You stay down here for now."

"You might need me."

"I need you, I'll holler." He was already halfway to the stairs and didn't look back.

v The hall was lled with the stench of cordite, the pungent smell of blood, and the screams of petri ed girls. Watts saw the body on the oor, and the air gushed out of his lungs as if he'd been punched in the gut. Oh, f.u.c.k me, I'm not seeing that.

Sloan pivoted toward him, gun extended, and he yelled, "Police, police. Sloan, it's Watts. Jesus."

"I can tell who the h.e.l.l it is, for Christ's sake." Sloan's eyes were hard dark stones. "Clear downstairs?"

"Mitch.e.l.l's sweeping it." Watts wasn't looking at her, but at Rebecca slumped against the wall. "Jesus Christ."

"Call for the ambulance and a coroner." Sloan holstered her weapon and spoke in Russian to the group of young women huddled together at the far end of the hall. Most were garbed only in imsy sleepwear or T-shirts, all were barefoot, and all were clearly terri ed.

"They say there's no one else up here," she called back to Watts, "but I'll do a room-to-room. You stay with Rebecca."

"Loo?" Watts knelt by Rebecca's side. Her eyes were open but glazed. Blood shimmered down her face and neck. "Take it easy, Lieutenant. The ambulance will be here in a minute."

He waited, holding his breath, but no answer came.

v Catherine opened her eyes to darkness, her heart racing. The * 292 *

Justice Served bedside clock read 4:26 a.m. She listened for the sound of the key in the lock, but there was only silence. She sat up and reached for her robe.

The feeling of foreboding was oppressive and heavy, a weight in her chest that squeezed the air from her lungs and turned her limbs to stone.

She forced herself from the bed and, after pulling the robe around her naked body, walked into the living room. When the knock came at the door she was not surprised. For seconds that felt like eternity, she did not move. In that instant she understood the true power of denial. If she did not open the door, she would not suffer the loss. If she did not hear the words, she would not experience the anguish. If she did not accept, it would not be true.

The quiet knock repeated.

Catherine steeled herself and opened the door. She hadn't meant to speak, but when she saw Sloan's face, she whispered an agonized no.

"She's hurt, but she's alive. She's at University ER. Ali Torveau's with her."

"I'll just be a minute," Catherine said evenly, but when she turned, her legs were unsteady. She didn't draw away when Sloan's arm came around her waist.

"It's going to be all right," Sloan murmured as she walked beside Catherine back to the bedroom.

"Tell me what happened."

Sloan averted her gaze as Catherine, apparently oblivious to Sloan's presence, removed her robe and stood naked in front of the closet. "We took the stash house. The guard was armed."

"Oh G.o.d." Catherine closed her eyes and braced her hand against the closet door.

"She was wearing a vest, Catherine," Sloan hurried on. "I couldn't tell for sure, but I don't think she took a body shot."

"She would have called me if she could have. What aren't you telling me?"

"There's a head wound. I'm not sure how serious."

Catherine gave a small cry before ghting back the terror that threatened to immobilize her. Blanking her mind, she slipped into a blouse and slacks, heedless of the fact that she wore no underwear. She stepped barefoot into low-heeled boots and pulled a blazer off the rack.

* 293 *

RADCLY fFE She walked determinedly toward the front door with Sloan in her wake.

"How could this happen? Who was with her?"

"I was."

Catherine nally looked directly at Sloan. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

"And the...person who shot her?"

"Dead." Sloan pointed. "My car's over here."

"You killed him?"

"Yeah." Sloan keyed the remote and opened the pa.s.senger door for Catherine.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Sloan handed Catherine into the car, pulled the seat belt across Catherine's chest, and hooked it. "I'm just ne."

v Catherine remembered nothing of the brief, rapid journey to the hospital. She was out of the car nearly before Sloan was able to halt the Porsche in front of the emergency room entrance. She rushed through the automatic double doors into the familiar chaos of the trauma admitting area. Tonight the waiting room was awash with a sea of blue.

Tonight, the PPD had turned out en ma.s.se in support of one of their fallen brethren. That realization pa.s.sed quickly through Catherine's mind as she grasped the arm of the rst pa.s.sing nurse. "Lieutenant Frye. Wounded police of cer. Where is she?"

"Trauma One, I think."

"Thank you."

Sloan caught up to Catherine before she was halfway down an adjacent hallway that sported curtained exam rooms along both sides.

"Maybe you should wait until I nd Ali and get an update."

"No. I want to see her now."

"Okay," Sloan relented. "I'll see what I can nd out."

Before she could turn back to the crowded waiting room in hopes of nding someone who would be willing to give her information, she heard the deep rumble of a familiar voice.

"Dr. Rawlings," Captain Henry said in a surprisingly soothing tone of voice. "I'm sorry to see you again under these circ.u.mstances.

Can I get you anything?"

* 294 *

Justice Served "Where is she?" Catherine asked immediately.

"Radiology, at least the last I heard." He slid an arm beneath Catherine's elbow. "No one is telling us very much, but the doctors listed her in critical, but stable, condition. Why don't you come sit down in the family waiting room."

"She's not in the operating room?"

Henry looked perplexed. "No. No, they said something about a CAT scan."

Some of the terrible pressure around Catherine's heart eased. If they hadn't taken her directly to the operating room, then she couldn't be in grave danger. She might be hurt, but she wasn't dying. Please, let that be true.

"I'm going down to radiology," Catherine said.

"Of course," Henry replied.

"You want me to come with you?" Sloan asked.

Catherine shook her head. "No, I'm all right." She smiled at Sloan.

"Thank you for coming to get me. You should call Michael. She'll be worried." Suddenly, her expression changed to one of concern.

"Everyone else is all right? Dellon? Watts?"

Sloan nodded. "All okay."

"Good. Good. I have to go."

v The rst thing she saw when she exited the stairwell was Watts pacing in a tight circle with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

Then she saw Mitch.e.l.l, arms crossed, face pale, leaning with one shoulder against the wall next to the entrance to the radiology suite.

Still in her tight black jeans and motorcycle jacket, with the curves of her face shadowed and dark, she looked like a dangerous young animal.

But her eyes, when they met Catherine's, were drenched with pain.

When he saw her, Watts hurried forward. "I woulda come to get you, but Sloan wanted to."

"It's all right," Catherine said gently. "It's good that you're here watching over her." Her gaze moved to the closed doors. "Is she still in there?"

"Yeah, and they won't tell us a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing."

* 295 *

RADCLY fFE "Well, they'll tell me." And then she pushed her way through the doors.

She saw Ali Torveau immediately, leaning over the shoulder of an X-ray technician who was scrolling through a series of images on a computer screen.

"Let me see the cranial cuts again," the trauma surgeon instructed.

"Ali," Catherine said, "how is she?"

Ali Torveau spun around in surprise. "Catherine. Lucky, I think. We're not done with the head CT. When she came in, she was unconscious, but I'm not seeing anything other than some occipital swelling."

"Where was she...shot?" Catherine found it almost impossible to get the words out, but she forced herself. As she asked the questions that were so hard to even conceive, she glanced through the viewing window into the room where the huge machine even now shrouded her lover's body.

"The vest took the brunt of it," Ali said. "We haven't scanned her chest, and there was considerable bruising over the mid-thorax.

She may have a fractured sternum, but my main concern is her head.

She's got a deep temporal scalp laceration that looks to be from a bullet wound."

For a few seconds, Catherine's vision wavered and she pressed her ngertips to the countertop to steady herself. "Can I see her?"

Ali pulled over a rolling chair and guided Catherine into it. "As soon as the scans are done. I need this information, Catherine."

"But she's going to be all right?"

"Let me nish my evaluation, and then we'll talk, okay?" Ali's tone was gentle but rm, and her attention was once again on the monitor. "Peter, run that series again, will you?"

v Hand in hand, Michael and Sandy pushed through the crowd of police.

"There!" Michael pointed, having caught sight of Sloan and Jasmine standing off to one side in the hallway by the elevators.

Sloan looked in their direction at the sound of Michael's voice, * 296 *

Justice Served and some of the tension drained from her face. Both she and Jasmine hurried to meet them.

"Hey," Sloan murmured, kissing Michael quickly.

Michael rested her palm on Sloan's chest, her eyes roving over her lover's body. "You're all right?"

"Yeah, ne."

Threading an arm around Sloan's waist, Michael turned to Jasmine. "Sarah will be here any minute. I called her on the way over.

She's bringing a change of clothes in case you want them."

"At the moment, no one is paying any attention to me," Jasmine replied. Gesturing to her skintight red dress and stiletto heels, she added, "But it won't be long before they do. I think tonight I could do without the attention."

As if on cue, Sarah emerged from the elevator, a canvas tote under one arm. When she saw the group, she approached with her usual composed expression. "Here you go," she said as she kissed Jasmine brie y on the mouth. "How's Rebecca?"

"No word yet." Jasmine squeezed Sarah's hand. "I'll be right back.

I just need to nd a phone booth."

"Where's Dell?" Sandy asked sharply. Michael had come by to pick her up after Sloan called. When the phone had rung, she hadn't been asleep. She'd been waiting. Waiting and trying not to think about where her girlfriend was or what she might be doing. She'd been entertaining visions of hunting down Irina and tearing her limb from limb. Now all she wanted was to see for herself that Dell was all right. She couldn't have cared less what she might have done with Irina.

"She's downstairs with Watts...where they took Rebecca."