Inexplicably, Gerard ignors Kimble and scans the room quickly before running out again. Only then does Kimble realize he is looking through a one-way mirror.

In the hallway outside, Kari catches up with Gerard. Kimble hears them talking, then hears footsteps going in opposite directions. Faint with relief, he cautiously opens the door and sees Gerard running down the hall. As he turns a corner, Kimble runs briefly in the opposite direction, then through a doorway and down the stairs.

After a quick search up and down the hallways, Gerard spots a nearby phone and calls the posted number for campus security. “This is Captain Gerard, Chicago Police. I’m in MacNaughton Hall. An escaped murderer was just spotted in the building. I need all available resources to keep him boxed in until the police can arrive. Do not attempt to apprehend him yourself! He may be armed and dangerous!”

 

The voice on the line answers nervously. “We’re not equipped to handle a situation like that. I suggest you call the metropolitan police.”

 

Gerard hangs up the phone in disgust, then reaches for his cell phone.

 

“Captain Saunders. I have a positive ID on Kimble at MacNaughton Hall on the Syracuse Law School campus. Issue an APB immediately. I want roadblocks on every road off this campus and on all major roads out of town. I want searches of all means of transportation.”

 

THE FLOOR BELOW:

 

In a darkened underpass underneath the building, Kimble glances behind him before slipping outside and heading for some bushes. A police siren wails in the distance. In desperation, he runs down an alley behind the law building, only to stop at the sight of a campus security vehicle coming up the street toward him. He looks around for a place to hide, when a car pulls out of the underground parking lot, blocking his path.

 

“Dr. Kimble!”

 

Kimble starts to run the other direction, but stops abruptly at the sight of a policeman running on foot past the alley entrance. He looks behind him anxiously.

 

“Get in, Dr. Kimble. I want to help you.” The driver pushes open the side door and Kimble recognizes the young prosecuting attorney. As he hesitates, he hears more sirens behind him. With a look of desperation, Kimble tosses his duffel bag into the car and slips inside.

 

“Hide under this,” Young tells him, tossing a football blanket into the back seat. Kimble crouches on the floor, covering himself with the blanket amidst a jumble of books and papers as the car begins to move.

 

Minutes later, the car slows to a stop. Kimble holds his breath as Young rolls down the window.

 

 

“Sir, I’ll have to search…Carl, is that you?”

 

“Officer O’Malley.”

 

“Well, I guess I don’t have to search your car. It’s not likely you’d be helping an escaped murderer, is it? Go on.”

 

As the car pulls past the roadblock, Kimble heaves a sigh of relief.

 

A SECLUDED SPOT, FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER

 

As the car pulls to a stop, Carl calls back to Kimble, “Its OK. You can come out now.”

 

Kimble cautiously looks out from under the blanket before tossing it aside and sitting up.

 

“Why didn’t they search the car?”

 

Carl turns to face him, a wry smile on his face. “My father is the District Attorney. I grew up hanging around the courthouse. I met all the police who came to testify. They sort of adopted me as a mascot.” With a disillusioned laugh, he adds, “I used to dream about the day I would be a trial lawyer.”

 

“Why are you risking everything to help me?”

 

“Twenty-one years ago, in his first case, my father prosecuted a man for rape. The man claimed he was innocent, but he was found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. Six weeks ago, on the basis of new DNA evidence, he was found innocent and released from prison. That man was in prison almost my entire life for something he didn’t do. I always wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps as a DA…and now that I’m almost there…it’s the last thing I want to do.” As Kimble stares at him, he continues, “I’m sorry I was so rough on the witnesses defending you today. I didn’t want to be the prosecuting attorney in this case! I got the job through the toss of a coin! But its my best chance to practice my trial skills so someday I can defend people like that man. And you.”

 

“What makes you think I’m innocent? The DNA evidence proves I’m guilty.”

 

“No, it doesn’t. I couldn’t say this back there, but its the lack of DNA evidence that makes me believe your innocent! There should have been evidence of someone else in your apartment - friends, family! It screams of evidence tampering. But you’ll need better proof than what we heard today to get an appeal. I’m sure your own lawyer has told you winning an appeal is harder than winning the original case.”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if I have a lawyer.” As Carl stares at him in disbelief. Kimble slams his fist on the door in frustration. “Two weeks ago, I had a concussion. I hardly remember anything about my past, just scattered memories. But I remember the night my wife died. There was a one-armed man was in my apartment. I recognized him at the hospital last week. And back there in the courtroom, I remembered how obsessed Gerard is with proving me guilty.” Kimble pauses, remembering something else. “But that woman with him, I remembered something but I’m not sure if it’s real or imagined.”

 

"That's Special Agent Kari Holmes.”

 

“She’s FBI?”  Kimble looks perplexed. 

 

“Yeah, and from the way she dug up the information on the crime scene photos vs. the autopsy photos.  I’d say she, at least, has doubts about your guilt, but then again she’s got good reason to doubt your guilt."

 

“Why would she actually have doubts?”

 

“Dr. Kimble you really do have amnesia.  It was a big national news story.  You saved her life in California by operating on her.”

 

Kimble’s eyes get wide.  “That explains the memory of my carrying her into a clinic, but why is she working for Gerard?

 

“Don’t be too sure she’s on Gerard’s side.  I found out from the defense attorney that she’s the one who provided him with the new information on Charnquist and Smith282 and she never admitted anything but the diary popping up like it did unexpectedly, I have no doubt that she instigated it getting here.”

 

Kimble closes his eyes in despair and then all of a sudden says, “She plays the violin.”  He opens his eyes widely and Young looks at him questioningly.  “I’m not sure why I know that, I just know she does.  I guess I better give her the benefit of the doubt since there’s obviously a lot I don’t remember.”

 

Young looks at him with concern. “I’m going to help you get out of town, Dr. Kimble. I’ll buy you a bus ticket.”

 

“I can’t let you…”

 

“No, I have to do this,” Carl says, cutting off his protest. “I just wish I could do more.”

 

 

A FOUR-LANE HIGHWAY, 30 MILES WEST OF SYRACUSE, 1 HOUR LATER

 

A bus travels down the highway. Three seats back from the front, Kimble stares intently out the window as though the memories of his past are hiding there, but sees only his own reflection staring back at him. Struck with a sense of futility, he turns away from the window. The bus is warm and he closes his eyes, seeking escape in sleep. Minutes later, a car swerves in front of the bus, cutting it off. The driver slams on the breaks and sounds his horn. Kimble is jerked awake by the sudden memory of another dark night and a horn sounding in the darkness.

 

    “NO!” Kimble screams involuntarily. The man in the seat in front of him turns around and stares at him. “It’s OK, buddy. It’s OK.” Kimble surveys his surroundings and gives him a weak smile. He closes his eyes again as the man returns to reading his magazine.

 

SYRACUSE POLICE HEADQUARTERS - CAPTAIN SAUNDERS OFFICE - 30 MINUTES LAATER

 

Gerard is angrily confronting the Captain as Agent Holmes watches in the background.

 

“Gerard, I have men posted at every bus and train station and roadblocks on all the major routes out of town. His picture is being posted on all the local news stations. What more do you want!”

 

“If your men had been faster getting to the campus, we would gotten him before he could escape the city!” Gerard snaps. “I want...” Gerard stops abruptly to answer his cell phone. “What! Where?” He slams the phone shut. “Kimble was spotted on a bus going to Rochester. I want a helicopter. Now!”

 

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