"I want you to take me back to the safe house. I'm going to stay there with Carmela and Rosa."

He muttered a curse. "The hell you are."

"Why not? If it's safe for them, it's safe for me."

"That doesn't mean you should mount guard over them yourself."

"Yes, it does." She met his gaze. "Because I'm the only one who may be able to know if Trask is stalking them. I may be able to stop him before he attacks. You know that's true."

His lips tightened. "Then I'll stay too."

"No."

"What if he does have help? What if he sends someone else in to get Carmela? You'd be blind to anyone but Trask. You need me."

But she didn't need to practically live on top of him in that tiny house. It was bad enough occupying a room in his multiroom mansion. "I'm not worried about anyone but Trask. Ledbruk's agents can handle anyone else."

"Well, I'm worried, and I-"

"No, Silver." She looked away from him. "I don't want you. Now, will you take me back to the safe house or shall I walk?"

He gazed at her in frustration before his foot stomped down on the accelerator. "I'll take you, dammit."

Dickens had done well.

The farmhouse was almost perfect.

Trask gazed at the two-story cedar house with the wide front porch with satisfaction and a hint of nostalgia. He'd known that if he found the right place it would bring him this wonderful sense of deja vu. There was no question this was the right place. It would be the ideal environment for Kerry and him to share Firestorm.

He checked his watch. Five to six. Almost time.

The front door opened and a stocky, graying man came out on the porch and then down the steps. Lon Mackey, on his way to feed the cattle in the barn down the road.

"Be sure you hurry," Lon's wife, Janet, called after him. "They've got those college kids on Wheel of Fortune tonight."

He chuckled. "I've got almost an hour. Am I supposed to let the stock starve because Pat and Vanna are on?" He didn't wait for an answer as he strolled leisurely down the path.

Trask waited until Mackey had reached the barn before he left the shelter of the trees and followed him. The only drawback to this place was that it was occupied. But that was an obstacle that could be easily overcome by Firestorm.

Then the farmhouse would be completely perfect.

What are you looking at?"

Kerry glanced over her shoulder to see Carmela standing in the bedroom doorway. "Nothing." She turned away from the window. "Some kids playing basketball in the driveway across the street."

Carmela moved across the room to stand beside her and glanced out the window. "Rosa plays basketball. She's pretty good."

"Well, make sure she doesn't decide to go out and ask to play with those boys."

Carmela made a face. "It's hard to keep Rosa from doing anything she wants to do."

"I mean it, Carmela."

"I said it was hard, not impossible. I won't let her do anything stupid." She added awkwardly, "I know you wouldn't have come back last night if you weren't scared."

"I'm not scared."

"The hell you're not."

She smiled. "You're right. I'm scared. But maybe that's good. When you're scared, you're extra careful."

"He's close?"

Kerry shook her head. "But there's a possibility he may try to get closer."

"So you're going to protect us."

"Me and Agent Dorbin and all those agents in the house next door."

"I'd rather rely on you and Mr. Silver."

"That's why I'm here." She glanced at the basketball players again. It was Saturday, and there was no sign the kids would be going inside soon. The game might prove too alluring for Rosa to resist. "Let's go and get Rosa and see if we can find something decent on TV."

"They've got cable. That means we can watch Buffy reruns."

"In the morning?"

"Oh, I'll bet you can always watch Buffy reruns."

She smiled. "Thrilling."

"You've got to watch Buffy," Carmela said firmly. "But it may be a little confusing if you don't know the characters. I'll fill you in and explain as we go-"

Kerry's phone rang.

She stiffened and then crossed to the table where she had placed the phone.

"Kerry?"

Not Trask. Silver. Her breath escaped in a sigh of relief. "Yes."

"I'm on my way to pick you up."

"I'm not going anywhere. I told you-"

"Ivan Raztov is dead."

She went rigid. "How?"

"Car bomb in his Jeep. Blown to bits. He'd just driven into the parking deck at his apartment."

"How could that happen? Ledbruk's men were watching him."

"How the hell do I know? All I heard was the message from Ledbruk that he was dead. We'll find out more when we get there."

"When did it happen?"

"Forty minutes ago. I thought you'd want to examine the site and see if you could pick up anything. You said you could sometimes get vibes after a fire."

Forty minutes. While she was watching those kids across the street and trying to concentrate on sensing any threat from Trask, he'd been striking at Raztov.

Blown to bits.

"Kerry?"

"Yes, I want to go. I'll make sure they're on the alert here and meet you in the driveway."

Blown to bits.

The metal of Ivan Raztov's Jeep had been twisted and blown to the far corners of the parking garage, and the fire that had enveloped it had spread to the other cars in the garage, melting paint and tires.

Jesus.

Kerry took a deep breath before going around the police tape cordoning off the area and walking toward Ledbruk. "Where is he?"

"That's a good question," Ledbruk said. "The forensics team is trying to scrape enough of him together to get a definite ID. It's a good thing it went off here. The concrete walls took most of the hit. Trask must have used enough plastic to blow up the apartment building."

"How could this happen? Wasn't his car watched?"

"Hell, yes. We think that the bomb may have been planted at the parking lot of the lab where he's working now. The agent who was doing the surveillance said a Buick rear-ended a Cadillac and his vision of the car was blocked for a few minutes."

"And he wasn't suspicious?"

"Of course. But the woman had two kids with her, and the accident seemed legitimate. His view of the Jeep was only blocked for a few minutes and the woman waited to file an accident report."

"Then you should have a record to help ID her," Silver said.

"We're working on it. We think her driver's license and insurance card were phony," Ledbruk said curtly as he turned away. "Don't tell me my job, Silver."

"I wouldn't think of it." Silver nudged Kerry toward the forensics team. "Kerry wants to examine the crime scene. We'll be careful not to compromise it."

"There's not much to compromise. Between the fire and the sprinkler system it triggered, it's going to be hell to find any credible evidence." He turned away. "Just don't get in my way."

"A woman . . ." Kerry murmured as they moved across the garage. "And two kids?"

"It appears Trask may be recruiting new talent."

"It doesn't-it feels wrong." She shook her head to clear it. "Something's not right."

"What?"

"I don't know." She moistened her lips. "Find me a piece of the metal of Raztov's Jeep."

"That shouldn't be hard. It's all over the garage." He nodded at a length of twisted steel that might have once been a safety bar. "That do?"

"Maybe. I hope so." She moved toward the metal bar. "God, I hope so." She knelt and reached out and touched the bar.

Nothing.

Her hand closed around it.

Hurry. Fasten the plastic to the pipe and get out from under the Jeep. Two minutes.

Got it!

Roll out and under the car beside the Jeep. Keep low . . .

"Something?"

She glanced up at Silver. "Trask didn't plant it. The man was black, about forty, and very experienced with explosives. He's done this before."

"Name?"

She shook her head.

"Are you going to be able to find out anything more?"

"I doubt it. I've never been able to see more than a few impressions and the moment of the act itself." She grasped the metal again, held it for a moment, and then released it. "No, it's gone." Panic was suddenly soaring through her. She jumped to her feet. "Let's get out of here."

"Can you give a description to Ledbruk?"

"Not now." Wrong. All wrong. Not Trask. "What would I tell him?" She was almost running toward the crime tape. "Let's go."

He caught up with her as she reached the street. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"It wasn't Trask." She got into the car. "It should have been Trask but it wasn't."

"So it was someone he paid to do it. The result is the same."

"But he always does it himself. And he always uses Firestorm. It's his child, his weapon of choice. We know Raztov was on his hit list. Why didn't he use Firestorm this time?"

His gaze narrowed on her face. "And do you know?"

She was working it out as she spoke. "Because Raztov wasn't as important as another target he'd chosen. He wanted him dead, but he was willing to give up the pleasure of killing him if it meant using his death."

"Using it for what?"

"A distraction." She was starting to shake. "He wanted to focus attention on Raztov and-" She reached for her phone. "Oh, God. Carmela. He's going after Carmela. What's the telephone number at that safe house?"