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There was, however, the excitement of having something to do. He would have spent the night waiting for dawn to signal his day of preparation. Now he would have something to pass the time instead of mere sleep.

Glancing at his watch, Aldo saw that it was 11:30. He would have to move fast, think on the run. But that was part of the excitement, the thrill.

Tonight would be a good one for Aldo. Greg Cheney would have a different opinion.

C
ALVIN WAS MORE THAN ANGRY.
H
E WAS FURIOUS.
T
HE MUSCLES
were tense; his heart pounded with intensity; his hands were clenched on the steering wheel.

I told him that leaving the bugs in was a bad idea
, he thought,
but no, he had to leave them in.
He slammed his hand on the wheel.

Taking a deep breath he calmed himself. He knew he was overreacting. David had been trying to help himself and others. He was a driven man, and if so much had not been at stake, if it was only his life that was in danger, then he would have been more willing to listen to Calvin. But the lives of scores of others depended on a quick reconciliation of the problem.

Calvin directed his car onto Interstate 8 and headed east toward San Diego State University. Despite the anger of the moment, Calvin knew that David was a man of determination and action. Doing nothing was and never would be an option for him. In many ways, the two men were cut from the same cloth.

The traffic was light as the night moved ever closer to being a new day. He wondered if Greg would still be at the school. His plan was simple: Find the campus police, inform them of the potential danger to one of their students, and
accompany them to the video lab. SDSU was one of the largest colleges in the state, and Calvin had no idea where the lab was. He needed help, and the campus police could provide that. Besides, there was strength in numbers. Calvin hoped that whoever had gone through the trouble to tap David’s phone lines would not arrive before him.

Calvin pulled his car onto the grounds of the college. San Diego State University was a compilation of white buildings clustered on a hillside that overlooked the long black ribbon of Interstate 8. Interspersed around the campus were large macadam seas of parking lots, now nearly empty of the thousands of cars that came here each day. Even in August, weeks before regular term started, the parking lots would be dotted with vehicles of students. Tonight, however, the lots were uncluttered expanses of blacktop.

He had never been on the campus before. He slowed his car and craned his neck as he looked for a sign that would direct him to the security office. He got his wish, but not as he expected. As he drove along the lot, he glimpsed red and blue lights. A security car was racing along the lot in front of him.

Calvin’s heart sank; he feared the worse. His tires squealed, protesting the sudden acceleration as he stepped on the gas pedal. It took him a few moments to close on the patrol car. The police vehicle careened along the narrow roads that linked one lot to another. He watched as it screeched to a stop at an alley formed by a pair of two-story buildings. Parking, he grabbed his cell phone and quickly exited his own car.

The officer jogged down the open space, his keys and handcuffs jingling with each stride, resonating off the hard
surfaces of the buildings. Ten strides later, he emerged into a large concrete plaza framed by classrooms.

He could feel his heart rate begin to rise as much from fear of what he may find as from the exertion of the run. He slowed as his fears became reality before his eyes. As an FBI agent he had seen many things, including violent death, but this was different. This was someone he had met. Someone who had taken it upon himself to help those he did not know. Now his enthusiasm may have brought him harm—maybe worse.

The officer slowed to a walk as he approached a first-floor door. Light poured from the doorway and the windows of the room and splashed onto the concrete plaza. Another officer stood at the room’s entrance. Calvin drew close enough to hear.

“… not good, man. Not good at all.”

“Excuse me,” Calvin said.

The two officers turned to face him. The one that had been standing in the doorway wore a name tag engraved with the name H
ILTON.
Both men eyed Calvin suspiciously.

“Who are you?” Hilton asked harshly, stepping toward him.

“Calvin Overstreet. I’m looking for Greg Cheney.”

“What’s your business with him?” Hilton asked firmly. His expression was dour, his eyes cast a hard gaze.

“I’m an attorney. Mr. Cheney was helping a client of mine with … a project.”

“May I see some identification, Mr. Overstreet?” Officer Hilton moved closer to Calvin.

“Of course.” Calvin reached for his wallet. “Is Mr. Cheney in there?” He nodded toward the lit classroom. In the distance sirens wailed.

“Yes.” The officer looked at the driver’s license that Calvin offered. “What brings you here now?”

“As I said, I’m an attorney, and I’m here to see—”

“Now,” Hilton interrupted. “Why are you here now? Why this time of night?”

“He called my client and said he had some information to show him—”

“Who’s your client?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Isn’t it?” Hilton snapped. “Cheney is dead. He’s been murdered. You wouldn’t happen to know any reason why someone would want to murder a college student, do you?”

Calvin’s heart seized, and his stomach filled with bitter acid. His fearful suspicion had been right. “Any idea when it happened?”

“Not long ago. Maybe just minutes ago. Perhaps you know the exact time.”

Calvin frowned. Hilton suspected him. “I only know that my client received a call about an hour ago.”

“And you came right down? Odd, don’t you think?”

“Look, Officer Hilton.” Calvin was growing weary of the campus cop. “I’m a former FBI agent. I’ve seen more in a month than you’ve seen in your career. I had nothing to do with Cheney’s murder.”

“But you know more than you’re telling.”

“I’ve told you what I can.”

“Well,” Hilton said, nodding at a blue-uniformed San Diego police officer who was approaching. “I’ll bet these guys will have a few questions for you too.”

Calvin sighed. This was going to be a long night. Opening the cell phone in his hand, he began to dial a number.

“Who do you think you’re calling?” Hilton asked.

“My client.”

“That can wait. I’m not finished with you.”

Calvin lowered the phone and glowered at the security officer. “Have I been placed under arrest?”

“No, but—”

“Since I’m not under arrest, I’ll call whomever I wish.” Calvin finished placing the call. The phone rang twice on the other end before being picked up. Calvin wasted no time. “David, we have a problem.”

“It’s my fault.” David crossed the suite and sat heavily on the love seat that was positioned perpendicular to the couch where, until the phone awakened her, Kristen had slept.

“There’s no way that’s possible.” Kristen rubbed her eyes. “You told me that he called you.”

“But if I hadn’t turned the ringer down, he wouldn’t have left a message. I would have answered and could have stopped him.”

“David, it’s not your fault. It’s a tragedy of the worst kind, but you did not kill him. A maniac did.”

“But if I had been more careful, more alert, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You don’t know that. From what you told me, you did everything possible. You called Calvin. He’s the expert. You even tried to get through to the campus police. It’s not your fault that the switchboard was closed or that they don’t answer their phones or whatever happened.”

“I should have called the police.”

“And said what? ‘Hi, I’m Dr. David O’Neal, the man under investigation by the Justice Department, and I believe
that a college student who is helping me prove my innocence may be in danger by the guys who are framing me.’ I don’t think that they would have believed that, David.”

David buried his face in his hands. He was awash with guilt, deluged by sadness. He felt that he would soon drown from grief. The face of Greg hovered in his mind, the excitement in his voice as he shared his discovery with David echoed in his soul. An ache, deep, penetrating, and consuming, filled him, clung to him, dragged him down below the swirling waves of regret.

“David?”

Another innocent had suffered and died. Just like those in Bangladesh and India and Cuba. David didn’t even know if Greg had family. Were there parents somewhere weeping over the brutal death of child? Were there brothers and sisters who would no longer hug one of their own?

“David?”

It was too much to think about, too much to experience. The people who did this had to be stopped and stopped soon. They wanted David. Why didn’t they just come and get him?

That had been one of the concerns Calvin had voiced over the phone. “Take no chances,” he had said. “Don’t leave the building. Keep Kristen and Timmy nearby.” David had no trouble hearing the fear in Calvin’s voice. Bad had just gone to worse.

“David? Can you hear me?”

David looked up. Kristen’s eyes were wide with concern. “I hear you.” He rose from the love seat and walked back to the window wall. “They’re out there, Kristen. Somewhere out there watching us. Hating us. Hating me. And whoever gets close to me is in danger.”

“We’ll make it, David. We’ll survive. We’ll come through all this.”

“Greg didn’t. All he did was try to help, and now he’s dead.” David shook his head. “I can’t let it go on any longer. They must be stopped.”

“You’re not thinking of surrendering to their demands.” Kristen was on her feet and, a few strides later, by his side. “You’re not going to confess to something you didn’t do.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Kristen. I need to think.”

David felt Kristen’s hand on his arm. He turned to face her. He gazed into her eyes, eyes that radiated love and determination. She wrapped her arms around him. A second later, he returned the embrace.

The hug felt good to David, therapeutic. There was a strength that grew from the embrace. She rested her cheek on his chest.

Moments ticked by slowly. David wished that the rest of the world would dissolve, leaving just the two of them, new Adam and new Eve in a new world.

“David, I want you to listen to me.” Her words were soft, heavy with concern, and enlivened by honesty. “When I first met you—when you first came to Barringston Relief—I was attracted to you. I found your humor and intelligence alluring. But a big part of you was missing. At first I thought it was remorse over the loss of your wife, but then I realized that it was more.”

“More?”

“It was your faith. It wasn’t gone, David, but it had been put on hold, tucked away in some dark spot of your life. Then we went to Ethiopia with A.J. It all changed there. That faith
was back. In the face of the worst that life could show you, you reacquainted yourself with God. Your Christianity began to bloom.”

“I remember that day clearly.” David held Kristen a little tighter. “It was one of the most important days of my life.”

“I’ve been a Christian for most of my life, but like many people, my faith had been little more than something I did instead of something I was. When your faith bloomed again, so did mine. Your life reminded me of the difference belief can make. It has changed Timmy’s life too.

“But?” David prompted.

“I think you’re trying to do it all on your own again. I think you’re cutting out the one who can help you most. God is still a part of all this.”

David drank in her words. He had made no conscious decision to exclude his Savior from the events of the week. Indeed, he had found solace in the reading of the Beatitudes just a day ago. Still, his arrest, the tsunami, the hurricane, the threats against him, Kristen, and Timmy, and now the death of Greg occupied every corner of his mind, pushing out all that had been there before. His mind was full of questions and fears and concerns and problems and doubts, leaving no room for hope and peace and faith. Kristen had hit the nail on the head.

“I’m not trying to be preachy,” Kristen said, her head still resting on David’s chest.

“You should. You’re good at it.” David’s voice was kind and tinged with humor. He felt her tighten her hug. “It’s easy to get sidetracked and let the spiritual get pushed to the back. I’m prone to do that. You would think that a former preacher
wouldn’t be, but I am. It’s a struggle for me to keep my faith in front where it belongs.”

“I don’t know why all this is happening, David, but I do know that we will come through it fine. I’m sorry about Greg. I feel bad. There’s no way to explain what happened to him. I don’t know why he had to die.”

A sigh weighted with deep emotions escaped from David. “I don’t know either. The other day, Timmy asked me why innocent people suffer. I didn’t have an answer. Now I’m one of those who suffer, and as yet I still don’t have an answer.”

“Maybe there’s not one.”

David pulled back from Kristen and stared into her intelligent, moist eyes. “What do you mean?”