The next morning found Don and his team gathered in a conference room, outlining the developments so far.

"So positive IDs from the store owner and the postal clerk?" Don asked.

"Positive as in they've seen him," David corrected. "But the store owner can't confirm what items Davies bought, and the clerk can't say for certain that Davies mailed the letter."

"The other post office locations?" Don asked. He'd read the reports already but had found that discussing a case out loud sometimes led to a new angle.

"No one even remembers seeing him there," David answered. "But those are much larger offices with higher traffic."

"But we know this is his type of bomb," Megan added. "And he threatened you at trial. He also lives in California City and was released from prison shortly before the threats started. I think this is our guy, Don."

"Okay," Don nodded. "This isn't enough for a warrant though. What do you suggest?"

"Put a surveillance team on Davies," Colby answered. "See if they find anything to give us probable cause. I mean, he isn't brilliant so he's going to slip up eventually."

"That's a good idea." Don looked at David. "You call in the request and get that set up." David nodded and left the room. Don glanced at Megan. "I think we can call off the protection."

"I disagree," she argued forcefully. "He's not in custody yet."

"I know, but he's not going to be able to get to me if he's under a twenty-four hour watch." Seeing the resolve in her face, he decided to compromise. "Okay, how about I keep staying at the motel under the alias with the protection detail outside, but no more having the agents follow me to and from work." He saw her hesitance. "Megan, I'm sick of constantly having a shadow. I want to live again. I'm not saying no to someone watching me while I get some shut-eye, but I want the rest of the day to myself."

Megan knew she wasn't going to win this argument. "Alright, I'll make the arrangements."

"Great," Don beamed as he felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. "I think I'll call Dad and tell him I can come by for dinner tonight."

Later that evening Don was driving to Charlie's house after work. He was taking a longer, scenic route, enjoying the freedom to do as he wanted again. His phone rang and he answered it, "Eppes."

"Don."

"Hey, Charlie!" Don greeted happily. "I'm on my way over right now."

"Wait," Charlie stopped him, the concern in his voice putting Don on edge.

"What is it, Buddy?"

"I don't think it's safe yet."

"What?" Don asked. "No, no, Charlie - they got him. Well, figured out who he is. It's okay."

"I think they're wrong."

"Look, Buddy – I've looked at the evidence. This is the guy."

"It's not Davies," Charlie insisted.

"What makes you so sure – wait, how'd you know about Davies?"

Charlie drew a deep breath, knowing things were about to get ugly. "I've been running a filter on the suspects."

"You what?" Don demanded angrily. "After I specifically asked you-"

"I know, I know," Charlie apologized. "But I couldn't sit and wait, not knowing whether my help could be the factor that helped save your life!"

"So you lied to me?" Don was vaguely aware of Charlie's feeble attempt at an explanation, but his main focus was drawn to the shoulder of the road. There was an old, beat up, wood-paneled station wagon in the grass, with a noticeably flat tire. Don noticed a middle aged woman holding a crying baby as she studied the damage. She looked up at the sound of his car and gave him a suspicious look as she moved to keep the car between them. Don slowed to a stop behind her car and graced her with his most disarming smile. She cautiously crept forward a bit, looking much like a frightened animal that might bolt at any minute. "Hold on a sec," Don cut Charlie off as he stepped out of the car. To the woman, he inquired, "Need some help?"

"I don't really know how to change a flat," she confessed shyly. "And my little boy here won't let me put him down long enough to try."

He smiled warmly. "I'd be happy to help you with that." He raised the phone to his ear again. "I need to help this woman change a flat. I'll see you at dinner and we'll talk about this some more."

"Don, wai-" Charlie's voice was cut off as Don flipped his phone shut. "Sorry about that. Brothers." He rolled his eyes and walked around to her trunk. "Your spare in good condition?"

"It should be," he heard her answer from behind them as he dug in the back of the wagon. "Brother? Yeah, brothers can be annoying, especially when they're a genius."

Don's brow creased into a frown. How in the hell did she know- His thought was cut short as he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. The blow knocked him off balance and he fell to his knees, fighting to clear his blurring vision. There was another blow, this one to his ribs, which left him breathless. He slumped to the ground, desperately trying to draw oxygen into his lungs. He felt a steel-toed boot nudging him onto his stomach and groaned as someone ground a knee into his back, wrenching his arms behind him and handcuffing him. The woman bent over into his line of vision, holding a syringe in front of his face.

"Time to say good night, Agent Eppes." She callously jabbed the needle into his neck and emptied its contents. The world slowly began to fade to black, and Don didn't know if it was from the lack of oxygen or the drug in his system. The last thing he was aware of was a man and a woman laughing and discussing the joys of revenge...