It seemed her death was a foregone conclusion. Kate could see it in the look in Blake's eyes. Even in her own mind it was hard not to accept her obvious fate. After all, Rob, Conrad and Dimeo had no chance, why should she?

She had to figure out how to take Blake down with her, returned a pessimistic doomsday voice, the part of her that was too exhausted to care any more about self preservation.

Blake's appraising gaze was like a murky oil-slick that clung to her, smothering her will. She forced herself to meet his eyes, feeling triumph in that small victory. That's right, show him what O'Herns are made of.

"So you're the one," he said. Somehow he sounded disappointed. She wanted to slap him, but instead simply held his gaze.

He took a step toward her. "Let's see my creation," he gestured with the gun. "Take the sling off."

When she didn't comply immediately, he reached forward and ripped the Velcro swath off, jarring her shoulder and sending a jolt of pain through her. She held her hand up before he could grab the sling.

"Slowly now," he said in a hard voice. "That'd make a good place to hide a gun." He assumed a marksman's stance, raising the cartoonishly large gun at her.

The whole scene was surreal. When she looked at Blake, she thought he seemed a lot smaller than he had the night he shot her and Rob. No body armor, she realized, that was the difference. Maybe that was his fatal mistake-thinking that he had all the protection he needed in a gun designed to take down 400 pound game animals.

Kate gingerly slipped the sling off. It fell to the floor, puddling at her feet. She cradled her left elbow in her good hand. Allowed him to assume she was weaker than she was by slumping, rounding her posture into one of submission.

Blake gestured with the gun again. "Now the shirt."

Kate hesitated for a moment before unbuttoning the flannel shirt. What the hell, half the hospital saw her naked. Somehow the thought didn't comfort her as Blake's eyes glittered, watching every move. As if she was participating in some perverted striptease for him.

Look at him. He's riveted, obsessed. You can use this, take control. She remembered what her father always said: figure out what they want and don't give it to them. Make them come to you to get it, and you'll have the advantage.

What did Blake want? The question raced through her mind as her fingers fumbled with the shirt buttons. Sex? That was only part of it. What had he called her? His creation? That implied power, control over another. She was starring in an X-rated Pygmalion, the hysteric thought sped through her. Kate suppressed the waves of panic that followed.

He had come to her after each attack. He needed her for something; she was the one that got away. The one who died, but came back. Blake wanted not to play God, but to be God.

He wanted a human sacrifice-for her to come to him, offer herself to him. That was why he hadn't killed her when he'd had the chance, had gone to all this trouble orchestrating their final meeting.

She finished unbuttoning the shirt, allowed it to hang open. Focus, focus now. Don't jump. Watch for an advantage. She stood there, shivering, but resolutely not covering herself, refusing to reveal the terror crashing down behind her eyes.

"Turn around," he whispered hoarsely. He waved the gun, his tongue flicking over his lips in anticipation.

Why was it crazy men always got religion and sex all mixed up? She turned her back to him, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the bullet she would never hear. She flinched when instead she felt cold metal lifting the cotton fabric of her tank-top so that he could examine his handiwork. His sweaty hand slid from behind, grabbed her left breast. Her injured nerves cried out with a burning that shot through Kate. Then his tongue began to lick the scar above her shoulder blade.

"Entrance, exit," he named each wound as he moved around her, caressing and kissing them. "Entrance, exit. And these?" His fingers traced the two short scars under her arm on the side of her chest. He met her eyes with the question, the gun in his right hand, resting against her cheek. She smelled gun oil and a faint residue of cordite, also the rancid acridness of his sweat. The armpits of his close fitting T-shirt were soaked.

"Chest tubes," she replied, amazed her voice sounded so normal.

"Ahh." This seemed somehow to please him. "This is where they cut you to operate." He touched the long thin line that ran from back to front, stopping under her breast. "Where he cut you, where he touched your heart."

Again he looked into her eyes, and Kate couldn't read his expression-anger or jealousy at Josh's work?

"C'mon," he said, pushing her from behind. "Let's go upstairs."

Together they climbed the steps, his arms encircling her, the gun firmly stationed at her head. Blake steered her into the guest room. The bags she had left behind were open on the floor, her few possessions scattered about the room. The bed itself remained as she'd left it, the sheets tucked under the pillows and the comforter pulled up.

"I've been thinking about this," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear.

He pulled her closer to him, and she could feel his erection. His left hand reached back to grab her hair, forced her gaze up.

"I love these old four-posters-so solid, well crafted," he continued in a voice that would have better suited a furniture salesman. "So romantic."

Kate tensed and her panic returned when she saw the handcuffs he had wrapped around the tops of the thick posts.

"I don't know how long you'll last. It will be interesting to see. We'll have some fun first, then I'll revise some of the good doctor's work." His free hand roamed over her chest, stroking the prickly ends of her stitches.

"I'll be waiting. Waiting for you to ask me, beg me to let you out of the misery. You'll look down on me, plead with me to use my power to release you. And then, finally, I will." His voice gained a singsong quality as if this was a speech he had rehearsed many times in his head.

His grip on her hair relaxed. Kate allowed her right hand to fall to her side, trying to keep her body from tensing as she visualized where his knife was.

"Don't be a fool," she said. "You're smart enough to realize that you'll be caught. The police are already placing this house under surveillance." Distract him, keep him talking. She was a goner if he got her up there in those cuffs. She stretched her fingers, searching millimeters of air for the knife handle that she knew had to be close. Don't touch him, don't tense, it had to be sudden and decisive.

"I'm not the fool, O'Hern," he said in a angry whisper.

His words were almost drowned out by the sounds of multiple gunshots. Shots that existed only in Kate's mind. A kaleidoscope of death barraged her, blackening her vision. She and Blake struggling, Blake shooting her, her shooting him, her stabbing him but he refused to die, then Josh rushing into the melee, Blake shooting Josh, Josh's face shattered by bullets- Kate slumped into Blake's arms, not caring what he said or did. What did it matter, if after all this Josh still died? Why? She sent out a heartfelt prayer. Why let me live the first time if he still dies? Please show me something I can hold on to, any sign that there's still hope. Please, God, is that too much to ask?

Suddenly her vision cleared. She was jogging through a meadow of wild flowers, a white house with red shutters at the end of the path. The door opened and Josh emerged, his back to her. A beautiful lullaby filled the air and Kate's heart was pounding with joy she could not contain. She sprinted to the house. Josh turned as she bounded up the steps, and she saw the baby he cradled in his arms. A baby with dark hair and Josh's brilliant blue eyes. Josh wrapped his arm around her as she lay her face on their baby's soft curls.

Blake's hand jerking a handful of her hair brought Kate back to the here and now.

"Why did you let him live?" she asked, trying to buy time.

"Lightner? I was angry at first, that he dared to defy me. Until I realized there was a reason he saved you. He saved you so we could be together." His voice dropped into a soft croon as he nuzzled the side of her neck. "You need me. I'm that missing part of you, the reason you fight so hard."

"You know they're coming, probably have the house surrounded already."

"No, I don't think so. Not yet anyway. No matter-we live and die together you and I. Don't worry, Kate. I'm never going to lose you again."

He yanked her gaze back up to the torture device he had constructed. "I don't care if they come. You're the message I'll leave for them. The symbol of my ultimate conquest."

Kate had to force herself not to laugh. She knew now that she could win, that she would win. After all, what was Mason Blake but a pathetic wretch of a madman who couldn't overcome his ugly childhood? He was no monster, only a man, flesh and blood-just like Kate.

His head tilted back as he looked up at the posts, dreaming of his moment of glory. With the movement, Kate could feel the gun move slightly as well. Her fingers brushed against the knife handle.

Now! She grabbed the handle, pulled it from its sheath in an explosion of movement. She pivoted, gaining maneuvering room. He grabbed her left arm, wrenched it until she thought it would dislocate.

The gun went off, the sound deafening as it echoed past her. Kate thrust the knife into the triangle immediately below Blake's breastbone. His mouth opened in a wordless gasp as he looked down at the knife, buried to the hilt.

She stepped back, sensing movement from the corner of her eye. Josh rushed in, swinging a fireplace poker.

Blake raised the Taurus, holding it at Kate's heart. Josh connected with Blake's forearm. The gun flew from Blake's hand. Kate threw all of her weight against the knife, angling the blade up into his heart.

Blake fell against her. He landed hard, arms outstretched, the knife a stake driven between them. They both toppled to the floor, Blake's weight on top of her. He looked at Kate, his eyes holding hers as his mouth moved. "It's not over."

His body slumped. The light in his eyes died out, replaced only with a grey dullness.

Kate heard an inhuman growl of fury and for a moment panicked-Blake was still alive. Then Blake's body was hurled off her, and she realized it was Josh making the sound. He dropped the poker and knelt at her side, cradling her in his arms, his hands caressing her as they checked for injuries.

"God, Kate, I thought, I was afraid-" his voice trailed off as tears choked it. "Don't you dare ever do anything like that again!"

She said nothing, just burrowed into the warmth of his embrace.

Before she could muster enough energy to ask him how he'd found her, an alarm began beeping, shattering the silence.

"What the hell is that?"

Kate looked at Josh in surprise. It was the first time she'd heard him swear.

He grabbed Blake's wrist. A large black watch was beeping frantically. Attached to it were wires that stretched below Blake's sleeve.

Josh's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Kate? This isn't a watch. It's a heart rate monitor."

Kate yanked at Blake's shirt, exposing the wires taped to his chest leading to a cell phone duct taped to his belly. "Deadman's switch."

Before she could say anything more a whoosh of heat and light and sound bombarded them. The house shook. A wall of fire blasted through the open door, coming from the direction of the staircase.

The shockwave flattened Kate, tearing her away from Josh. Blake's body flew past her, a puppet cut from its strings. A howl of rapacious noise deafened her.

The four-poster bed collapsed, half burying her. Her vision was tinted red but she saw Josh struggle to his feet, reaching for her. The room filled with thick, black smoke, too heavy and hot to breathe. A spasm of coughing racked through her, leaving her gasping in pain.

Flames raced over the ceiling, licking hungrily. Josh grabbed her ankles, began to drag her toward the window.

She tried to push him away from her. "Leave me."

The words came out in a whisper immediately devoured by the roar of the fire. But she saw by the narrowing of his eyes that he had heard her. He shook his head, not wasting breath, and tugged at her once more.

She slid free of the bed frame. He scooped her into his arms, turned to the window. Flames danced all around them, but what was worse was the smoke searing through her with every breath.

The window had blown out, revealing the welcome promise of the cool night rain. Josh struggled under her weight, coughing, gasping. Freedom was so close, yet so far. She felt his legs buckle just as her vision went black.

CHAPTER 50.

Josh ignored the pain hammering through him, fought for every inch as he dragged Kate toward the window. He felt her body go limp and cursed in frustration.

"God damn it, Kate. Don't you dare give up on me now!"

Broken glass crackled beneath his knees as his shoulder hit the splintered edge of the window frame. He stuck his head through the opening, heaved in a breath of fresh air and then reached for Kate once more. He hauled her out onto the porch roof, then rolled over the windowsill and joined her.

Flames licked the torn curtains, smoke gusted and swirled around them. Sirens already were nearing-he spotted the lights from a fire truck pulling up to the curb. They were safe for the time being.

"Kate?" His voice was a rasp. She lay limp across the corrugated roof. He felt for her pulse, slow, too slow. She wasn't breathing. "Damn it, Kate!"

He lowered his face to hers, gave her two rescue breaths. No airway obstruction, the rational part of his mind, the part that was calmly assessing her injuries, said. The blast could have torn the vessel he'd repaired, she could have bled out into her lung cavity. Or the bed hit her on her head, gave her a skull fracture. Maybe Blake had hurt her before Josh had gotten there. Maybe he was too late. Maybe he couldn't save her again.

"Like hell I can't." He inhaled deeply, ready to breathe for her, but felt the soft ripple of her exhalation.

Her eyes fluttered open. A fireman was calling to them from a ladder. Josh ignored him, hugging her close, not caring who saw the tears streaming down his face.

"You're back, you came back," he kept repeating.

A lazy smile blossomed on her face. "Not going anywhere," she whispered. Choked and coughed, then ran one finger across his jaw, wrapping her hand around his neck. "Glad you came by, doc."

A firefighter clamored across the roof, pulling them apart.

After the ER docs finished poking and prodding her, Kate spent the rest of the night at the station house, re-living the details over and over again for the record. The police had kept her separated from Josh, protecting the integrity of both of their statements, and she was fast losing her patience. She had to talk to Josh. Wanted to be with him.

The sunrise filled the interview room with a rosy haze, and she could hear the clatter of day shift arriving. Carter, Cohen and the two anonymous IA detectives had just finished taking her through everything one last time when the door opened and Turner entered, his face flushed and red.

"Do you feel that any charges should follow from Officer's O'Hern's actions?" he addressed the IA detectives, ignoring Kate's presence.

They exchanged a look. Finally the thin one spoke. "No sir, we don't. We've completed our investigation and have been unable to verify any wrongdoing on behalf of Officer O'Hern. We have also been unable to prove any connection between her and Blake prior to the incident on the first," he replied in a formal tone.

"What about her involvement with her partner?" Turner snapped.

"To tell you the truth sir, we find absolutely no evidence of a sexual relationship between O'Hern and Hansen. In fact, all the evidence that we've uncovered tends to suggest otherwise," he finished, looking at Kate rather than Turner.

Damn, Kate thought, they've found out about Jenn. As the IA men turned to leave, the fat one turned back around and winked at her quickly. Her mouth opened in surprise, they weren't going to reveal Rob's secret. They walked out past Turner as if he didn't exist.

Turner pursed his lips and his face grew scarlet as he stared at Kate. "If you gentlemen will excuse us, I believe that I have something to discuss with Ms. O'Hern."

Cohen stood. "We were just finished." He extended his hand to Kate. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Officer," he said, putting a slight emphasis on her rank. "I apologize for underestimating you." He left the room.

Turner stood over Carter, who was making no effort to get up. Finally Kate intervened. No reason for him to go down with her. "Go on, Carter. I'll see you later."

"You sure?"

She nodded. He took his time getting his coat and sauntered from the room, giving her a salute on the way out. Finally she and Turner were alone. Turner continued pacing in front of her, but she refused to play power games with him, she ignored him.

"You seem to have a lot of friends in the department," he started in a sarcastic tone.

"Well, sir, we're all on the same team."

"That's what I want to discuss with you. I think the team," he stressed the last word, "would be better off without you on it."

"Sir, are you relieving me of duty?"

"I've noticed that you also have a lot of friends in the media. Wouldn't they love it if I fired the hero who stopped Mason Blake?" He paused. Then he surprised her by collapsing into the chair across from her, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Jenn came to see me last night." His voice emerged a strangled rasp. "She told me-what she said-it confirmed your story."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I probably won't be around much longer. It has been suggested that I consider early retirement. But Cohen told me that there are other reasons," he cleared his throat, "certain medical reasons for you to consider leaving the force as well. Shoulder injuries can be very tricky. Before I go, I can ensure that you get medical disability."

Kate stared at him, not believing what she was hearing. Was Turner actually, in his own warped fashion, trying to help her?