Ethan got into his car just after he ended the call with Baker. Ted had given him a location to drive to. On his GPS, he pulled up a map of Bluffton and narrowed down his destination. With the speed of lightning, he reached the place in less than thirty minutes. A female voice said, "You've reached your destination."

His hand clamped to the steering wheel, he surveyed the surrounding in seconds. He noticed he'd parked in front of a rundown storehouse. There were no proximate houses. Was Ted Baker in there? A marshland was strewn ahead with species of bryophytes dominating it.

The stench that filled the air was irritating. Ethan unfastened the seat belt and rummaged in the glove compartment. He found a ten-millimeter Calibre Glock-fully loaded. He put it inside his back pocket and stepped out of the car. Then he walked a distance to the building. Midway, he stopped to analyze this strange situation.

Since his retirement, Ethan hadn't received serious phone calls and as far as he knew, this was the first one. Ted Baker had been the jester among their gang in the navy. He was fond of joking about serious issues, but he didn't sound like someone ready to prank him on the phone which had triggered his curiosity.

He hadn't reached the door when he heard a noise, an unpleasant one. Bracing himself, Willows quickly pulled out the gun and entered the building on calculated steps. A sullen silence greeted him. Everywhere was dark, as though all the source of light had been cut off. Ethan positioned his gun in the air, in case any danger that lurked in the place confronted him.

He cautiously moved around the room, one hand groping the wall for a switch, and the other clamped to the gun. The murkiness blinded his vision, but he forced himself to see.

"Hello!"

He stopped and listened, hoping to hear a response, but there was none, other than the echoes of his voice.

"Is somebody here?"

No one responded or attempted to. He focused on locating the switch; if there was any. Along the line he thought he heard sounds. After he paid attention to his environment, he realized they weren't just sounds. Moans. Someone was in here. For sure.

"Teddy?" he said, his voice barely audible. "Is that you?"

"E-E...Ethan-" There were gulps, and then the voice diminished.

Finally, he found the switch. He pushed the button. The bulbs on the ceiling flickered, went off, and came back again but emitted dim light. His eyes had barely taken in the view of the hostile storehouse when he found Ted sitting on the hardwood floor and leaning against a pillar.

He didn't see the wound on his lower torso until he flung himself to his side and knelt beside him. He set the gun aside and pushed his hand forward, putting pressure over the bullet wound.

"Who did this to you?"

He couldn't hardly breathe. "Ethan," he said in a raspy voice, "look behind you."

Ethan didn't comply immediately. He stared worriedly at Teddy, and then he glanced back. What he saw startled him so much that he wanted to puke. A mound of dead bodies covered a section of the place. When he saw that the blood had dried up, he knew they'd been killed for a long time.

He darted his eyes in the direction of Ted who was bleeding profusely.

"Who did this?"

Ted weakly moved his hand forward and clutched his shoulder.

"The allegations are all true."

Ethan couldn't follow up. "They were dismissed, remember?"

He saw that Teddy had a lot of secret information he wanted to share with him, but he was too weak to do anything. Ethan didn't want to engage him any further. He reached for his phone and started dialing nine-one-one.

"You need to go, Ethan."

"No. I can't leave you like this."

"It's a trap. I was forced to call you."

His breathing got weaker with every second that passed by. He wasn't making any sense either.

"Just focus on breathing," he was telling him while waiting for an operator. The call hadn't gone through when they heard the wails of police sirens. Ted murmured, "Go, Ethan. Leave before the cops show up."

Ethan put his thoughts together and everything started making sense now. But there was no way he'd abandon his old pal to die. He cut the call, put his phone away, and applied more pressure on the wound. Ted was about to speak when Ethan said, "Shh! You're not dying on my watch, Teddy."

Ted Baker wanted to shoo him away, but he didn't have the strength. The two friends stared into each other's eyes. Tears dropped from Ted's face. His voice in whispers, he said, "You didn't have to sacrifice your life for me, you know?"

"That's what friends are for."

The door busted open and three cops stormed inside with their guns drawn. They moved wildly toward them, flashes of light rays from their torch brightening the dark room. After they saw the massacre, one yelled, "Bluffton, P.D. Hands above your head and turn around."

"I can't," Ethan said.

"Don't compel me to shoot."

"If I comply with your orders, an innocent man is going to bleed to death. There should be an ambulance, but I don't hear any siren. Whoever tipped you off must have included a wounded man was bleeding to death in here."

The cops shared a sullen look before they called in for medical assistance.

#. #. #

"Hold still, sweetie. We're almost done," Terry said to the six-year-old girl who ebulliently kept changing the position her mother had placed her. Terry was trying to fit the belt across her small waist and apparently, she was struggling with it because of the girl's unstable posture.

"And there we go!"

"Yea!" Gabriella exclaimed and started jumping, her blonde hair swaying uncontrollably.

Eddie came bounding on the staircase wearing a brown suit with a grey tie. He joined them in the living room. Terry lifted herself from the floor and glanced at him.

"You look handsome." She approached him and extended her slender hand to his neck. After she fixed his tie, he said, "Thank you," paced to Gabriella, and took her hand.

"I don't know when we'll be back, so I will send Tom over to keep you company."

Terry broadly smiled and said, "It's just a minor migraine. You shouldn't bother Tom."

He returned the smile and kissed her lips. "I don't want anything happening to my wife while I'm away."

Last night, Terry suffered a terrible migraine which affected her sleep. She took aspirin, hoping that the pains would subside. When it didn't, she informed Eddie about it and he phoned their private doctor. She was examined and given a prescription. Eddie had driven to the nearest pharmacy to get the drugs. He made sure she took the drugs and they had both gone to bed, anticipating that the migraine would be gone this morning, and they could all go to Sam's wedding.

When Terry complained about her head again, he decided to go to Sam's wedding without her and give her enough time to recuperate. There was no way he'd miss his longtime friend's wedding.

To Terry, Eddie was making a big deal out of nothing. She was physically all right, and she had told it several times to him, but he wouldn't listen. The last thing Terry wanted was to be babysat.

"I'm fine. Truly. I don't want anyone watching over me. Besides, Elle's just across the street. I will go to her if I feel sick again."

"All right. Take care of yourself."

"I will," she said, "my regards to Sam, and tell him I wish him all the best in this new chapter of his life." Deep down, she wished she wasn't sick and could tell Sam in person.

"He'll hear."

Terry saw them off to the door and stopped on the porch, watching them get inside the car. Before the windows rolled up, Gabby pulled out her hand and waved to her. "Bye, Mommy!"

"Bye, sweetie!"

She grinned at them and stood tying the straps on her nightgown as the car pulled out from the driveway, then hit the road. She yawned, pulled her bedhead backward, and reentered the house. It felt eerily quiet now that no one was in the house. Perhaps, the silence might make the migraine disappear.

She passed through the living room and sprawled on the couch. Terry intended to take a nap after the migraine had ruined her sleep. She'd barely stumbled into a dream when she heard a knock on the door. She huffed and left reluctantly to see who it was. She opened the door and sighed.

"Mr. Clinton. I wasn't expecting you at my house. Do come inside."

Terry led the Attorney General into the living room and offered him a cup of tea which he declined. They'd spoken yesterday over the phone about a serious matter, and if Clinton was at her house, Terry didn't need him to emphasize again the urgency of the matter that had brought him here.

James Clinton was tall-maybe taller than Eddie-Terry couldn't tell. His dark hair was always cut to size Terry wondered if it ever grew at all. He wore simple suits, nothing extravagant. On one or two occasions, she'd seen him at his office in D.C., and she could swear he'd been wearing the same coat over and over. But she knew that wasn't entirely true. Truth be told, James Clinton was a simple man, and Terry had always admired that about him.

"I suppose you've thought about what we discussed," he said.

"A bit. I had a migraine and it took over my mind."

He placed his briefcase on the center table before he said, "I'm sorry. I hope you recover."

"Thanks."

"Ethan Willows is a dangerous man and has to be eliminated at all costs. He's a threat to national security."

Terry listened to him. He pulled out a photograph of a man in a navy suit and handed it to her. She took it, looked wearily at the photo, and gave it back.

"What did he do that makes him so dangerous?"

"He killed seven people in a storehouse including his colleagues and gunned down Ted Baker."

The grisly murders made her tremble. Her face contorted into a frown. "How do you know he killed those men?"

"A witness saw him, called the Bluffton P.D., and they caught him at the scene of the crime."

Terry just stared blankly at him. Clinton continued, "I was assigned to the case by the senator because Willows is a veteran navy commander. He was a good man until he went rogue and killed seven people. The case is already high profile, and the people want justice to be served."

"South Carolina is blooming with judges. Why come to me?"

"I thought the answer to that question is simple. None is as good as you, and you know that."

Terry felt flattered, but she wasn't ready to be assigned a new case. And most importantly face the media.

"I still can't make head or tail of what you're saying. A veteran navy commander murders seven people at a goal. Does he have a motive?"

"You can think of the murder of his colleagues as a crime of passion, but the other four victims were strangers to him. Ethan has a history of violent behavior. During his tenure of work, there'd been occasions where he'd fought with his colleagues."

He provided evidence to support his claim. They were charges that had been filed against Ethan Willows for indulging in physical assault. Terry looked up from the file and drawled, "This proves what?"

"That Ethan is capable of murder."

Terry took a minute to review the file. She sighed and glanced up. All the papers explicitly showed Ethan was guilty, but something in her gut spoke otherwise to her. She mustered courage, looked at the Attorney General, and said, "Why do I have the feeling you're not telling me everything I need to know?"

Clinton was exasperated, but he didn't show it. "Because knowing too much can put your life at risk."

He said the words so bluntly that she was startled. She put the papers away. "Are you threatening me?"

Clinton's face was livid. "No. I'm telling you the truth. The less you know the better. I've provided you with enough proof to clear any doubts. What else do you want?"

"I'm the one who has to live with my conscience. I have to be sure of the cases I'm assigned to. I don't want to make any decision I'd end up regretting."

Clinton sighed. "Ethan Willows is guilty. That's all you have to know."

"The jury has to prove that first."

"And eventually they will. Trust me, you're putting a bad man away. The world will be a better place without him in it."

"I hope so."