one. That's all I want: the truth. You can give it to me."

"I killed her. I killed her," he mumbled over and over, tears streaming down his cheeks.

His gun hand was trembling badly. Another few minutes and his own burning muscles would make him lower it. If he didn't blow his head off first.

"You sent for me, Peter," Quinn said. "You sent for me for a reason.

You want to give me the truth."

"Oh, my G.o.d. Oh, my G.o.d!" Bondurant sobbed, the struggle within himselfenormous, powerful, tearing him apart. His whole right arm was shakingnow. He c.o.c.ked the hammer back.

"Peter, no!" Quinn ordered, going for him.

The gun exploded. Shouts and screams echoed with the shot. A fraction ofa second too late, Quinn grabbed hold of Bondurant's wrist and forced itup. Another shot boomed. Kovac rushed up behind Peter, the uniformsright behind him, and pulled the gun out of his hand.

Bondurant collapsed against Quinn, sobbing, bleeding, but alive.

Quinn lowered him gently to the marble steps. The first shot had cut atan angle above his temple and plowed out a furrow of flesh and hair twoinches long on its way to the second floor of the building. Gunpowderresidue blackened the skin. He dropped his head between his knees andvomited.

The sound level in the hall was deafening. Photographers rushed forwardfor better angles. Edwyn n.o.ble shoved past two of them to get to hisboss.

"Don't say anything, Peter."

Kovac gave the attorney a look of disgust. "You know, I think it's alittle late for that."

Ted Sabin took the podium and called for order and calm. The mayor wascrying. d.i.c.k Greer snapped at his captains. The cops went about theirjobs, dealing with the gun, clearing a path for the EMTS.

Quinn crouched beside Peter, hand still on the man's wrist, feeling hispulse race out of control. Quinn's own heart was pumping hard. Afraction of an inch, a steadier hand, and Peter Bondurant would haveblown his brains out in front of half the country. An event to bebroadcast on the nightly news with the disclaimer: We warn you what youare about to see may be disturbing .. .

"You have the right to remain silent, Peter," he began quietly.

"Anything you say may be used against you in court."

"Must you do this now?" n.o.ble asked in a harsh whisper. "The press iswatching."

"They were watching when he came on stage with a loaded gun too," Quinnsaid, tugging at the duffel bag Peter had smuggled the gun in.Bondurant, sobbing uncontrollably, tried to hold on to it for a moment,then let go.

His body crumpled into a bony heap.

"I think people have already let too many rules slide where Peter isconcerned," Quinn said.

He handed the bag to Vince Walsh. "It's heavy. He may have more weapons in it."

"You have the right to have your attorney present at questioning," Kovac continued the Miranda warning, pulling out handcuffs.

"Jesus G.o.d!" came the hoa.r.s.e exclamation. Quinn looked up to see Walsh

drop the duffel bag and grab the side of his neck, his face purple.

The paramedics said later he was dead before he hit the ground .. .

right beside the bag that carried Jillian Bondurant's decapitated head.

CHAPTER 33.

KATE STEPPED BACK from Angie, not trying to decipher what the girl had

said. She was breathing hard, and she'd cracked her elbow on the coffee table on the fall to the floor. She rubbed it now as she tried to get her thoughts clear. Angie sat on her knees, keening like a banshee, hitting herself in the head with her b.l.o.o.d.y hands over and over again.

Blood soaked the thighs of her jeans and oozed out through the slits she had cut with the knife.

"My G.o.d," Kate murmured, shaken by the sight. She backed into the desk,

turned to the phone.

Rob stood three feet away, staring at the girl with a peculiar kind of interest, as if he were a scientist watching a specimen.

"Talk to us, Angie," he said softly. "Tell us what you're feeling."

"Jesus Christ, Rob," Kate snapped as she picked up the receiver.

"Leave her alone! Go in the kitchen and get some wet towels."

He went instead to Angie, pulled a six-inch black leather sap from his

coat pocket, and struck her across the back. The girl screamed and fell over sideways, arching her back as if to try to escape the pain.

Kate stood stunned, staring at her boss with her mouth hanging open.

"W-what .. . T' she began, then swallowed and started again, her pulse racing. "What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you?" she asked, breathless with astonishment.

Rob Marshall turned his gaze on her with undisguised hate. His eyes

nearly glowed with it. The stare ran through Kate like a sword.

She could feel the contempt roll off him in hot waves, could smell it rising, sour and vile from his pores. She stood there, time elongating, instincts coming alive even as she realized her phone was dead.

"You have no respect for me, Kate, you f.u.c.king c.u.n.t," he said in a low,

growling voice.

The words and the hatred behind them hit her like a fist, stunning her for a moment, then shaking her as the pieces fell into place.

"Who choked you, Angie? Did you know this guy?"

"Sure .. . So do you .. ."

".. . It's all right, Angie. You're safe now.

"You stupid b.i.t.c.h. Now you're dead." Rob Marshall? No. The idea seemed almost laughable. Almost.

Except that the phone had been working before he showed up, and he was

standing before her with a weapon in his hand.

She put the receiver down.

"I've had it with you," he said bitterly. "Picking, picking, picking.

b.i.t.c.hing, b.i.t.c.hing, b.i.t.c.hing. Belittling me. Looking down your nose at

me.

He stood on the victimology reports that had scattered on the floor.

Everyone is a victim of something. She'd had that thought half a dozen

times that morning when she'd been going over the reports, but she hadn't examined it closely enough.

Lila White had been a victim of an a.s.sault.

Fawn Pierce had been a victim of rape.

Melanie Hessler, another rape victim.

At some time or other they had all dealt with victim/witness services.

The only one who didn't fit was Jillian Bondurant.

"But you're an advocate for victims, for G.o.d's sake," she murmured.

An advocate who, because of his position, listened to account after account of people-largely women-being victimized, brutalized, beaten, raped, degraded.. ..

How many times had he made her sit through the replaying of Melanie Hessler's interview tapes? Rob listening intently, running the tape back, replaying pieces over and over.

In her mind she was suddenly in Kovac's car at the Hessler crime scene, listening to the microca.s.sette the killer had dropped. Melanie Hessler begging for her life, screaming in agony, begging for death.

She thought of Rob going to look at the charred body, coming back agitated, seemingly upset. But what she had mistaken for distress had in fact been excitement.

Bile rose up the back of her throat as every rotten thing she'd ever said to him scrolled through her memory.