"He's been planning this for some time."

"From what we've pieced together, Thomas' murder took place on the same night that Blake was fired from his last job. He was head of security for a dance club downtown, the Rose Tattoo."

"I know the place. Lots of loud music, underage kids and drugs."

"Cohen interviewed the manager. She says that Blake was responsible for most of the illegal activity there and when she found out she fired him. Cohen thinks she's only telling part of the truth, covering for herself, but he did believe her when she told him that Blake had a penchant for being rough with the ladies. She also said he enjoyed it when he had to get physical with rowdy customers and always carried a knife on him."

"Is he into martial arts?"

"Nothing organized. Did have some training while he was in the army. His dishonorable discharge was for sexually harassing a female reserve officer. We're still trying to track her down to interview her. Everyone we've talked to who knew him when he was in the military describes him as cunning, brutal and, let me quote here, *totally focused on his own objectives, whether or not they were in line with the objectives of his unit'."

"You're the expert, but sounds classic so far. What about his childhood?"

"Perfect training ground for a future monster. Raised in Rochester, New York, father unlisted on the birth certificate, mother was Rhonda Blake. Mother and son were homeless and out on the streets by the time he was three. She met and married a church deacon who was a volunteer in a shelter. His name was Gordon. Both he and the mother are dead now, died right at the time Blake left home to join the army."

Kate looked up at that. "Anything suspicious about their deaths?"

"Not at the time, not officially. They died in a single car crash. We canvassed the neighbors and found one old lady who said she saw Blake leave the house with them that night. She also gave a pretty convincing description of his maltreatment at the hands of Gordon. Apparently the good deacon was from the *spare the rod' school of parenting and used to regularly beat the boy and publicly humiliated him on more than one occasion."

"Why didn't someone do something?"

Anne shrugged. "The neighbor said she tried to call the authorities, but with Gordon's standing in the church and community, the matter was dropped and she was told to mind her own business. Said she felt sorry for Blake, that she kind of felt his parents got what was coming to them, which is why she never told anyone she saw him in the car with them the night they died."

"You think he killed them."

"I think that is exactly the kind of thing a teenager living through that kind of hell would fantasize about. When the opportunity presented itself, he took advantage of it and acted out his fantasies."

"Like the opportunity to vent his rage at being fired by killing a cop. But it felt good, he began to think about it, relive it in his fantasies, then he wanted to experience that feeling again."

Anne nodded in agreement. "We've recovered notebooks outlining the security of the convenience store, patrol patterns, recent robberies and response times from the police. Enough to show premeditation, but nothing that tells us what he's going to do next."

"I have a feeling even he doesn't know what he's going to do. I think he's coming apart. The attack on Josh had a more emotional feel to it."

"Inside he may be decompensating, but on the outside he still has enough control to avoid capture." Anne sighed. "Maybe he'll pack up and move on to more fertile ground, so to speak. That happens a lot with organized serial killers when they are threatened."

Kate looked at her. "You don't really believe that."

"No, I don't."

"Blake's not going to leave until he's finished what he started. Until he's finished with me."

CHAPTER 45.

Blake almost walked right into him. Damnit, be more careful, he told himself, turning into the nearest doorway. He'd been so busy reading the paper, so entranced by the stories about O'Hern, that he'd almost missed seeing the beige Ford with the black detective staring out across the street. Staring at his apartment building.

Stay calm. He folded his newspaper and held it over his head and face. There, now he looked like anyone else trying to stay out of the sleet. He knew this detective-he'd been at the hospital when O'Hern was still in ICU, one of the few people they'd let in to see her.

So you want to catch me, put me behind bars for killing your friends? Blake felt that familiar tingling. Wait, he tried to tell himself. Be careful. But the thrill of doing the cop right here in the middle of the street, without planning and just walking away from it-that overwhelmed any sense of caution that he felt.

He angled himself in the doorway so he could look out through the rain and see both the car and the entrance of his building. There were probably more cops in there right now, going through his stuff, messing it up, touching his things-the thought enraged him further. This was his reward for restraining himself with Lightner, for showing mercy?

Rage roiled through him, flames licking his skin, making it crawl. She would pay. They would all pay.

Blake had his hunting knife. Would it be enough? The image of him going up to the cop, reaching in and slitting his throat before the cop could say a word filled his mind. He'd never done one from such close proximity. The thought felt wonderful, delicious.

The fantasy played out in his mind. He could feel the warmth of the blood as it sprayed forth, smell the coppery odor of death, see the cop's eyes bulge out in horror.

He slid his hand under the hem of his parka and fingered the knife. Time to remind them who's in charge.

They were walking out of the front door when Kate stopped and turned, peering into the fog and rain.

"Kate, what is it?"

Kate motioned Anne to be quiet. She had the sudden feeling that they were being watched. It wasn't a vision or premonition. This was something more tangible, something she could rely on-a cop's instinct. She glanced over at Carter's car. It was too dark to see inside it from this far away.

"Wait inside for me, Anne. I have to talk to Carter."

She started across the street when she saw a figure crouched down at the rear corner of Carter's car. Blake. He saw her coming, and stood, arms palms out at his sides, issuing a silent challenge.

For a moment their eyes locked through the mist. A car honked its horn, forcing Kate to jump back onto the curb as it passed. Just like the first time she'd seen him, Blake smiled at her, as if she were the answer to his prayers. He held a long, wicked looking knife up to his mouth and kissed it. Then he pointed it at Kate, leering at her.

Kate felt icy fingers grip her heart, twisting it, crushing it. Tendrils of fear stole her breath.

Water from a passing car splashed over her, breaking the spell. She bolted off the curb, running after Blake.

CHAPTER 46.

Blake's laughter cut through the swirling mist, taunting her as she jogged across the street. Carter's door banged open. Blake gave Kate a jaunty wave and spun around. He sprinted through a narrow opening between buildings.

"Carter!" Kate yelled as he emerged from the car. He caught her as she ran past, stopping her.

"Where are you going?"

"Blake! Damn it, he's gone."

Carter looked down the alley. It was empty except for shadows. He grabbed his radio, called in a report.

"Why bother? He's long gone." Kate's frustration weighed on her, making her shoulders sag. Blake's laughter rang through her memory, accompanied by an image of Rob's shattered face. And once again, she'd stood by, powerless.

"Goddamn it!" She smashed her fist against the Impala's trunk. Pain lanced through her arm, but felt good-better than fear and helplessness.

"We might as well pack it up here," Carter said when he finished talking to the dispatcher. He frowned. "I didn't even know he was there until he stood and ran and I saw the movement in the side mirror." He leaned against the car, ignoring the rain pelting them both. "Son of a-"

Kate didn't say anything, simply put a hand on his arm and squeezed slightly.

"I'm lucky you came along when you did," he finally said.

"Does that mean you're not going to arrest me?"

"I should, just to keep you out of trouble." He gave her a long look. "You're not getting ready to do anything stupid, are you, kid?"

"I'm going to see Josh. Anne said she'd help me get past the guys at the door." Kate told him the truth, but not all of it.

"After you see him, will you let them take you in? I'd feel a whole lot better knowing you were someplace safe."

The idea of being placed in her own House's lock up didn't comfort Kate, but she understood Carter's sentiments. "Who's on Josh's detail?"

"Rowen and Scher. Tabitha won't give you any trouble; she knows this is all bull. Hell, everything Blake said in his so-called confession came right from Turner's statement and the news reports."

Tabitha's partner, Marc Scher would be the problem. An ambitious man noted for his lack of originality and imagination, Scher prided himself on playing everything by the book. Which meant arresting Kate if he saw her. Maybe Anne could help her with a diversion. She stood on her tiptoes and gave Carter a quick peck on the cheek.

"What the hell was that for?" he bristled, rubbing his cheek where her lips had touched.

"For you being a good cop and a good friend. Thanks, Carter."

Josh had had quite enough of life as a patient, taking orders, being disturbed, no privacy, wheeled here, wheeled there. He was supposed to have gone down for his CT scan two hours ago, they had put him in this wheelchair, but no one had come to take him. He wanted to go home.

Of course home was where Blake had found him before.

If only he could figure out what had happened yesterday, understand it. Why hadn't Blake killed him? Josh kept replaying those moments when Blake looked down on him, before he ran, all he had to do was squeeze the trigger-it would have taken half a second. Instead Blake just stared. Josh shivered as he remembered those eyes; they hadn't seemed human.

He tried to tell himself that he'd been only semi-conscious, maybe most of what he thought he remembered was all some weird, trauma-induced nightmare. But he knew that wasn't the answer.

There was a knock, and the door opened. Josh looked up, expecting the transport attendant. Instead it was Kate. His breath stopped short, as if not wanting to startle her into flight.

She looked awful-dark circles under her eyes, her hair soaking wet, wearing baggy sweat pants and a ragged flannel shirt under her leather jacket. She resembled a refugee from a homeless shelter and all he wanted to do was gather her into his arms.

"Okay if I come in?" she asked diffidently, standing in the doorway.

"Sure, I'm just waiting to go to CT scan."

She took a step, letting the door swing shut behind her. They stared at each other in silence. She swiped away the trail of water dripping down from her hair onto her forehead. He remembered when they'd made love, the way her face flushed with pleasure, the warm feeling that engulfed his heart when she fell asleep in his arms. His hands ached, itched beneath their bandages. Last night seemed a thousand years ago.

"You look like hell."

Kate grimaced. "Thanks, doctor. I can always count on you for your excellent bedside manner."

"I'm not your doctor anymore," Josh replied quietly.

Kate's eyes widened, and he followed her gaze down to his hands. She came closer and knelt beside him. "Josh, your hands-"

He flexed them for her and tried to ignore the pain. And the fact that his fingers looked and felt like swollen sausages. "They'll be all right. It'll take some time, though. Let's hope I'm a better patient than you were."

"They say doctors make the worst patients."

"That was before you came along, O'Hern."

There was another silence. Somehow it didn't feel uncomfortable, rather as if they were each moving at their own pace.

She looked over her shoulder at the closed door. He'd overheard his guards talking about some kind of trouble she was in, wondered if maybe she wasn't supposed to be here.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

She considered. "Not as bad as I would be if you weren't around. We found Blake's apartment. It's amazing going through it, seeing how his mind works. A lot of what Anne said in her profile is right on the money." She paused. "Blake came after Carter tonight. We scared him off."

"We-what we?"

"It happened when Anne and I were leaving Blake's place. Carter's fine, but we lost Blake. I think I have an idea where he might be going, though."

"An idea, or did you see something?"

She sighed. "I saw something. He was at your house. I told Anne, so hopefully they'll catch him."

"Why don't you stay here? I've got my days and nights so mixed up that I probably won't sleep, anyway." He couldn't stand the thought of her out there on the streets. The knowledge that Blake had been near her again was enough to make Josh's heart race with fear. Please God, he sent up a silent, fervent prayer, keep her safe with me.

Kate's gaze cut to the door. "I don't think that would be such a good idea."

Before Josh could argue, the door opened and the transporter arrived. "Ready for your CAT scan?" she asked in a chipper voice. "Let me grab your chart." She disappeared again.

"I'd better be going." Kate stood. "I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am that I got you mixed up in all this. I wanted you to know-"

"No," he interrupted. He leaned forward in the wheelchair, pushing his forearms against the sides, trying to untangle himself. "Don't go. I can't let you go. I won't do it, sit by and watch you risk your life."

"What gives you any right to tell me what I can and can't do?"

The words cascaded through the small room. Silence filled the space between them. They both knew the answer to her question. His fingers curled, trying to claw their way free of their prison, aching to touch her, hold her again.

"I love you," he said finally. His center felt emptied by the admission as if he had surrendered everything he had left with the words.

The transporter returned before Kate could answer, but the look she gave Josh sent a shudder through him. As if he might never see her again.

The transporter took up a position behind his chair, pushing him away from Kate, ignoring his protests.

"Wait for me, we need to talk," Josh said over his shoulder, willing all cheery transporters to a special hell as she continued to push him past Kate and into the hallway. "Please wait."