3 MONTHS, 2 WEEKS

Isabelle stared at the ceiling of her cell, humming a song. Her cellmate on the bottom cot laid on her side, nursing very recent bruises and cuts. Her cellmate jumped a little when a guard pounded a closed fist against the cell door.

"Isabelle, you have a visitor," he told her.

Isabelle's smile widened. "Oh?"

"Come on. Now."

Isabelle swung her legs over the edge and jumped off the cot. She looked back at her cellmate while the guard cuffed her wrists.

"Keep things tidy while I'm away," Isabelle ordered.

Her cellmate did not move or reply. Isabelle followed the guard. She looked at the two guards waiting outside the cell, then glanced at the two standing behind her.

"Wow. Must be a busy visitor day," she told them.

"Follow me," was all the guard said.

He led her through halls and into a room with two chairs and a table with a bar on it. The guard shoved her into a chair, unlocked one cuff, and looped it over the bar, locking it back around her wrist. With her secure, he nodded at the door and two of the guards left. He stepped back with the remaining two.

The door opened and a dwarf entered, amusing Isabelle.

"Oh good. My snack has arrived."

The woman sat down in the opposite chair, setting the thick folder she carried onto the table. She looked Isabelle in the eye.

"And who are you?" Isabelle asked.

"Mathilda Webber, of the Phoenix Foundation. The same company Mac works for."

"Who's Mac?"

Matty glared at her, "The man you kidnapped, held prisoner, and drugged."

"His name is Gus. How is my beloved?"

Matty ignored her question. "Katie Anderson," she said, "The more I'm learning about you, the more I'm wishing I had issued a shoot on sight order when we captured you. A person as malign and warped as you does not belong on this planet."

Isabelle laughed. "Such tall words for such a stunted woman. And my name is Isabelle."

Matty pulled four photographs out of the folder, setting them in front of Isabelle. They were four decomposing bodies in the ground, each wrapped in different material.

"We found these four men at the back of your property. We were able to identify two of the bodies. Nathanial Banks, a forest ranger missing for two years. The other was Seth Rogan, a professor doing a survey of a bird species, and missing for 10 months. The medical examiner says that the other two had likely been buried between two to five years ago – shortly after the property was signed over to you by the earlier owner, who has mysteriously disappeared. All four men died from a single shot to the head from a .45, likely the same one that was hidden under the dresser in the bedroom."

Isabelle looked at the photos briefly, then at Matty. "Hiding guns in my bedroom! That would be reckless of me, now wouldn't it? It must have been someone else that left it there. Maybe the previous owner. He certainly has been busy."

"You knew the previous owner was on your land?"

"Did I say that?"

Matty smirked. "No. But don't you find it odd that it was a gun, hidden in the bedroom where you slept, registered to the previous, that killed a man less than a year ago? That would mean you knew he was there – how else would he have hidden the gun in the house, while you were there?"

Isabelle made a thoughtful sound, then leaned forward and asked, "This think tank you and my beloved work for – why would it be involved in this kind of an investigation?" Isabelle motioned at the photographs. "Seems unusual for a think tank."

"Well, there are a lot of things right now that seem unusual," Matty told her. "Take for example how long these bodies, all men, all murdered the same way, have been on the property. Or the missing, earlier landowner that the man's four daughters can't find. Or the past owner's signature on the deed in your name, that almost matched the samples his daughters gave us – yet, proves to be a forgery? Then there's the fact that Isabelle Grimes didn't exist until six years ago. There seem to be so many coincidences surrounding you, Katie."

"I'm just an unlucky girl."

"Or maybe…"

Isabelle's grin grew the longer the words hung. "Or maybe?" she finally asked.

Matty pulled another photograph from the folder and set it on top. It was a distant photo of Isabelle, time-stamped seven years earlier. "Or maybe it's because you are Katie Anderson, born in London, thirty-four years old. When you were ten, your parents were murdered. You spent two months in the house with their bodies, going on with life as if it had never happened. Then you spent the rest of your life in the public care, going from one family to another. They all reported you were very cruel and would lash out at anyone who said one wrong thing to you. But you were also brilliant – nearly a genius. At nineteen you were recruited by MI6 and remained in service with them until seven years ago when it was discovered you had been selling the names of agents on the black market. You cost one hundred and twenty-two fellow agents their lives. You were cornered in a building, which blew up. They found a body matching your description but burned beyond recognition. Even the teeth had shattered in the blaze. It was assumed you were KIA."

"Or… Here's a thought. My name is Isabelle Grimes, and you don't work for a think tank, so you're making all this up to make me confess to something I didn't do."

"Oh, Katie…" Matty shook her head. "You and I both know that's not true. You changed your name, vanished in an explosion. By all accounts, it seemed you had made a clean get away with a well-hidden nest egg. But the one thing even a psychotic bitch like you needs human contact. So, you used the brainwashing skills you were so well known for and forced men to be your husband. When something when wrong with that arrangement – did they finally start remembering who they were? or did you just get bored with them? – you murdered them. You just didn't count on one of them having friends like me or friends who were not about to let you keep him." Matty patted the folder underhand. "It's a good thing you're not still in the spy game, Katie. Your skills have fallen apart over the last seven years."

"He wanted to stay. You forced him to leave. He'll come back to me. You'll see."

Matty stood up, looking sympathetic. "No. He won't."

The door opened again and five men in suits came in. One carried cuffs and shackles, and a straitjacket. They were taking no chances with Isabelle.

Matty gathered up the photos and folder and started walking toward the door. Suddenly she stopped and turned.

"I almost forgot. Mac did have a message for you," Matty told her.

That made Isabelle smile. "He misses me?"

Matty feigned a sad smile. "No. I'm afraid, Katie, he asked me to tell you he will never love you." Isabelle's smile faded. "He hopes Britain finds the deepest, darkest oubliette to toss you into. And since you can fake marriage between the two of you, he has faked a divorce." Matty sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Imaginary marriages can be rough. Mm!"

Matty turned on her heel. She walked out, down the hall to the next door, and entered another room.

MacGyver stood in front of the one-way window, glaring at Isabelle. The men in suits were preparing her for transport, and she was back to acting as if nothing had ever happened. His arms were tightly crossed over his chest and his jaw was popped out from how tight his teeth were clenched.

"It's done," Matty said. "She is never coming back, Mac."

He pushed his lips together. "I wish I could believe that. I can't. My worst enemies never seem to stay buried."

Matty sighed. He'd been saying that for months. She worried he may never lose this paranoia, and how that would affect him as an agent. "We should go. You don't want her to know that you did come."

He nodded but didn't move.

"Mac?"

"You added to my message."

"Probably, but you said you weren't sure you could keep from beating her into a pulp, as I recall. There was no way I was letting you in there with her."

"I never said anything about an oubliette."

"True, but I thought it was a perfect touch. Those castle oubliettes were meant to drop people in and forget about them – and if anyone deserves that, she does."

For the first time in a week, he visibly relaxed and smiled. "That is a cathartic mental image."

Matty returned his smile.

The two left the room, missing Katie being brought out and led the opposite direction. But something made her look back where MacGyver had disappeared, and she smiled evilly.