She was not a victim. She wasn't dead. She was a cop.

"Let me try again," she said, wrapping her hand around the bedrail, using it as an anchor to reality. "I remember roll call that night. Rowen was late and Hoyt out sick. Chen didn't have much on his list other than a few stolen car tags and one BOLO. Turner came in and griped about overtime, said he'd had to rearrange the holiday schedule again because of manpower shortages. Guess who has to work both Thanksgiving and Christmas?"

Carter shook his head. "You've got to get out of that House. That man's gonna eat you alive sooner or later."

Kate ignored him; they'd had this conversation too many times before. She shook off her misgivings about her future or lack of one and concentrated on the details of the night of the shooting.

"It was actually pretty quiet," she continued. "One domestic over on Aiken, a D and D in Bloomfield, not much of note."

"What was the weather like?" Carter asked, trying to guide her along, just as she would a difficult witness.

"Misting, not truly raining, but you got cold and wet real fast once you were out in it. Low cloud cover, hazy, I don't remember seeing the moon. The roads weren't bad, a little slick."

"Who was driving?"

"I was." As it all came back to her, she rushed on before she could lose the words again. "We went lights only, there were possible hostages involved. We got there about four minutes after the call came in. I remember thinking that the actor was either real dumb or real slow *cause he was still standing around."

"Go on," he urged her softly.

"He was talking to someone, but everyone was on the floor, he must have already had the money. No, I remember now, he was putting it in his coat as we drove up. Anyway, Rob took flank and I was point. Rob made his way across the street to a spot beside the door, and I waited at the cruiser. Then the strangest thing happened. The gunman turned and smiled, right at me-like I was the answer to his prayers or something."

"He smiled at you?"

"Yeah, it was bizarre. I didn't have time to think about it then, because he came out of the store. I ordered him to stop and drop his weapon. He had one of those bear hunting revolvers, big Taurus. He said something, I can't remember what, and then he whirled around and shot Rob, right in the face, there was blood everywhere-" Kate's voice broke, but she forced herself to continue. "I fired immediately. I hit him, I know I did. Then he shot me, and I was down-"

"Bastard used KTW rounds. Went through your vest faster than a bum through a baloney sandwich," Carter told her. "How many times did you fire?"

"Twice."

"Fits with the casings we found."

"I hit him. Dead on, center mass."

"There've been no reports from any hospitals. Did he fall or stumble? Are you sure you hit him?"

Kate stared at him. Had her crazy brainspasms somehow poisoned her memory of that night? "Mel, I hit him twice, I know it. But it didn't slow him down at all. I remember hearing his footsteps as he ran away and-"

"And what?"

"He was laughing." A shudder shook her, chilling her. Carter stopped taking notes for a moment and looked away while she regained her composure.

"Okay, let's work on a description."

Kate closed her eyes, forcing the face that haunted her dreams to appear. "Caucasian, about six-four, shaved head, light eyes, no beard or mustache. He was wearing a fatigue jacket, cargo pants, black boots. Build seemed kind of bulky, but not fat." She stopped. "That's all," she finally said, unsure of how to describe the gleam in his eyes or the twisted smile he had given her before shooting Rob.

"Think you could pick him out of a lineup?"

"Maybe. He was pretty far away. Didn't the store camera give you anything?"

"Ruined. He blew it away with that fucking Taurus."

It was totally unlike Carter to use language like that.

"I'm sorry I can't help more." She regretted the plaintive note in her voice. Last thing she needed was for Carter to be thinking of her as a victim.

He scraped his chair back, stood up. Then he leaned down, lowered his voice. "Kate. I think you should know. Those rumors started back up again-about you and Rob."

She snapped her head up and met his gaze unflinchingly. "There was nothing going on between Rob and me."

Carter's chin drooped, as if he knew she lied. Kate hated the look of disappointment that crossed his face.

"I'd better get going," he told her after a long pause, putting the matter to rest with a nod.

"Mel." Her voice cracked on the syllable. He turned back to her. "Get this bastard, will you," she said with an intensity that made her hoarse voice drop even further.

"Do my best. Take care."

Kate nodded, and he was gone. Leaving her alone again with her jumbled-up brain.

Alarms shrieked through the unit, echoing from the tile walls. Kate squeezed her eyes shut as the nurses and doctors rushed to the old lady's bedside. She didn't have to look. She already knew what would happen.

Damn it, why hadn't Lightner listened to her?

CHAPTER 8.

O'Hern and her crazy talk kept Josh preoccupied for the rest of the day. Done in the OR, he headed down the tiled corridor leading to the surgical lounge. He should be thinking about the post-op orders Adams had written, should be thinking about making rounds, finishing his lecture for Friday's Grand Rounds.

Instead all he could think of was Kate O'Hern. Once she was out of the ICU, he'd get a MRI and EEG. Maybe even let the neurologists take a look at her.

Maybe. He hated allowing the medical types poke and prod his patients-they always ended up ordering a bunch of tests and usually only made things worse. Hopefully a day or so off the sedatives and her head would clear.

He snatched his scrub cap from his head and tossed it in the laundry. His job was to remain objective, not to get caught up in a patient's delusions. He needed an explanation for what was happening to O'Hern. But sometimes science couldn't always explain everything.

Like why Kate O'Hern had haunted him ever since she came into his ER three nights ago. On or off duty, Josh couldn't stop thinking about her, her face appeared before him unbidden, even when he was in the OR. Not to mention his dreams. Intense, sensual dreams unlike any he had ever had before. Even before she woke from her coma, Josh knew exactly how her voice would sound, knew the spark of her eyes when aroused, the velvet touch of her hands on his naked skin.

Now that she was finally awake, she was all he could think about. This morning when he had held her in his arms, for those few brief moments, he had felt a rush of arousal that he was powerless to control. If this kept up, he'd have to resort to wearing a jock under his scrubs.

Josh shook himself, pushing all thoughts of lust and passion aside. There were rules. Guidelines. Ethics. He couldn't touch O'Hern, not the way he yearned to. It would be disastrous, could end his career. Most importantly, he could never take advantage of her, not when she was in such a weakened state.

These crazy visions of hers. It was so frustrating-he could save her body, but he had no idea what to do about her psyche.

His beeper went off just as he was considering treating himself to a cup of coffee. He had rules-no caffeine on days he was operating. He glanced at the display on his pager. The ICU. Had O'Hern had another episode? He reached for the phone and dialed the extension. To his surprise, Carol Templeton, one of the cardiologists, answered.

"Josh, I wanted to let you know that Mrs. Greenbaum expired. I've already talked to the family, but since she was originally on your service-"

Damn. Josh had liked the old woman with her blue hair and feisty attitude. "What happened?"

"Run of v-tach, then torsades and v-fib. Couldn't break it."

Josh fished in his pocket for the scrap of paper O'Hern had given him. The zig-zag lines she'd drawn looked a lot like the irregular heartbeats Carol described. "Did you shock her?"

Carol sounded offended. "Of course. I ran the code myself."

"How many times?" Josh interrupted, wishing he understood the urgency he felt. His hand clenched the paper. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

"Three, no wait, four. Why?"

Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. "Nothing. Thanks, Carol." He dropped the phone back on its cradle, his gaze still focused on O'Hern's drawing. What was going on here?

The door opened, and Josh was pleased to see Sal Bianchi, the head of anesthesia, enter. Exactly the person who might be able to help O'Hern.

"Hey, Sal. Remember Kate O'Hern?"

"Your cop? Sure, that was quite a save." Sal retrieved a cup of coffee from the machine and joined Josh at a table. "Something happen?"

"She's seeing things, hallucinating."

"I suppose anything is possible if you deprive the brain of oxygen for long enough. What kind of hallucinations?"

Josh hesitated. "More like visions of the future. Maybe. Visions of people dying."

He told Sal about what O'Hern had seen and what had happened to Mrs. Greenbaum. Josh showed him the drawing she had made. "And she was right. How could she know?" He shook his head, grimaced at his own question. "Impossible. She couldn't. So what happened?"

Sal was quiet for a few minutes as he finished his coffee. Josh inhaled the intoxicating aroma, feeling self-righteous that he hadn't broken his rules and indulged in a cup.

"You say she keeps asking to get out of the ICU?"

"She was almost hysterical at first, not the sort of behavior you'd expect from a cop."

"Cut the macho crap, Josh. She saw her partner die, was shot, died herself, went through major surgery, then woke up to start seeing visions that would terrify anyone-don't you think she deserves a break?"

"I'm not her psychiatrist, I'm only her surgeon," Josh replied in exasperation. Sal acted as if Josh had a relationship with the woman when all he wanted was to get her healthy and back on her feet. Well, and maybe, hopefully, please God, someday into his bed. Josh felt his face heat at the thought. It could never happen, would never happen.

Sal stared at him, eyes narrowed as if he followed Josh's thoughts effortlessly. "You know you can't get personally involved with a patient. The Med Exec Committee would have your hide."

"Who said anything about getting personal? I need to figure out what's wrong with O'Hern so I can fix it. That's my job. Nothing personal about it." Right, just keep repeating that, maybe he'd start believing it. Sal remained silent, merely staring at Josh with a skeptical upraised brow.

"What about these visions? Do you really think she's seeing into the future somehow?" Damn, now Josh was the one talking like a lunatic. "That's impossible, right?"

"Nothing's impossible," the older man assured Josh with a wry smile. Sal had a penchant for the paranormal, the guy had an X-files poster on his OR locker. Still, there wasn't anyone Josh would rather trust with one of his patients. "What did you tell her?"

Josh busied himself pouring a cup of coffee. He wasn't going to drink it, only smell it. Really. "Nothing. I mean, what could I tell her? I don't know for certain what's going on."

Sal's tsk of disapproval sounded eerily like the sound Josh's mother would make, as if the anesthesiologist was channeling Rachel Lightner all the way from Florida.

"You and your damn rules and protocols. Can't you stop being a surgeon for a second?" he chided. "She's a cop, used to dealing with what she can see in front of her. How do you think waking up and suddenly seeing old ladies die is affecting her?"

Josh thought of the way O'Hern had grown pale, her eyes wide with fear. "I think she's terrified."

"Damn right she is. If she is somehow seeing the future," Sal continued, "then God help her, because that's a curse I don't think I could handle." He crumpled his cup and threw it away. "Besides, it doesn't have to be visions of the future. Maybe Mrs. Greenbaum was having runs of v-tach, and O'Hern twisted it all into a dream. A coincidence. Or could be these visions are a form of seizure activity or a reaction to her meds."

Josh frowned. He should have thought of those possibilities himself. Maybe Sal was more objective when it came to Kate O'Hern than he could be. "Would you mind taking a look at her?"

"Sure. This cop of yours is beginning to intrigue me. Besides, she deserves to see that some of us doctors actually do have a bedside manner."

Kate tried her best to relax. Hard to do with a spotlight shining down on you day and night and people hovering over you like you were a freaking death row inmate on suicide watch. She opened her eyes in resignation and gave voice to her frustrations.

"Godamnmotherfuckingsonofabitch!"

A startled respiratory tech stared at her with wide eyes, then scurried away as if she'd kicked the poor bastard. It made her feel a little better, human again.

Forcing her hand to unclench, taking shallow breaths that wouldn't wake the sleeping kick-boxer beneath her ribcage, she lay back and tried again to sleep. Lightner was right-she needed rest, real rest, not tossing and turning all day and night.

Now there was an enigma. Why did Lightner spend so much time and attention on her? She had watched him with his other patients, and no one else received the attention she did.

As her mind chewed on the question, Kate wondered if she had a fixation of her own. After all, the man had saved her life. Literally brought her back from the dead.

Not to mention how handsome he was, with those riveting blue eyes. She allowed her own eyes to slide shut as she drifted into fantasy. And those hands-so strong, with long, tapering fingers. If a mere touch from him, through a gown no less, was enough to make her practically pant with desire, imagine what he could do with those hands of his- Her chest tightened as her breath rushed through her, and the rhythm of her heart on the monitor sped up. Damn thing broadcast her emotions to the world. Definitely not the time or place to be pursuing any hot and steamy fantasies.

Lightner's physical attractiveness didn't totally explain her feelings. Somehow when he was nearby, Kate felt that everything really would be all right, that there was at least one person she could trust in this strange new world.

Still, it probably hadn't been the best idea to confide in him about her visions. Now he looked at her differently, as if she was less than a patient and more like a crazy lady needing close watching and stronger drugs.

Kate tried to deflect the direction of her thoughts. A security guard leaned against the nurses'station, watching her. He was tall, trim with thick brown hair and tinted glasses.

As she met his gaze, she felt her heart race into overdrive. It was the shooter.

Here in the ICU. Staring right at her.

CHAPTER 9.

Kate struggled to sit up, opened her mouth to shout. Then clamped it shut as the man cocked his head at her, staring at her as if she was the new Komodo dragon on display at the Pittsburgh zoo. The charge nurse approached the desk, and he turned away to ask her something.

Idiot, Kate thought as she slumped back on the pillows, jarring her shoulder and sending a fresh kick of pain through her chest. Lightner probably sent him to guard her until she was healthy enough for a transfer to the booby hatch.

How could she be so stupid, imagining him as the shooter? True, they were the same height, but this man was nowhere as bulky as the man who shot Rob. And the shooter was bald. Still, something about the way he moved- Kate watched him give the nurse a quick wave and saunter from the ICU. It couldn't be the same man-impossible.