A deafening shot echoed. The entire room smelled of gunpowder. Terry still heard the shot ringing in her ears. The proximity of the sound deafened her, and she experienced mild vertigo. Later she was glad she’d been sitting else she’d have passed out.

     “And the next one will be inserted right into your head. That is if you fail to tell me what I want to know.”

     Right now he was behaving like the bogeymen in children’s stories and the hate she felt for him only got worse. Terry’s eyes were fixated on the cabin floor he’d deliberately shot. If it was to prove a point, then he nailed it.

     She gulped hard, looked up, and said, “What do you want to know?” She was afraid of what he might do next; perhaps end her life, which was the main reason she’d decided to be cooperative.

     She could swear she saw a transient smirk on his face when she asked the question. Terry watched him walk back to the chair. He tucked the gun away and sat on it.

     “What’s your relationship with the Attorney General?"

     Terry figured out there was no way he’d drop the whole fuss with the Attorney General. “He’s the Attorney General, and I’m a judge. What do you think our relationship would be?”

     She didn’t answer his question directly, and he hated that he had to assume their relationship was professional. Besides, she was a married woman and he didn’t think she was romantically involved with the Attorney General.

     “How did he know I’ll be coming to your house?”

     Terry was pissed at his incessant questions, but then she thought to herself he’d got the gun and she was his captive. It made her skin crawl.

     “Because he’s the Attorney General.”

     He retorted, “Don’t play games with me.”

     “I’m not playing games. He was the one who assigned me your case.”

     He took seconds to absorb what he just heard. If his case had been too important to attract the interest of the Attorney General, then there was more to it than he’d initially thought. Now he had a name to look into. After everything sank in, he glanced at her.

     “You knew I was innocent, didn’t you?”

     “Is that supposed to be a question?”

     He hated the contempt in her voice. “No. I’m sure you had a pretalk with him before the beginning of my trial. What did he tell you?”

     “Nothing.”

     He nodded wearily. “Okay. Let’s say I believe you. Of all the judges in the state, why did he pick you?”

     She’d wondered that too when Clinton came to her house after their phone call. “Why don’t you go find him and ask him yourself?” She put on a snarky tone to rile him up. “I’m sure he’d be glad to answer you.”

     He got furious she was pulling his legs when he needed answers to questions that could vindicate him.

     “What did the Attorney General offer you in exchange for you to put me on death row?”

     Terry frowned at him. He’d technically accused her of felony.

     “Nothing. The jury found you guilty, and all I did was hand down my sentence in accordance with the state’s laws.”

     He scoffed aloud. “You make it sound as though you were just a victim. Tell me the truth, Lindsay. Were you part of the scheme that almost had me killed?”

     Nobody had called her Lindsay in years. It was the second time he’d called her that and each time, her name felt different on his lips. She wanted to see what he’d do if he was extremely angry so she said, “What if I told you I were?”

     “I guess so well.”

     Terry was shocked to the core. She’d expected him to get mad and do something crazy that would let him lose concentration, and she’d use the moment to her advantage. But he remained calm.

     He had gotten the phone he showed her earlier from his pocket and was busily searching for something. When he found it, he pushed the phone to her face and said, “Do you know him?”

     Terry was staring at a white male in his early seventies with beige hair, very thin lips, and a pointed nose. She let her eyes fall on Ethan. “Yes.”

     He put the phone back into his pocket. “His name is Admiral Peterson. He was my commander. During my active days, there were allegations against him, but they were dismissed.”

     Terry was confused as to why he’d tell her this. But she sensed he wanted to make a point. She listened while he spoke nonstop.

     Ethan continued, his voice firm now. “Three of my colleagues who knew about the allegations were murdered in that storehouse. Ted Baker is in a coma at the hospital after they shot him. And I was framed for a crime I didn’t commit.”

     She looked directly into his eyes as he spoke. Part of her wanted to believe what he was saying. From the very start, Terry had suspected he was innocent, and Clinton was harboring secrets he purposefully didn’t want her to know. As she listened, it dawned on her that she might have partaken in the scheme that almost had him killed.

     “On the day I’m being sent to death row, someone hit the convoy and bought me time to escape. Someone didn’t want me dead.”

     He moved forward, snatched the gun again, and clamped it to her temple. “Tell me, Lindsay. Do you think this is all a coincidence?”

     She shuddered from his proximity. He’d said a lot, and she’d heard a lot. If there was a nugget of truth in what he’d said so far, then he wasn’t the bad guy the media had portrayed him to be. And Clinton had been lying to her all along. But what if all that he’d said were lies to get her to believe him?

     The gun was still close but even so, she managed to speak. “I don’t know how I fit into the story you’ve just narrated. If anything at all it’s Clinton and Admiral Peterson you should go after.”

     Then she remembered how he had brutally murdered Jerry Hamilton. “Not Jerry Hamilton. . .” Her voice filled with sorrow. “Not me. I was doing my job. . . Jerry Hamilton was an innocent man. . .” Her voice finally trailed off.

     “. . . and you killed him.”

     He took the gun off her head. “I didn’t kill that hired witness,” he shouted, annoyed for having to repeat himself.

     “Then who did?”

     “My guess is the people who hired him did. They didn’t want him spilling the beans.”

     She said between gritted teeth, “I don’t believe you,” and glowered at him.

     “And I don’t care what you believe. I didn’t bring you here to convince you to trust me. I’m telling the truth. It’s up to you to believe me or not.”

     He was putting her in a difficult position. “It’s the Attorney General’s words against yours.”

     “Clinton?” he said sardonically. “I’m sure you’re clever enough to know he’s been lying to you all this while. He’s the one you should be handing down the death sentence.”

     “Clinton didn’t kill Jerry Hamilton. Clinton didn’t injure innocent federal agents. Clinton didn’t escape to take revenge and most importantly, Clinton didn’t kidnap a judge.”

     Her blind trust in the Attorney General fascinated him. But then he realized all he’d done was scare the hell out of her and not gain her trust, which Clinton had devilishly gained. For an instant, he stopped to reflect on what he’d done. The hatred Terry felt for him was understandable. The whole of South Carolina knew him to be a mass murderer, an escapee on the loose, and he showed up at her house, kidnapped her at gunpoint, and brought her to the family’s heirloom.

     Damn, she must think he was a monster. Anyone in her shoes would. There was a mirror on the wall that had been enveloped in dust. He stood up and studied his reflection. God, he looked like the bad guy in one of those horror movies he’d been watching.

     His clothes were a mess and he smelled awful. When he saw the gun, he was almost startled by the person in the mirror. He wasn’t a murderer, but right now he did look like one. The shattered windows gave a vague view of the outside. It would be dusk soon.

     He was starving and the Judge might be too. He hid the gun and looked at her. After he discovered she might have been an accomplice of the people who wanted him dead without her knowing it, he’d wanted to kill her, but right now Terry was his only hope of finding the truth about his enemies.

     He trudged to the section she sat and started unbinding the ropes. Terry’s eyes widened while he set her free. He saw the bruises on her wrist, and he felt terrible for hurting her.

     Ethan pulled a face at her and said, “Are you hungry?”

#. #. #

     “Daddy, look! Mommy’s on TV.”

     Gabby jabbered to Eddie who lay on the bed in the safe house. He closed the book he’d been reading and vaulted over the bed to the large television sitting across the room.

     True indeed, a picture of Judge Terry was superimposed on the screen and a presenter was delivering the evening news. The headline almost gave him a heart attack. ‘JUDGE TERRY ABDUCTED BY VETERAN NAVY COMMANDER ETHAN WILLOWS.'

     Eddie had never felt this scared before. He’d been following up with the news of Ethan’s escape and the full-scale manhunt that was being conducted across the state of South Carolina for him. He’d hoped the cops would find him, but hadn’t prepared himself for this bombshell. His wife was abducted by a notorious fugitive. It sounded impossible. It took him a minute or two to rationalize this insane situation.

     He crouched over Gabby, said, “Honey, go to the bathroom and brush your teeth. I’ll join you soon,” and ruffled her hair. He concealed his fear in front of her. She hadn’t seen the headline and the volume was barely audible. For her, she was happy her mother had shown up on TV.

     “Uh-huh.”

     “Get going.” He lifted himself and watched her prance into a room. When she wasn’t within earshot, he increased the volume.

     “The story of veteran navy commander Ethan Willows has taken a drastic turn after he kidnapped renowned Judge, Terry Lindsay from her house. As we speak, the FBI is onto the case, working nonstop to track down the fugitive. All of South Carolina is in shock and hoping the Judge will be rescued and brought home safely.”

     He changed the station. The headline read, ‘ETHAN WILLOWS KIDNAPS JUDGE TERRY FROM HOME AFTER HIS ESCAPE.’ He flicked a button. Another headline. ‘SOUTH CAROLINA IN SHOCK AS VETERAN NAVY COMMANDER KIDNAPS JUDGE TERRY.’

     Almost every news station was talking about his wife at the mercy of a mass murderer. This was terrible. Running his hair backward, he walked briskly to the door and left the room. He stepped onto a narrow corridor and headed toward another room on his right, where the federal agents safeguarding them were. He’d been given an emergency line to call in times of crises, but this emergency was beyond phone calls.

     He tapped repeatedly on the door. An attractive man showed up and said in a tactful voice, “Is there any problem, Mr. Terry?”

     “Yes, there is,” he said brusquely and pushed past him into the room. Another agent sat on a small couch. Eddie spotted the chessboard on the table as he scanned the place. He got angry that his wife had been abducted and they were wasting time entertaining themselves. But then he realized it wasn’t their fault his wife had been kidnapped.

     “Put me through to someone in charge,” he demanded.

     The agent who opened the door for him had told him his name was Mark earlier. When no one replied, he turned to him and muttered, “Tell your boss I want to speak to him.”

     Finally, Mark spoke. “That will be our supervisor, and he’s not available at the moment.”

     Eddie couldn’t control his anger. He surged forward, snatched the gun from Mark’s holster, and pointed the pistol at him. “Tell your boss I want to speak to him else I’m going to pull the trigger.”

     The two agents exchanged a horrified look.