He nodded, and his voice dropped. "You got it? You should be carrying. Long as this crazy is out there."

"I got it."

He looked around. No one was near. "You know that FBI guy isn't as bad as he came off this morning with you. He really does know his stuff. Lightner ID'ed a possible. Right now Cohen is running it through the NCIC database. We may have our first real break on the case."

"That's great." She knew he shouldn't be talking with her and appreciated his confidence.

"I'll pick you up at Lightner's place tomorrow at nine. Word is out to the press not to disturb you because you'll be at a family dinner, so you know it'll get around."

"Wait until I tell Michael. I'm gonna owe him big time after this."

"Knowing Michael, he won't let you forget it." Carter chuckled. "Why don't you go rescue the doc. Cohen must be about done with him. You look like you need some rest." He placed a hand on her arm.

"I'm fine." But she wasn't convincing either of them.

Josh rubbed his eyes. He'd been staring at a computer screen all morning, but it had paid off. He knew he had the right guy. Cohen seemed to believe it too, from the way the agent was wearing the linoleum thin as he paced in front of the fax machine. Ramsey joined them, told them about what had happened to Kate's car.

"So why don't they go out and arrest this Mason Blake?" Josh asked. He was rather proud of finding him. The computer link to the FBI database had allowed him to view photos of all convicted felons matching the physical description he had given them and who fit other parameters set up by Ramsey and Cohen. He'd been viewing almost two hundred faces an hour, culling and sorting until he was certain he had their man.

"It would be nice to verify that he isn't already behind bars somewhere." Cohen paused long enough in his pacing to answer Josh. "In the meantime, why don't you go back to work, you haven't even finished the B's yet."

"I know that is him," Josh insisted.

"You had sixteen faces on the possible list before you saw Blake."

"Right, before I saw Blake."

"Why don't we all take a break," Ramsey suggested. "Quantico should be back to us soon."

The door opened and Kate entered. "Any luck?"

"Yes," Josh replied, happy to see her.

"Maybe," Cohen said.

"I found him. They're just waiting for confirmation from the FBI."

Kate turned to the federal agents. "Who is it? Someone local?"

"Not according to the information we have." Cohen acted as if he was leaking state secrets by telling her that much.

"Can you tell me his name?" she asked. Cohen was silent. "For chrissakes this guy shot me and my partner!"

"May have shot you and your partner, and let's not forget about Conrad and Dimeo," Cohen said. "We don't need any loose cannons around here, Officer. Bringing him in is going to be hard enough."

"Do I look like a vigilante?" Kate gestured to her arm swathed in the sling. Josh paid more attention to the dark circles under her eyes and the strain in her voice. She was exhausted. "I want this creep behind bars so that I can get on with my life. Is that so hard for you to understand, Agent Cohen?"

"Blake, Mason A. Blake." Cohen pulled a paper from the computer printer and handed it to her. She stared at it, the color draining from her. Now Josh knew for certain that he was right.

"It's him," she said in a small voice. Josh went to her, and she allowed him to lead her over to the table, her gaze still glued to the photo gripped in her hand. "He was at the hospital. When I was in ICU."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Cohen snapped.

"He had brown hair, must've been a wig. He was dressed like a security guard. I thought-" Her voice broke, grew hesitant. She looked at Josh, her forehead creased with worry, twin frown lines surrounding her mouth. "I thought I was imagining things."

Cohen waved a hand as if it wasn't important. The fax machine alarmed and began to spew forth papers. Cohen grabbed them eagerly. He pulled each page from the machine, scanned it and handed it to Ramsey. They read in silence as Kate and Josh looked on.

"What do you think?" Cohen asked his colleague when she had finished all the pages.

"Definitely fits the profile," Ramsey said, sipping at a cup of coffee. "Ex-Army, former MP, but dishonorable discharge, one conviction for felonious sexual assault-served two out of seven, several more arrests but no convictions. No known current location, though. Probably using a different identity."

"Let's get the team together and get moving." Cohen seemed energized. He grabbed for the phone, then paused and turned to Josh. "We'll take it from here. Unless we track Blake down tonight, we'll proceed as planned tomorrow, O'Hern." He turned his back on them as he dialed.

Josh sighed, for a brief moment he'd felt like part of the team, on the inside track of things, but now he was an outsider again. Ramsey was on the other phone, scribbling notes furiously as she listened, but took the time to wave farewell to them. Kate remained silent as they walked through the hallway and out of the building.

Blake looked over his collection. God, how he loved Walmart. Remote car starter kit, battery, Coleman fuel, a small blow torch, and of course plenty of duct tape-what would a kidnapping be without duct tape?

He fingered the glossy prayer card he had gotten from O'Hern's SUV. The cemetery already had every thing else he needed, all very conveniently located for his purposes-almost as if this was meant to be. He smiled, satisfied that indeed, it was meant to be this way, and no one had the power to stop him.

He glanced around the equipment shed. It was like coming home. Except that the shed that he had come to call home had been much smaller. And much colder. But the same hard packed dirt floor, same musty smell of earth combined with rust, same piles of tools.

Blake began to re-arrange some of the equipment and debris so that he would have a clear space to work in the center of the shed. He paused as he lifted a canvas tarp, its underside stained with mulch and cobwebs. He rubbed it between his fingers, feeling the texture of the coarse cloth, the way it resisted him as he tried to bend it. Then, ignoring the cobwebs or the dirt, he placed it over his shoulders like a prayer shawl and sat on the floor, huddled in the tarp's cold embrace.

A similar piece of cloth had saved his life once. He remembered shivering in the night, listening to a howling wind tearing at the fragile corrugated tin walls that were his shelter, waiting until the endless night was over and the Deacon came to release him. He remembered hating the Deacon, hating his mother. Hating God.

Blake scowled, he wouldn't think about that time, it was over and he had already taken care of the Deacon and his mother. Now it was time to concentrate. Killing was serious business.

Even more serious was deciding where and when to push, how far to go. He'd never known or expected mercy; no one and no God had ever offered it to Blake. He felt sure he would have rejected it if they had.

Shadows of angels and tombstones crowded through the windows. Mercy. Could that be the missing piece, the thing he needed to learn before he could complete his work here?

Maybe. Maybe not. He'd know when the time was right.

He removed the tarp, now merely a handy square of cloth, and used it to cover his collection of supplies. What else would he need? The caretaker was semi-retired and went home after the afternoon mass. The cemetery was his all night to do what he pleased.

Blake smiled. Everything seemed to be ready. All he needed now was Lightner.

There was an old saying, trial by fire. But this wouldn't be one of those, Blake thought. In a trial there was always the chance for acquittal. Lightner would have no such chance, not unless there was some kind of divine intervention.

Blake wasn't expecting that to happen. In fact, by the time he was done, Lightner would be begging him, Blake, for mercy. Not some nameless, faceless god. The angel of death-that was him. And he was very good at what he did.

CHAPTER 31.

Josh opened the front door to his house, and Hershey bounded out.

Despite his attempts at conversation during the ride home, Kate still hadn't said anything. He knew she was upset that she'd let Blake escape when she saw him in the ICU-but damn it, what could she have done?

"It wasn't your fault," he had told her, only to be met with a glare and an upraised eyebrow.

Now she stood at attention, her gaze darting past him, scrutinizing the interior of the house, then turning to examine the street for any unwelcome presence. She was in full cop mode, he realized, wondering if he changed as much when he entered the OR or a trauma room.

"I think I'll take a walk," she said, her eyes still scanning the street. She turned and began down the porch steps.

He grabbed Hershey's lead from the hook inside the door, locked it behind him and jogged after her. "Good idea." He kept his tone nonchalant. "I need a break after staring at that computer all morning."

They'd both missed lunch, but he was too keyed up, knowing Blake was out there, looking for her, to feel hunger. Hershey led them along his favorite path into Frick Park, and they walked in silence. Josh could see that she was making a decision of some kind. It didn't take a genius to realize it had something to do with him. She kept cutting her eyes at him, her face alternating between concern and anger.

They stopped at an empty swing-set. Hershey treed a squirrel and flopped down looking proud of himself while Josh and Kate sat on the swings.

"I can't do this anymore," she finally spoke. "I can't take you down with me. God, the way Cohen treated you, and Turner-" Her jaw clenched in anger, her feet dug trenches in the wood chips. "It's all my fault. I never should have let it go this far."

That's what was upsetting her? Josh shook his head and laughed. "A bunch of cops think I'm lucky enough to be sleeping with you, and you think that bothers me?"

Her head jerked up, and she shot him a look that said he was a half-wit. "Because you're better than that, because they're talking about you behind your back, laughing-" She stopped as he reached across and took her hand, pulled her over to sit on his lap in the swing. "What are you doing?"

He pushed off and pumped his legs hard, quickly gaining speed and height. He wrapped one arm around her waist, snugging her to him, while the other gripped the chain. "Hush, just forget about everything. Lean back, close your eyes."

She resisted for a moment, then wrapped her legs around his so they moved in tandem. Her body relaxed as they swung up and fell back to earth again.

As the wind rushed past, Josh buried his face in her hair, enjoying the momentum, the feeling of almost-flight. Why was it his soap and shampoo smelled different on her? She smelled so good, crisp and fresh like a spring day.

"I used to love this when I was a kid," she said, her voice distant, her eyes still shut. "The rush of falling, of being free from everything, even gravity, for a split second. Letting go of everything, being out of control-it was intoxicating."

Josh smiled at that. And she called him a control freak. He'd never met a woman as very much in control as Kate. Or a woman who had affected him as she had. He remembered waking up this morning, excited just to sit and watch her breathe as the morning light filtered into his bedroom.

And now, her body losing its rigidity, relaxing into his, he couldn't think of a more pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Her own thoughts must have echoed his, because she sighed. "This is nice."

They swung for several minutes, before Josh gradually slowed to a stop. He still kept his arm tight around her, enjoying the weight of her against him, not even minding too much the gun jabbing him through her jacket.

"You're one tough lady, O'Hern," he said, his lips brushing against the nape of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed from the wind, the color highlighted the freckles that crossed her nose. "That's one of the things I love about you."

She tensed against him, but he held her firmly in place, determined to say what he needed to say. "I love how stubborn you are and the way you notice everything and don't take anything for granted and the way you walk like an Old West gunslinger even when you don't have your gun and the way you look when you're asleep and especially the freckles on the bridge of your nose. I love it all."

There, he'd said it. Finally. The rest was up to her.

He relaxed his hold, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from him. She hopped off the swing, turned to face him. Josh smiled. He'd seen her startled, angry and in pain, even frightened, but he'd never seen such a look of amazement on her face before. He had the feeling she wasn't often surprised.

"Are you nuts?" she demanded, her good hand fisted on her hip, weight thrown forward as if he was a toddler, and she was getting ready to give him a spanking. The image that accompanied the thought only widened his grin.

"In case you haven't noticed," she spoke as if to the village idiot, "I have enough to deal with right now without you-what are you thinking, saying something like that? I mean look at me, Josh, and look at you, how could you possibly be in love with-"

Josh stood up and framed her face with his hands, clamping his lips over hers before she could argue more. She resisted him for a fleeting moment, then her mouth opened beneath his, and she pulled him in with a hunger that matched his own. His fingers twisted in her hair, silky dark strands curling in his grip.

Heat stirred in his groin as he shifted his weight to press his body against the length of hers. Her free hand moved up to wrap around his neck, tugging him closer to her.

Just as the passion building between them was becoming irresistible, she slid her hand down against his chest, and pushed him back. Cold air slapped at Josh's face where her lips had pressed an instant before. She took a deep breath, shook her head and walked away, into the trees.

"This is not a good idea," she muttered.

Oh, yes it was. This was the best idea he'd had in a long time. He just had to figure out a way to convince her of that. Josh whistled to Hershey and followed. He caught up to her in a small clearing. She turned to him, her back against an oak tree and stared at him. The same, right-to-remain-silent stare she had used on Cohen earlier today.

Josh reached a hand to her arm, wishing he could touch her, feel the warmth of her skin instead of the leather jacket she wore. "I love you, Kate. What's so bad about that?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Lightner, the men close to me have a bad habit of getting killed."

He moved in, one arm on each side of her, pinned her to the tree and looked down on her. "I can take care of myself."

A bitter laugh vibrated through her as she recognized her own words thrown back in her face. Then her eyes widened as she looked into his. "God, you're serious, aren't you? You have no idea-"

He ended her protest with another kiss. This one longer, deeper, left him trembling. "I know my timing stinks. I'm not too happy about it either. It's against the rules for a doctor to become involved with a patient, but I can't help it. I've been involved-hell, I feel like I've been in over my head-ever since that first night. You've been constantly on my mind, and if you're leaving tomorrow, there's no more time."

She merely stared at him, her eyes searching his. Her silence was killing him, burrowing into his gut. He lowered his hands, turned away, tried to ignore the tearing in his chest that was his heart breaking. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. You don't need me adding to your problems."

Problems? Josh was the one good thing that had happened to her. He was the man of Kate's dreams, the man of any woman's dreams, but she couldn't let this go any further. She couldn't tell him how he made her feel, how his kiss could erase her pain, his touch restore her balance. It was too dangerous, for both of them.

"My life's been spinning out of control ever since I met you, Lightner."

"Then, maybe you should stop fighting it."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

She narrowed her eyes at him, began pacing across the clearing. Hershey followed her, tail wagging, wondering what the game was, while Josh leaned against the tree, ankles crossed in front of him as if he didn't have a care in the world.

And he wouldn't-not once she was out of his life. He wouldn't have to worry about his medical ethics, about either curing her visions or deciding if she was nuts, about a cop-killer- As she passed him, he pushed away from the tree, stepped into her path. "Tell me you don't feel anything, Kate, and I won't say another word. I'll go back to being only your surgeon."

His gaze was so earnest, so hopeful, his eyes penetrated to her soul. Kate tried to break away, but she couldn't resist, it was as if something in him called to her-just as he had called her back from death.

She raised a hand to his face, traced his cheekbones, his lips, felt his body tremble at her touch. Standing on tip-toe, she captured his lips with hers, surrendering to her need and desire as she never had with any man before.

His hands caught her waist, drawing her close. A small noise came from one of them, but Kate was too lost in the embrace to know who made it. Her fingers raked through his hair as she sank deeper into his warmth. She liked that he kept his eyes open, their blue the color of a sunlit lake, and she felt herself dropping into their depths.

Falling, whirling, spinning totally out of control.

Finally they parted long enough for him to whisper, "Stay with me, Kate. Don't go."

That brought her up short. She pulled back, fought for breathing space. The memory of her visions swarmed over her, left her gut roiling and the taste of fear burning in her throat. "Josh, I saw him kill you! You need to stay as far away from me as you can. Where'd you say your folks lived? Florida?"

"I'm not leaving you." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his warmth. She hadn't even realized that she was shaking until he stopped it with his reassuring presence.

"This is nothing to joke about," she protested, cursing herself for taking refuge in his arms when she should be pushing him away, finding him a safe hiding place. It was her job to protect, not his.