The next few days pass in relative peace. Lizzy requested and was granted a leave of absence from the University. When we are not reconnecting with each other, she is busy talking with relatives or making travel arrangements. Apparently, the cottage by the sea belonged to her grandparents and has been in the Odair family for decades before the first Hunger Games. After her grandparents passed away, the cottage has been rotated through the various children and grandchildren as a secret getaway spot. Annie apparently spent much of her convalescence there over the years.

The night before our departure, Lizzy and I sit on our couch in front of a smoldering fire. There is an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of us.

"So, tell me about the first time you ever went to this cottage by the sea," I ask trying to keep our mind on happy times. Unfortunately, it doesn't work.

"I remember when I was ten years old and first met Aunt Annie. My parents let me spend the summer there with her and Finnick. Sometimes, she was just lost somewhere. I could tell that her mind was active, but it was like it was out of her body. Finnick never missed a beat, so I guess he must have been used to it. Without even disturbing her, he would go out in his little boat in the morning and bring us catch of fresh fish by the afternoon. I would stay with Annie and just talk to her. Most of the time, it was like I wasn't even there, but sometimes she would just become so clear and lucid. Those times were when we made our connection.

She would talk for hours about her childhood, meeting Finnick Sr., their wedding in District 13 during the war, even what is was like to carry Finnick Jr. inside of her knowing he would never meet his father.

Finally, with only a week before I had to go home, I got her to talk about what it was like for her in the arena: what is was like to hear your name called at the Reaping, saying goodbye to everyone you know thinking it will probably be the last time you ever see them, being wisked off to the Capitol that until then existed only on a television screen, being wheeled out on a chariot in some crazy costume that made you more like an object to the screaming crowds than a person so that it would be easier for them to watch you die. I was only a few years younger than she was then. I just kept asking myself as she was talking, could I do what she did?

Annie said the interviews were the worst thing for her: to be forced to talk about your deepest fears in front of millions. She said that Caesar Flickerman even asked her, 'What would be your most embarrassing way to go in the arena?' Can you imagine being asked that knowing that they could make it a reality?"

"I remember seeing that when we were forced to watch that year's interviews. She said that she couldn't bear the thought of being forced to 'beg for her life.' No, I can't imagine anything like that. It would be like having your dignity slaughtered as well as your life."

"Apparently, the Gamemakers tried to engineer a romance between her and one of the Careers because she was so timid they were afraid that she wouldn't be 'compelling enough' when she finally was killed."

"His name was Kurt Goldner, a beast from from District 1. It was ridiculous because he was almost twice her size."

"How do you remember all that?"

"It wasn't an option for me not to."

Lizzy just sighs.

"That was the year when I decided to become a psychologist. I knew I had to find out what was going on in her tormented mind and how to bring her back…I also wanted to answer another, maybe even tougher question. How could our parents have tolerated doing this to their children?"

"I bet it was because by pretending to support it somehow it made it seem like they were more like the Capitol spectators and less like someone who was being forced to participate."

"Maybe."

"What was it like for her during the competition?"

"Do you know when you're having a nightmare and your worst fears are always in your thoughts like they're about to come true? She said it was like that, but at the same time knowing that you couldn't wake up safe in your bed. Annie just kept running and hiding until eventually she was the only one left. Then, the hovercraft appeared out of nowhere, and it was over."

"But it wasn't…It was never over." I hesitate, not sure if I should ask a question that has been burning in my mind ever since we met, but determine now is as good a time as any. "Did she ever say anything Pompey Eckhart, the Agricultural Councilor?"

"Not until I was much older," Lizzy said shocked. "She swore me to secrecy, said I couldn't even tell you. How do you know about that?"

"His son, Commodus, was a friend of mine growing up. On one of the few nights they left us to ourselves, we were talking about our parents. He said his father was a pedophile. I don't even know how you ever come to terms with something like that. Apparently, he would pay Snow tens of thousands if it met that he could be a female victor's first. Commodus said that even when he was four years old, he can remember his father leaving on what he said was "official business," but his mother always knew what he was doing. She would just stay up all night and cry until he came back the next morning.

I was never sure if Annie was one of them, but now I know, and it is probably another crime that Commodus had to pay for with his blood." Lizzy starts crying and I pull her close.

"When did he disappear?" Lizzy finally manages to ask.

"Last November while he was working in a mill in District 8. He said he liked it up there because it was as far away from District 11 as he could get and no one would recognize him."

"Ares, how will our country move on from something like this?"

"One day everyone who ever witnessed a Hunger Games will be gone. We have to teach our children so that their children and their children's children don't ever walk down the same path as our parent's did."

"But what about us? How do we move on?"

"One day at a time, I suppose."

The next morning, the sun rose on our day of escape. The train was not scheduled to leave until 1300, so Lizzy and I decided on one last trip to the Spym so we could feel refreshed for the journey. The two bodyguards follow us into the elevator and down to the basement. Lizzy hides her discomfort so well, but I realize that she needs some space.

"You want to schedule a massage for later?" I ask trying to stay upbeat.

"Sure, I'll go talk to the attendant at the desk." After she leaves, I turn to the bodyguards.

"Look, fellas, there is only one entrance in and out of here. Can you just humor me this once and just stay outside."

"Roger, Sir," the senior one says understandingly. "If you need anything, just beep us on your communicuff."

"Relax, ok? I'll only be a hundred feet away."

I go inside and see Lizzy still talking to the attendant about the massage.

"The rest of the staff doesn't get here until 9 o'clock. It's just me until then."

"Is that alright with you, honey?" Lizzy asks.

"Sure, fine with me. We'll have plenty of time to make it to the station." We kiss one last time before she heads to the jet pool. The workout room is blissfully empty again. I stare back to my old nemesis, the heavy bag, in the corner but decide that today I will focus on something besides my anger. I turn the television mounted on the wall to the morning news, complete a circuit of weights, and then finish up with a brisk half an hour run on the treadmill. My mind drifts to the other fourteen and to Venus, hoping against all hope that we'll soon be reunited with each other and I manage to maintain some sense of optimism that Sturm and Holmes will deliver on their promise of solving the mystery for me. Now, my only mission is to stay out of trouble and be there for Lizzy.

After drenching myself in sweat, I grab my towel and head to meet my wife. I'm actually looking forward to a swim today. The jet pool is deserted except for Lizzy's towel hanging from the wall. Once again she has disappeared under the bubbles. I take off my shoes and socks and dangle my feet in the water as usual.

"Lizzy!" I yell. No response as always. Half a minute goes by. "C'mon, girl you gotta breathe sometime, you're not all fish yet." Another half a minute. "You're really pushing me today, Liz." Another half minute. I realize she has never held her breath this long before. Without thinking, I jump into the pool to look below the bubbles. I frantically search under water, but there is no one.

I explode from the pool and run toward the front desk without toweling off, leaving a trail of water behind me.

"Maybe she just went to the locker room," I keep repeating to myself over and over trying to rationalize my fears away. The attendant sits at her chair with her back to me. "Excuse me, ma'am." The attendant ignores me. "Excuse me," I repeat louder." Still she still ignores me. I'm growing angry now. "I said, Excuse…" I reach out and grab her shoulder. The attendant falls to the ground, motionless. I lunge forward and roll her over. A tiny dart is sticks out of the front of her neck. She has been poisoned. "Lizzy! I scream running back towards the woman's locker room. I burst inside, but it is deserted. I frantically check the rest of the Spym's rooms as the panic reaches its zenith, but the place is completely empty. My wife is gone.

"Alert!" I scream into my communicuff. "We have a full alert! Elizabeth Snow has been abducted! I need a full response team scrambled immediately and I want a car waiting to take me to Central Briefing upstairs in 60 seconds!" I receive confirmation from the security detail walking the perimeter of the building, but nothing from the two directly outside the Spym.

I throw open the front doors where I find the two of them both lying in pools of blood, each killed by a single bullet to the head: the mark of a professional. I scan the surroundings for any clue to whom might have done this when something lying on the floor catches my eye. It is a silver photo album, placed carefully a few feet away from the bodies. Somebody put it here to be found. I am afraid of what might be in it, but I must know. My hands shake as I reach down and pick it up. I just stare at the cover trying to gather the courage to open it. Finally, with all the strength I can muster, I throw open the cover.

They are all there Lydia, Tiberius, Commodus, Calpurnia, Juno, and the rest in the order that they disappeared. Each is vividly captured in the precise pose of their death. Lydia is crushed under a boulder; Tiberius has a hole a foot across blown through his chest. Commodus lies at the bottom of a cliff, bashed against the rocks. Juno has two bullet holes through her skull, so on and so forth. Finally, all that is left is to turn to page fifteen. Turning that page is like lifting a thousand pound weight, but it finally moves. Then, I see her: my beautiful sister. She is leaning against the base of a tree. If it weren't for the knife blade sticking from her chest, you would think she was taking a peaceful nap in the late afternoon sun. I swear I can even see the hint of smile on her pale face. Tears fall from my eyes and slam against the page. I can't breathe and my heart feels like it will beat out of my chest.

On the page next to Venus' picture, is a set of numerical grid coordinates with a single typed paragraph:

Come alone. We will know if you are being tracked or followed. You have forty-eight hours or your wife dies for you.