"Hershey, come here," she called again.

The dark-colored dog blended into the shadows. If she hadn't known he was there she would have missed him. Hershey groaned and slowly crawled forward enough so that Carter could reach him and help him the rest of the way.

"He's bleeding," Carter told Cohen.

The FBI agent was on the steps examining the inside of the door. "Looks like Blake shoved him down the steps. There's blood on some of the treads."

Kate looked up. "We need to get him help."

Cohen frowned. He seemed more concerned with preserving the integrity of his crime scene than with Hershey's life.

"Carter, help me get him to a vet."

Carter hesitated, then nodded. He grabbed a towel from a pile of laundry and wrapped it gently around the dog. He cradled Hershey in his arms as he carried him upstairs, Kate following.

"Poor Carter," she heard a detective say as they left, "first he pulls babysitting duty and now he gets to play dog walker." Carter tensed beside her but said nothing.

One more friend hurt because of her. If this kept up, she was going to be alone, without anyone she could trust or who would trust her.

Kate's steps faltered as she realized that was exactly what Blake wanted. To isolate her, place her at his mercy, in his control.

He was doing a helluva job of it so far.

Anne Ramsey came down the steps from Josh's neighbor as Kate and Carter arranged Hershey in the backseat of Carter's unmarked.

"Kate, are you all right?"

"Carter, will you take care of Hershey? I need to talk to Dr. Ramsey." Carter looked at her, eyes narrowed as if he thought she was up to something. Kate couldn't blame him. He had stuck by her so far, but sooner or later even Carter would have to draw the line between loyalty and his career. The less he was seen with her, the better. She looked up at him, put a hand on his arm. "Please."

He said nothing, merely nodded and got in the car. Kate and Ramsey moved back up to the porch, where they could talk out of earshot of the reporters and other gawkers.

"He changed his pattern," Kate told Ramsey, not bothering to restrain her anger. "Why didn't you think of that when you developed your brilliant plan?"

Ramsey moved closer and lowered her voice. "How did you know Blake was coming here? Did you have another vision?"

"No," Kate said bitterly. "I used my head. Thought about what Blake was doing and what he wanted. Damn it, why did Josh come here? I warned him that something might happen."

"The dog," Ramsey said. "He came back to feed the dog and let him out."

Kate shook her head. "His neighbor was watching Hershey."

"She was supposed to. When she got up this morning to get the key to Josh's place it was gone. So she called Josh on his cell phone."

"Let me guess, Mrs. Kertesz doesn't always lock her doors."

"Oh, she locks her doors. And the windows. But one of the basement windows was broken. Mrs. Kertesz says the keys to Josh's house are always hanging inside her back door. They're not there now."

"Blake." Kate shivered. "He was already in the house when we got back yesterday afternoon." She sank onto the porch swing. "And I saw it. Dammit, I should have known."

"What did you see?"

"I had a vision. Josh, Carter and I on the steps," she nodded to just behind Ramsey, "when we were shot. I looked around, but couldn't see where the shots were coming from. Josh was shot in the back. From the house. Blake must have been waiting inside. When I collapsed, it gave him time to hide."

Her stomach clenched as she realized the implications. If she hadn't had her vision, if Carter hadn't insisted that they go to the hotel, she and Josh might have stayed alone in the house. "Son of a bitch. He must have been laughing-waiting here, all cozy and safe once he took care of Hershey, while we were running around like scared rabbits."

Ramsey nodded. "That's part of it. The thrill. But there's also something more, something primal. He thinks that by gaining power over Josh, he'll also gain whatever power over death that Josh holds."

"In other words, we've been chasing our tails with all this decoy business."

"No, I think he's saving you for last."

"You mean Josh is the appetizer, and I'm the main course. Dammit it, Anne, I saw it! Why couldn't I do something to stop this from happening-"

"You did everything you could. I'm the person who's supposed to predict what Blake's going to do next, to get into his mind, so to speak. He blindsided me. I never saw this coming."

"I did."

"So you did. Do you think Josh is dead?"

Kate stiffened. "Can you think of any reason why Blake would keep him alive?"

"Yes. And a few to kill him right away. What do you think, what do you feel?" Ramsey's voice became intense. Kate stared at her. "C'mon Kate, stop letting this precognition control you. It's time for you to take control, use it, find Josh. You may be the only hope he has."

"Oh no, don't you put that on me. It's bad enough that I'm the reason he's in the trouble he's in now. Don't make me responsible for whether he lives or dies, I can't-"

"But you can," Ramsey insisted.

Kate was spared a reply by the sound of Tony's voice arguing with the patrolmen challenging his approach. "He's okay," she called out. "Let him through."

Tony straightened his jacket with a reproachful glance at the officers and joined them on the porch. Kate went to him, hugging him with her good arm.

"What happened?" he asked. "I heard some kind of squawk about a domestic disturbance on the scanner, recognized the doc's address."

Ramsey answered. "Blake was here. He almost killed Josh's dog, and apparently took Josh with him."

"Is the doc all right?"

"As far as we know. I was trying to get Kate-"

"Tony, take me out of here," Kate interrupted her. "Please, I need to be alone, to think."

"Kate," Ramsey said, "let me help you. Like last night."

Last night. Kate remembered the pain, the terror that had screamed through her brain. And afterward, making love with Josh, thinking that her leaving would protect him. Protect and serve. She couldn't let him down, not again. "I'll meet you at Tony's."

Bitter cold sliced through him, sharp as a scalpel. At first Josh thought he was blind, then he saw a small sliver of light. The smell of gasoline and oil burnt his nostrils. Trunk of a car. His hands were bound behind him so that he was lying on top of them, had already lost feeling in them. There was a wide piece of tape over his mouth, as he became aware of it he also realized how nauseous he was and fought the urge to vomit.

He could drown in his own vomit-what a fate. He had the worse headache of his life. How long had he been unconscious? More than a concussion, it could be an early epidural hematoma. Maybe even cerebral edema. He could die in here.

The thought almost made him laugh. It was either that or panic, and Josh refused to give up control, not yet. Not while the memory of Kate's face still remained with him. He squeezed his eyes shut, focused on her, on the way she moved beneath his hands, her scent, her taste.

He believed. He did believe. He had to believe. Because right now, Kate was the only person with the power to save him.

CHAPTER 38.

Kate sank into the cracked vinyl seats of Tony's Mustang. He'd owned the vintage muscle car for so long that its state often reflected Tony's mood. Today the usually pristine interior was crowded with fast food wrappers, empty coffee mugs, copies of the papers from the past week, a glossy brochure on post-traumatic stress in victims of violent crimes and, most surprising, a black-beaded rosary.

She held up the last two pieces of incriminating evidence. He scowled, yanked them from her, shoving them down beside the driver's seat. They sat in silence. Kate kept her good arm crossed over her left arm, pulling her jacket tight around her. Heat blew from the vents, but she couldn't stop shivering.

"Tony, have you ever been scared, I mean truly scared?"

He cleared his throat. "If you're going to ask questions like that, you ought to at least buy me a drink first."

The car pulled to a stop in front of a three-story brick warehouse with an interior design firm occupying the first floor. Tony led her up the side stairs to his loft on the top floor. The door opened onto a spacious room with large picture windows lining the north and west wall and bookshelves along the other two. There was a large desk with a computer, printer, fax and writing area that was uncluttered. A loveseat and three leather chairs were arranged in one corner near a stereo and wide screen TV. The main attraction was the unobstructed views across the Allegheny River and past the Strip District to Pittsburgh's downtown skyline. Kate took her customary chair facing the west windows and sat, looking out.

"All those people," she said in a low voice. "They're out there, going about their business, never knowing what is going to happen. Oh, they know what they think will happen next, what they have planned for the future. And they just gamble that things will work out that way. But they never really know for certain what is going to happen-next week, tomorrow, the next minute. God, I wish I had that kind of faith." She turned to Tony, who stood beside her.

"I've lost it, Tony. I can't even imagine that tomorrow is going to come. I don't want to try to think about what might happen if it does. The future used to be so hopeful to me, now it's a nightmare and I've nowhere to hide."

"Don't think about the future, think about the past, instead." He settled onto the arm of her chair, his hand kneading the cramped muscles at the back of her neck. Tony always knew exactly what she needed. "Remember when we were together? We used to sit here in the dark, watching the lights, talking all night long. Do you remember?"

"And by day we'd fight and squabble. How many times in one day would you tell me to clean up my mess? We were worse than the Odd Couple. Not to mention the fact that we had to plan a month ahead to find an evening when we'd both be home at the same time."

He stroked her hair. "Yeah, but we made the most of those times together, didn't we?"

Kate pulled away and turned to him. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to make a move on me."

He looked down at her, his hand brushed the curls away from her face. "No, just trying to make you smile. I've seen that look in your eyes before, but it's been a long, long time."

"What look?" she demanded, but she could feel the blush heating her cheeks betray her.

"Does the doc know you're in love with him?"

"Wipe that grin off your face. Who are you, Yentl the match maker? Of course I'm not in love with him." She went on, uncertain if she was trying to convince Tony or herself, "It's only one of those hero-worship adolescent crush kind of things. After all, he's a handsome, dynamic surgeon who just happened to save my life. Don't worry, I'll get over it."

Tony shook his head. "I don't think so. I think this one is for keeps. And you know what-he feels the same way about you."

"Maybe he did. Once." Tony said nothing about her use of the past tense, merely pulled her close. She quieted after a few moments, watching the November sun fight a losing battle against thick, leaden clouds rolling in from the west.

Ramsey arrived less than half an hour later. "We don't have a lot of time," she said after shrugging out of her coat and dropping her purse. "Cohen's expecting me at a task force briefing. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Kate lied. Ramsey gave her a sharp look, then nodded.

"Okay." Ramsey looked around the room. She turned one of the chairs away from the window and motioned to Kate to sit. "We'll need some privacy," she told Tony as he started to take a seat on the couch.

"Oh sure," he sounded disappointed. "I'll run over to Primanti's and get us some sandwiches for-uh-afterwards." He turned and put a hand on Kate's shoulder. She reached up and patted it. He gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head and left.

"Nice guy," Ramsey observed. "I'd say over all, you've been very lucky in your choice of friends. Carter and most of the others down at the precinct speak very highly of you."

"Except that it seems my friends are prone to have a very short life span. Look at Rob, the Sarge and now Josh-"

"Why don't you let up on yourself?" Ramsey snapped.

Kate looked up in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was wallowing in self pity."

"Kate, a lot has happened to you in a very short time. You need to stop hiding and face it. Not only what Blake is doing, but also the physical and mental changes you're experiencing. Talk about it, get it all out in the open and deal with it honestly, don't keep it all stuffed down inside you."

"I thought you were going to help me find Josh, not psychoanalyze me."

"I am helping you." Ramsey sighed and took the seat facing Kate. "Cops are always the hardest."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Before I came to the Bureau I used to work in stress debriefing, helping emergency professionals deal with the tragedies and extraordinary events that they dealt with every day. Police officers were always the worse. Sometimes they'd push their emotions so far away that they could never deal with them-and they'd come back to haunt them with a vengeance. Why do you think cops have the highest rates of suicide, depression, alcoholism and divorce?"

"Why'd you leave that to join the FBI? We're such difficult patients, you decided it'd be easier to track down mass murderers?"

Anne chuckled. "Not quite. I volunteered at a free clinic in Boston. One of my clients started to give me very strange vibes. He left therapy, against my advice, but I was still worried. I did some research into his background, including, I'm ashamed to say, some not so ethical investigation and surveillance. To make a long story short, he was a serial rapist wanted by the FBI. They were able to make a case against him with my help."

Kate was fascinated. This middle-aged woman looked so unassuming, like a history professor. She never would have visualized her dealing with a rapist, much less ensuring his capture. "Where is he now?"

"He killed himself in jail. But the Bureau offered me a job. It's a fascinating area of psychology, and I get to travel all over the country."

"Are you married? It must be rough with all your traveling."

"Actually it works out fine for us. John's a corporate lawyer, so he travels too. Sometimes it's lonely, but we make it work. It'll be eighteen years next July."

Kate shook her head. "I can't even keep a guy around for eighteen weeks."

"Do I detect a reluctance to commit, Officer O'Hern?" Ramsey asked in a fake Viennese accent. "Anyway, you now know everything there is to know about Anne Ramsey. Let's get to work. Lean back and relax."

Kate started to comply, then leaned forward again. "Anne, you've dealt with a lot of these crazies. Tell me, Blake-he is human, isn't he? I mean we can stop him, right? Because sometimes I can't help but wonder-"

"He might be pure evil, but I promise you Kate, he is human, and with your help we can stop him. Now, let's work on finding him and Josh. Close your eyes."

It felt much easier for Kate to slip into the state of relaxation that Ramsey had created for her last night. It almost felt natural. For a second she wondered if she could do it on her own, then she stopped thinking and allowed her mind to float along the waves created by the rhythm of Ramsey's voice. She felt safe, protected, as if she were riding in a transparent bubble. Colors washed around her, but nothing solid.

The colors coalesced into a blackness so complete that she felt as if she were falling, head first, spinning, flailing out of control. Ragged breathing echoed through the void, through her. She couldn't breathe, her throat was blocked by something. She struggled in terror, started to vomit. The tone of Anne's voice forced her to step back, to remove herself. She still couldn't see anything, she felt cramped, cold and scared, very scared.

Kate mentally took another step back, and she became aware that it was Josh who was curled up into that tiny dark space. There was something over his mouth. His hands and feet were bound. He was hurt and scared-not only of Blake, though. She took a timid mental step closer. His hands, he couldn't feel his hands. And he was cold, so very cold. There was blood on his face and head. He was trying to force himself to stay awake. If he fell asleep, he would never wake up again.

Where are you? she wanted to cry out in frustration, but of course he couldn't hear her or answer her. Instead she concentrated on details, the smell of gasoline, the metal ceiling-a car trunk. But where? There was no light coming in, so it was either inside or she was seeing into tonight's future. Why couldn't these visions come with a time reference? Kate almost lost the scene as she became more agitated. She forced herself to stay calm, stay with Josh.