They chose to do the trade in an alley. Shelby and Ethan had come along with Clinton while Dan went to Anna's house to tell her the news. Distance away from where they'd parked, they saw an oncoming sedan. Ethan recognized it from earlier and said to Shelby, "It's them."

"Okay. We proceed as planned."

She hit Clinton with the gun and he was yanked awake. He blinked, then darted his eyes around, trying to make sense of what was happening. "Where am I?"

Shelby snapped, "Shut up!"

The driver parked the sedan remotely at a designated spot she had chosen. Then she cut the engine. The front lights shone brightly, emitting a large frequency of electromagnetic radiation that made Ethan squint from where he stood. Shelby was holding her gun to Clinton's head.

The woman stepped out with the hostages. Ethan's heart sank when he saw that Ronnie wasn't moving. He lay still on Dorine's shoulder.

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing."

"Why is he not moving?"

"He's sleeping."

"You're lying."

"Ask the nanny."

Ethan had known Dorine, but not intimately. He knew she loved the kid and wouldn't lie for any reason so when she confirmed what the woman had said, he believed her.

"Clinton first," the woman said.

Shelby lowered the gun and pushed him forward. Hands bound, he paced to the sedan. Dorine started walking towards them. They watched, guns aimed at their targets while both factions received their hostage. Dorine gave Ronnie to Ethan. "Are you all right?"

Dorine nodded frantically. The events she had witnessed so far had terrorized her so much that she didn't want to talk. Ethan doubted she was all right psychologically.

"We should go," Shelby said to Ethan. He led Dorine to the car while Shelby made sure the other faction didn't pull a stunt by aiming her gun at them. Without lowering her firearm, she opened the door with the other, stepped inside, and slammed it shut. Ethan did a reverse and steered the wheels to where they'd come from.

After the successful trade, Ronnie was taken to the hospital and examined for any health issues. The drug Clinton's asset gave him hadn't done any harm because she didn't overdose on him.

Ethan assigned Dorine to a psychologist to help her recover from the trauma of the event. After he had seen Ronnie and Anna safely home and placed them under protective custody by Shelby's order, she called Jane and told her to meet him at Dan's place.

Her childhood friend was there by the time he arrived. Jane hugged him tightly and brushed his back.

"I'm glad Ronnie's safe. Dan told me everything."

"Thanks, Jane."

They withdrew and Jane walked back to the table she and Dan were studying the evidence.

"This is one hell of a story," she said excitedly, her face beaming. "It's going to change my carrier for good."

She imagined the look on her superior's face if she told her she'd got a story that would forever make television history. She'd be overwhelmed-she didn't doubt that and she would have no choice but to give her the promotion.

Carla Norland, her supervisor at the Norland Media Firm was a mean person with a quick temper. She was very stern with the journalists, especially those that she referred to as hapless. She hadn't been liked by most of them and she didn't care either.

One or two crafty employees had nicknamed her The Scarecrow and gradually they'd called her that instead of her real name. Jane was itching to tell her about the story she had managed to get her hands on. Her first inquiry would be about her source, which she wouldn't tell her and leave her wondering.

"I'm counting on you, Jane," Ethan said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Can your firm publish this in the next twenty hours?"

C a n was an understatement. She didn't doubt that immediately after the story got to the firm, Ms. Norland would stop every ongoing project and order the editorial team to get their hands right on it. All she had to do was place a phone call.

She looked at him and winked mischievously. "You want the whole world to know about this by tomorrow, then Norland Media is your best shot."

She wasn't bragging because immediately she had placed the call and told Ms. Norland about the story, she said, "Damn, Jane. What the hell are you waiting for? The U.S Attorney General with the Russian Mafia? That's just the story I needed to hear. You're not hapless after all. Get to my office. Now!"

Happily, she said, "Yes, ma'am," and hung up.

She turned to Ethan. "She's in."

#. #. #

When Eleanor heard that sound, she knew another newspaper had already arrived in the mailbox. Nowadays, the press didn't talk about anything interesting, just the fugitive terrorizing South Carolina. She'd heard it again and again and had believed it. But after his unpleasant visit to the house, she thought otherwise.

Ethan Willows struck her as a very odd guy. Someone she had rarely encountered. Ever since the day he showed up, she had been wondering if her husband was the saint she knew. Ethan had aroused questions about her so many years of marriage with him. Perhaps, she hadn't known Peterson like she thought she did.

Eleanor wished the accusations the fugitive had made about him were false because she couldn't deal with the thought her darling husband was a murderer. She had confronted him with the same issue many times now since the fugitive's presence at the house. Although Peterson had answered all, she doubted he was being sincere with her. He sounded very elusive during their many conversations and she had suspected there were things he purposefully didn't want her to know.

She had thought that married couples were supposed to trust each other, regardless of the situation and if Peterson had kept secrets from her, then he didn't think she had the right to know whatever he was hiding. Which meant he didn't trust her. And it sucked. Big time. What hurt her the most was that it took an outsider to open her eyes.

The thoughts haunted her as she left the kitchen. Tying the straps on her nightgown, she stepped onto the porch, walked briskly to the mailbox, and pulled out all the newspapers. A neighbor was jogging past the house.

"Hello, Eleanor."

She smiled at her. "Hi, Lauren."

Still smiling, she watched her neighbor run down the long street at a steady speed. Then she closed the mailbox, went into the house, and deposited the newspapers on the table. She decided to make tea and then get back to them. As she turned around, her hand hit the papers and they slid down to the floor.

Tucking her hair behind her ears, she dropped to her knees and assembled the papers. The sheets were flying rapidly. The headline on the first page caught her attention. 'U.S. ATTORNEY GENERAL JAMES CLINTON AND ADMIRAL PETERSON CLARK INVOLVED WITH THE RUSSIAN MAFIA'

Eleanor thought the world was spinning around her. Slowly, she covered her mouth with her hands and rose from the floor, tears streaming down her face. This couldn't be true. The fugitive was right all along.

Ceasing the urge to pass out, she ran upstairs, trying to convince herself the news wasn't true. Perhaps, they wanted to frame her husband for something he didn't do. But she knew too much to believe that delusion. The fugitive had said her husband was a murderer and a criminal, but she had failed to believe him because she couldn't accept the thoughts she'd been living with a stranger for all these years. Even had his children.

Still in tears, Eleanor stormed inside the bedroom where Peterson was awake and sitting on the edge of the bed. She stomped to his side, hurled the paper at him, and cried, "You lied to me, Peterson." She had called him by his first name for the first time in so many years. "The fugitive was right."

Perplexed, he went for the paper and when he saw the headline, his eyes almost popped out. How was this possible? Clinton said he had taken care of the fugitive and the evidence yesterday over the phone. And he trusted Clinton because he was a man of his word.

Reality suddenly felt like a horrible nightmare. He'd never thought of this day. A day when all his criminal activities would come to light. He had gotten away with so many crimes he couldn't even list in the past and had covered up all of them because of his power and money. But now his cup was full. And there was no way he could escape the punishment. The headline must have hit TV stations by now. Soon, he expected the SWAT to be ramming his door and the FBI storming in.

The embarrassment would be unbearable. For a moment, he wondered why he was thinking about his reputation when his wife was hurting. He glanced at her.

"Darling, I'm sorry. I-I. . ."

Eleanor cut him off. "Don't 'darling' me, you monster! I asked you several times and you lied to my face." Tears falling freely, she stabbed her chest repeatedly. "You lied to my face when all I had done was to be truthful to you. Why, Peterson? Why?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you. I've been with the Russian Mafia for a very long time, even before I met you."

"So you're a spy or what? How could you betray your own country?"

He wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth about his relationship with the Russian Mafia and the repugnant crimes he had committed. The deal with the Russian Mafia was for unlimited power and money and in exchange, he'd give them intel. Clinton was the person keeping them out of prison and the courthouse. Everything had gone perfectly well until a commander he had trained in the navy overheard his conversation with Clinton. He had told his friend and had sworn him to secrecy. But the friend told the other and the other told another and before days had gone by, it had circulated. He had killed the commander and everyone who had heard about the rumor.

Ethan had been one of his favorite commanders and Peterson couldn't just kill him. After the killing in the storehouse, they shot Ted Bundy and used him as bait to lure Ethan and frame him for the murders. Knowing his weakness, Peterson had exploited it. Ethan would never let down a friend. That was why the setup worked so well. He was supposed to get arrested and serve a life sentence. But when the news about the veteran navy commander involved in a mass murder made headlines, and upon discovering from Lucy Sanders Ethan wanted to prove his innocence at all costs, Clinton told Peterson Ethan had to be eliminated else he was going to cause trouble.

Peterson had talked him out of killing the fugitive, but Clinton's mind was made up. Either the fugitive or them. After reaching an agreement, Clinton took care of the rest.

Clinton then reached out to the renowned judge in the whole of South Carolina-Terry Lindsay. He had exploited the woman and painstakingly convinced her to take on Ethan's case. When she finally did after several persuasions, he saw to it that Ethan would be found guilty at all costs.

Clinton bribed some of the jurors and hired a witness, Jerry Hamilton. Then had him murdered after Ethan escaped. He sent threatening letters to Terry anonymously to scare her. He also paid the coroner and some of the cops in planting Ethan's fingerprints on the murder weapon after he made sure the gun matched the one Ethan had brought to the crime scene.

Peterson looked at his wife. "Please forgive me."

Eleanor wiped the tears off with the back of her hand and ran to the nightstand. Then she went for the gun he had kept there yesterday. Without a thought, she pointed the weapon at him and cocked it.