Leonard and Ernie Bridgestone were still holed up in the same cabin they’d broken into after the raid on their compound. While charting their next moves, they’d been watching the near-constant news coverage of their handiwork, compliments of the cabin owner’s satellite dish. They agreed their best course of action was no action. They needed to let things cool down before heading up north to Canada, but when they did leave the U.S., it would be for good. Getting to the location of their hidden money cache in northern Montana had been the topic of many conversations. The longer they stayed put, the better chance they’d have of quietly slipping through the net. Leonard found it ironic he was the antsy one, while Ernie seemed quite content watching the television coverage.

Ernie sat forward in his chair. “This oughtta be good.”

“We aren’t out of the woods yet, Ern.”

“Shit, these feebs couldn’t find their own ass with a mirror on a stick.” Ernie cranked the volume and sat back.

ASAC Breckensen’s face filled the screen. “Thank you, Governor Schwarzenegger. I’d also like to thank the press for attending on such short notice. As you know, on October seventeenth, our Sacramento field office was bombed with catastrophic results. The blast killed twenty-four people and wounded fifty-five others, many with career-ending injuries. Our thoughts and prayers go out to all of our employees and their families.”

“Breaks my fuckin’ heart,” Ernie said.

Leonard increased the volume.

Breckensen continued, outlining the chain of events leading up to the bombing. “One of the reasons we called this conference was to make a plea to the general public to come forward with any information, no matter how insignificant it may seem. As an example, I’d like to introduce Ms. Amber Mills Sheldon.” He gestured off-camera to his right.

Ernie jumped up from the sofa. “What the fuck?” Then he yelled at Leonard. “What the fuck is this?”

His mind already working, Leonard squinted and said nothing.

The camera followed Amber Sheldon as she stepped up to the podium. The makeup artists had earned their pay, Leonard thought. She actually looked good. She placed a piece of paper on the podium and thanked Governor Schwarzenegger and ASAC Breckensen. She looked visibly nervous. Reading from a prepared statement, she began.

“My name is Amber Sheldon. I was married to Ernie Bridgestone in Pensacola, Florida, where he worked as a drill instructor training naval-aviator candidates at the NAS. I am both shocked and horrified at the bombing of the FBI’s field office. I would not have thought him capable of such an act.”