I groaned and gently set down Jamilla, as if we had been doing something wrong instead of something very right. All the good feelings inside me evaporated in a hurry. Just like that. Wham, bam! I needed a break-and this wasn't going to be it.

"I'm Agent Jean Matthews; this is Agent John Thompson," the woman said, gesturing to a thirty-something blond guy munching a Ghirardelli chocolate bar. "We hate to interrupt, to intrude, but we were sent out here to meet your plane. You're Alex Cross, sir?" she said, finally thinking to check.

"I'm Alex Cross. This is Inspector Hughes from the SFPD. You can talk in front of her," I said.

Agent Matthews shook her head. "No, sir, I'm afraid I can't."

Jamilla patted my arm. "It's okay." She walked away, leaving me with the two agents, which was the opposite of what I wanted to happen. I wanted them to walk away-far, far away.

"What's this about?" I asked Agent Matthews. I already knew it was something bad, which was an ongoing problem with my current job. FBI Director Burns had my schedule and itinerary at all times, even when I was off duty, which effectively meant that I was never off duty.

"As I said, sir, we were told to meet you. Then to put you right on a plane to Nevada. There's an emergency out there. A small town was bombed. Well, the town was blown off the map. The director wants you on the scene, like, an hour ago. It's a terrible disaster."

I was shaking my head, feeling incredible disappointment and frustration as I walked over to where Jamilla stood. I felt as if there was a hole in the center of my chest. "There's been a bombing in Nevada. They say it's on the news. I have to go out there," I told her. "I'll try to get back as soon as I can. I'm sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am."

The look on her face said it all. "I understand," she said. "Of course I understand. You have to go. Come back if you can."