Across the room, Quinn turned away from his conversation with thehomicide lieutenant and locked on her, as if he'd picked up her commenton his radar. At the same instant, Rob Marshall's pager beeped and heexcused himself to use the phone, looking disappointed at the lostopportunity to speak with Quinn again.

Kate wanted no such opportunity. She turned away and started again forthe door as Quinn came toward her.

"Kate."

She glared at him and jerked her arm away as he moved to take hold ofher.

"Thanks for your help," he said softly, ducking his head in that way hehad that made him seem boyish and contrite when he was neither.

"Yeah, right. Can I have the cervical collar concession tomorrow.

when you march in here and tell them to challenge this son of a b.i.t.c.h in order to trap him?"

He blinked innocently. "I don't know what you mean, Kate. You know aswell as I do how important it is to be proactive in a situation likethis-when the time is right."

She wanted to ask him if he was talking about the killer or thepoliticians, but she stopped herself. Quinn's proactive theories.e.xtended to all aspects of his life.

"Don't play your little mind games with me, John," she whisperedbitterly. "I didn't mean to help you. I didn't offer you anything. Youtook, and I don't appreciate it. You think you can just manipulatepeople like p.a.w.ns on a chessboard."

"The end justified the means."

"It always does, doesn't it?"

"You know I was right."

"Funny, but that doesn't make you seem any less of a jerk to me."

She took a step back toward the door. "Excuse me. I've got a job to do.

You want to make power plays, you leave me out of the game plan, thankyou very much."

"Good to see you too, Kate," he murmured as she walked away, thickred-gold hair swinging softly across her back.

It struck Quinn only belatedly that she had a nasty bruise on her cheekand a split lip. He'd seen her as he remembered her: as an exfriend'swife .. . as the only woman he'd ever truly loved.

CHAPTER 5.

THE CROWD is large. The TWIN Cities are overrun with reporters.

Two major daily newspapers, half a dozen television stations, radiostations too numerous to keep track of. And the story has brought instill more reporters from other places.

He has captured their attention. He relishes the sense of power thatbrings. The sounds in particular excite him-the urgent voices, the angryvoices, the scuffle of feet, the whirl of camera motor drives.

He wishes he hadn't waited so long to go public. His first murders wereprivate, hidden, far between in both time and s.p.a.ce, the bodies leftburied in shallow graves. This is so much better.

The reporters jockey for position. Videographers and photographers setthe perimeter of the gathering. Blinding artificial lights give thesetting an otherworldly white glow. He stands just outside the mediapack with the other spectators, caught on the fringe of a headline.

The mayor takes the podium. The spokeswoman for the community expressingthe collective moral outrage against senseless acts of violence. Thecounty attorney parrots the mayor's remarks and promises punishment. Thechief of police makes a statement regarding the formation of a task force.

They take no questions, even though the reporters are clamoring forconfirmation of the victim's ident.i.ty and for the gruesome details ofthe crime, like scavengers drooling for the chance to pick the carca.s.safter the predator's feast. They bark out questions, shout the worddecapitation. There are rumors of a witness.

The idea of someone watching the intimacy of his acts excites him.

He believes any witness to his acts would be aroused by those acts, ashe was. Aroused in a way just beyond understanding, as he had been as achild locked in the closet, listening to his mother having s.e.x with menhe didn't know. Arousal instinctively known as forbidden, irrepressiblejust the same. Questions and more questions from the media.

No answers, No comment.

He sees John Quinn standing off to one side among a group of cops, andfeels a rush of pride. He is familiar with Quinn's reputation, histheories. He has seen him on television, read articles about him.

The FBI has sent their best for the Cremator.

He wants the agent to take the podium, wants to hear his voice and histhoughts, but Quinn doesn't move. The reporters seem not to recognizehim standing out of reach of the spotlight. Then the princ.i.p.als walkaway from the podium, surrounded by uniformed police officers. The pressconference is over.

Disappointment weighs down on him. He had expected more, wanted more.

Needs more. He had predicted they would need more.

With a jolt he realizes he has been waiting to react, that for a momenthe allowed his feelings to hinge on the decisions of others.

Unacceptable behavior. He is proactive, not reactive.

The reporters give up and hurry for the doors. Stories to write, sourcesto pump. The small crowd in which he stands begins to break up and move.

He moves with them, just another face.

"LET'S GO, KIDDO. We're out of here."

Angie looked up from the mug books on the table, wary, her stringy hairhiding half her face. Her gaze darted from Kate to Liska as she rosefrom her chair, as if she were expecting the detective to pull a gun andprevent her escape. Liska's attention was on Kate.

"You got the okay to go? Where's Kovac?"

Kate looked her in the eye. "Yeah .. . uh, Kovac's tied up with thelieutenant at the press conference. They're talking task force."

"I want in on that," Liska said with determination.

"You should. A case like this makes careers." And breaks them, Katethought, wondering just how much trouble she was making for herself springing Angie Dimarco-and how much trouble she would be making for

Liska.

The endjustifies the means. She thought of Quinnat least her goal was n.o.ble rather than self-serving manipulation.

Rationalization: the key to a clear conscience.

"Are the cameras rolling?" Liska asked.

"Even as we speak." Kate watched out of the corner of her eye as her

client palmed a Bic lighter someone had left on the table and slipped it into her coat pocket. Christ. A kid and a kleptomaniac.

"Seems like a good time to split."

"Run for it while you can," Liska advised. "You're a double bonus today.

I hear your name attached to a certain act of heroic lunacy at the government center this morning. If the newsies don't nail you for one thing, they'll nail you for another."

"My life is much too exciting."

"Where are you taking me?" Angie demanded as she came to the door, slinging her backpack over one shoulder.

"Dinner. I'm starving, and you look like you've been starving for a

while."

"But your boss said-"

"Screw him. I want to see somebody lock Ted Sabin in a room for a day_or

two. Maybe he'd develop a little empathy. Let's go."

Angie shot one last glance at Liska and scooted out the door, hiking her backpack up as she hurried after Kate.

"Will you get in trouble?"

"Do you care?)) "It's not my problem if you get fired."

"That's the spirit. Listen, we've got to go up to my office. If anyone

stops me on the way, do us both a favor and pretend we're not together.

I don't want the media putting two and two together, and you don't want them knowing who you are. Trust me on that one."

Angie gave her a sly look. "Could I get on Hard Copy? I hear they , "You f.u.c.k this up for Sabin and he'll get you on America's Most Wanted.

That is if our friendly neighborhood serial killer doesn't put you on Unsolved Mysteries first. If you don't hear anything else I tell you, kiddo, hear this. You do not want to be on television, you do not want your picture in a newspaper."

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"I'm just telling you how it is," she said as they entered the concourse to the government center.

Kate put on her don't-f.u.c.k-with-me face and walked as quickly as she

could, considering the aches and stiffness from her morning wrestlingmatch were beginning to sink in deep. Time was a-wasting. If thepoliticians took John's advice and somehow managed to containthemselves, the press conference would break up fast. Some of thereporters would dog Chief Greer, but most would split between the mayorand Ted Sabin, liking their odds better with elected officials than witha cop. Any minute now the concourse could be swarming with them.

If they followed Sabin into the concourse and caught sight of her, ifsomeone called her name or pointed her out within earshot of theravenous pack, she was bound to get cornered about the government center gunman.

Eventually someone might make the mental leap and connect her to rumorsof a witness in the latest homicide, and then the last few hours wouldtruly deserve listing in the annals of all-time s.h.i.tty days. Somewhereon the lower third of the list, she figured, leaving plenty of roomabove for the string of rotten days to come.

But luck was with her for once today. Only three people tried tointercept her on their way to the twenty-second floor. All making clevercomments on Kate's morning heroics. She brushed them off with a wry lookand a smart remark, and never broke stride.

"What's that about?" Angie asked as they got off the elevator, hercuriosity overcoming her show of indifference.

"Nothing."

"He called you the Terminator. What'd you do? Kill somebody?"

The question came with a look that mixed disbelief with wariness with asmall, grudging flicker of admiration.

"Nothing that dramatic. Not that I haven't been tempted today."

Kate keyed the access code into the security panel beside the door tothe legal services department. She unlocked the door to her own officeand motioned Angie inside.

"You know, you don't have to take me anywhere," the girl said, floppinginto the spare chair. "I can take care of myself. It's a free countryand I'm not a criminal .. . or a kid," she added belatedly.

"Let's not even touch on that subject for the moment," Kate suggested,glancing through her unopened mail. "You know what the situation ishere, Angie. You need a safe place to stay."