Kate grunted at that. "Anyone could get in this place, Carter. Pick up a visitor's pass from the trash can, grab some scrubs or a white coat, a basket of flowers-"

"I know, I know. But we've got to start somewhere. I'm going to run the hospital employees, see if anything jumps out. Previous records, reasons to be angry with cops, who knows?"

"Waste of time. This all started with that Minimart." She stopped. Remembered the way the shooter had looked through the convenience store windows at her. Like she was the answer to his prayers or something. "Maybe the shooter has a grudge against me or Rob?" she suggested. "Maybe that's why he waited around at the store instead of grabbin' and baggin'."

Carter considered that. Kate could almost feel the pieces of the puzzle click. But they didn't, instead she was left grasping at the same straws she had started with.

"I'll look into it," Carter said, getting to his feet and dropping his glasses back onto his nose. He looked over the tops of them at her. "You behave yourself, all right?"

Kate gestured to the various medical appliances that tethered her to the bed. "As if I could go anywhere. I couldn't even," her voice caught for a heartbeat, "hit the guy when I tried."

"No one's blaming you that he got away. There'll be a guard outside your door, so don't worry, he's not coming back. I want you to concentrate on getting better, we need you back on the job, Kate."

He gave her a quick pat on her good shoulder and left. She was touched by his concern, but wished she could be as optimistic as he was about her returning to the job. Obviously Conrad hadn't had a chance to tell Carter about her visions. She only wished Conrad had listened to her.

Tears of frustration and anger burned her eyes as she remembered the way he had scoffed at her warning, asked her what kind of drugs the doctors had her on. Acted like she was nuts.

Of course, why should he trust her when she didn't know if she could trust herself?

She was spiraling out of control, her life falling apart. It seemed as if the more she tried to regain control, the more things crumbled around her.

Not just things. A kaleidoscope of images: Rob's bloody face, Mrs. Greenbaum's, Conrad's flashed through her mind. Not just things. People. How many more people would die because she was helpless to save them?

CHAPTER 17.

It was after five in the morning by the time they had her settled in her new room. Kate lay back and watched the sunrise paint the sky orange and red. An achy tired feeling weighed down on her. Her nerves thrummed with anxiety but she was so exhausted that she could neither calm herself enough to sleep nor rouse herself enough to think about what had happened.

Lightner entered. She startled from her limbo, her hand reaching for her weapon. Finding empty space.

She forced herself to breathe in and out, quiet the adrenalin propelling her pulse.

"Just once, a knock would be nice." Her voice was taut, resonating with the fear etching the back of her throat.

"Sorry." His eyes had dark circles under them, and he needed a shave. He still wore his sweat pants and sweat-stained Ron Jon Surfshop T-shirt. Raucous tropical flowers surrounding bikini-clad surfer chicks.

"I seem to be making a career of depriving you of your sleep," she said, trying to sound normal.

"Don't worry, I charge by the hour," he told her with a grin. He settled into the chair beside her bed. Just sat there, staring at her until she felt her cheeks color.

"Do you surf?" she asked, nodding at his shirt.

"Nope, just like to splash around and walk on the beach. My folks retired to Vero Beach." He paused, looked back over his shoulder to the closed door behind him. "Do you think you'll be all right here?"

"As well here as anywhere." She sounded bitter and she knew it, but didn't care. She wished she was out on the streets, looking for this actor, doing something, anything besides lying in bed like a worthless lump. Wished for her weapon, wished for her partner at her back. All of which she had little chance of getting.

"I want you to rest this morning," he instructed her. It was funny how his voice changed whenever he began to treat her like a patient-it became colder, more clinical.

"All I have planned for you today," he continued, "is a chest X-ray, and if that's okay, we'll take the chest tube out. You'll be able to use your arm as long as you don't raise it over your head, but we'll keep it in an immobilizer to help your clavicle heal faster."

"What about the bladder catheter?" she asked, yearning for the freedom to pee on her own.

"That too-but you'll probably need to call the nurse for help for a while. Until you're steady on your feet again."

Help to go to the bathroom? Like hell. But she smiled and nodded like a good patient. Anything to get out of this place as soon as possible. Then maybe she could get her life back on track.

He looked past her for a moment before returning his gaze back to her, his eyes a dark indigo, a frown creasing his forehead, raising a knot between his eyebrows. "About last night," he began. "I'm sorry about Adams not believing you." He paused. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you right away, either."

Her teeth ground together as she remembered her feelings of helpless frustration when Adams threatened to sedate her, tie her down. What hurt even worse, though, had been the realization that despite the time he spent with her, listening to her, Lightner also didn't believe.

Not so much in her visions-if her brain wasn't the one being turned inside out by the gut-wrenching images, she might not believe either. But that he hadn't trusted in her, her abilities as a cop, as a reliable witness. Instead, he'd assumed she was delusional. Just like everyone else.

No wonder she hadn't been able to convince Conrad. Not even to save his life. She blinked hard. What the hell good was she, what the hell good were these visions if she couldn't use them to change things?

"I'm not crazy," she said, the words cutting through the air between them. She stared at him for a long moment, weighing her decision. Despite his skepticism about her visions, he seemed to honestly want to help her. At this point, she'd take any help she could get.

"What I saw yesterday, it was exactly the way it happened to Conrad." There, she'd said it. Kate felt better, taking ownership of her visions. It might be short-circuited, fried and frizzled, but damn it, it was still her brain.

She tilted her head up, daring him to dispute or mock her. "I tried to warn him, but nothing I said made any sense."

Lightner surprised her. Instead of talking about her needing more rest or stronger meds or her own personal Sigmund Freud, his hand moved to cover hers in a gesture so natural that Kate didn't even realize it was there at first. He pursed his lips as if making a decision.

"All right," he finally said. He gave her hand a squeeze and looked her in the eye. "Don't worry. I'll figure something out."

He sounded so determined, so confident that Kate almost believed he could find a way to help her get her life back.

Josh leaned forward, dabbed at the small plume of blood that appeared on his chin. Wouldn't inspire much confidence if patients knew their surgeon cut himself shaving. One more thing he could blame on Kate. He'd been preoccupied, thinking about her crazy visions, a killer stalking her in his own hospital, the way her cheeks had colored when he vetoed her plan to play Judas goat, the thick curls that framed her face so nicely, the way her hand felt in his...

A finger tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped, nearly losing the towel that hung around his waist. Sal Bianchi laughed, turned and opened his locker, began to change.

"What are you doing here so early?" Sal asked. "Thought you were off last night."

Josh finished swiping at his stubble, rinsed his face and grabbed a pair of scrubs. He stopped, noticing Sal's X-files poster. The truth is out there, it promised.

Where? he wondered. Where did he go to find answers to Kate and her unique set of problems?

"You really believe that crap?" Josh asked.

Sal did a double-take, closing the door to his locker and scrutinizing the poster. "Flying saucers and alien abductions? No. That the truth is often more bizarre than we would like to believe and that, as smart as we are, science doesn't have all the answers? Yes." His eyes narrowed. "This is about your cop, O'Hern, isn't it?"

Josh nodded, sat on the wooden bench between the rows of lockers and pulled on a clean pair of socks. He told Sal about what happened during the night.

When he had finished, Sal gave a low whistle. "Your cop has a lot bigger problems than just being shot."

"I don't know what to do to help her." Josh slammed his locker door shut.

Sal gave him a long, hard stare. "I warned you about getting emotionally involved with O'Hern."

"I get personally involved with all my patients," Josh protested feebly, pushing aside the fantasies of Kate that had tantalized him ever since he met her. "Besides, O'Hern has some crazy idea of letting the police use her to catch this killer."

"You're her surgeon. Not her priest, not her bodyguard, not her father. Your job starts and ends with healing her body. Period."

Josh felt his jaw muscles begin to spasm. "Damn it, I'm not going to let her be used as bait, not while she's in my care!"

"She's a big girl, Josh, a tough lady. She has the right to make her own decisions."

"Not now, with everything that's going on. She isn't thinking straight-how could anyone?"

"Are you going to do her any good by adding a personal involvement to her list of things to deal with?"

Josh looked down, didn't meet Sal's gaze. Sal had a point. Maybe the best way he could help Kate was to stay away. The police had promised protection for her, were searching for the killer. What more could Josh do?

"Maybe you could talk to one of her friends on the force, let them know that she's in no shape to help them." Sal stood up, donned his OR cap. "But I think the bigger question isn't what to do about O'Hern's visions, but why you refuse to believe her."

Josh stared at the older man. "You're as crazy as she is. You can't really believe that she died, met with God and came back with some psycho-psychic gift?"

"I doubt she thinks it's a gift. And stranger things have happened-"

"Not to me. Not to my patients. She was shot. She died. I stuck my hand in her chest, clamped a vessel and she lived. End of story."

"Now who thinks he's God?"

Josh blew his breath out, straightened to his full height. Sal looked up at him, met his gaze easily, challenging Josh.

"Don't give me that crap, Sal. I can put her body back together, but I can't do a damn thing for her if her brain took a permanent hit. Face it, maybe she was down too long."

Sal shook his head as if Josh had disappointed him. "There are other explanations."

"Not in my world there aren't."

"So what's your explanation for what she's seeing?"

"Delusions, coincidence, and a cop's ability to pick up on details and piece together a story." As Josh spoke, he warmed to his topic, relieved to have an alternative reason for Kate's hallucinations.

"You said yourself that drugs could play a part. The killer was here at the hospital last night, who's to say he wasn't hanging around earlier? Maybe he followed Conrad from here-maybe she heard his voice in the hallway and her scrambled brain put two and two together. Whatever's going on it's nothing to do with the seeing the future."

He blew out his breath. "But, unless I find something reversible like a medication reaction, it will end her future as a cop."

CHAPTER 18.

Kate spent most of the day trying to sleep, a vain attempt to escape her memories of Conrad's bloody face and her midnight visitor. Every time she began to fall into that precious realm of deep slumber, someone else would come along to disturb her. First it was the X-ray. Then the nurse taking her vitals. Then a resident, not Adams thank God, stripped the tape and half her skin from the area beside her left breast and took the chest tube out. She had to admit a tinge of disappointment that Lightner hadn't come himself.

Lunch came-if yellow jello and soggy toast and a bland piece of chicken could properly be called a lunch. She yearned for a cheese steak dripping with onions or a mound of greasy fries from The Original.

The nurse returned, took her bladder catheter out and changed her IV so she wasn't tied to the pole. Free at last.

Finally, she fell asleep. When she woke it was dark outside, and there was someone sitting in the chair opposite her. Carter, his face buried in a Sporting Times.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Glad to see you back with us." Carter looked up. "It's six fifteen."

"What are you doing here? You should be off duty."

"This is my duty. You'd better behave yourself, or I won't let you have the get well present the boys sent over." He looked at her over the gold rims of his glasses, then reached down under the chair and brought up a brown paper bag. As he opened it a tantalizing aroma filled the room.

"Golden Wok carry-out." She took a deep breath, feeling revived by the scent of real food. "You wouldn't believe what passes for food around here."

"I can imagine." He pulled the tray over to her and began to set the food out.

"I don't suppose you brought any beer to wash it down with?" she asked hopefully.

"Oh didn't I? One bottle of Yuengling coming up-but only one. You're out of practice, remember?" He opened the beer, then the soup container and set up the utensils so that she could reach everything with her good hand.

Kate crammed a forkful of the chicken into her mouth followed by a swallow of beer. "Ummm," she sighed. Nothing better in this world than Chinese food and a good beer. "Thanks. You guys are the best."

The door opened, and Lightner entered, wearing scrubs and his white lab coat, a surgical mask dangling around his neck. He stopped, looked at her in surprise. Kate clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting her food as she laughed at his shocked expression. Carter swore under his breath and quickly took his chair again, hiding his face behind his newspaper.

"What's going on in here?" Lightner demanded. "I don't recall lomein being on the soft diet. And beer? Do you have any idea how that can interact with the medications?"

Damn. Kate swallowed her mouthful of food and looked up meekly. "No sir."

Lightner looked at her, the same look he had given Adams the night before. "No, I didn't expect so. And do you know what's worse?"

She shook her head.

"You didn't invite me, after I stayed up all night because of you. Give me those chopsticks."

He sat on the edge of the bed and scooped lomein with expertise. Kate and Carter exchanged glances, then Carter put his paper down again and moved his chair closer.

"I think I like this guy," he said. "You sure he's a doctor?"

"Supposedly he's the surgeon who saved my life," Kate replied.

Lightner glanced up from his food. "Supposed heck, I wrenched you from the jaws of death, or however the old cliche goes."

"Carter was my first partner when I was a rookie," Kate told Lightner. "Taught me everything I know."