Jessie and Lisa were sleeping soundly in a room with twin beds, the other bed occupied by the nine-year-old girl who lived there. Spencer eased down to sit by Jessie, brushing the blonde curls from the little girl's face. She'd held up pretty well considering the excitement of the night and the separation from her mother. From what Ruth had said, the poor child was used to being with adults who treated her like she was a bother, so at least that wasn't the case here. They'd all been welcomed by these friends of Jerry's cousin.

Leaning down, she gently kissed the child's forehead. "Be safe, Jessie. Your mom loves you very much." Careful not to wake the girl, she stood and tiptoed out of the room to say her goodbyes to Viv.

"I think you should plan to wait at least three days before you call. And use Jerry's phone like I did. You can't let them know where you're staying." Spencer was outlining what Viv should do if she didn't return right away.

"Do you think I can go to a bank? I'm going to need some cash."

Spencer nodded. "Just be careful. If it hangs up, take off."

"Good luck to you." Viv pulled her into a motherly hug.

"And to you. Jessie couldn't be in better hands."

With that farewell, the programmer got into the truck and closed the door.

"So what's this about a pizza place?" Jerry asked.

Spencer gave him directions to the all-night grocery, anxious to have this part end. Once she was out of danger, she could at least get Ruth out of the hands of the agents who were tracking her. She'd be of no use to them any more. She had to hope that there was some way Elena could help her avoid what awaited her in Maine. Maybe if she were a witness in this case, that would get her special consideration.

"Is this alright?" Jerry had pulled into the store's parking lot. Only a handful of cars were parked out front at this hour.

"Yeah," she sighed, directing him to a dark corner of the lot. "Thanks for everything, Jerry."

"Glad I could help."

"You should get out of here. Okay?"

The man gave her a friendly salute, which she returned as he drove away. Her eyes nervously scanning the lot for the black sedan, Spencer walked toward the store. When the automatic door opened, she turned immediately to the produce aisle on the far right, anxious about finding a rear exit.

In the tilted mirrors that lined the back wall, she watched as two uniformed officers strode through the front door, one following her route, the other heading directly to the back of the store. Gradually, she inched toward the corner, where a swinging door led to the storage area and loading dock.

Studying her options, she watched as they drew closer. Both of them were in her line of sight, a barrel-chested African-American approaching from the produce aisle, a wiry Hispanic man from along the meat display in the back. The closer they came, the more her heart pounded in her chest.

"Spencer Rollins?" the Hispanic officer asked.

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded, her eyes wide with apprehension.

"I'm placing you under arrest for the murders of Henry Estes and James Thayer. You have the right to remain silent...."

His instructions droned on as he cuffed her hands in front of her and gave her a cursory pat-down. The store's few shoppers had congregated in the neighboring aisles to watch the arrest, seemingly dismayed at the ease with which the suspect was taken.

Spencer was escorted back through the store, out the front door, and into the back seat of a waiting cruiser. The African-American officer took the wheel and the Hispanic officer sat up front beside him, a metal screen separating them from their suspect.

The car pulled out of the lot and turned, parking almost immediately on a dark street. The din of the police radio was the only sound, and Spencer suddenly worried that she'd just made a big mistake. Shouldn't these two be taking her somewhere?

The Hispanic officer turned around and opened a sliding window. "Hold your hands up here; I'll unlock the cuffs."

Still fearful, Spencer raised her hands and watched as he removed the metal links.

"There's a vest under the seat. You should put it on."

"Why?"

"Agent Diaz's orders."

Spencer visibly relaxed at hearing her friend's name, slumping back against the seat. Elena had arranged the whole scenario. "What's next?"

"When you get that on, I'm going to call in that we have a suspect en route and she'll meet us at the station."

"This is kind of tight," she said, struggling to get the body armor pulled down over her sweatshirt."

"You should probably take off your shirt and wear it underneath. That's what we do," he explained. "Having it on the outside is kind of like wearing as sign that says 'shoot me in the head.'"

Spencer could have gone all night without hearing that. "Are you expecting any trouble?"

"No, this is just a precaution. What Agent Diaz wants, she gets." He and his partner faced forward while she pulled her shirt off and slipped into the vest.

"Yeah, she's kind of forceful, alright."

"We're glad to do it. Last year, she put a commendation in our file for some work we did for her. Most people don't take the time to do something like that, but it really meant a lot to both of us."

That sounded like Elena, Spencer thought, always looking to shore up the right allies. When she needed a cop, she wanted a good one.

"You all set?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I need for you to put the cuffs back on, but you don't have to make them too tight."

Spencer did as she was told, feeling more confident when they pulled away from the curb.

"This is unit 416. We have a suspect in custody and are en route to the precinct."

"Unit 416, can you clarify what suspect?"

"Female shoplifter; not identified."

"Roger out."

Calvin Akers sat in the black sedan, its front and rear fender smashed and one headlight out. The condition of his car was the very least of his worries.

Caffeine would be his constant companion for the next twenty-four hours. He needed to stay awake and monitor the situation with Rollins. It was doubtful that a pizza place would be open all-night, but he couldn't take the chance. He'd already called all the shops in Alexandria, figuring that one near the agent's home was the best bet. Two of them were open until one a.m. That was fifteen minutes from now and he had the directions in his head.

With the portable unit in the console, Akers was privy to all of Diaz's telephone conversations, plus the bug Pollard had placed on her end table when they came the first time to question her about Rollins. He had almost nodded off when the phone rang loudly inside the house. Sitting up straight and shaking his head, he adjusted the volume to hear the exchange. But after four rings, the call went to voicemail.

"What the fuck?" The bitch wasn't even home.

Yanking out the earpiece, Akers started the car and dialed the dispatcher at the field office. "This is Special Agent Akers. I need all available units in Alexandria for Operation Top Dog. Suspect is presumed to be in the area."

"We have three units in the Alexandria vicinity."

"Send more," he said gruffly.

Field Office Director Jeffrey Wilkinson pulled into the underground garage, irritated beyond measure at the actions of the IRS, especially in light of his promise to take their concerns under consideration. Even if he had decided to do what they wanted, it wasn't going to happen now. They were not to be trusted.

Wilkinson had made the special trip back in tonight so he could have a look at the duty logs. He'd given the go-ahead for Akers to commandeer all available agents as needed calling it Operation Top Dog had been his idea but now, the director wanted to spearhead this operation himself. He would get great satisfaction out of taking custody of Rollins away from the IRS under a federal warrant.

As he approached his office on the fifth floor, Wilkinson was surprised to see Agent Mike Pollard turn the corner at the far end of the hall. Pollard was Akers' partner. Shouldn't he be out in the field?

His curiosity getting the better of him, Wilkinson walked on, stopping at the last office on the right. "Was that Agent Pollard that was just here?"

Agent Jill Burke practically leapt from her chair, startled at the sight of her boss. He almost never came to the offices during her shift. In fact, she'd only met him once in two years. "Uh, yes sir. He said he was...," what had he said? "Oh, he was picking up a prisoner and taking her to a scene."

Odd. "Did he say which prisoner?"

"No, sir."

Wilkinson continued down the hallway, pushing the side door to enter the stairwell. The prisoners were housed one flight up on the top floor. As he reached the landing, he was met by Pollard, who was escorting a petite blonde woman wearing handcuffs. What the hell was going on?

"Agent Pollard?"

The young man froze as he came face to face with his boss. "Yes, sir?"

"I was hoping to have a word with you, but I can see that you're busy."

"Yes, sir, this woman is being held on a kidnapping warrant. I'm escorting her to a trailer in Manassas where she's been living so that she can recover her personal items."

"At one o'clock in the morning?"

"Yes, sir. She's being returned to Maine first thing tomorrow."

Wilkinson nodded vaguely. "Agent Pollard, would you mind bringing your prisoner in here for a moment so I can get your input on a case?"

Pollard hesitated briefly, but with no way to avoid his boss's request, he complied. Wilkinson held the door while the agent pushed the woman through.

"Just go into that office right there and wait for me." He nodded toward an open door, then turned to poke his head into Jill Burke's office again. "Agent Burke? Can you step across the hall with me for a moment?"

The woman hurriedly stood and rounded the desk, astounded that the man even knew her name. Oh, it was on the nameplate on her desk.

"And bring your gun."

Burke's eyes grew wide as she processed the request. Her gun?

Wilkinson and Burke entered the office across the hall, the director immediately moving to position himself between Pollard and the prisoner. Removing his own gun from its shoulder holster, he took control of the situation.

"Agent Pollard, will you very carefully place your gun and your badge on the desk and step toward the window?"

Oh, fuck.

"Agent Burke, would you collect this agent's gun?"

She did.

"Now, Agent Burke, I'd like for you to escort this prisoner back to her cell. When you reach the sixth floor, would you ask two of the guards to come at once to Room 523?"

"Yes, sir."

Mike Pollard stared into the barrel of the director's gun. He was toast.

"Calling all units." That was the FBI frequency. "Operation Top Dog is suspended effective immediately. All agents are to stand down and return to regular assignment."

Like hell! If Top Dog was over, that could only mean that Wilkinson had pulled the plug. But Akers wasn't backing out now.

The stubborn agent had just intercepted the kind of transmission he'd been waiting for. Unit 416 of the Alexandria Police Department had picked up an unidentified female shoplifter and was en route to the station. A shoplifter at one a.m.? It had to be about Spencer Rollins.

Akers pulled past three cruisers at the curb at the Mill Road station, blocking a dumpster at the end of the row. Within seconds, a fourth black and white arrived and two uniformed officers escorted a tall woman with long dark hair into the jail.

Yes, indeed! That was Spencer Rollins.

His cell phone chirped, announcing a call from Jeffrey Wilkinson. He had ignored the earlier order to stand down; this call likely meant that his boss was taking Diaz's word against his. If he could just take care of Rollins, there would be no evidence against him, no matter what they thought they knew. He let it ring, tossing it onto the passenger seat as he climbed out of the car.

Through the front window of the building, Akers could see Rollins being escorted out of the receiving area, presumably to a holding cell. He entered and approached the officer at the desk, flashing his badge as he introduced himself.

"I'm Special Agent Calvin Akers of the FBI. There's a federal warrant for the person your officers just delivered, a Spencer Rollins. I'm here to take custody of the prisoner."

"I'm sorry, Agent...."

"Akers."

"Agent Akers. The suspect who was just delivered was not identified as Spencer Rollins."

"Look Officer...Ellis. I don't know who that woman said she was, but I assure you, she's Spencer Rollins and she's wanted for two murders in Maryland. She also has knowledge of the whereabouts of a four-year-old girl who is missing tonight and is probably alone and in grave danger. Now you can sit on your hands and fret about who she claimed to be, or you can let me question her at once. If you choose right, we might just save that little girl's life tonight."

"You'll be safe here. Agent Diaz said she'd come as soon as she got the call."

"Thank you. Thank you both." Spencer rubbed her freed wrists and watched her saviors disappear down the hall to the office area where they would file their report.

For the first time in ten days, Spencer allowed herself to think that this ordeal might be over. As soon as she was free, she would take on Ruth's fight, wherever it was. She'd spend her last dime making sure they hired the best lawyer in Maine to get the kidnapping charges dropped and the custody issue settled once and for all.

And maybe when they got things taken care of in Maine, Ruth would want to come back down to Virginia and really start over, free and clear. Spencer had tried not to think about it too much, but she really wanted Ruth in her life and in her arms.

God, was that just last night that they'd made love?

Spencer looked up to see the officer from the front desk unlocking her cell. Elena must have arrived, she thought with relief.

"Step this way, ma'am." He held the door open as she stepped into the narrow hallway and waited for him to swipe a card that would open the exterior door. "First door on your left."

Spencer did as she was told, confused at seeing a table and four empty chairs. The door closed behind her and she whirled, finally spotting the figure in the corner of the room.