He pulled down the alley and parked behind a large brick Tudor. He went around and opened the door for her, reaching over her to pick up her bag. Getting out of the sports car wasn't as easy as getting in with one hand. Kate swung her legs around, and he placed an arm under her good shoulder, lifting her out.

"Thanks," she said. He felt her body tense and he disengaged his arm. "I can manage from here."

"That's okay, I'll carry this in for you." He gestured with the bag. The November wind froze their breath into small clouds that scudded away and vanished. He hoped she couldn't see his shivering and wished he had worn a sweater over his button down shirt. She led him inside and up to the top floor.

Kate was huffing by the time she reached the top of the steps. She didn't care. She was just happy to be home.

Home, where no one bothered her at all hours of the day and night to check her vitals. Home, where she could listen to her music, curl up by the fire with a book, eat what she wanted when she wanted, and most of all, where she would have the peace and quiet she needed to think about everything that had happened. To plan her future, come to terms with her visions and what they meant.

The key trembled in her hand as she unlocked the door. She almost forgot Lightner until she heard his breath catch when he entered behind her.

"I think someone's been here," he said.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Kate laughed. Out on the streets, it was her job to bring order to chaos. Here, in her sanctuary, she was free to let chaos reign. Home, where no one told her to redd up her room.

"No," she answered him, delighting in the look that crossed his face as he surveyed her kingdom of clutter. "This is how it always looks. Throw those anywhere."

It had been a long time since Kate had a stranger inside her apartment. Tony was used to her mess, Rob and Jenn laughed and compared Kate's housekeeping skills to their four year old's, and Michael never came near her place if he could help it. When it came to dates, she always went to their place, never brought men here-the better to see who they really were without exposing herself.

She looked around the studio apartment and tried to see it through Lightner's eyes. High ceilings, large windows filling two of the walls made it seem larger than it was. Hard wood floors and intricate woodwork gave it an old world charm. The heavy bag and weight bench were a bit incongruous with the Amish quilts she'd hung as art work as were the shelves overflowing with books that mingled with CD's, dirty clothes and newspapers on the floor. She'd placed her bed and an overstuffed chair near the fireplace, a dresser beneath the windows, otherwise the only furniture she owned was the battered desk in the far corner.

"I like to think it has ambience," she said in the nasal tones of a high-brow interior designer. "That special je ne sais quoi."

"Ambience," he repeated, still holding her bags as if concerned with biohazardous contamination.

She took them from him, dumped them on the end of the bed. There was a large closet near the bathroom, but somehow the clothes never made it that far before she was ready to either wear them or wash them.

"You don't even have a TV," he said in amazement.

"Morphine for the masses," she borrowed a line from Tony. Never one for consistency, the reporter's pride and joy was a state of the art wide-screen plasma TV.

She walked past Lightner to her small kitchen and opened the fridge, taking inventory. It felt so good being here, she could almost imagine that the events of the last week never happened. The rancid smell of spoiled milk quickly corrected that fallacy. Kate flushed it down the drain.

"Coltrane, Miles Davis, Robert Johnson-don't you have any modern music?" he asked as he scanned her CD collection.

"No thanks, my fillings get rattled enough by that crap when I'm on patrol."

He reached to turn her stereo on. "I'll bet you listen to NPR."

"No bet." She laughed and moved to intercept his hand. Their fingers connected for an instant before she pulled away. She looked at him, the afternoon sun lit him from behind as he flashed her a smile. This felt so good, so comfortable.

Something about Lightner- The phone rang before she could finish her thought. She reached for it, awkwardly holding it in her right hand. So many things she did with her other hand that she took for granted.

"Kate, it's Carter."

Figured. He probably clocked them from the hospital.

"Made it home in one piece," she told him, nodding to Lightner. He looked around one more time as if searching for something, then gave her a small wave and left.

Kate frowned at the door as it shut behind him, surprised at her disappointment that he was gone. Of course, he was a busy man, this was his afternoon off, she couldn't expect him to devote it entirely to her.

Still, she wouldn't have minded if he had stayed. Then she caught Carter's words and she slumped against the door, shaken.

"We lost another cop," Carter said. "Bastard hit him at the funeral today."

Josh closed the door and slowly went down the stairs, cursing himself a fool with each step. Obviously she wasn't interested in him. Maybe he was the one who should be seeing a psychiatrist, imagining that she had almost kissed him this morning. He opened the front door, holding it for a blond-haired man carrying a bundle of flowers, and went out to his car.

He shrugged back into his jacket and sat in the car for a few minutes, letting it warm up. Then he noticed the paper bag on the floorboards beside him. Damn, he had forgotten her prescriptions. The last thing he wanted was the embarrassment of facing her again.

Josh sighed and grabbed the bag. The front door was ajar, sparing him the necessity of buzzing her apartment. He climbed the stairs and was surprised to see the florist delivery man at her door. Those flowers must have been for her-probably from her boyfriend, Martini.

As he approached the door, he noticed the flowers peeking out from under the green paper. White funeral lilies.

"Excuse me," he said to the delivery man. "What florist are you from?"

The man turned and Josh saw the handle of a gun sticking out of his waistband. "The Grim Reaper."

CHAPTER 21.

Josh's throat constricted with fear as his vision centered on the very large, gleaming silver gun aimed at him. The killer took a step toward him, tossing the flowers aside, one finger over his lips in the universal gesture for silence. He grinned at Josh as if they were co-conspirators in a warped prank.

He wouldn't let him have another chance to hurt Kate, Josh decided, straightening, preparing to charge. Even if the killer shot him-and how could he miss with that huge gun at such close range? -the noise would warn Kate, give her time to barricade herself, call the cops.

Josh sucked his breath in, balanced on the balls of his toes, ready to spring into action.

Before he could move, the killer barreled into him, slamming him against the wall. From the corner of his eye, Josh saw the man raise the massive gun up to club him. He dodged forward. The killer hit the wall instead, cracking the plaster instead of Josh's skull. He rebounded with an elbow to Josh's back that sent him sprawling.

"Stop!" Kate's voice came from behind them.

Gasping for breath, Josh watched as the gunman whirled. Kate stood in the center of the hall, unarmed except for her phone.

Go back, Josh tried to call out, but no words would come as pain shot through his shoulder blades. The killer raised his gun, aimed at her.

Kate didn't flinch. Stood there like Wyatt Earp at the OK Corral. Ready for a fight and not willing to give up, no matter the consequences. Sunlight from the window behind her cast her face in shadow, glinting off the tousled strands of her hair. The faint and very distant sound of a truck backing up penetrated the hush of anticipation.

The killer moved first, raising his gun barrel to his lips and blowing Kate a kiss. Then he spun on his heel and sped past Josh, his footsteps ricocheting through the empty apartment house.

Kate pounded down the hall to where Lightner lay, each step lancing through her chest like broken glass. Lightner rolled over, groaning. Thank God, he was all right. She ran past him, intent on following the killer.

Lightner grabbed her by the ankle and she stumbled, almost fell.

"Let go!" She caught the railing, yanked her leg from his grasp.

"Stop. He has a gun."

She heard the front door slam shut and relented. Lightner climbed to his feet, latching onto her good arm.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded.

She jerked her arm free and stalked back to her apartment. "I was thinking maybe I could see what kind of car he was driving. I was thinking maybe it might be a good idea to catch this guy before he kills someone else. What did you think?"

He caught up to her at the door of her apartment, stepping over the tumbled lilies in their green florist paper. "I was thinking you might get yourself killed."

She turned her back on him, listening as the dispatcher she was on the phone with confirmed that a patrol car was en route. Dark spots danced in her vision, keeping time with the throbbing in her side and shoulder.

How in hell had the shooter found her? Fear and anger tumbled together, combined with the ebbtide of adrenalin to leave her trembling.

Why had the shooter left Lightner alive? Or her? He could have easily taken them both in the hallway. What was this guy's game?

Lightner closed her door behind them. As she reported the details, she watched warily as he picked up the plastic hospital bag she had dumped on the bed and began to fill it with clothes. When it was full, he started on a gym bag he found beneath her black leather jacket.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked after the dispatcher assured her the patrol unit had arrived at her building. She hung up the phone.

"He knows where you live. You're not staying here." He grabbed her white cotton laundry bag and set it with the other two.

"You're not my mother. This is my home, I'm not going to let anyone chase me out of it."

There was a knock on the door. She checked the peephole and let Redding inside. "Where's Zelinski?" she asked.

"Sweeping the perimeter." Redding, a short stocky man with bulging biceps, raised a questioning eyebrow at Lightner.

"This is Josh Lightner. He's our witness."

Redding nodded, pulling his notebook from his too-tight pants. Kate leaned against the windows, arms crossed, hands hidden under the sling, so the men couldn't see their shaking. Josh told Redding the story and about ten minutes later Redding's partner, a tall skinny redhead named Zelinski, appeared holding a bedraggled bunch of white lilies and her bag of medications.

"I found these in the hall, there's nothing else. No one saw anything." He held the flowers by the extreme corner, dangling them in the air like something out of a bad detective movie. Kate knew he was okay for a rookie, but prone to theatrics, always trying to impress the civilians.

"The doctor says he was wearing gloves," Redding told his partner, "but we'll have forensics check them out just in case." He flipped his notebook shut and turned to Kate. "Either of you get a good enough look to come down and go through the books?"

Kate shook her head. "Not me. He had a baseball cap pulled down low and the light was behind him, put him in shadows."

"I don't know, maybe," Lightner said, his frown deepening. "It all happened so fast."

"Damn, this guy is like a fucking ghost." Redding sighed. "Doc, think you could come down to the station, look at some pictures?" He didn't wait for an answer and looked at Kate. "Where are you going to be staying? In case anything turns up."

"Here. I'm not going anywhere," she said, her jaw set. "You guys can call in for surveillance, catch him if he comes back."

The other officers exchanged glances. Lightner opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again when she shot him a glare.

"C'mon, O'Hern. Carter told you what happened to Dimeo today. It's not safe for you here," Redding said. "Not with that bum arm."

"Yeah, this guy is a real psycho and it looks like he's focused on you," Zelinski added.

"What do you want me to do, check into a hotel?" she asked. "I can't go to my brother's and put his family in danger, the same holds true for any of my friends. All he'd have to do is ask around the neighborhood-"

"You can stay with me," Lightner volunteered.

All three of them looked at him, Kate with incredulity and the two men with knowing smiles.

"Oh, no," Kate began, glowering at him. She was surprised when his eyes narrowed into a stubborn glare of his own. They faced off, the two uniformed cops watching the silent exchange.

"Better than staying here," Redding said, weighing in on Lightner's side. "He doesn't know who the doc is."

"Probably thinks he's just another tenant who was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Zelinski added his support.

"But-"

"You've got to go somewhere," Lightner said. "I've got a spare room. And a dog who's better than any alarm system. With my hours we probably won't even see each other."

"It's settled," Redding said. Kate began to protest, but he continued, "Better than us exposing more cops to this freakazoid. Guy like him, he'd be expecting us to set a trap if you stay here. Give us a few minutes to make sure he's not hanging around, and we'll follow you over." The two left, Redding with a wink to Lightner over his shoulder.

Kate slammed the door behind them. "Damn it, do you know what they're thinking? This will be all over the House by dinner!"

"Who cares what they think? The important thing is we get you someplace safe."

He absorbed the glare she gave him without flinching. Her gaze darted around the room, then down to her arm in its sling. She couldn't risk placing her neighbors in jeopardy. If she had Redding take her to a hotel, Carter would pull men off the street to watch her.

As a cop, she was useless. Worse than useless, a liability.

"You win." She blew her breath out through clenched teeth. "Let me grab some things, and I'll be ready to go." She took the gym bag with her into the bathroom.

The tiny bathroom with its mauve and black tiled walls and old fashioned clawfoot tub never felt more welcoming. Kate closed the door behind her, lowered the lid on the toilet seat and sank down, her head dangling between her knees.

The soothing scents of jasmine and vanilla swirled through her as she tried to quiet the churning in her gut. Another cop dead. Why hadn't she seen it? What the hell good were these visions if they couldn't help her stop a cop from dying or catch the actor responsible? The bastard had come to her home, would have killed her right here. In her home. Her sanctuary.

Pain spiraled through her chest as she drew in a ragged breath. Any other time and she would have had her service piece and backup Glock-27 close to hand when she opened the door. With both guns locked up in evidence, today she'd rushed out to face a killer armed only with a phone.

A fucking phone. Hunk of plastic and wires and still she hadn't hesitated, had opened the door, knowing death was on the other side, rushed out-why?

To save Lightner.

All her experience, all her training, cast aside in one breathless moment of fear for his safety. She pounded her fist against the cold enamel of the tub. Damn it, now was not the time to become emotionally involved with a man. Any man. Much less the one who had saved her life-twice now.

But she couldn't help herself. All morning she'd relived the moment when Lightner had almost kissed her, had promised herself that given another chance, she wouldn't let it pass her by again.

She'd sat alone in her hospital room, imagining soft caresses from those full lips of his, feeling his long, surgeon's hands pressed against her flesh. A myriad of erotic fantasies, starring her and Lightner had kept her mind occupied and blissfully free of any more mind-wrenching visions.

As if Lightner had the power to heal her soul.

Kate jerked her head back, contemplated the cobweb hanging from the ceiling above her, forcing herself to review the real-world situation she was mired in, pushing all thoughts of Lightner as a man aside.

He wasn't her sexy surgeon, couldn't be a sexy anything-not now, not to Kate. He was a civilian who she was sworn to protect. As soon as she reached his house, she'd call a cab, escape to an anonymous hotel in Monroeville or out near the airport.