7:13 p.m.
Special Agent Cruz peered through the peephole in the front door, watching the truck back away. When it was out of sight, she turned around and leaned against the door. She closed her eyes and let her head fall backward against the wood panel. She tried to reconcile her feelings for Hardy and her duties as a government agent. It had been a long time since she had felt this way for any man. If he continued on his current path, he would be a fugitive from justice, if he weren’t killed first. She entertained the idea of going after him and trying to talk him out of it one more time. Her mind on Hardy, she sighed when the house phone rang. She did not want to talk to anyone right now. Pushing her body away from the door, she shuffled into the kitchen. The phone rang again. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Cruz, its Jameson. Why haven’t you been answering your cell? I’ve been calling you for hours. Is everything all right?”
She checked her pockets for her mobile, but came up empty. She must have lost it somewhere at Ludlum’s house. She relayed the events to Jameson, and he told her about his meeting with the President.