MONDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2017

"Allison?" Bruce Grant paged his administrative assistant. He didn't feel like going out to lunch today and he wanted Allison to run out and pick something up for the two of them.

"Allison?" It was odd, she usually let him know when she was stepping away from her desk. Bruce got up to check on his long-time assistant. Opening his office door to peek out when a Glock 22 was shoved in his face.

"Mr. Grant, I highly recommend you move very slowly. Step out of your office and place your hands on the back of your head."

Bruce proceeded as ordered. He wasn't sure what this was about. If it was about his extracurricular activities, as he tried to justify them, he thought for sure he'd have been tipped off. The syndicate's network communicated fast and extracted key individuals for their protection, so his mind shifted to some of the cases he'd worked on and was working on.

"What's this about?" ask Bruce, as innocently as he could muster.

"You're being taken into custody for questioning in a Federal sex trafficking case," said the agent.

"I'm sorry, you must be..." started Bruce. The agent held up a FAX of the image left around East Harbor Middle School.

"The boy in this photo was kidnapped this morning. It is my understanding that he is your son," said the agent.

"Oh god, NO!" Bruce's cool façade shattered. "You've got to find him now! They'll have him out of the country by morning."

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George Fuerst received a call from the school about the emergency and requesting him to verify his son's whereabouts. While keeping the school on the line, he pulled out his cellphone and called Lewis' phone. After it rolled to voicemail twice, he used his phone tacker to use GPS to find Lewis' phone.

"He was home sick and the GPS says his phone is still at home, but no one is answering."

He heard the school official call Detective Parker. "Sir, we have a potential missing child at 1895 Mesa Drive. No one answers the child's cellphone but GPS says the phone is at the house."

"Mr. Fuerst, we'll call you as soon as the squad car arrives at your home."

George couldn't concentrate on his work and paced his office. The cellphone rang minutes later.

"Mr. Fuerst, when we arrived at your home, your front door was open and there is no sign of you son. We found his phone on his nightstand, still charging."

An icy chill ran through George's body. The same chill he felt when they told him his wife's plane went down. It felt like his world was crumbling to the ground.

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When Vlad pulled out of the school yard and turned to his two accomplices, "That was too easy."

"Just drive," said the man that had put Michael in the van. He climbed between the seats and planted himself in the van's passenger seat.

A third man sat on a milk crate towards the rear of the van clutching a pistol and watching the boys closely. "I'm not going to be able to rest until we get the merchandise on the plane."

Michael, who sat as close to Lewis as possible, was motionless. He studied the behaviors of his kidnappers and the interior of the van. 'I may have been a compliant little kid when they had me before,' thought Michael. 'But they should know better than to fuck with me now.'

While Michael sat their emotionless, Lewis was still crying. The older boy was in a torn t-shirt and boxers. It was clear from the bruise on his cheek and the scrapes and scratches on his arms and legs he'd put up a fight but lost.

Laying in bed that morning, Lewis contemplated how events he'd set in motion months before were coming back to bite him in the ass. He wanted to move away from the old, hateful Lewis but he'd become trapped. He wiped tears from his face and heard the doorbell ring. Throwing on a t-shirt, he went down and looked through the window to see who it was.

"Oh fuck," he said. "The FBI? How did they find out so fast? Maybe they just want to question me."

He knew the agents saw him through the window, so it was no use hiding now. Maybe if he talked to them his father wouldn't have to find out.

Lewis unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hello?" said Lewis.

"Lewis Fuerst, you need to come with us," ordered the Agent.

"Let me get some clothes on," said Lewis as he turned to go back up to his room and get his phone, pants and shoes.

"We don't have time for that," said the agent. Lewis turned back to see a gun pointed at him. The boy tried to slam the door and run, but the man had his foot in front of the door and grabbed Lewis' arm.

"NO!" cried Lewis, shocked by the turn of events. He tried to pull his arm way, but the other agent stepped in and grabbed him around the waist.

The two men struggled to hurry back to the van and get the first boy in. Tires squealed and the door shut as one assailant handcuffed Lewis' right wrist to a metal rail attached to the driver's side of the van.

Lewis might not be the smartest boy in the class -- that was clearly Michael -- but he was smart enough to understand that Sarah, or whatever her name was, and the men who did things to Michael on the video were behind all of this. He also realized that his father wouldn't be home to find out he was gone until almost dinner time. 'I am so fucked,' thought Lewis. He started crying again.

Now Michael was in the same situation, but instead of being scared, Michael just looked... well... he looked pissed. Lewis turned to the smaller boy who was planted right up against his right side.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "They made me do it."

Michael didn't react, he continued to stare at the man with the gun and contemplated his next move. Because he didn't fight, they hadn't bothered to handcuff him to the rail and he wasn't about to give them a reason too. 'And they thought I gave it to Mr. Davies. They're going to regret fucking with me a second time.' Michael clenched his jaw and scanned the back of the van for anything he could use, just in case.

He recalled everything Brian had told him. As much as Lars was against it, Brian sat Michael down and told him what to do if he were abducted.

Brian warned him that if the men got him out of East Harbor, it would be difficult, if not impossible to find him. If they ever stop, Brian told him to get out of the vehicle and run.

Well, that plan was out the window. Lewis couldn't run and Mihcael wasn't going to leave the other boy behind.

The other thing he remembered from Brian was to fight -- fight because your life depends on it. Michael looked out the front window of the van and tried to determine where they were. He determined they were already out of East Harbor and appeared to be heading east and already into the Palomar Mountains. Sparsely populated, it would be hard for anyone to find them. Michael knew time was running out he needed to act quickly.

He formulated a plan and hoped that his soccer, lacrosse, and gymnastics skills were as honed as he hoped. Shifting his sitting position, he turned so the man in the back couldn't see his face.

He whispered to Lewis. "Don't look at me or act like you are listening to me."

Lewis just closed his eyes and tilted his head down so he wouldn't screw this up.

"I'm going to ask you to get up so I can fix the blanket we are sitting on. I'm going to pick the blanket up and I want you to sit back and hold on."

Without waiting, Michael said loudly, "Get up and let me fix the blanket."

Lewis stood as ordered and Michael pulled the blanket away and tossed it aside. "Ooops."

He retrieved the blanket without raising suspicion. Returning to Lewis, he said, "Grab that end and help me." Michael nodded to where he wanted Lewis to grab and the boy did. When the blanket stretched out, it revealed the crowbar that was once located where the blanket had fallen. Michael had the end of the crowbar in his left hand and the blanket in his right. He dropped the blanket, clutched the crowbar with both hands and swung it like a lacrosse stick taking a side arm a shot on goal.

The man didn't see the crowbar until it was half way around. He raised his gun and got off two shots. The first missed Michael, but as the crowbar made contact with the man's head, the man's arm jerked to the left enough that the second shot hit Michael in the shoulder. The pain of the bullet caused Michael to let go of the crowbar. The van swerved throwing Michael against the side of the van. His limp body dropped into Lewis' lap.

"NO! Michael!" screamed Lewis.

Besides getting shot, there was another unintended consequence Michael set into action. The first bullet struck the driver in the back of the head.

"Vlad!" shouted the passenger. The man lunged to grab the steering wheel, but it was too late. The van swerved to the right. Over the shoulder of the gravel road, the van bounced down the side of the mountain and hit a boulder head on.

It took Lewis a few moments to realize the van had stopped and he wasn't dead. He did a quick assessment of his situation. Upon impact, everything in the van was thrown violently forward. Everything in the back slammed into the rear of the driver and passenger seats. The handcuffs slide down the rail and allowed Lewis' body to be thrown forward. He slid backwards into the driver's seat, his body cushioning Michael from the impact. It protected Michael, but hurt his ribs badly, but not so bad he couldn't move. The handcuffs had cut into his wrist and he was bleeding. He pulled his arm so he could check the cut on his wrist and noticed the rail was loose. Sliding the handcuff to then end of the railing, Lewis found the rail detached from the van wall. He slipped the handcuff off the rail and tried to work the feeling back into his arm and shoulder.

The van rested on a slope of the mountain side. It took a bit of effort for Lewis to move Michael off his lap. When he lifted Michael he saw the blood. The gunshot wound and a head injury were bleeding and Lewis was covered in Michael's blood. Lewis removed his t-shirt and tied it around Michael's shoulder as tightly as he could. He didn't know if it was the right way to do it, but he knew he had to try to apply pressure to the wound.

Before making his next move, Lewis accounted for the three kidnappers. To his left was the man Michael clubbed with the crowbar. He could see where Michael landed the strike on the man's left temple crushing the man's left orbital socket. If the hit didn't kill the man, then the funny way his neck was twisted meant the accident did.

Lewis got to his feet and looked into the front to check on the other two men. The teen almost vomited when he saw the driver's brains splattered on the driver's door window and windshield. The other man, the man that was the passenger in the van, was sprawled across the gap between the two seats. His head slammed into the dashboard upon impact. Lewis couldn't tell if he was dead or unconscious. Lewis was concerned. If the man was meerly unconscious, how much time did he have before the man woke up? If he was going to make an escape, he needed to do it quick to get a head start.

Trying the side door, Lewis couldn't get it to open far enough to latch and stay open. Even though he could get out before it shut, he wouldn't be able to get Michael out. He managed to make his way to the rear doors and popped them open. It wasn't easy, but he managed to grab Michael by the back of his shirt collar and dragged the smaller boy the back of the van and pulled him out. Lewis smiled, they were free from their captors, but from what he could tell, they were almost 100 feet from the road above them. It was too steep to carry Michael, so Lewis crawled on his hands and knees, dragged the lifeless boy up the side of the hill with him.

Reaching the edge of the road, Lewis sighed in relief and calculated his next move. He determined which direction the van had come and assumed that it was the direction he needed to go to get home.

"If I go that way, I'll either run into another car or find a house or town," he told Michael, as if the boy was listening. Then Lewis froze. What if the car they ran into carried associates of the three in the van? If they ran into the wrong people, they will be in worse shape than before. However, if they hid from every car, how long it will be before they were found. He didn't know the severity Michael's injuries. He needed to get the boy to safety. He had to try to get help and avoid being caught.

He picked the smaller boy up and carefully followed the grassy shoulder of the road. In only boxers, his tender feet felt every stone he stepped on and the sun beat down on his exposed, fair skin.

"You know Michael, December is a fucking good time to get a sunburn, ain't it?" Talking to the boy helped keep him company but only slightly distracted him from his discomfort.

Taking frequent rests, Lewis traveled down the road back towards town for more than two hours. It was slow and Michael was heavy. He began to think he couldn't go another step. He was too hot, too thirsty, too sunburned, and his feet were too sore. Looking up at the sun, he noticed a ranger tower on top of the hill. He knew that the station would be manned as they watched for fires during the dry season.

"Help!!" screamed Lewis, fighting through the pain in his chest. "Help!!"

It was no use, they were too far away. Then he thought, maybe I can signal them. He looked for something reflective. The only thing around them was grass and rocks -- not even any litter. He checked Michael, reaching into the boy's pocket, he found Michael's iPhone.

"I am so fucking stupid!!"

He went to make a call but it couldn't recognize the Face Id and he didn't know Michael's passcode.

"FUCK!!" screamed Lewis.

Then he noticed the word "Emergency" at the bottom of the screen. He tapped it and got a keypad to dial. He first tried to call his dad but he wouldn't let him make the call. After multiple attempts, he finally gave up and called 911.

"Thank you for calling 911, is this an emergency?"

"Yes, we were kidnapped but we got away. We need help."

The dispatcher signaled to her supervisor to pick up the line. When he picked up, she continued.

"Son, can you tell me your name?"

"I'm Lewis Fuerst. I've got Michael Grant with me, but he's been shot. Please help us!" Lewis was crying in relief and desperation.

The manager nodded to the dispatcher and started a trace on the call.

"Lewis, are you in a safe place?"

"No. I don't know. I think one of the men was still alive so he may come after us. We're along a dirt road so if one of their friends comes this way, they'll find us."

"Can you tell us where you're at?"

"No. We're in some mountains. I see a ranger station up the hill from here."

"Okay Lewis, stay on the line with us, we're trying to track your location so we can send help."

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Brian Parker's phone rang. Checking the screen, he saw it was the dispatcher.

"This is Parker," he answered, gruffer than intended. The dispatcher didn't need to be on the receiving end of his shitty day.

"Sir, we just got word from park rangers in Cleveland National Forest. They have the boys and are bringing them back to East Harbor to the hospital."

"Oh, thank god," said Brian, his body shuddered as tears streaked his face. The relief was overwhelming. "Are they alright?"

"The Fuerst boy is beat up. He sustained a sunburn and had been walking barefoot, but his doing good. They are going to check him for additional injuries"

Brian waiting for word on Michael but there was silence.

"What about the other boy?"

"I'm sorry detective. The ranger reported the younger boy's been shot and is unconscious."

"Oh god," Brian felt a tremor run through his world. Will anyone, including his son, ever forgive him. "When will they be at the hospital?"

"An ETA of about 15 minutes."

"Thanks." Brian turned to Sandra Kowalczyk who'd made it up from the San Diego FBI office. "They've got the boys and are heading to the hospital. Can you take things from here?"

"Yes. Go be with your family," said Sandra. Brian went to wrangle everyone and get them to the hospital.

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It was five o'clock and Sandra sat in the Maple Street Café trying to decide between a salad with grilled chicken or a tuna melt. Both sounded equally uninspiring, but she'd missed lunch driving up to East Harbor and felt a bit faint. Just as the waitress approached for the third time to take her order, her phone rang. She answered and mouthed an apology to the waitress.

"Kowalczyk," she answered.

"We wanted to give you an update," came the familiar voice from the FBI's Portland office. Sandra spent a lot of time working remotely with Agent Kris Paulson since she learned Michael Grant was in her jurisdiction.

"Shoot."

"Grant sang like a bird. He gave us everything we needed to hit our targets here in Portland, Chicago, Toledo, Omaha, and Minneapolis. They were caught off guard and we managed to get more of their computers, phones, and other data devices before they could destroy evidence.

"That's good. Were we able to get Yanni Oikonomou?" asked Sandra.

Kris sighed, "That's unknown. We knew he was in Chicago at the time of the raid, but we aren't certain if he's one of those picked up. We managed to get about 30 adults and stopped a shipment of nearly a dozen boys headed to Southeast Asia."

Sandra was proud of the work she did. However, cases like this placed an additional burden upon her. The thought that if someone hadn't screwed up with the photo, this series of events would never have happened and those boys in Chicago would have been lost forever.

They ended their conversation and Sandra took a moment to go to her happy place. Took a deep breath and thought about the little girl throwing starfish back into the ocean. An adult questioned the little girl, pointing out there were more starfish on the beach than she could ever save. She responded by picking up another starfish and threw it back into the ocean. "I saved that one."

Feeling calm again, Sandra realized she didn't have an appetite and decided to head back to San Diego and grab something to eat along the way if her appetite returned.

Climbing in her government issued Explorer, she made one last phone call before hitting the road.

"Brian, how are things going?"

"Oh, hey Sandra," said Brian. He moved to a place down the hallway where he felt he had a bit more privacy. "Things have been better."

"How are the boys?"

"Well, Lewis is good, they are keeping him in the hospital overnight for observation. His feet will take a few days to heal back up. He's sunburned and has a couple cracked ribs. Rear Admiral Fuerst was not too happy when he arrived at the hospital. But Lewis told us about how a female who called herself Sarah used offers of sex to talk him into doing some 'things' on camera which she recorded and used to blackmail the boy. Lewis is the one that copied and distributed the images over the weekend. We've confiscated his computer which has the accounts and original files sent to him."

"That's good. What about the Grant boy, Michael?"

"The bullet went clean through, so his shoulder should heal up nicely. He banged his head pretty good but they said they didn't think he had a concussion. The doctor says that he's still unconcious because of the anesthesia from the surgery, not the head injury. They hope he will be waking up here in 30 minutes or so."

"That's good too. I wanted to let you know that with Bruce Grant's help, we were able to take down most of the ring, but it doesn't look like we got the ring leader, Yanni Oikonomou. If that is in fact the case, Michael is probably in more danger now than before. With his father ratting them all out, they will probably want to retaliate."

"Suggestions?" Brian was open to any help Sandra could provide. Failing to protect the boys again was not an option.

"Create public hospital records to show Michael and Lewis having been released and sent home. There are so few people that know of their condition, who will question that the boys are safe and at home. Move the boys into the same room, a room isolated and easy to secure."

"That can easily be arranged. We'll have the Fuerst boy's computer with your team tomorrow morning."

"Can you get it now, before I leave for San Diego? We need to move fast, before Yanni moves underground. I'll phone my team to be ready for it."

"You got it."

Brian hung up and called the hospital's chief administrator. The hospital had protocols in these cases and they put them into motion while Brian returned to check on the boys. First, he stopped by Lewis' room. He filled the Rear Admiral in on the plan and let him know not to tell anyone his son was still in the hospital -- he needed to play along with the ruse because they need to assume Lewis was still in danger. Seeing that the syndicate had a buyer for him, Brian suspected that Lewis still held value for them. They could also want revenge for losing the truck, their men, and their merchandise. The Rear Admiral let Lewis hear the entire conversation. George sat patiently by his son's bedside, holding the boy's hand in his. Lewis, no worse for wear, was smiling, not because of the news, but because he and his father had reconnected. It had been a long time since he felt this close to his father.

"I'm assigning my own MPs to help guard the room," announced the Rear Admiral.

Brian opened his mouth to argue, but realized that the trust between the parents and law enforcement, particularly him, was strained and this was not a battle to be fought. "We appreciate all the help we can get."

Brian entered the next room, the mood was quite different.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?" spit Gavin.

"Gavin, that was uncalled for," scolded Lars.

The teen slumped back in the chair where he was comforted by Lukas. All three boys, Lars, Zach, and Megan, looked exhausted.

"I came in to tell you that we are going to move Michael to another room with Lewis so we can keep a better watch over both of them. The sex trafficking ring has been pretty much taken down nationally, but the ring leader and some of his thugs are on the loose and the FBI is working to bring them in quickly. The story from the hospital, police and from you is that Michael is fine and at home. We don't want anyone to know anything. Can you do that?"

Everyone in the room nodded, except Michael, who was still unconscious.

"Dad, I'm staying with Lukas and Simon tonight," said Gavin. His tone made it clear he was telling Brian, not asking. Brian nodded and walked out of the room. If they only knew he was beating himself up more than they ever could. He loved Michael too.

Once Brian left, Lars chimed in. "I think it would be better if we all spent the night at my place. When we get home, Megan, why don't you grab some things and stay in our guest room tonight." Megan nodded in agreement.

Michael finally awoke, briefly, and the doctors came in to check on him. He answered a few questions the best he could, spent a few moments talking to his mom and a few with Gavin before falling back to sleep.

Dr. Magvahi spoke quietly, "He's going to sleep through the night. Go home and come back early in the morning. He'll be awake by then."

Wearily, they agreed and filed out of the room after each of them, including Zach, gave the small boy a good night kiss.

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Once back at the Meijer residence, Megan headed down to her home to pack an overnight bag. As she walked down the street, she called into her office to let them know she would need the next day off and provided instructions for covering her showings and calls. She entered her home and felt like collapsing into bed and sleeping for days. If she hadn't promised Lars she wouldn't be long, she would have. Lars was too important to her and Michael or else she might have ignored the commitment she'd made. She grabbed a bag from the closet and started packing.

Two unmarked cars were stationed along Maple Street that night. One by each of the houses they watched. Agent Williamson watched as Megan entered her home. She was on a call and looked like she was turning in for the night just as he'd been informed by Detective Parker. Having children of his own, he couldn't imagine going through what Megan Grant had gone through that day. He knew of the plan to tell the public the boys were back home while they were sheltered in a room at the hospital. According to that plan, Megan would be staying in for the night to put up the front that Michael was home too.

When the Pappy's Pizza delivery guy showed up, he was jealous Megan had ordered pizza for dinner, he was hungry and the thought of a Pappy's Pizza made his stomach growl.

The delivery man rang the doorbell and had a conversation with Megan. Though he couldn't see the exchange, the delvery man's body language seemed curious. The delivery man's back blocked any view of Megan or the entrance. The agent thought he saw a flash before the man leaned forward and the door shut. Agent Williamson immediately got on the horn. "A pizza delivery guy just arrived at the Grant residence but he didn't deliver the pizza. He's returning to his car with the food and leaving. Something's wrong here. I'm going in to check. Agent Franks, he's coming your way. Over."

Agent Williamson ran up to the house and knocked. No one answered. Turning the doorknob, he found the door was unlocked. He pushed the door open to find Megan Grant lying on the floor with a gunshot wound to the chest.

"The pizza delivery guy is armed and dangerous! Dispatch, we need an ambulance to 697 Maple St.!"

Megan heard Williamson's voice but he sounded far away. The agent rushed to the bathroom to find towels to use to compress her chest wound. 'I can't forget the package for Michael,' she thought. 'He will be so happy to see Matthew again.' Matthew's name brought her recurring nightmare back to mind. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye as she felt Williamson press on her chest. She gently slipped into unconsciousness.

'If Michael wasn't at home,' the assassin assumed as he headed to his next stop, 'he must be with his friends, that's why Megan had an overnight bag.' He put his car in park and headed to the front door of the Meijer residence.

Agent Franks heard Williamson's call as the pizza delivery guy exited his vehicle. Franks jumped from his vehicle and quickly approached from the street with gun drawn.

"Stop. Drop the box and turn around."

The man stopped but held the pizza box and kept his back to Franks. He slowly turned holding the gun under the pizza at an angle that disguised it from the Agent. Once the man turned to face Franks, he fired and hit the agent in the chest. The silencer muffled the sound but the agent clearly saw the muzzle flash. Franks staggered backwards in shock. His bullet-proof vest saved his life.

Dropping the pizza, the assassin made a split second decision. He could head for his car to flee the scene, or he could sacrafice everything to finish the job. Recalling what happened to his associates who failed, he reasoned his only option. If he was to have any hope of surviving the next few days, he had to get into the house. In a mad dash, he charged the front door hoping to find it unlocked. Franks recovered quickly and fired two shots stiking the man twice. The assailant fell to the ground. Franks disarmed the assassin and placing him in cuffs.

"Suspect down and neutralized. We need an ambulance to 739 Maple St."

The raised voices outside caught the boys' attention and they headed to the window to see what was going on. However, when they hear gunfire, everyone ran for cover. Lars gathered them in his dark bedroom. They huddled between the bed and the interior wall for protection from gunfire and prying eyes. Lars called Detective Parker to find out what was going on.

"Hi Lars," said Brian, hoping Lars had cooled off and this would be a friendly call.

"Brian, we just heard gunfire outside. What the hell's going on?"

"Take cover. I'm on my way." Brian turned to Abby. She looked frightened.

"Was that Gavin?" she asked.

Brian grabbed his gun, ammo and slipped into his vest. "No, Lars. I think it is going down."

"What is going down?"

Brian was out the door before she got her answer.

Franks held his gun on the suspect but moved so the man on the ground was between him and the activity down the street. He watched the EMTs transport someone to the back of the ambulance while another squad car arrived and pulled into the Novak driveway.

Detective Parker arrived shortly after the second ambulance left with the hit man and he checked in with Agent Franks. About 10 minutes later, Williamson walked down Maple Street to update Brian.

Lars' phone rang.

"What the hell's going on?" The 15 minutes or so they'd waited to hear from Brian seemed like an eternity.

"It's safe. Can you meet me out front?"

"Sure." Lars was pissed. He kissed each of the boys and Zach.

"It's clear. Head back to the family room and I'll fill you in. I'm meeting Gavin's dad out front."

Lars emerged his home in flannel lounge pants and a t-shirt. Brian waved off the Agent and approached Lars alone.

Lars stood there and felt a hand slip into his. Zach joined his man to face these troubles together. Lars' felt two arms wrap around his waist from the other side and found Lukas against his side while Simon stood close by with his arm around Gavin's shoulder.

"Lars, is it okay for the boys to hear everything?"

Lars knew this was going to be bad. He knew the boys were going to hear it eventually, so now was as good a time as any.

"We believe the man shot in your front yard was searching for Michael. He started at Michael's house and when he learned Michael wasn't there, he came here. As we discussed as the most probable scenario, it is most likely his assignment was to silence the boy. He shot Agent Franks who then returned gunfire and struck the assailant twice."

"When you say 'silence' Michael, you mean 'kill', don't you?" asked Lukas.

"Yes."

"Wait," commanded Lars, "where's Megan?"

Brian tried to speak but the words couldn't escape his throat because he choked up. They all understood what he meant.

"Lars," said Brian when he finally found his voice, "they don't think she's going to make it."

It was as if each of them had taken a punch to the gut. Lukas started crying and Lars pulled the boy tight against his side.

"On the way over I checked on Bruce and Matthew. There was a failed attempt on Bruce's life at the jail. It appears they also went after Michael's brother, Matthew. The state police found both grandparents dead, but Matthew was nowhere to be found. He wasn't in school today and it doesn't appear anyone has seen him. We don't know if he's been abducted or what. We think he's okay, else they wouldn't have gone to the grandparent's home tonight looking for him. We've put out an APB on him in the Portland and southern Washington state area to see if we can find him."

"I should go to the hospital to be with Megan," said Lars.

"No, Abby is on her way there and I'm heading there now. You need to take care of the boys tonight. I need you to take care of the boys tonight." He stressed the "I" to make sure Lars understood his gratitude. "I'll update you in the morning."

Brian turned and hurried to his car.