Bobby, Elke and Dimitrius went to visit Leandro Giordano's residence, but Leandro wasn't there. They were informed by his jailed uncle that he was a stay at home father, so naturally, the FBI assumed he would be home for most of the day. Fortunately, a woman answered the door, and she informed them that her husband was shopping at the nearest hardware store, and that she was also taking care of her daughter who wasn't feeling well today. The three agents acknowledged her words, but they had a gut feeling that somebody talked to Leandro yesterday, and now he was on the run leaving the state, possibly the country.

The agents then asked if they could wait on her porch, and she accepted their request. She asked them why they wanted to see her husband, and they informed her that her spouse was a suspect of a bank robbery, and that they needed to ask him a few questions before they detained him. Luckily, fifteen minutes later, Leandro pulled up to the driveway, and the agents met him at his doorstep.

Leandro froze when he saw the agents. He looked as if he were contemplating on running. Instead, he questioned, "Who are you?"

Leandro's wife appeared. She said something to him in Italian, but none of them understood. The wife then removed herself from the scene and went upstairs to check on her daughter.

Dimitrius pulled out his ID. "We are the FBI, and we need to ask you a couple of questions."

"About what?" Leandro said with distaste.

"About a bank robbery that occurred a couple of days ago."

"What," he squinted. Bobby sized the man up. He looked nervous and scared; he was hiding something.

Dimitrius continued, "Would you like to tell us about it?"

Leandro asked, "Are you accusing me of bank robbery? With what proof?"

Bobby said, "Two million dollars was stolen, and a mere hours later, two million dollars was deposited into your uncle's business account. The bank flagged that account. We questioned some of your relatives, and I was told that you are a mysterious man…but they all said that there's no way you could have conjured up two million dollars overnight. And even if you did, why your uncle's account? He states that he doesn't know you very well."

Leandro tried to defend himself, "How would you know it was me who deposited the money?" Leandro asked again.

Bobby answered with a slight smile, "We have you on camera, mate."

Leandro questioned, "For both the robbery and deposit?"

Elke raised a brow. "So you are admitting that you were involved in the heist?"

Suddenly, Leandro took off running down the street, and immediately, all three agents were on his tail. Elke was the fastest, and within seconds, she dove for the man, and tackled him to the ground. Elke wasn't a short and petite woman; she was tall and had some muscle on her. There was a reason she was a tactical specialist on the task force, and a state champion wrestler.

Bobby and Dimitrius caught up. Before Leandro could fight back, Dimitrius put him in cuffs, and forced him to his feet. "Let's go," Dimitrius said, "We've got some things we'd like to discuss, and maybe…we could make a deal."

Lake Moomaw…

At around four o'clock in the evening, Myles was seated on a chair in his room at the B&B. He was beside the telephone on the nightstand by his bed, staring at the nearest wall and contemplating on whether he should call her now or later. He wasn't entirely sure he was ready to make himself 110% vulnerable to his sister. He knew that he was going to regret calling her, but he had to do everything in his power to make himself well again. At this point, he no longer cared about returning to work on time…he cared more about making his suffering go away; and relieving himself from his suffering was going to take time and work.

After gaining some courage, Myles picked up the phone and called Anne. As he waited for her to pick up, he silently wished that she wouldn't. If she didn't, it would give him an excuse for Lydia, and he would try again when Anne was back in America and when he was more prepared. Then, a familiar voice appeared:

"Hi, you've reached Anne Leland. I can't come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message, your name and phone number, I will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you."

Myles then asked himself if he should leave a message. Even if he did, what would he say? Would he ask her to call him back when it was convenient for her? Or spill his guts while he still had a shred of confidence left, and then plead for her to remain in Europe and not think about him? His PTSD had already damaged the relationship between her and her boyfriend of whom she loved, and this would just be the cherry on top for them when their vacation was meant to strengthen their bond by being alone and forgetting about life's issues. Maybe she would be generous and ignore his message until her return.

Then, a BEEP appeared. Uh oh. He had to say or do something now. In order to start the healing process, he needed to express his feelings and grief to Anne, whom he trusted with his life, wouldn't hesitate to tell his secrets to, and the only family that he actually currently talked to. Myles would be lying if he said he wasn't scared. It was easy to say these things to Gary the cob, or his psychiatrist, but telling Anne was a different story. They'd grown so close over the last few years, where they considered themselves inseparable. He loved her, so although he was frightened, wondering what she'd think, or if she'd panic and come home early, telling her would make the situation more real, and he could finally start getting better. He told her long ago about his flashbacks of him getting shot and stabbed, him killing people, watching his teammates get hurt and die, and other messed up things he'd seen on the job; however, he told himself that he wouldn't tell her about Diana yet. He already told Gary the cob and Sue about that issue, so it seemed irrelevant now. No, he needed to discuss how he truly felt about his condition, and finally come to terms with it. He started:

"Hey Anne, it's Myles. I'm sorry to bother you on your holidays with Trent, but…I just need to say something to you. I won't be long. There's just something that I want to get off my chest. Normally, I would ask you to call me back, but you're busy, and it's probably," he looked at his watch, "six in the morning where you currently are, so I thought that leaving you a voice message would be more practical." Right then and there, Myles wanted to hang up and hide under the bed covers, but he was in deep water now.

He continued, "I'm at Lake Moomaw…silly me, you already know that I'm here for vacation…but I don't think I mentioned to you that my vacation was forced due to medical reasons. My PTSD got worse, something happened at work where I could no longer hide it, so the bureau thought it would be best if I took two weeks off." He tried bringing some humor into the situation, "Hey, at least I'm getting paid for it. Maybe I should start pretending to be insane every now and then, so I can get some free time off, and make money doing nothing." He sighed. "Something tells me I'll be off work longer than two weeks though…maybe a month…I actually don't know. I'd hate it to be a month…or a year…or forever, because you know that I love my job, and you know what it's like to lose that, and…I don't know how you were able to move on…" he trailed off. He tried to figure out a way he could explain how he felt without causing Anne to worry and panic. When they were once estranged, like him, she came off as reserved, stoic, arrogant and snobbish, but eventually, she showed her true colors and vulnerable side. She was a worrier; something he never thought she was capable of. For example, if she hadn't heard from her older brother in a while, she would make sure to check up on him to see if he was alright.

"Uhh, before I continue, I want to say that despite how emotional I'm going to get, I have no intentions of doing something stupid…like harming myself. I have some nice folk here who are caring for me by taking me out to do some activities, and checking up on me every now and then. They took me out fishing…something I've never done before…and I liked it."

Then, his voice started to quiver, and his hand slightly shook. He didn't know why nerves suddenly hit him like a truck. Maybe because it was time to grieve over his diagnosis. He bit his bottom lip before saying, "I hate this Anne. I didn't ask anyone for PTSD. My head hurts, along with my heart. This thing has taken over my life as well as others close to me, and I'm angry about it. God, I'm so angry at everything…including myself. We're Lelands, and Lelands win all battles. I should be able to fight this thing, but I'm finding it impossible." He stopped to catch a hiccup that was dying to be let out. He was starting to get emotional…he didn't want to let go…but he had to. "I'm ashamed…and I'm so scared. Anne, I'm scared of what will happen to me. You know that my memory suffers after my flashbacks, but, today…at around three o'clock…I was going to call you, but I couldn't remember your name, your phone number, or how you were related to me. Luckily, it didn't last long, but what's to say that it won't come to that and be permanent?" He then sniffed, and he could finally feel tears welling up in his eyes. Despite his rambling, he tried to remain calm. "Right now, it feels as if there's glass sloshing around in my head, and continuously stabbing every single nerve in my brain and picking out every single unwanted memory…it hurts really bad. To be honest, I'd rather be wounded from a bullet than having to suffer through this." He then caught what he'd just said. "No, don't think that I'm going to hurt myself, I just have to grieve my condition!"

"Just…right now, I need to throw something across the room. I also need a hug from you. For a moment, I just need to know from one of the most important people in my life that this isn't my fault. Stupid…how can it not be when I'm allowing it to affect my friend's lives, and your life. I'm not an idiot, Anne. You state that you're going to Europe to enjoy the countryside, but I know that you left to take a break from me and my problems that should have no business being yours." He drew a shaky breath. "Thank you, Anne, for helping me. I don't think I ever told you that. I don't know how I can repay you either. I'm also sorry. You didn't deserve this." He was rambling again. He then took a deep breath, and got a hold of himself before continuing, "I'm going to go now. I don't know how long voice messages can go, but I love you, and I'm sorry for not being the best brother in the world. Since we've rekindled our relationship, you've always been there for me. I'm sorry for not being there for you when you need it. If you ever want to talk about your problems…know that I'm here and you can tell me anything. As you know I left my phone at home, so if you need to call me back, this is the number…"

After providing Anne his temporary phone number, Myles hung up, and then leaned back into his chair. He wiped a hand across his face, and felt a bit of wetness under his eyes. He had been crying? Well…no wonder. It was one of the most emotional voice messages he ever left in his life, but now it felt as if a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Time for bed," he said aloud. He then rose from his chair, turned the lamp off, and headed to the bathroom to change. He didn't bother eating, he wasn't hungry.

Chapter 22 is next…