She leaned against Tony's bureau, forcing her breathing to slow, trying to remind herself of what was reality and what existed only in her mind. Slowly the room came into focus around her.

She was worthless out on the street without her weapon. Worse, she was naked. She grabbed the Baretta. Fire jolted through her with a glimpse of a muzzle flash, then a second followed by the scene of Carter's body dropping to the floor. She knuckled her fist into her abdomen, trying to push back the gut-wrenching terror that flooded over her.

She edged away from the dresser, caught her breath. Remembered her visions in the shower. Seemed like someone or something didn't want her carrying a weapon anymore.

What kind of a cop was she without her gun...She sank down onto the bed.

Not a cop. Not anymore. No weapon. Naked, alone.

That was how she would face Blake. Tears filled her eyes, stinging as she blinked them away. There was no way she could beat Blake, not all alone. She was going to die.

Finally she mustered enough courage to pull herself back onto her feet. Her visions were her last weapon against Blake. She had no choice but to trust them.

Kate could see no signs of any news crews as the cab pulled up to Rob's house. Thank God, she thought as she waited for the driver to make change from the twenty she'd borrowed from Tony's wallet. As usual with Pittsburgh cabbies, he was slow in counting it back, pausing after each bill as if waiting to hear those magic words, "keep the change."

Kate disappointed him, the rest of the twenty was all the money she had, and the cabbie gave her the finger as he drove off, splashing her with mud and rainwater. A week ago she would have taken his name and number, but a week ago she was still a cop. Now she wasn't certain she had the strength to carry her up the steps to Rob's front door.

She stood in the rain, looking at the house, remembering so many good times. Rob and Jenn were famous for their cookouts in the summer and frequently hosted the House's get together at Christmas. In the three years she and Rob had partnered, Kate had come to depend on the Hansen house as a safe refuge. Genetics not withstanding, Rob and Jenn and their children were part of her family. She had cried with them, laughed with them, babysat, petsat and housesat. She was even Caroline's godmother.

They had been kind enough to allow Kate to share their lives, trusting her with the only dark moments which marred their otherwise storybook family-those months when Jenn had been lost to the abyss of psychosis and postpartum depression.

Now Jenn was alone dealing with not only Rob's death and the prospect of raising her children without a father present, but also with the sudden intrusion of the news media as they attempted to destroy Rob's memory and reputation. Kate had to wonder how Jenn was holding up under the pressure. The doctors had said she was cured, but doctors didn't always know everything.

Kate's legs had brought her to the top of the steps. She leaned against the doorway, unable to force her hand to press the doorbell. Would Jenn want to see her? Kate had the sudden image of Jenn opening the door and spitting in her face.

Then the door opened, and Jenn was there. Her face was pale, dark circles making her light blue eyes seem as faded as stonewashed denim. Her eyelids were puffy and her nose red from crying. For a moment her expression was vacant as if she didn't recognize Kate.

There was a crack of thunder, and the rain pounded a staccato rhythm on the porch roof. Kate saw Jenn's mouth move but couldn't hear the words. Then Rob's wife took a step forward and placed her arms around Kate, hugging her and pulling her into the house.

They stood in the foyer for a minute, both women releasing the grief that Rob's death had brought to them. Finally Jenn stepped back. She closed the front door, locking the winter storm winds out and turned back to Kate.

"Jenn, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say," Kate stammered. "I wasn't sure if you would see me after what happened this morning."

"I'm glad you came," Jenn said, leading the way into the kitchen. "You look awful. When's the last time you ate anything?"

Jenn hustled around the kitchen filled with well-wisher's gifts of food. In a domestic whirlwind she put together a plate of assorted pastries, breads, chicken and pasta salads and placed it in front of Kate. She followed this with a cup of coffee for each of them.

Kate stared at Jenn's hyperkinetic activity and realized this was another defense against thinking and remembering, similar to her own need for action. But Jenn couldn't do anything to help catch Blake, could only wait for others to avenge Rob's death.

Jenn sat, then immediately stood again and got milk from the refrigerator, even though they both took their coffee black. She had barely returned to her seat when she started to rise once more. Kate stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. Jenn sat still, staring down into the depths of her coffee cup.

"We have to talk," Kate began. "About that night-"

A spasm passed over Jenn as Kate continued. "Rob did everything right, there was no way he could have predicted what Blake did."

Jenn's pale eyes locked with Kate's. "And what about you? Was there anything you could have done?" she asked Kate in a strangled voice.

It was the question that had haunted Kate since she had woken in the hospital. She had re-lived that night over and over in her mind and still had no answer that her heart could accept.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, "but I can't think of anything that could have changed things."

Jenn sighed. "I'm sorry, Kate. I know that you were hurt really bad. I can't believe he's gone. He was a good cop, you know that. He was always careful. I don't understand, why him?" Silent tears began to flow. Jenn wiped them and sniffed. "I've cried more in the last week-after the first couple of days I thought I was doing okay, then today-"

"You know that what they said about Rob and me isn't true."

"Of course it's not," Jenn snapped. "Do you think I'd let you in here, let you near my children, if I thought even for a moment-"

"No, I don't. The point is, we're in the minority here. I don't want Rob to be remembered that way and I know you don't either." Kate put up a hand as Jenn began to interrupt. "I also don't want to tell them about when you were in Western Psych. So I'm here to ask you, what should I do?"

Jenn exhaled and her entire body seemed to deflate. Suddenly she was a smaller person, an empty shell of the willowy blonde Kate had always been slightly jealous of.

"It was my father who told them those horrible things about you and Rob, wasn't it?"

Kate was silent for a long moment, uncomfortable being placed in the position of having to defend Turner. "In his own way, he meant well," she faltered. "I think he truly thought he was defending your honor."

Jenn jerked her head up at that, tears glistening in her eyes. "My honor? When has that meant anything to him? He could care less about my honor as long as I was a good girl and did whatever he wanted."

"It's me he's mad at. He blames me for what happened to Rob, for what you're going through-"

Jenn stared at her for a long moment, her face growing so pale, her body so rigid that Kate wondered if she was going to faint.

She reached out and took Jenn's hand, then pulled her into her arms.

The kitchen grew silent once more. The black cat clock on the wall twitched its whiskers in time with the swish of its tail and movement of the second hand. Kate watched, transfixed. Something so normal, yet it seemed horribly out of place here among the talk of killers and dead men.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked Jenn after the other woman had regained her composure and pulled away.

"To hell with the truth, I really don't care," Jenn finally said. "I almost laughed at those news people when they started calling and asking me their stupid questions. When they didn't get the answers they wanted, they just kept hounding me, complaining about deadlines and the public's right to know. What about my right to have my husband here by my side? What about my kids' right to have a father?"

She paused and looked up at Kate with red-rimmed eyes. "Nothing is going to bring him back. The only thing you can do for me is to get the bastard who killed him."

Kate was silent, then placed her hand over Jenn's, squeezing gently.

"I'll do my best," she promised. "I'll stop Blake."

Kate's chest constricted as she said the words. Fleeting images, visions of her own death raced through her mind, but she didn't care. As she sat with Rob's widow in what used to be the most joyous place in Kate's universe, she knew that it didn't matter if she lived or died. All that mattered was that Blake was stopped. And Kate knew she alone could do it.

Her only regret was Josh and the pain she'd caused him.

CHAPTER 44.

Jenn went to check on the kids while Kate called Anne Ramsey. She needed back up before she faced Blake. She might be willing to sacrifice herself if necessary, but she wasn't suicidal. She may have lost everything important to her: her career, her partner, maybe even Josh if he couldn't forgive her for getting him hurt, but still, Kate wanted to live.

"Anne Ramsey here."

"It's Kate."

There was a pause. Then Ramsey's voice returned, now quieter. "Where are you? Everyone's looking for you."

"Look, Anne, I-"

"No, you look, Kate. I've tried to help you, but you should have told us about you and Rob. Turner made the whole task force look like jerks. Your local brass aren't taking it well, not to mention the flak that Cohen and I have had from Quantico for trusting you."

"I didn't tell you because there was nothing to tell. Rob and I never had an affair. Either you believe me or you believe Turner."

"It's hard to believe you when Blake has confessed to the entire thing."

Ramsey's words hit her with a force that made Kate sway. She grabbed the edge of the counter, slumped into one of the stools, the sunny yellow and blues of Jenn's kitchen swimming around her.

"You've got him, you caught Blake?" If so, then it was over, everyone was safe, she and Josh- "No." The single syllable dashed Kate's hopes with a brutal impact. "He called, Cohen spoke with him. We didn't get his location; he was using a throw away cell phone. He confessed to everything-you and Rob, how you asked him to take care of things but they got out of control, even said you told him to watch Lightner's house and take care of him when you had an alibi. Turner pushed the DA and a friendly judge into issuing a warrant for your arrest."

Kate's entire body shook with anger and disbelief. She wanted to hurl the phone away from her, hide from Ramsey's cold tone and colder words.

"He's lying," she finally stuttered the words past the fist of anger that had lodged in her throat. Ramsey was silent for a long moment. "You know that, you believe me-" She clamped her mouth shut, embarrassed by the pleading in her voice.

If Blake wanted to isolate her, take everything away from her, then he'd accomplished that. She imagined Blake watching the local news, laughing as they portrayed Kate as an out of control, vengeful madwoman.

Her rage pushed the fear and embarrassment aside. He wanted out of control? He wanted vengeful? He was going to get what he wanted. And much more, she vowed.

"I believe you," Ramsey finally said.

"I've a feeling-one of my strong feelings, you understand-that Blake is going to return to Josh's house. I thought maybe you could arrange for surveillance."

"Are you sure? There isn't anything there for him. Not with Josh in the hospital."

"You're the one who kept at me to use this gift, or whatever you want to call it. I found Josh for you last night, didn't I? Why don't you trust me now?"

"No, it's not that, it's just that it will be a hard sell. Especially as they already have three teams out: at the hospital with Josh, at your place with your decoy and here, in case Blake comes back."

"You're at Blake's apartment?"

"Yeah, the forensic guys finished, and I wanted to go through everything, try to get a better angle on him." Ramsey paused. "Why don't you join me? It might help you to get a feeling about where he is. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"What about the surveillance?" Kate rested her forehead against the cabinet. Was Ramsey setting her up? Would Kate be arrested as soon as she arrived? Could Kate trust her?

"The man out front is your friend, Carter, so I doubt he'll give you any problems. In the meantime, I'll get in touch with Cohen and suggest that he put Josh's house under the microscope."

She hung up after giving Kate an address in East Liberty. Kate went upstairs, found Jenn nursing Caroline in the baby's room. Kate stood in the doorway, listening to Jenn's soothing murmur, Caroline's quiet, wet noises of contentment. She imagined cradling a baby with Josh's brilliant blue eyes against her body, could almost feel his strong arms wrapping around them, sheltering them from the world outside.

Jenn looked up, gave Kate a small, tired smile. "You're leaving?"

"Could I borrow your car?"

"My father left Rob's here yesterday, take it. Keys are hanging by the garage door."

Kate couldn't resist. She crossed the room and knelt down beside her goddaughter. She gave Caroline a quick kiss on her head, inhaling the sweet perfume of baby freshness. She pulled herself back to her feet, one hand on the crib.

"Thanks," she told Jenn, trying to keep her voice level. "Thanks for everything."

Jenn nodded slowly. "Kate, be careful, all right?"

Kate left without looking back or acknowledging her words.

Blake's apartment building was distinguished by only its total featurelessness, leaving it an incognito blur, blending with the other yellow brick buildings that huddled alongside. Across the street was an abandoned warehouse whose broken windows gaped like the smile of a hockey player.

Kate knew Carter saw her, but she hurried past him, not wanting to get him in more trouble. He must already be on Turner's black list if the commander had stuck him here. After all, they'd found Blake's apartment yesterday morning, the chances of Blake coming back were exceedingly slim. It was a waste of a detective like Carter to be forced to sit on the place hour after hour. And Turner hadn't given him any back up, another slap in the face.

Anne waited for her on the landing. "I should have warned you, this is not a pretty sight, especially when you start to get a feel for the man behind it all."

Kate brushed her aside. "What did Cohen say?"

"He's trying to arrange for some manpower, but Turner's really screwing him. Turner's out to get you. What did you ever do to him?"

Kate smiled slightly as she remembered the Christmas party and the look on Turner's face when she cold-cocked him. Bastard had deserved it. Deserved even more after the way he was dragging Rob's good name through the muck. She pushed open the door to Blake's apartment and stopped inside the threshold.

On the surface it looked very ordinary, almost too ordinary. Neat piles of magazines and mail on the hallway table, an afghan folded on the couch in the living room beyond, coasters squared off on the glass-topped coffee table.

The furniture in the living room was ex-hotel surplus tweed. No art adorned the walls except for two chrome-framed Nagel prints. Why did single men always think women would be impressed by glitzy art nouveau blondes with impossibly large busts and thin legs? No personal photos, no mementos, very sterile.

"He's a private person. He's learned how to make the surface look normal, but it's a facade," Kate was mainly speaking to herself as she walked around the room. She rifled through a stack of magazines, some militia, sports and a few porn-nothing too hard core. "Did you find any exercise equipment?"

Anne gave her an appraising half nod. "No, we didn't. Why?"

"He's a very physical person. I'll bet he works out in a gym close by. Most likely a co-ed place so that he can impress the ladies."

She crossed into the next room and found a small linoleum table scarred with cigarette burns in an otherwise meticulously neat kitchen. No magnets on the refrigerator, nothing on the counters except a coffee maker, no stains. The pantry was completely empty, its shelves marred only by the silver tinge of powder left behind by the fingerprint techs. The powder shadowed several impressions, and she knew that they must have found something interesting enough to take as evidence.

Kate turned to Anne. "Trophies?"

"I'll show you the photos when you're done."

Kate frowned at her, wondering, but continued her trip through the apartment. Down the hall and into the bedroom, she found a full-sized bed, the blanket that covered it tucked in tightly with squared hospital corners. The bathroom was equally unimpressive with no hair in the sink, only a bar of soap, razor, toothbrush and cup sitting on the sink edge.

Kate went out to find Anne lounging in the recliner, flipping through one of the magazines. "This guy is a zombie or something. I couldn't even find any toothpaste splatters on his bathroom mirror."

Anne nodded. "That's the point, isn't it? Total control over his environment. But the one thing he can't control is what's going through his mind." She threw the magazine down and got up. "Here's what we found, forensics has everything now." She pulled a stack of Polaroid photos from her purse and handed them to Kate.

They showed the inside of the kitchen pantry. Displayed on the shelves were four police uniform caps, two from dress uniforms, and a ticket book. Surrounding them were news stories on the shootings, including several with photos of Kate. But what caught Kate's attention were the stories from September, when they'd lost Sherrie Thomas during a routine traffic stop. They'd never found the driver who had run her over, taken her gun and shot her.

"He killed Sherrie Thomas. That's what started all this, isn't it?" she asked Anne.

"Right."