FOUR DAYS AGO. . .

"In view of the evidence presented in this courtroom and per the state's laws, you'll be given the lethal injection. The crime of mass murder is very serious and can't go unpunished. This will serve as a deterrent for others who might follow in Mr. Willows' shoes.

"The date and time of your execution will be considered by the Attorney General. If it's ready, I'll let Attorney Brown know. While you wait in prison, you'll not be given clemency because of your status. The law doesn't care if you are the President. You'll receive the same treatment as everyone else. With that said, court is dismissed."

Terry folded the sheet of paper she'd been reading and replaced it in the pocket.

The court clerk said, "All rise as Her Honor leaves the courtroom."

Terry took the elevator to her office, which wasn't her norm. She'd been an athlete once in high school and walking was a hobby. But she was too emotionally disturbed that she was sure to collapse if she walked to her office. She avoided everyone she met on her way to her office, even the bailiff whom she'd grown fond of.

When she got inside the comfortable ambiance of her office, Clinton was reclined in her chair, his legs on top of her desk. If he wasn't the Attorney General, she'd have reprimanded him for breaking her code of ethics.

Clinton clapped his hands and said, "Has anyone ever told you that you're a great judge?"

Terry frowned. "Get your legs off my desk."

He didn't do it because she had instructed him to. Clinton stood up from the chair and sauntered around her. He stopped behind her back and placed a hand on her shoulder to massage it, but she moved away from him before he could.

"Why are you so gloomy? You just saved the world from a dangerous man. Such an achievement calls for a celebration."

She took off the robe to reveal an expensive suit that consisted of a blouse and a skirt. Then she hung it on the wall. "Really? Why do I feel guilty?"

Clinton was pulling something she couldn't see from his bag. "It's normal to feel guilty. You just sentenced a man to his death. Anybody in your shoes would."

He brought out a bottle of Chardonnay and two wine glasses. He uncapped the drink and filled the glasses. Then he gave one to Terry which she reluctantly took.

"What are we celebrating?"

He smiled at her. "You. For a good job done."

He clicked his glass with hers and sipped.

"Can I ask you something? I want the truth."

With his go-ahead, she said, "Did Ethan kill those men in the storehouse?"

Clinton didn't answer immediately. He finished the content of his glass and sighed. "Yes, he did, and the jury proved that. I understand your guilt but trust me, you did the right thing. You won't understand it now, but someday everything will eventually start making sense."

"Terry, are you there?" Ethan's frantic voice snapped her out of her thought.

"Yes."

"Good. Listen carefully. Are the shooters inside the station already?"

"No. Not yet. . ." From her hiding spot, she whipped her head to the front entrance where shots were emanating rapidly.

"But they'll be soon."

"You still have time. The station's got an exit. You need to evacuate the building using that route."

"How do you know that?"

"I grew up in this town. Do you see the jail cell from where you are?"

She swiftly shook her head as though he could see her before she said, "No."

"Who's in charge of the station?"

She replied hastily, her voice dreadful, "Commander Heartny."

"I want to talk to her."

"I doubt she'd want to talk to-"

She stopped herself from completing the statement when she saw what was at stake. Ethan might be a killer on the lam, but right now he was their only chance of getting out of there alive. Whatever hate they felt for him had to be put aside. She didn't think twice before she passed the phone across the floor to Heartny, and whispered, "He wants to talk to you."

Heartny crawled closer while bullets flew relentlessly across the room. She grabbed the phone and put it to her ear, then she said, "Commander Heartny speaking. We talked earlier."

"Yes, we did. My name's Eddie Terry. I'm the Judge's husband."

She looked at Terry, and she looked back at her. Without any motion to Terry, she returned to the caller.

"If you want to help us start by calling the FBI because we're trapped."

"The feds can't get there in time. You need to evacuate the station. I understand you're the person in charge."

Heartny looked confused. "We can't leave the station. There's only one entrance and the shooters have swarmed it."

"There's an exit in one of the jail cells."

"No, there isn't."

"Yes, there is and you need to act fast because there's no time."

Heartny pulled the phone off her ear, stared blankly at the screen, and put it back. Her voice angry, she said, "I don't know who you are, but I'm telling you there isn't an exit, so you better start calling the FBI."

"You're Lena's protégé, aren't you?"

Heartny's face puckered. "How do you know Commander Lena?"

"Because she was my godmother."

Heartny couldn't believe the connection. "Then you're him."

"Yes, I am."

She said in a spiteful tone, "You should be ashamed of yourself, Ethan. I still can't believe you killed those men. Lena spoke very highly of you."

"Listen to me, Heartny. Maybe when you're secured you can reprimand me. You need to get out of there."

"This is what I'm going to do," she said, her tone scornful, "after I'm done arresting the shooters, I'm going to find you and arrest you."

She was about to click off when he said, "You can't fight them. They've got arsenals and your station isn't equipped with weapons to fight back. Don't engage them. They're killers. Please. . ."

She cut the call before he could say more. She didn't even believe the so-called exit he talked about. Putting the phone aside, she reached for her firearms from the holster, then slid one across the floor to the Judge.

When it moved toward her direction, her heart thumped and she jerked.

Heartny said, "Have you fired one before?"

Terry shook her head meekly like a little girl to her mother, her eyes heavy with unshed tears.

"Then you're going to. Pick it up."

She was too scared to comply, but when she heard the door to the station creak loudly, she snatched it. The marksmen moved suddenly into the building. Heartny came out from her hiding spot and fired a shot that went directly into one of the interlopers' legs. His partner retaliated and released two consecutive bullets that struck Heartny in the stomach and head.

Terry gasped and crawled away from the scene. She saw Heartny thrust backward by the impact and fell heavily to the floor. She was about to scream when a hand clamped her mouth and stopped her from being killed.

"Don't shout."

Terry recognized the voice. She turned and saw the younger trooper who had found her in the woods.

She whispered, "Where did you come from?"

"The locker room. I heard gunshots."

"They shot Heartny."

He placed a finger on her lips. "Shh! They can hear us."

One of the men, Crow, was down. The second tended to the wound, trying to bind it with a belt. The leader passed through the station, gunning down any trooper he found. A minute later, the floor was half-filled with dead bodies.

The second man said to the leader, "We need to leave. Crow's bleeding bad."

"Mission is still not completed. The boss said Terry's here. We have to find her and end this."

He went farther away from them, checking under desks and tearing the place apart. No sign of the Judge. But Tony was certain she was somewhere in the station. He headed for the cells and inspected them thoroughly. There were no inmates, and the Judge wasn't hiding in any of them. He walked past the bloodbath and rejoined his team. The telephone on the desk began to ring noisily, breaking the silence of the station.

Tony got to the table, pushed a button, and said, "Who's this?"

"Special Agent Michael Grant. I-"

He grabbed the telephone, disconnected the call, and threw it across the room. Then angrily, he turned to his colleagues. "We need to leave. The FBI will be here any moment from now. Help Crow. I'll get the car."

He was out of the station before a second ticked. The second guy slung Crow's arm across his neck. They staggered out of the building. Three minutes later, a stout figure in a black shirt and denim jeans moved in the station, a firearm in one hand and a burner in the other.

"Terry!"

The Judge emerged from under the table because she recognized the voice. Instead of running away from the man who had kidnapped her hours ago and forced her to witness grisly murders, she darted toward him and unexpectedly pulled him into a hug, crying like a girl.

"Everyone's dead. They killed them all."

Ethan stiffened. Somehow the Judge trusted him enough to hug him. Good. He was gaining her trust little by little and very soon, she'd start telling him what he wanted to know. At one instant, he wanted to point his gun at her and shoot her for putting him on death row, but then, he realized he needed her alive to vindicate himself. He had zero condolent skills, so he didn't waste time comforting her. If anything, she should be glad she was still alive and all thanks to the phone call he made moments ago to scare off the shooters.

Gently, he pushed her backward, gripped her hand, and hastily said, "We have to go. The feds will be here any moment from now."

Ethan turned around to the exit only to look into the muzzle of a pistol.

"You're not going anywhere, Ethan Willows."