Thank you, everyone, so much for sticking with this story. Some chapters come together better and quicker than others. Sorry for the delay with this one. I treasure every review I receive. Thanks one and all so much.

Sam…

Her stressor voice streamed in her head as she cradled the toy soldier in her hand. Remorse, mixed with resolve, clawed its own tunnel through her brain. There couldn't be another emotional meltdown. Not if she didn't want the CMR triggering Mr. Fairweather, the internal psych program that had been forced to the fore. She had been judged as unfit for duty. Kiera had come to terms with her feelings. She might never see her beloved Sam again. Getting back to 2077 could be a long shot. It was a bitter pill she had to swallow.

I love you...

She couldn't risk losing the tech abilities inherent in the CMR. The embedded diagnostic, the cognitive therapist onboard, or, as Alec had christened him, 'Dr. Feel-weird,' served its purpose. She was here in 2013. She didn't have the luxury of believing it was only temporary, not anymore. She had to remain in control for her sanity's sake and not endanger her new allies who fought alongside her to bring down Liber8.

Although, driving the tormenting pest Gardiner up into the wall had felt thoroughly satisfying. That man, bent on bringing her down, had better watch his step, Kiera thought menacingly. Could it have been that his eagerness to catch her in something incriminating was a smoke screen? What if he were the mole, the inside agent who was on Liber8's side? The longer she remained in this time period, the more it was true. Anything was possible.

Sighing, Kiera tucked the toy soldier into her desk's top drawer. In the future, whenever her eyes fell upon the game piece, it would remind her of two things. Her little boy, first of all, whom it was impossible to forget. Secondly, it was optimal that she keep her volatile feelings at bay. Mr. Fairweather was pleasant enough, but that bit of coding the CMR governed could erase her memories if she failed, and put her offline permanently.

Keep your head in this reality, she told herself, not in the one that you left behind and might never exist…

As she closed the drawer, Kiera whispered, "That's not going to happen. I can't lose my memories of Sam, of everything. I refuse to. I'll win over this. I can do this."

"Do what? Cameron?"

Kiera frowned, startled, but not nonplussed. Inspector Nora Harris, Dillon's obnoxious replacement, had imposed. The thankless woman's eyes were trained on her as she came up from behind. Harris stood in front of Kiera's desk with her arms folded across her chest. She bore down on Kiera, her sight analytical.

"Excuse me?" Kiera asked, framing the question with a smile, which mocked the smirk that had sneaked up on her. She thought she was alone after Carlos and Betty had gone. Apparently Harris had remained behind.

Cooly, the antagonist repeated her question.

Just as facilely, Kiera replied, "Analyzing LiberEight's next stragegy."

Harris noted that her computer terminal was off, its screen as dark as the night sky beyond these four walls. Kiera's monotonal answer didn't satisfy her. "What are you really doing here, Cameron?"

If ever there was a loaded question that was it.

"Is there a problem?"

"Are you causing more?" Harris' tone was as snippy as it could be.

Kiera couldn't resist the tug-of-war that raged in her mind. By absolute accident, through no wish of my own…I don't belong here…I belong with my family, but since I find myself here, I'm doing my best to eliminate those who mean to do innocent people here, and in the future, harm…

Calmly, she responded, "Being as cooperative as I can, ma'am."

Kiera saw Harris visibly rankle. Kiera unfurled another unhurried smile. She took her time about letting her eyes meet her persistent inquisitor's. Huffily, Harris snapped, "Though your file has shed a bit more light on your history, Cameron, don't think for one moment that you're completely off the hook. You're not. Mark my words."

Kiera's simpatico smile, remarkably akin to Da Vinci's Mona Lisa's, graced her beautiful face. How much do you want to bet, flashed in her mind. Poise infused her words. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll keep that in mind." Not sure if Harris was sticking around, Kiera thought it best to leave or else endure more of the interim inspector's prying questions. "Night," was all she said as she stood up from her desk and headed off.

"I'll be watching you," Harris called after her. There was something indefinable about Kiera that the seasoned policewoman did not like. The exchange that they'd had in the Ladies' Room had given her the impression that this woman was mysterious. To trust her completely wasn't wise. There was more going on beneath her surface than met the eye. "Closely."

By way of acknowledgment, Kiera spun around and gave her a hokey salute. The eye roll that went with it was textbook. Careful, because it wasn't necessary that Harris hear the blatant disrespect that accompanied her gestures, she whispered inaudibly, "I've been served notice. Catch me if you can…"

Harris returned to her office, her mind set flinty.

Before leaving police headquarters, Kiera squared her shoulders. Hope for a restful night had her planning for relaxation. Some of the tea, which Carlos liked making for her, remained in the cupboard of the apartment she hadn't used for several months now. Tonight she decided that going to Kellog's boat was a bad idea, once again. The less she saw of the man, the plotter, the better.

Her thoughts pooled and she thought back to the nice time she'd spent at the cabin with her partner, the man of many dispositions and versatile temperaments. He'd been correct about her liking jet skiing. It had been a blast. She had gotten to know Carlos better and she had to admit, she felt closer to him, a solidifying bond of greater trust had been forged.

Peering through the rectangular glass plate in the door, which led to the parking lot, Kiera noted that her car was the next to the last one in the lot. So, Harris drove a Ford Focus, that figured. Kiera liked its icy, nearly transparent color, a silvery model.

Outside, the night air, stirred by a predominating warm breeze, awaited. Still, she hesitated before pushing the door fully open. How difficult it was to pretend that living a lie came naturally. If she could only stop pretending, but that would never be possible. Heaving a sigh, she pushed against the door, getting it to open slightly. Then, surprised by whom she saw, Kiera held off opening the door wider. She edged back inside, shielded by the door, and continued to observe through the pane of glass.

A lone figure stood in the lot. Kiera recognized who it was by her build. The wind gently tousled the woman's long hair. Strange, Betty Robertson hadn't gone anywhere. Why was she here, all by herself? Kiera couldn't tear her eyes away from the cyber specialist. Kiera got the feeling that she was waiting around here in this lot.

Why did she wait? Whom did she wait for? Possibly a boyfriend Betty was keeping under wraps? The crush she had on Carlos might have been wearing thin, Kiera speculated. He largely ignored the attention she showered on him, as abundant as it was. Unrequited love wrung one's wits.

In short order, Kiera had her answer. A white van, tooling along, flowed into the lot. Aided by enhanced vision, Kiera quickly saw who was driving. Lucas Ingram, a brainy Liber8 subversive, slowed down and came to a stop. Betty smiled at the former weapons developer for SadTech upon opening the vehicle door.

The two exchanged words that floored Kiera, boggling her mind. She watched her friend and colleague plug herself into the van beside Ingram. What was Betty doing?

Recovering from shock, Kiera had to find out. Purposely, she gave them a good head start and then commenced tracking them through the dart she had fired, now lodged in the van's rear bumper. Stealthily, the CPS operative followed.

TBC…