Someone heard the commotion in the alley. Nine-one-one was dialed. An hour later, the back entrance of the cafeteria was cordoned off with crime scene ribbons. Local police moved about the place, trying to control the crowd. Cars were parked haphazardly on the street.

     Two federal agents were already on the scene, collecting data and making sense of what had happened. An eyewitness told them two men had been the last people to enter the cafeteria. They’d specifically sat by the window. They’d talked in whispers and very quickly as though something was at stake. Then a dour-looking man in a dark suit had come to the cafeteria minutes later.

     The two men had left abruptly through the back entrance and the other man had followed them. The federal agents thanked the witness and went inside the cafeteria to see the owner, where they requested to look at the surveillance cameras to make an ID.

     James Clinton appeared at the crime scene as soon as he was tipped off by his source in the FBI. One of the men was suspected to be Ethan Willows. Immediately his informant had delivered the hunch, he wasted no time in driving to the location. After he spoke with Ethan on the phone, he decided to take care of the situation himself.

     Amid the crowd, Clinton made his way into the cafeteria, where he found the federal agents assigned to the case speaking with the owner. He was within earshot so he heard everything they had talked about. Just like him, they wanted to have a look at the surveillance footage.

     “Excuse me,” Clinton said. The two federal agents turned to look at him. “My name’s James Clinton. I’m the Attorney General. What have you got so far?”

     The two federal agents shared an awed look before they briefed him. Because of his status, they left no detail out. It wasn’t quite often they saw the Attorney General at crime scenes. The owner of the cafeteria emerged from a room, said, “This way,” and led them inside a small room in a long hallway. There was a computer set clustered on a walnut table.

     The owner walked over to a chair in front of the monitor, sat down, and started doing something with the mouse. Clinton and the federal agents watched the black-and-white footage as the owner navigated a series of them.

     “There.”

     Clinton fingered one of the footage when he saw a man he placed to be Ethan. The owner zoomed in on the footage, and they watched in silence.

     In the footage, a man walks inside the cafeteria. His head is bowed. He takes the booth by the window and constantly peers at his wristwatch. Nothing happens, then minutes later, Dan appears at the cafeteria and skitters to the booth Ethan is seated. They talk quickly. A waitress walks to their booth. Ethan talks to her, and she returns with two bottles of water. Ethan sips, puts the bottle away, and leans forward. They talk again for a minute or more, and then another man in a suit steps inside the cafeteria.

     Ethan is seen rising abruptly. He tells Dan something, then grips his hand and drags him to the back entrance. The man hurries after. . .

     The screen went blank and Clinton stifled a nervous sigh. “What happened after that?”

     The owner shrugged. “No idea. A diner said she heard struggles outside in the alley.”

     “Do you have cameras in that alley?”

     “No, sir. I’m afraid we don’t.”

     Clinton calmed his nerves. After putting  his thoughts together, he knew the man with the cap was Ethan, and the person he’d met was his lawyer. He recognized his face in the newspaper. Right now, he was left wondering what had become of Ethan and his lawyer. Was he captured? Or was he still at large?

     Clinton couldn’t believe he’d come from his office to the crime scene for nothing. But he thought otherwise when his mind went to the man after them. He said to the owner. “Could you rewind the footage?”

     “Sure.” He reached the mouse, did several clicks, and replayed the footage. Clinton peered at it from behind his shoulder. The owner kept rewinding.

     “Stop right there.”

     The owner paused the footage.

     “Zoom in on the face.”

     He did that. An oblong face filled the screen. Clinton turned to the agents. “Could you get an ID off this?”

     “Yes,” they said in unison.

     “Then get to it.”

     One of the agents took a snap of the image and sent it to the bureau. They waited for two minutes, then the results of the search came. He looked at his phone screen and said to Clinton. “His name is Matthew McConaughey. He’s an agent with the U.S. Marshals Service.”

     When the information registered in his head, Clinton was confused. If Ethan was already in the custody of the U.S. Marshals, then why hadn’t anybody told the Attorney General? Unless somebody didn’t want him to know about Ethan’s arrest. Who’d want to keep the fugitive from him when he was assigned to his case? Something was amiss, and Clinton was ready to get to the bottom of this foul play.

     He excused himself and stepped out of the room. Then he placed a call to one of his sources in the FBI. A voice filled the line. Clinton said, “I want you to run a search on somebody for me.”

     “Name.”

     “Mathew McConaughey. He’s with the U.S. Marshals.”

     “What do you want on him?”

     “Everything. Most importantly his supervisor.”

     “I’ll send you the results in a jiffy.”

     “Good.” Then he clicked off and placed another call to Admiral Peterson.

     “Do you have any news about the fugitive?”

     “Yes, and we need to meet. We’re on the verge of being exposed. Someone else knows about our business.”

     “Time and place?”

     “The usual.”

     “I’ll be there.”

#. #. #

     As he tried to lift himself from whatever he lay on, he felt pain sear through his entire body as though he’d fought ten men singlehandedly. He came into consciousness and squinted at the rays of the sun. The pain got excruciating as he attempted to sit up, which failed when he couldn’t contain the pain anymore. He fell back onto the pillows.

     He saw a figure looming above him, but his vision was still blurry to make out the person. He blinked rapidly and whipped his head around, trying to see where he was. Perhaps on death row. But he didn’t see any doctor ready to stick the syringe into his arm. Neither did he see spectators witnessing his long-awaited death. Just a blurry figure with dark hair and brown eyes. Those were the features he perceived.

     Ethan knew he was captured. He remembered everything that had happened. At least his memories weren’t messed up like his body was. He remembered vividly taking the Judge to her cousin’s place, fighting with her husband, and meeting Dan at the cafeteria. Then a man he placed to be an agent had come into the cafeteria, and he had dragged Dan out of the place and into the alley where they were ambushed. He fought and shot one of the agents and knocked down the other. Everything that happened next was in blind spot. He couldn’t remember anymore.

     D a n? Was he safe? Ethan wanted to get up and find him to make sure he was safe. He placed his life at risk. He’d die if anything happened to his best friend. Tossing over, he muttered, “Dan, I need to. . .fi—fi. . .find. . . him.” He started shaking on the bed.

     “Calm down, Mr. Willows. Dan’s safe,” Shelby said.

     Ethan was yanked awake by the voice. His vision was clear now. He saw everything and everyone.

     Roving his eyes across the large room, he said, “Where am I?”

     “In a safe house.”

     He ran his tousled hair backward. “Why?”

     Shelby smirked. “Were you expecting to be in someplace other than here?”

     He stared blankly at her. He’d thought he’d wake up on death row, looking into the sulky eyes of the family of the people he had allegedly murdered, who’d be silently wishing him a painful death. But instead, he was looking at the face of a woman he had never met. Confused was an understatement. Ethan was flummoxed.

     “I was expecting to be dead by now.”

     “Then thank God you’re still alive.”

     “I don’t understand. Why am I here?”

     Shelby reached for a mug from a nearby table and directed it to him. “Take it.”

     Ethan looked into the mug, glanced up at her, and said, “What’s that?”

     “It’s an elixir from Japan, known to relieve excruciating pain. One of Japanese finest.”

     He stared incredulously at her. He felt pain all over his body. “What did you do to me?”

     “I shot you with a stun gun.”

     That explained why he was in constant pain.

     “Why would you do that?”

     “Because you were unruly. You shot one of my agents to death.”

     His heart thumped. That had been a lethal mistake. He never meant to hurt him. He’d been trapped and out of moves. Surrendering hadn’t always been an option for him. He asked worriedly, “How’s he?”

     “So caring of you,” she murmured. “He’s fine.”

     He sighed, took the mug and gulped the content, then gave it back to her. He was shocked at how effective the elixir was. Half of the pains subsided.

     “Who are you?”

     “Shelby Willet.”

     The name didn’t mean anything to him. She was a total stranger. “Why are you keeping me here?”

     “Good question. I was the one who hit your transport van and bought you time to escape. I got you out for a reason, and it’s time to repay that debt.”

     Ethan couldn’t believe his ears. He was looking right at his savior. He laughed. “So now what? I’m your captive?” He dangled the cuffs around his right wrist that had been fixed to the bed.

     “I had you cuffed to restrain you, Mr. Willows. You shot one of my agents. I wasn’t taking any chances.” Shelby stood from his bedside. “And no. You’re not my captive. I brought here to protect you.”

     Ethan scoffed. “Protect me?” He tried to sit up, but couldn’t and fell back. “I was doing fine on my own until you appeared.”

     “Dan was compromised. If I could tap into his phone and listen to your conversation, then it means the men after you could’ve done more. You are a dead man, Ethan. If you go out there they will hunt you down and kill you.”

     Ethan knew she was right. If he went into town without a disguise, chances were that someone might recognize him and call the cops. It was difficult to accept he was a fugitive. Not so long, he had retired from the navy and was visiting his son. Then everything went sideways when Ted Baker called him. He’d walked straight into a set-up that put him into this life-and-death situation.

     “Talking about Dan,” he said, “where’s he?”

     “Safe at his house, I guess.”

     “I don’t believe you.”

     Shelby’s face puckered. “You think I’d hurt Dan?”

     He didn’t answer her question. Initially, he’d thought the person who broke him out also knew the truth about the allegations and that he was innocent. But after his capture, he teetered on the brink of confusion. For all he knew, Shelby might be up to something not good.

     “Why did you hit the convoy? I was ready to accept my fate.”

     “Bullshit,” Shelby snapped. “Your fate? For crying out loud you were being taken to death row for a crime you didn’t commit. Who accepts a fate like that?”

     “How do you know that?”

     She walked briskly to his side and sat beside him. “I know so much. Who do you think I am?”

     “A stranger I can’t read,” he said tartly.

     “I’m the director of the U.S. Marshals. For years now I’ve been working nonstop on exposing Clinton and Admiral Peterson, but haven’t gotten anywhere because those two are hiding what they’re doing so well.”

     Ethan was getting second thoughts about her. Perhaps, Shelby was on his side.

     “I don’t trust you.”

     “Hell, you don’t. I risked everything, forsook law and order, got people hurt just to make sure you don’t appear on death row and you don’t trust me? I’m not the enemy, Ethan. Like you, I want to put a stop to two bad guys in power.”

     She sounded convincing and he wanted to believe her. She said, “Why do you think I didn’t turn you into the law?”

     He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

     “Because Clinton will have you killed the moment you’re detained. He’s desperate and not thinking. They know their cup is full and about to be exposed.”

     Ethan sighed. “Okay. Let’s say I believe you’re my savior and you want to help me. How do you intend to expose those two?”

     She sprang up. “I don’t know yet. I’ve been thinking. I need hard evidence to expose them. I can’t just accuse two prominent people without solid evidence.”

     “There you go,” he said, “there’s no way you can defeat them. They’re too powerful. Let me go before the cops find out you’re harboring a fugitive.”

     She lifted a brow. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”

     “I don’t trust anybody, Shelby whatever. Let me go.”

     “Well, too bad for you, but you have to learn to trust me because I’m on your side and as for getting out of here, forget it. You’re not going anyway. I’ll give you some time to think and figure out your next move. Think smart.”

     Ethan heard the clicks of high heels, then she disappeared into a room, and he thought of how to escape.