CATHERINE I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt tighter around my face to prevent being seen. Though it was night, I could not risk it.

My identity should not be unmasked. I could not be arrested again. Moreover, I was living low until my plans were fully and successfully hatched.

I turned a corner, my eyes scanning the area for anyone who might recognize me. I headed for the St. Thomas bridge, hoping he was already waiting for me.

As I neared the bridge, I saw the glint the headlight of a black ...