Clinton had just gotten off the phone with a mad Peterson when one of the penthouse’s many telephones rang noisily. He was still furious that Ethan had escaped with Terry and Peterson was on his neck, demanding he fixed the mess the fugitive had created. Angrily he picked the telephone, pressed a button, and said, “Who's this?”

     “Deputy Director of the FBI, Kelly Kurt and we have a situation.”

     “What kind?”

     “The kind that involves a man’s life.”

      Now he knew this phone call was urgent. He found a plush couch and sat slowly. “I’m listening.”

     “Terry’s husband heard the news about his wife’s abduction and went wild. He snatched a firearm from one of my agents and now he’s asking to speak to someone in charge else he’s goin’ to shoot somebody.”

     He scratched his temple. “That sounds like a problem. Put him through.”

     Clinton crossed his legs and waited for a minute. Eddie’s desperate voice came through the line. “Are you the one in charge?”

     He went straight to the point. Clinton hated formalities, and he was glad Eddie didn’t beat around the bush. As a matter of fact, he didn’t expect him to, not when his wife was with a mass murderer who was likely to be torturing her for answers.

     “Yes.”

     “Good. My wife’s been kidnapped. Do you know that?”

     “Yes.”

       “And what are you doing about it?”

     What was he doing about it? It sounded like a rhetorical question. Damn! He had two of his assets on the field ordered to find Ethan at all costs and kill him. He had the FBI working nonstop at different angles to track down Ethan. And there were state troopers too and the local cops. Every law enforcement department in South Carolina had been tasked with one assignment. Find Judge Terry before something happened.

     But deep down, he doubted something at all would happen to her. He didn’t believe Terry was in danger, and that was the least of his concerns. His main worry was what Terry would disclose to that fugitive under coercion.

     “My name is James Clinton. I’m the Attorney General. I believe your wife has mentioned me to you.”

      The silence that ensued told him Eddie was racking his brains. After a while, he said, “Yes.”

       “That means your wife trusts me and you should too. I know this is one of the most difficult moments in your life, and it’s hard to accept what’s happening, but you have to find strength and exercise patience. Terry would want you to do that.”

      “You sound like you know my wife.”

     “I do. I’ve got all the law enforcement agencies finding your wife. We’re not doing nothing, Eddie. Your wife’s safety is my most priority and trust me when I say she will be found sooner than you’d expect.”

     Clinton had always had a knack for mitigating people’s sorrow but meant none of his words. Judge Terry could die for all he cared and he wouldn’t give a heck about Eddie or Gabby or anybody for that matter. He cared only about himself and his business.

     “Okay. I’m counting on you to bring my wife home safe.”

     “And I will do just that.”

     “Thanks, Mr. Clinton.”

     “Don’t mention it and call me Clinton.”

     “Sure.”

     Then Clinton hung up. He threw the phone across the couch, ran his hair backward, and walked to the mini-bar. There were far more important issues he’d rather worry about than spend his time on Terry and her husband. He brought out a bottle of Chardonnay and served himself.

     He was halfway through finishing the glass when his cell phone rang. The number on the caller ID almost jerked him from his seat. He pulled the phone hastily to his ear, put on a falsetto, and said, “Terry, where are you? I was worried sick about you.”

     A shrilling panting voice said, “Cut the act, Clinton. What are you not telling me? My life is at stake because of the secrets you keep.”

     Clinton dropped the act. “You sound horrible. Where are you?”

     “That’s because I’m running for my life in the middle of nowhere at this time of the night,” she said breathlessly. “Ethan. . . he’s crazy. He said he didn’t plan his escape, and that someone got him out. He’s asking a whole lot of questions about you, Admiral Peterson—”

     His heart almost skipped a beat and he cut her off. “What did you tell him?”

     “Nothing, Clinton! I told him nothing because I know nothing!”

     He sighed. Later, he was glad he’d kept Judge Terry in the dark. “Where are you, Terry?”

     “Are you listening to anything I’ve been saying?”

     Truth was, he wasn’t. “Yes, I am.”

     “Right now I’m running from him in the woods. He took me to a cabin. It’s not far from the city. The cabin’s on a large grassland and there’s a creek. He ditched my car, so don’t think of getting the location using the number plate.”

     He reached for a piece of paper and pen and jotted down relevant details.

     “Stay put. I’m sending my men over and keep your phone on. If we can’t narrow down the exact location, we might try triangulation.”

     “Your men were minutes late. If they had arrived early, I might have been reunited with my family by now. Why should I trust them with my life again?”

     He wanted to say, ‘Because you don’t have a choice,”  but didn’t. Terry was already scared and adding insult to injury would serve no purpose.

     She said when he didn’t speak, “I’m calling the cops. Your men are incompetent.”

     Clinton didn’t get the chance to dissuade her from relaying her location to the cops before she hung up on him. He tried her number. It went through, but she deliberately didn’t pick his call. After several tries and with no luck, he phoned his men and told them where to find Ethan.

#. #. #

     Terry put on the phone’s torchlight after she’d hung up on Clinton. Her dress was smudged with leaves that had stuck to it when she was running rapidly to God knows where in the dense woods. After she left her kidnapper to die and ran out of the cabin, she stopped by the creek to wash off his blood. But she couldn’t wash off the guilt of knowing she’d hurt a man.

     Terry hadn’t known there was a murderous trait in her till now. She’d never had the heart to hurt a fly, much less a human, but survival instincts had pushed her to the breaking point. For the first time, she felt a compulsion to kill, and the guilt was starting to eat her up. She wondered if he was still bleeding or had found a way to stop the bleeding. Deep down, she hoped he wouldn’t die. She’d hurt him in self-defense, and she’d do it again if her life was at stake.

     Terry was walking down the forest floor, the torch from her phone helping her navigate through the dark woods. The eery sounds from the birds and praying mantes would have scared her if she wasn’t already scared. She didn’t stop moving. She had no idea where she was headed. Stopping would slow her down, and her kidnapper might find her if he was pursuing her.

     She didn’t want to go back to the cabin. She didn’t want to be his captive. She had to seek help because she wasn’t relying on Clinton’s men to come to her rescue. If anything at all, she’d learned nobody could protect her from Ethan.

     Earlier, she assessed everything he’d told her. Being framed for mass murder, someone breaking him out of the convoy, Admiral Peterson and James Clinton. Terry had bothered her head to understand where she was part of his story. If there was a nugget of truth in what he’d said, then he should be on Clinton’s trail, not hers. But then, she realized Clinton had power and he wouldn’t easily get to him so he needed someone to lead him there. Her.

     She scoffed when she connected the dots. Her mind drifted to the allegations he made mentioned in the cabin. He’d talked about it in court too but failed to say what the allegations were. Now she knew the allegations were against Admiral Peterson. The allegations remained a mystery to her. Only Ethan and his colleagues knew. All the better for her. She wouldn’t have to get involved in their mess.

     Then something Clinton had said dawned on her. The less you know, the better. Terry stifled a gasp. Right now she was a hundred percent sure Clinton had been keeping secrets about Ethan from her. She was forced to believe that perhaps, Ethan was telling the truth, but she couldn’t get over the thought he had killed Hamilton, and that meant she couldn’t trust him.

      Leaves suddenly rustled. Terry stiffened. Had her kidnapper found her? She lifted a leg to run, but after she heard indistinct voices and realized none of them belonged to Ethan, she stopped and cast her light in their direction.

     One of the strangers recognized her as the renowned judge who was kidnapped by the veteran navy commander. He said to his partner, “Look, it’s Judge Terry and she’s alive!”

     Terry heaved a sigh. She didn’t know whether to be happy or sad that the state troopers had found her. She’d thought the search for her would be futile because their trail might have gone cold by now. She walked to them without a twinge of fear and said, “Thank God you guys showed up. My kidnapper will be here any minute from now. We should go.”

     “Orders are to find you and bring in the fugitive,” the older-looking trooper said. His name tag read, Lieutenant Conor.

     Terry studied it before she said tersely, “Look here, Conor. The man after me is dangerous and a seasoned navy commander. He’s no small feat.”

     She saw that they were armed, and if Ethan showed up they might put on a good fight and perhaps win because Ethan was badly hurt. But she’d seen too many bloodbaths to want to witness one again.

     “You could come back with backups and have him arrested. If you have a map of the area, I could show you where he took me.”

     “All right, ma’am. Our station is thirty minutes ride from here. Let’s get you to safety.”

     “That’s better.”

     The state troopers turned in the direction they had come from. Terry followed them.