'VETERAN NAVY COMMANDER ESCAPES DEATH PENALTY AND IS ON THE LOOSE.'

Almost every news station in South Carolina covered the headline. The papers made sure to contain it too. Within an hour or so, the breaking news went viral, and if people weren't talking about their lonely lives, then they had their mouths busy with the news.

Terry Lindsay, popularly known across the state of Carolina for her innate ability to preside over complicated trials and yet render sound judgments wasn't one who listened to the news often, which her colleagues found weird. She'd always preferred staying off the grid, but it was impossible to do so with her profession.

It was not a big surprise she wasn't paying attention to what the female reporter was saying. Her flat-screen television currently showed one of those Charleston stations that gave news twenty-four/seven. Not that she didn't care about state affairs. She had problems of her own-problems she felt were more important and required her absolute focus.

She was given a week off work after acting as the presiding judge in a trial that took place not so long ago. A trial she shouldn't have presided over because not only did she send a man to his death, but she also drove away her family. The trial of Ethan Willows had been one of her biggest trials ever since she was appointed judicial position at the courthouse.

The U.S. Attorney General promised her that after the case had died down and with Willows gone, her family would be brought back. For now, they were in a safe house under the protection of the feds. During the early days of the trial, she somehow garnered unnecessary attention for herself. She received threatening messages too, which was the main reason James Clinton decided to safeguard her family.

She also remembered vividly the surveillance team that was put together to protect her. She was glad her family had been away. At least she didn't have to constantly worry about them, but now she couldn't deny she'd missed them.

She didn't know why they wanted Ethan dead, and she didn't ask either. She dared not. All she knew was that she had to preside over a trial and do as she was instructed. For the first time, Judge Terry hadn't acted on her own accord. Could she have done things differently if the Attorney General hadn't been constantly interfering? Probably not. She'd done everything by the book. The death penalty was the right punishment according to the law. But why was her gut telling her she hadn't done things right? In law school, she'd learned to be unrelenting but fair. The key moral value was fairness. Had she stuck to that?

Terry had been told Ethan Willows was a dangerous man-a threat to national security, and he needed to be eliminated at all costs. Till now, she didn't believe the Attorney General even though he provided enough evidence to clear her doubts.

But wait! The execution was scheduled to go off today at 9:00 A.M. Maybe there was still time. All she had to do was say something to stall the execution, and perhaps have Ethan's case reviewed. Quickly, Terry reached for the small clock on the center table. She picked it and read the time. Thirty minutes before the execution. Thank God!

She hadn't reached her cell phone from the suede jeans she'd been wearing since yesterday when the telephone rang. Her heart thumped. After she answered the call and heard a familiar voice, she sighed.

"Is it done?"

She didn't bother using formalities with the Attorney General. If Clinton phoned her, then he had news. She was given a place of honor to watch the execution but had turned it down, too scared to watch the death of a man she thought might be innocent.

Clinton sighed, and it spoke words to Terry.

"Are you watching the news?"

What was on the news that was more important than the life of a man? Clinton sounded worried and it made her lips quiver. "No. Why?"

"He got away."

He got away? Ethan Willows was able to escape his death! It sounded impossible. He was heavily guarded, so how did he escape? Then she remembered he was a veteran navy commander. He had served in the army for years and if he hadn't stealthily fled, Terry would have wondered what had happened to all his years of training.

During the proceedings, Terry noticed he was smart and what just happened proved it. Part of her was happy he got away. The other part was glad the heavy burden had been spontaneously lifted from her. She didn't want to sound happy on the line. For Clinton, Willows' escape was a catastrophe. Terry imagined the fury he was in. The last thing she wanted to do was aggravate his condition.

On second thought, the news sounded surreal. She grabbed the remote and increased the volume. A female reporter stood on a highway with a section of the long road cordoned off. A van and two cars she presumed were the convoys had been turned upside down. The van was on fire and the firefighters were busy at work. She also noticed a couple of men in FBI jackets swarming the place.

Terry pondered how Willows was able to escape, but when she saw the wounded men strapped to gurneys, she didn't want to think of it. Bloody images had already filled her mind. More imagination might add insult to injury. She continued increasing the volume till the reporter's voice became the only echo in the big house.

"CBS-channel five. . . reporting live from the scene. We're back with another breaking news. Ethan Willows has somehow managed to escape his death penalty. Following the subsequent news of his trial, he was sentenced to the death penalty by lethal injection, but unfortunately the veteran navy commander escaped death after he broke free and attacked the feds on watch.

"Ethan Willows is believed to be very dangerous and armed. Citizens are advised to be on the lookout for a white male, in his late fifties-"

A photograph of Willows in a navy suit popped up on the screen. He looked smart, handsome, and well-groomed. It was replaced with another photo. He was clothed in a faded shirt and a pair of black jeans. His dark hair was tousled. Stains of oil and grime were smeared on his face. Across his scalp, there was a cut and traces of congealed blood everywhere. The two photos were a contradiction. If she hadn't encountered Willows before, she wouldn't have believed he was the same person.

She lowered the volume and said, "This is terrible." She didn't mean it though. She would say anything to console him, but deep down she was glad Ethan got away.

"Where are you?"

Terry's brows puckered. "At my house. Where else would I be?"

"You're not safe, Terry."

The statement stunned her. She ran her long dark hair backward and gulped hard. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why do you think Ethan escaped?"

He answered her question with a question. She frowned. Terry didn't know why Ethan escaped and she didn't care either. All that mattered was that he had escaped. She didn't reply, and he said, "Ethan didn't plan this escape because he wanted to be a free man. He's back for revenge. To get even with us."

"I didn't do anything to him. You did something to him-" She gritted her teeth, "which you wouldn't tell me."

"Don't forget it was you who finalized his sentence. Do you remember Jerry Hamilton?"

The name didn't ring a bell immediately. Jerry Hamilton sounded familiar, but where had she heard it? After a short while, it clicked. "Yes."

"Good. He was murdered an hour ago. . . the very moment Ethan escaped. He's on your trail now. Willows is getting even with everyone that almost had him killed and you're his next target."

A whirlwind of anxiety mixed with dread crept her out, strong enough to knock her down if she hadn't been fast enough to sit down. Jerry Hamilton was a witness who testified against Ethan in court, and now he was dead! The truth sounded bizarre, but as she thought hard, she realized her life might be at stake. Instead of being afraid, she got rather angry that Clinton had dragged her into this mess.

Not so long ago, she was living peacefully with her husband and six-year-old daughter in this very house until Clinton called with the succinct message he needed her to preside over a trial. Initially, she didn't want to accept, but he persuaded her she'd be putting an end to the criminal world of a killer. She had reluctantly agreed. And now she was paying the price.

"You got me into this mess!"

"Yes, and now I'm going to help you get out."

She was relieved, not from the help he wanted to offer, but for accepting he dragged her into this mess.

Clinton's voice came through the line again, interrupting her thoughts. "I've dispatched two agents to your house. The incident happened about an hour ago. Ethan should be at your house any moment. . ."

An hour ago! And she had been utterly unaware. Now she regretted not paying attention to the news. Terry was up and pacing the parquet floor of her suburban house in Charleston, stranded and warped. But through it all, she managed to keep a cool head and pay rapt attention to the way out Clinton was telling her. If ever she wanted to live and see her family again, then she had to follow his instructions to the letter.

"Take your necessary things and wait in the house. Lock all the doors. Don't open it for anyone."

All along she had been quiet and listening. After a while of lecturing her, Clinton said, "Do you understand?"

Frantically, she muttered, "Yes. . .yes." But the truth was, she was absent-minded. She hadn't expected this to happen, and it had taken her by surprise. Still had. Right now her mind was telling her to get into her car, drive, and never stop. Clinton's suggestion sounded like the only smart choice.

She was defenseless and would soon be at the mercy of a mass murderer-if the rumors were true. Worse, her husband wasn't there to protect her as he had always done. That eery feeling of loneliness was back to haunt her, but she wouldn't let it overwhelm her, especially when there was a madman on her trail.

She'd already reached the staircase and was climbing, her right hand supporting the cordless telephone clamped to her ear. She got into the sparse bedroom, ran toward the wardrobe, and pulled out a number of clothes. She hastily stacked them into a small suitcase and grabbed a pair of slippers. Clinton was still on the line and when he said, "Don't worry. Everything's going to be all right," she knew quickly he had sensed her worry.

She wanted to believe that everything would be all right. She didn't. Eventually, yes, but right now, no. Everything wasn't all right. She wouldn't blunder by telling herself that. She didn't want to contradict him. She simply said, "Okay."

All the doors had been locked. She didn't bother herself with that. Now she had to wait for the rescue agents. She picked the suitcase and headed for the door. Her eyes fell on the portrait of her husband and daughter on the bureau. She stifled the urge to cry.

While she stood watching the picture, a teardrop fell and she wiped it off. She had brought this misfortune upon herself, but letting her guilt eat her up would debilitate her and right now she needed all her strength.

She left the room. No sooner had she landed in the living room than her eyes met his. He stood in the center of the room, looking rugged-his clothes tattered-and a firearm in his left hand.

"Going somewhere, Terry Lindsay?"

Nothing scared her more than the eyes that stared back at her.