt the broken bones in his hand grinding, but he gritted his teeth and tried to put the pain aside. His injuries would heal just fine, Andy’s probably wouldn’t.

Outside, Mac could hear the Jeep’s engine being gunned and he knew Sam must already have the winch in place.

If I could just get Andy to the cellar…

But given his hand, that wasn’t an option, and he was forced to impatiently wait by Andy’s side until Sam finally came running up the stairs.

“Is she..?”

“Still alive,” Mac assured. “Now let’s keep it that way.” He gestured for Sam to help take Andy’s weight, but instead Sam scooped her up in his arms and carried her carefully out of the mansion.

What happened next was in God’s hands.

* * * *

Los Robles Hospital and Medical Center
215 West Janss Road,
Thousand Oaks,
California

MacGyver walked through the doors from the treatment room to see Sam sitting on a chair with his head in his hands. This was what Mac had always been afraid of. Sam was getting to see first hand what it was like to be part of the “MacGyver” family.

Friends, loved ones, they ultimately got hurt, or worse. Heck, even total strangers fell foul to the curse. Mac thought about Mike Forrester, and the likes of Dr. Sharon Millward. They were his crosses to bear.

And now Sam was getting to know what it felt like. And it wasn’t pleasant.

Not exactly the family heirloom I’d hoped to pass on…

Sam looked up as he finally noticed his father’s footfalls. He looked tired, and the bags under his eyes confirmed it.

“Hey, what’d the docs say?” His gaze automatically settled on Mac’s recently bandaged hand, which now hung in a sling in much the same place Sam had strapped it earlier.

“Three broken bones,” Mac admitted. “I have to come back tomorrow when the swellings hopefully gone down some.” He took a seat next to his son, not really wanting to ask the next question. “Any news on Andy?”

Sam shook his head, but didn’t look his father in the eye. Instead he peered at the tiled flooring. “Nothing yet.” Finally he looked up, his eyes changing from sadness to anger. “Dad, if Andy isn’t responsible for what’s going on, then who is? Where do we start?”

“I think Andy is part of what’s going on,” MacGyver offered. “But she’s not the bad guy in all of this. Think about it, she’s far too small and petite to be the person I fought in your apartment, and she’d never have the strength to stab Old Rob and Doc.”

Sam didn’t seem get it. He ran a hand through his mop of hair in obvious frustration and stood from his seat, copying the pacing action his dad had done in his apartment just a short while ago. “So how can she be part of it?” He demanded.

“The nurse who dressed my hand was kind enough to speak with admissions for me.” Mac’s dark eyes sparkled, suggesting he’d charmed his way to some of the answers. “They found some I.D. on Andy…”

“And?” Sam had stopped pacing and was peering intently at his dad.

“And, Andy’s surname is Donati – as in the man who supposedly killed Angelina Constanzo all those years ago. Sam, she’s Carl Donati’s granddaughter!” MacGyver watched for a reaction, and he got one. Sam crumpled back onto his seat, apparently gutted. “I got a call out to Pete, and it seems Carl Donati had a son named Paul, who is Andy’s dad. And get this, Paul owes the mob big money!”

Sam nodded. “You think Andy’s dad might be behind this to find the necklace and pay off his debts?”

Mac shrugged, and then realized the painkillers the doctor had given him really hadn’t kicked in yet. He cringed. “There’s more and it’s pretty weird. Although Carl is listed as Paul’s dad, there’s no record or name anywhere of his mother.”

Sam slumped backwards in apparent defeat. “Aww man, this isn’t getting any clearer.”

MacGyver wasn’t so defeatist. He smiled cryptically. “Well, actually, I have a couple of theories about what’s going on, but we need to speak to Art Denizen again to see if they pan out.”

Sam opened his mouth to apparently ask just what the theories were, but a doctor approaching their seats made him close it again. He was a small man with wire-rimmed glasses and he was still in scrubs.

The doctor pushed his spectacles further up his nose as he grew closer, possibly out of nervous habit. “Mr. Malloy?”

Sam was up on his feet in a second. “That’s me. Is there any news?”

The surgeon looked almost apologetic. “I wish I had something better to tell you, young man, but your fiancée is still critical. I have to be honest…my colleagues and I don’t expect her to survive the night…”

Sam slumped back on his chair again as if all the stuffing had been knocked from him. “That’s not…fair.”

“Life invariably isn’t,” the doctor sighed. “If there’s anything I can do for you?”

Sam shook his head and stared at the floor again until the doctor got the message and shuffled away.

“Fiancée?” Mac raised a brow.

“Well I had to tell them something, or they wouldn’t have given me any information!” Sam grumbled. “Now I’m wishing they hadn’t.”

“And you think Andy would want you moping around here?” MacGyver squeezed his son’s arm. “C’mon, the best way we can help her now is to find out the truth, and that means Art Denizen.”

Sam bobbed his head, but looked back at the emergency room doors with a longing in his eyes that said he would be back.

Mac liked that, even though he didn’t voice his pride. That’s right kiddo, never give up, there’s always hope in any situation. You gotta keep believing that…

* * * *

Art Denizen’s Mansion
Somewhere near Malibu

MacGyver wasn’t happy and his body language showed it as he pushed through into Denizen’s study unannounced with Sam silently in tow.

This whole situation had gotten out of hand, and Mac didn’t want it to escalate any further. Too many people were getting hurt over something he was now convinced didn’t exist – at least, not in the form people thought it did.

Denizen seemed nonplussed by his visitor’s apparently slightly agitated demeanor. “Why Mr. MacGyver, so nice to see you again so soon!” He steepled his fingers again on his desk.

Mac walked up, not bothering to waste time on a chair. He bent over a touch, so his eyes met with the old man’s. “I think you know more than you’re telling, and this time I need you to be honest with me. People are getting hurt by this dumb legend!”

Art seemed to feel the anger in MacGyver’s voice and jerked back a little, startled. “I don’t know what you mean?”

Mac instantly felt guilty at scaring Denizen. Whatever he’d once been, he was a fragile man now. Mac eased off a little, even though the feeling in his gut about what had happened to Andy still turned him sick. “When I asked about the mansion before, you said Bobbi really did have a house for Angelina and it was…different. And when Sam and I were inside the place, we found a note that read Angelina’s Grace, not an item, but a place.”

Art shivered and MacGyver guessed old memories were being relived.

Eventually, the old man shrugged. “It sounds like you have it all figured out without me.”

“The mansion was a decoy all along, wasn’t it? Bobbi had some kind of ordinary home and life planned for his future with Angelina. That’s why you were weird about it on our first visit, right?”

Denizen pushed up from his chair and locked his hands behind his back. He moved to the window in apparent thought. “Yes, “Angelina’s Grace” was a place – an unassuming cabin where Bobbi intended to run from his past with the woman he loved. Of course, they never got there.”

MacGyver hadn’t finished. He joined Art at the window and gently pushed. “But there was more, wasn’t there? Why was the name of Paul Donati’s mother never listed anywhere? Was it the same reason no actual body was found of Angelina Constanzo?”

Art turned to face Mac, moisture welling in his aging, sad eyes. “I didn’t know about it right away – the truth I mean. But later, later I suspected. You see Angelina never really loved Bobbi, she simply used him. In the end, I figured she’d run away with Carl Donati just because she thought he was more powerful in “the family”. Carl faked the hit and explosion, of course. Angelina never died.”

Sam had been silent until now, taking in all the new information. “Whoa, you gotta be kidding me?” He moved to his dad’s side. “So Bobbi lived the life of a street person thinking the woman he loved had been murdered, and really she’d run away with his arch enemy?”

“Sadly, I fear the killing didn’t end there.” Denizen bobbed his head, and he looked ashamed. “I could never prove it, but I believe Paul Donati killed Ricky Furfaro with Furfaro’s own knife, because Ricky discovered the truth.”

Sam looked at MacGyver as the penny dropped. “If Paul killed Ricky with that knife – well, it’s the knife that killed Rob and hurt Doc! And that means Paul is the killer and he wants the non-existent necklace to pay off his debts!”

“That was my thinking,” MacGyver agreed. “Andy found out what her dad was up to and tried to stop him by getting to the necklace first, but then she fell foul of the booby trap after her dad locked her in with us.”

Mac turned to Art, who had turned a ghostly white. The old man had obviously not understood the severity of the situation before, even though MacGyver had tried to explain.

“Mr. Denizen, where’s the cabin Bobbi had built?” Mac watched Art’s face as he spoke, hoping it wasn’t all going to be too much for him. “It’s probably where Paul will go next, and I don’t think he’s gonna believe there really is no necklace. We have to try and stop him.”

Denizen slowly nodded and retook his seat with a deep sigh. “It’s near Corral Canyon…”

* * * *

Angelina’s Grace
Cabin near Corral Canyon Park
California

Sam gunned the gas, asking the Jeep to perform like a race car as he sped down the Pacific Coast Highway. Normally, MacGyver would chide him for his behavior, but tonight lives probably depended on it.

Paul had already killed and assaulted how many people simply because of his debts? He was so far in, it was a good bet he wouldn’t care how many more had to die to appease his goals.

Mac winced as the 4x4 hit a rut in the road, but he ignored the pain in his hand, preferring instead to focus on what was likely to happen next.

Given his current debilitated state, and Sam’s lack of experience with killers, it was time to call in the cavalry. Using his good hand, he picked up the car phone and dialed 911. It would probably take the cops a good half hour to get out here, and by then, anything could be going down.

Sam swerved off Highway 1 and still kept up his speed. The Jeep groaned as the side road he took played havoc with the suspension. Sam didn’t seem to notice.

The road narrowed again, until it was almost a dirt track, and in the distance, Mac finally spotted “Angelina’s Grace.” It was so unassuming, so innocent looking it was hard to believe the trouble it had caused.

He pointed to the instrument cluster. “Sam, turn off the lights and pull over by that tree. We don’t want to let him know we’re here.”

Sam obeyed, but the steely look in his eyes suggested he was probably not thinking straight. That worried MacGyver.

Outside the cabin was a Chevy, just like the one they’d spotted near Sam’s place when the intruder had escaped – killer, and his nemesis, Sam, were about to meet.

Mac pressed his forefinger to his lips, expressing the need for stealth. He didn’t wait for Sam to climb out, but instead took point himself. He needed to be between his son and Donati right now, or something very bad might happen.

The cabin was larger than MacGyver had expected, and as he crept along the rough ground he couldn’t help but think what kind of life Rob would have had here, instead of on the street, if things had gone his way.

The place was in darkness, save for a light in what looked like one of the bedrooms.

Mac edged closer, pressing his back up against the door frame as he tried the handle. It gave freely, as if it had been unlocked, or had already been picked. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside and waited for Sam to join him.

Both their eyes locked on the door with the light shining beneath it.

Again, MacGyver moved first, preempting any action Sam might take. He stepped cautiously to the door and dared to peek through an open crack at what was going on inside.

Paul Donati was like a mad man. He moved from wardrobe to cupboard, to drawers, tossing items all over the floor that obviously had no value.

His face was red with apparent anger as he started to work on the bed. He fleetingly looked underneath and then began to tear at the mattress as if he might find something sewn inside it.

“I don’t see a gun?” Sam mouthed as he too took a peek through the slightly open door.

Mac nodded. They pretty much had two options now – wait for the cops and hope they were in time, or go in and try and take Donati themselves. The odds were in their favor, even with his busted hand, but still the troubleshooter was wary.

There were always unforeseen dangers he didn’t want to put Sam in the line of.

His hesitation cost him any chance of making a decision.

Sam shoved through the door and faced-off Donati like he’d been squaring up to killers all his life.

Donati whirled as he heard the commotion, and as he spun, a flick knife appeared in his right hand.

Sam ignored it. “I hope you’re happy,” he snapped. “What you’ve let happen to Andy.”

“Andy?” Donati’s head cocked to one side as if he didn’t get it, then he chuckled. “Ah, you mean Andrea?” He hunched his shoulders. “I’m really not a family guy, so why don’t you and your pa here back off a little before I make one of you very lonely?” He waved the blade, its edge catching the muted lamplight like some bringer of doom.

MacGyver bit into his bottom lip and raised his free hand, signaling neutrality. “Look, the cops are on their way and there’s nowhere to go. Heck, you should know by now there really isn’t even a necklace…”

Paul smirked and his body language suggested he was swaying between attacking and diving for the window. “There better be a necklace, or I’m a dead man, the amount I owe the local mob.”

Sam shook his head, his face contorting into total disbelief. “You killed Rob, hurt Doc, even put your own daughter in the firing line, just to save your own worthless skin?”

Donati moved restlessly from foot to foot, the knife whirling back and forth from one hand to the other. Eventually he gave a small, subdued laugh. “Oh, I didn’t kill Rob because of that. I killed the old fool because he refused to believe the truth!”

“What truth?” Mac had moved a little closer as Donati rambled, but he didn’t want to make any sudden moves – not just yet, and not one-handed.

Donati eyed his adversary warily, but then gave a wicked smile that reminded MacGyver of Murdoc. “Angelina was already pregnant when she ran away with Carl Donati. Donati never knew it, but I was never his son, I was Bobbi’s. Thing is, when I approached dear Rob and ask for the necklace to get me out of a fix, he just laughed at me, refused to believe that I was his son…”

“So you killed your own dad?” Sam appeared incredulous.

“We fought; he died, nothing more, nothing less. Thing was, I still needed the necklace, so I had to see the only person “dad” might have confided in. Silly old fool wasn’t very cooperative either, although I never meant to hurt him originally, but hey, stuff happens.”

“Doc…” Mac’s eyes turned to sadness as he remembered how he’d found his old friend on the mission floor in a pool of blood.

Donati wasn’t sympathetic. “Yeah, and I’m not going down for it!” As he yelped out the reply he lashed his knife hand into the lamp illuminating the room, smashing it onto the floor.

The bulb exploded, plunging everyone into a cavernous darkness only broken by a wan light from outside. The sound of more smashing glass followed as Donati dived through the bedroom window and out onto the small yard beyond.

Sam sprang after him into the soft moonlight while Mac turned tail and headed back out the main door to try and head him off. The pincer movement almost worked, but Donati’s car was open, and he was able to slip behind the wheel relatively quickly.

The Camero fired up just as Sam rounded the corner, and had it not been for Mac’s good hand grabbing him by the collar and pulling him away, he would probably have stood firm in front of it.

As it was, the Chevy’s rear wheels spun as it slewed on the loose gravel, and then it was lost into the night, running without lights to meld into the shadows of the canyon.

MacGyver and Sam raced back to the Jeep and once again Sam took the wheel. “He has too big a head start and a lot faster car!”

Mac shook his head. “And if we’re lucky, that’s why he’ll make mistakes. If he doesn’t, the police will still pick him up later, don’t worry.” Part of the worried father hoped the latter would be the case. Sam was in a reckless mood brought on by Andy’s injuries, and letting emotions take hold was not a good thing – he knew from personal experience.

The 4x4 swerved and then bounced back onto the Pacific Coast Highway, and Mac had to grab the dash to steady himself. Ahead, they could just see the Camero dodging in and out of traffic with little regard for oncoming cars. It was like something out of a Hunter episode that Sam liked to watch, except there was no stuntman at the wheel and lives could easily be lost.

“Pull back a little,” Mac warned. “He’s outta control.”

Donati seemed to sense their presence anyway and the Chevy’s speed increased more – perhaps he’d spotted the Jeep in the rearview.

The Camero slewed across the blacktop straight into the path of a rusted Ford pickup and then fishtailed back again just in the nick of time. The move at speed required more skill than Donati possessed, and he finally lost control, spinning out onto a small side road.

To his credit, Donati recovered quickly and steered down the track he’d accidentally found with his foot on the gas.

MacGyver sucked down a breath. “He’s going too fast. That road leads to the cliffs down to the beach…”

Sam cautiously followed onto the side road, but suddenly there was no sign of the Chevy, or its driver. He slowed, eventually pulling over.

Mac hopped out first, familiar with the area, and jogged to the edge of the first outcrop. The cliffs, he knew, were tiered most of the way down to the bottom.

Resting precariously on the second shelf was Donati’s car, its rear wheels still spinning wildly. It rocked, balancing perfectly for now on its midsection, but any serious movement from Donati and the equilibrium could be destroyed.

Mac hurried back to Sam’s side of the Jeep. “He’s gone over the edge. The car’s sitting on a shelf a few feet down. Stay here, I’m gonna try and get the winch onto the car’s tow hook. Then I’m gonna need you this end. If it doesn’t retract because of the Chevy’s position you might need to back up to free it.” Without saying more he moved to the front of the 4x4 and began releasing the winch.

Sam popped his head out, his expression suggesting both curiosity and concern. “You can do that with one hand?” He queried, one eyebrow raised.

“I guess we’ll find out.” Instead of clambering over the ledge, MacGyver trotted to the side of the outcrop and vanished onto a steep cobbled path that led to the bottom of the cliffs. It was easier on both his hand and his legs.

When he reached the ledge where Donati’s car was hanging, he carefully climbed over a small wire safety fence and moved cautiously towards the Chevy. He was almost to the rear end when somewhere above, the winch line simply ran out.

Exhaust fumes filled his nose, reminding him the Chevy was still running, and that Donati was probably unconscious and needed rescuing. But from the rocky projection where they both sat, there was little he could do save for hanging on the trunk and hoping the emergency services arrived.

That really wasn’t an option. Mac dropped the winch line and began a quick accent back to the top of the cliffs, again taking the side path for ease. As he moved, his eyes darted to and fro looking for discarded items that might be usable to save Donati. Out here, there didn’t even seem to be any rogue litter, however.

Hurry Mac, or there is gonna be one killer going to a very watery grave real soon. Other men might have thought that was an apt ending, but not MacGyver. He wanted true justice, served up by a court.

He paused at a tree stump, taking a breath as he realized after the explosion maybe he wasn’t quite ready for all this excitement. As he sucked down air, he spotted a small beach house through some tall bushes – a beach house with a rather ornately kept garden.

Mac pushed through the hedging and a security light popped on. He ignored it, roaming through the plot with his eyes in search mode. Maybe there would be a rope, something, anything.

Wrapped around a reel on the back of the house was a heavy duty garden hose – not exactly what he had in mind, but it looked strong and long – the two things he needed right now.

But will it take the weight of the Chevy?

Mac envisaged the Camero teetering again and decided it was a risk he had to take. Taking one end of the hose, he made a beeline for Sam and the Jeep.

As he cleared the top of the cliff and emerged from the entrance to the hidden path, Sam was waiting, staring over the edge as if he might see something even in the darkness.

“Where the heck where you? I thought…”

“The winch isn’t long enough,” Mac started to explain whilst trying to tie the hose to the front of the Jeep.

Sam stared at his dad for the longest moment as if he’d gone mad, and then took the hose from Mac’s good hand and tied it off onto the 4x4 for him.

MacGyver suspected Sam would have probably suggested he be the one to go back down to Donati and the Camero too. It did make sense as he was the one with two good hands.

But then Sam didn’t know his way down the side path, and Sam wasn’t exactly in a good mood with Donati either. Mac didn’t want to put his son in a position of having to look the guy in the face if the car went over during the attempt – because in that situation, Sam was always likely to wonder if he’d done enough, or if he’d held back just that little bit because of what Donati had done.

No, Mac didn’t want his son dealing with that possible guilt as well as myriad of others that went along with what Mac usually did for a living.

Mac reached the second ledge again and maneuvered over the fence. The hose stopped in almost exactly the same place the winch had. “Aww c’mon! You gotta be kidding me!” He yanked at it as hard as his left arm would allow, and it gave just a few feet more, allowing him to crudely secure it to the rear of the Chevy.

As he worked, the car creaked and groaned as it bobbed up and down like a cork on water. Then, without warning, the hood and whole front end shot forwards, as the perfect balance was somehow lost.

The hose was instantly taught with the weight of the car, the material stretching and contorting as its limits were tested. But somehow, it held.

But will it when Sam tries to reverse?

MacGyver stepped out dangerously close to the ledge’s end where the car was now perched, and he could hear tiny bits of stone and pebbles skittering down the face of the cliffs were he’d shuffled his feet.

He refused to look back, knowing the height would make him dizzy.

Instead, he looked up, searching for Sam. His eyes locked on a silhouette above and he waved. “Now, Sam! Now!”

The dark figure vanished, and within seconds he could hear the Jeep revving. The hose seemed to get even tighter on the Chevy and its diameter seemed to shrink as it strained with the load.

Mac grimaced, expecting to here a twang as it snapped, but somehow, it stayed firm. The Chevy screamed as its metal was torn backwards over the sharp and rocky ridge to safety.

As the spinning rear tires hit the ledge’s surface, the car shot backwards and Mac had to dive inside through the driver’s window to kill the ignition.

Donati lay askew in his seat, motionless, but alive.

In the distance, MacGyver finally heard sirens and slumped back out onto the outcrop. His hand throbbed, his head hurt, and he was definitely, not never, not ever, going on any more treasure hunts.

And for that matter, neither was Sam.

Mac smiled at the thought.

Grounding that kid really wasn’t ever going to be an option.

* * * *

A few weeks later…

Pete took his nine iron, made a wide swing, and sent the golf ball flying off into oblivion. A wide grin appeared on his face, even though he had absolutely no idea where on the green it had landed.

Mac shielded his eyes from the morning sun and realized he had absolutely no idea either. But then, that really didn’t matter. Bringing Pete out here to play golf was more about them both finding some time to relax more than anything.

And given Pete’s sight problems, skiing or ice hockey just didn’t work these days.

“Well? How’d I do?” Pete was already rummaging for another ball and handed it to MacGyver to place on the tee for him.

“Um…well, it’s somewhere,” Mac teased back.

Pete made a harrumphing noise and made another swing, narrowly missing Mac’s left ear with the end of his iron.

Mac silently ducked, then looked on in amazement as the ball landed just short of the hole. Dang, he’s getting pretty good at this…

“Beat that!” Pete challenged without actually knowing how well he’d done.

MacGyver placed his own ball, took a moment and then whacked it with all he’d got as if he was on ice and it was a puck. The ball landed a good distance from Pete’s and he sighed. If Pete won, he’d never live it down back at Phoenix.

“So how’s the hand?”

“It’s a little stiff, but okay.” Mac stretched his fingers out to convince himself and then grabbed the caddy they were sharing and began to walk.

Pete sensed his movement and obediently followed. “How about Doc?” He asked, adjusting his white cap as they sauntered to the hole.

“He’s out the hospital and doing fine back at the mission. In fact I’m going down there this afternoon. Wanna tag along and see him?”

Pete smiled. “I’d like that. I’d like to catch up with Sam too.”

Mac stopped as they reached his ball, looked down at in and then at the hole. He sighed again. “Well Sam might not be around…”

“Oh?”

“He’s off visiting Andy. He’s been there a lot since she defied the doctor’s prognosis and lived. I think he’s pretty fond of her.” Mac tapped his ball lightly and it spiraled past Pete’s coming to rest at the very edge of the hole. Typical.

Pete nodded as if he’d expected as much. “You know, from what I’ve learned, she’s a good kid, nothing like her father.” MacGyver took Pete’s hand and lined him up with his ball. “Speaking of which, I have some bad news. I didn’t want to mention it before but…the D.A. and feds have struck a deal with Paul Donati to try and shut down the west coast family. Basically, he gets a new life if he spills everything he knows.”

“Pete, you gotta be kidding! The guy is a cold-blooded killer!” Mac rubbed at his brow, both angry and disbelieving. People had been hurt, died even, and for what?

Pete looked just as annoyed. “True, but there is no real evidence.” He shrugged, shaking his head. “The fact that he had Ricky Furfaro’s knife in no way proves he used it – and while it does link him to Rob and Doc’s attacks, there is no other evidence he hurt them either, save for what he told you and Sam. And even then, he said he hadn’t intended to kill anyone, so it would have gone down as second degree murder, in the heat of the moment rather than premeditated.”

Mac didn’t see it that way. “C’mon, Pete, the guy is guilty! They’re just letting him go free to get what they want!” He took a swing at nothing in particular, cutting an arc in the air to vent his anger. It didn’t make him feel one iota better. “It’s not right that the legal system condones this kinda thing…”

“You know I agree,” Pete answered soberly. “But there’s just nothing we can do. At least you and Sam did solve the murders, and Rob got the funeral he deserved after suffering all those years on the streets. And some good came out of it too! Now that it’s out that Paul was Bobbi’s son, that means according to the terms of the original will, Andy is going to get her grandfather’s estate. The cabin and a large parcel of land it’s on.”

“Oh great.” MacGyver rolled his eyes. “I guess Sam will be spending a lot of time at Corral Canyon Park then…”

Pete chuckled, made his swing and landed the ball right in the hole. “Hey, I knew that kid was a chip off the old block!”

Mac groaned, but couldn’t argue.

Sometimes, Pete Thornton was annoyingly right.

The End

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