Alicia Clayton's transfer to New York had come though and he had escorted her from the airport to the women's prison. Her icy glare made him immensely glad for the restraints that confined her. He was even more grateful when he handed custody of her over to the guards at the prison. Just the thought of that woman made him shiver.

The file that came with her on the other hand, presented a different problem. The information if contained was definitely interesting. Agent Karl Young made the arrest after the first forgery was spotted by an informant who wished to remain anonymous. That had been enough to catch his eye… after all how many people could there be who could identify a forgery at a glance, would contact the FBI and would want to remain unnamed… it could not be a coincidence.

He entered agent Karl Young in the data base. A strained smile tugged at the young man's lips… the last four months starting with the Clayton arrest, his closure rates had steadily climbed. Young sited an unknown contact again and again. Forced to guess he would lay his money on a semi reformed con artist of his acquaintance as the mysterious informant. Which meant Caffrey was in Phoenix Arizona.

He sighed and picked up the phone dialing a number he hadn't called in three and a half months. This was wrong and he knew it but there was no going back now. When Richards first contacted him nearly a year ago asking for information regarding his "old friend" Nick Halden it had seemed pretty innocent to the fresh out of Quantico agent. After that though things had quickly spiraled out of control… first kidnapping a child and demanding a ridiculous ransom, then assaulting, almost killing the consultant. Worst of all, shooting two Agents, one of them fatally. Now there was no way out. Richards made it very clear, if he was arrested while Caffrey and his son were still breathing… well it wouldn't end well for the young agent. He ground his teeth, his conscience jabbing at him violently. He didn't have a choice… he didn't, he told himself as he hit send, but he knew there was another option… he just couldn't face the consequences of that one…. That probably made him a coward but…

"Sir?" He said softly "I think I know where they might be."

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Karl took the exit from the freeway his thoughts still on the stack of case files on his passenger seat. In the dark he shook his head at the strangeness of the situation here was driving across town, after his wife went to bed, to go over cases with a professed former English teacher. The last four months had been great for his career… his marriage? Well… he had a feeling Wendy was beginning to get the wrong impression, but after the way Mike reacted to finding out he was anonymously mentioned in the Clayton file he promised not to mention their conversations to anyone. He appreciated the help but he hated the sneaking around to meet with the man.

He glanced in the mirror… the car that exited behind him was still behind him. That was a bit strange. After four turns he found himself highly suspicious that the dark blue sedan was following him. That was probably ridiculous… wasn't it? He turned down the dark residential street past the neighborhood park and splash pad, which made him think of his friend's son.

The kid was eight years old and like every little boy he knew loved to climb and explore but this kid… he chuckled, this kid must be some sort of genius. In the four months he had known Mike and Bobby he had heard them converse in three different languages… not counting English. Though Mike frequently stopped his son to correct his grammar or pronunciation… it sounded to Karl like Bobby was picking them up really well. They were a peculiar family he thought but they seemed really close.

He glanced in his mirror again… as he pulled into their drive way. The blue car drove passed and pulled into a drive two houses down. The guy was just headed to the same street, Karl should have felt a bit foolish, and it was just an unusual coincidence. Something still felt a bit off though… something nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite place it.

He grabbed the box of files from the seat and strode to the familiar door. A quick knock brought the young man to the door.

"You look tired." Mike observed. "Rough week?"

"Long week." He sat the heavy box on the sleek coffee table. "I picked up seventeen new cases this week, and I have three that carried over from last week. Six of them I have pretty solid leads but the rest…"

"You have nothing." Mike grinned mischievously.

"I have nothing" the young agent admitted ruefully.

"And you'd like me to take a look and see if I can spot something you missed." He tried to sound annoyed but his pride and curiosity shone in his blue eyes.

"I would appreciate it if you have time."

"Well it's eleven… we better get started." Mike pulled out a folder glanced at it with a chuckle "I'll make coffee."

It was nearly two am when Karl left the house… with new leads on four more cases, to his relief the blue car was nowhere in sight.

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Neal grinned as he slowly shuffled out of the therapists' office, the crutches were awkward and his legs trembled with six months of disuse but he was walking out the door today. The thought made him want to laugh. He was alive and on his feet! The therapist said she expected him to make a full recovery… though walking without support was probably still months away. Looking at his broken pelvis, the doctor in New York hadn't been sure but now… His grin widened until his cheeks hurt.

The walk to the car took a lot longer than it had in the wheelchair but… he chuckled. He bent carefully to ease his shaking form into the seat. He would have to hurry to beat Nate home from school. The kid was going to be thrilled.

Something caught his eye… just a glimpse… a face that looked vaguely familiar in the corner of his gaze. Neal casually turned his head to get a better look. The big man turned between two cars just a bit too abruptly to be believable. Neal got a brief but clear look at that face… he definitely knew the man though he couldn't remember clearly from where. The guy caused a sick uneasy feeling to settle in his gut and he shivered slightly as a chill ran up his spine even though the temperature still hovered around a hundred in late September.

He shook his head to clear the disturbing thoughts from his head. He needed to hurry he had promised Nate a quick trip to Arizona Mills before they went to they went to the play tonight. He wanted to get home and change out of his workout clothes.

An hour later Neal and his beaming son pulled out of their drive way. Everything seemed right… this moment, he thought if we could just stay in this moment life would be perfect. No, his mind reminded him painfully, if he could have this moment in New York it would be perfect. He realized with a start it had been several days since he had thought about home… not that he really ever expected to get to go back. Peter couldn't stand to look at him the last time they spoke, knowing what Neal had done, why would he want to bring him back?

Something caught his eye again. The blue rental car four cars behind him had made the last three turns behind him. That nervous feeling in his gut was back. Neal swallowed hard, he wasn't afraid exactly but the thought of anymore of his old acquaintances ever laying eyes on Nate made him feel sick.

"Ph̀x?" the little voice sounded worried "is something wrong?"

"Everything is fine, Nate" he reassured the boy pulling his attention from the ominous blue car. No reason to worry his son just yet.

"We're going to have fun tonight, right?" the child smiled tentatively at him

"We are going to have fun." He confirmed plastering a smile over his nerves. It was probably nothing anyway.

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He lay shivering in the dark, the memory of the dream swarming through his mind. He could feel the blows of the bat on his body again… feel the pain as his shattered ankle pulled against the bindings that suspended him above the floor… the blood choking off his airway drowning him. He could see Johnny Richard's face twisted with rage as he swung the bat and behind him… behind him two huge thugs, arms folded, faces grinning.

Neal rolled over, punching his pillow… trying to sleep, to switch off his swirling thoughts. A look at the clock on his bedside table told him it was 3:52 am. He sighed. He was exhausted but sleep was determined to remain elusive. Something nudged at his mind…keeping it alert.

Slipping out of bed and fumbling for his crutches, he stumbled to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. Hopefully it would lull him to sleep. He slumped onto a stool at the counter and dropped his chin into his hand. His mind wandered back to the dream… the memory.

Suddenly he sat up straight, trembling violently. The man in the parking lot! He was one of Richards' muscle... THEY FOUND US!