On the other side of town, Robbie Fitz Hume squared up to the basket. Remembering what his father had taught him about the perfect follow through, he let the ball roll easily off his fingertips as it flew upward and away. The game clock rolled to triple zero in mid-arc, but there was no doubt in his mind that the ball would tickle the bottom of the net.

  All at once, the entire auditorium erupted into a concussive wave of excited howls and screams as proud parents and players washed onto the court. Each reaching out for someone, anyone to share their jubilation and congratulations with. At the eye of this youth basketball storm, Robbie found dozens of outstretched hands ready to hoist him onto his coach’s shoulders as the preteen conquering hero.

  “He did it, baby! He did it!” Angela Fitz Hume threw her hands up into the air and cheered wildly. Close to tears, she asked her spaced out husband. “Can you believe it?”

  He didn’t. He couldn’t. Edgar Fitz Hume had missed the whole thing.

  “What,” he stammered, desperately trying to put his phone away before his wife could see it. “What happened?”

  Angela, who would typically lay into her husband for putting his work ahead of their son, simply smiled and kissed her husband on the cheek. Robbie’s moment had swept her up in a moment of prideful joy. In that instant, she discovered a way to forgive him. Or at least, let him off the hook.

  “Your son’s team,” she pointed out the sea of people crowding around the midcourt line, “Has just won the championship! Robbie clinched it with a three-point buzzer beater! If you would slow down and put that phone away… maybe our lives could keep up with yours.”

  Well, maybe not totally off the hook.

  Edgar searched for a good enough excuse to satisfy his wife, but Angela didn’t wait to hear his usual reasons. Instead, she bounded to the bottom of the stands in three long strides. Once on the ground, she disappeared into the wash of people to find her son and congratulate him.

  All Edgar could do was sit there in stunned disbelief.

  From his seat, he could see the winner’s excited faces. Even the losing side stayed gracious enough in defeat to fake being happy. There were exclamations of “What a close game!” and “You guys did your best!” For a moment, Edgar considered putting on a fake smile but found that he didn’t have it in him to lie.

  The past twenty-four hours had taken too much out of him to care about a basketball game. Foster Evers had taken too much out of him.

  Ever since the call from Sugar Grove, the wheels he had set in motion had been swift and unstoppable. Eight years ago, Edgar had put similar wheels into action when he concluded that Foster’s knowledge of code breaking was too sensitive to be let out into the civilian world. Committing Foster to Wilson wasn’t the easiest choice he ever made, but it was the clearest.

  Eight years later, Edgar knew he would do it again under the same circumstances even if his ravings proved to be correct.

  Lost in thought, Edgar gradually made his way down to the hardwood. By the time his feet touched the floor, the only people left in the gym were the winners and their proud families. He checked his watch.

  12:30 pm.

  Damn. Leaving right now would only ensure he’d be an hour late for his meeting at Bleaker, not two. But why hurry, he thought. Foster had waited eight years for this day.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Would another hour or two matter?

  “Angela,” he bellowed over the crowd as he drew closer to his wife and son. “Baby, I’ve got to head back to the office. Some work still needs my attention.” Robbie high fived his father’s outstretched hand. “I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you, son. You did great.”

  “Thanks, dad.” Robbie’s attention shifted away, like all kids, to his friends migrating over near the concession area. Promised ice cream by their coach if they won, he wasn’t about to miss an opportunity at soft serve.

  In fact, he was already inching further and further away from his parents when Edgar decided to give him the go ahead. “Go on then.”

  Robby smiled broadly as the two of them watched him run off with his friends. He’s so happy, Edgar thought. Happy, he kept saying that word, but why?

  Angela took her husband’s hand in hers. “Are you thinking about him?”

  “Thinking about who?”

  “Foster,” she answered.

  The anger that had flared up earlier with Mosley once again reared its ugly head. This reaction was partly out of guilt, but mostly because he loved her. A long time ago, Edgar had decided to keep her blissfully ignorant about certain aspects of his profession. Especially the dark and unsettling ones that might color the view she held of her “wonderful husband.”

  But being a good wife and a better friend meant that Angela could easily sense when her husband was upset.

  “I always thought Foster was a little weird, you know?” She laughed. “Do you remember the time he came by the house for that barbecue? Foster spent the whole afternoon rewiring Robbie’s Tickle Me Elmo doll so that the damn thing was voice activated. He kept going on about how awesome it would be if it laughed at everything Robbie said. I mean… the kid was two and a half years old. What did that matter to him?”

  “Yeah,” Edgar remembered it clearly. “Robbie really loved that doll.” Even then, Foster’s single-mindedness should have been a warning sign that he wouldn’t stop. He would never stop. No matter what it cost him. “Foster was always working on something.”

  “Honey,” Angela edged closer to her husband so no one else could hear their conversation. In return, he reached out and put his hands around her lower back until they were almost one. “Sometimes people go crazy, Ed. They just do. Foster was burning too brightly to stay lit forever.”

  Even though he had never told her the reason, she still knew Foster’s imprisonment weighed heavily on his soul. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened to him. I don’t.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”

  Edgar leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth, lingering for a moment before pulling back. My god, he thought to himself, her lips always felt like heaven. “I love you too, Angela. No matter what happens, I will always love you.”

  The problem was, he was trying to look at the matter through the prism of what was, not what is. Foster’s mental state was the reason he had to be committed. Right or wrong, that’s all he could judge himself by. No, he told himself over and over. Guilt will not affect the way I deal with Foster Evers.

  “Just be careful.” Angela kissed him again. “I know that the world is dangerous, but I feel safer with you out there protecting us.” She hugged him one more time before playfully pushing him away. “You did the right thing, Edgar. I believe that with all my heart.”

  For a second, Edgar just stared. Her eyes were of the deepest brown, and every time they looked upon him, he felt like the luckiest person in the world.

  Secretly, he hoped she was right. Eight years ago, he had made a tough decision that resulted in nothing but stress and regret. But aliens? Foster had better have learned to whistle a new tune.

  With one last wave, Edgar turned around and made his way through the complex’s main entrance toward the snow-covered parking lot. Once outside, he stepped onto the freshly shoveled sidewalk and began briskly walking to where he had parked his new Jaguar. “Game face,” he said, bolstering himself against the wind. “When you see him, just show him your game face.”

  Around the corner, his parking space was mysteriously empty. “Was it this row?” he asked himself. Yes, that Brown Dodge Caravan was still parked crookedly in the space next to him.

  Confused, Edgar walked up to the two adjacent rows, pressing the lock button on his key in the blind hope that he had just misplaced it. But after five minutes of fruitless searching, he came to the sad conclusion that something was once again wrong.

  He retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket and pressed the contact button for Office. When the line picked up, he said, more calmly than he should have. “Peggy… someone stole my car again.”