'His plan is blown. And for him, the plan was everything."

Marcus went back on the security net. "Quinn?"

"Go ahead."

"This shooter had a plan, a detailed onel it got blown by unexpected witnesses and his reaction shows a distinct lack of control. He'S running now without his plan. Anything is possible."

"Permission to give this manhunt back to you?" Quinn asked dryly "I'll get you a sketch of the shooter. I've got witnesses to get out of here," Marcus replied. Anything was possible. Including the shooter doubling back to try and eliminate his mistake. Shari might be the only one who had seen his face, and that made Marcus very uneasy. "How bad are you hurt? I can send up a medic."

"The shot grazed my left arm, it can wait."

Marcus had no choice but to accept his word for it. Taking Quinn off the manhunt was the last thing he wanted to do. There were very few marshals with his expertise. "Make sure you get a firewall established below floor nineteenl moving Justice loosevelt is more dangerous than it's worth. How's the evacuation going?"

"About a third done. We're moving the guests to the Paris conference room, doing interviews there to see if anyone saw or heard anything." "Has Kate arrived on scene?" "She's with me now."

"Hi, Marcus. Thanks for the business."

Her voice over the net was her working one: clear, calm, not yet bored. She only sounded bored when she had a gun pointed at her head. "Kate, quit chewing gum on the security net. It's annoying."

"Sorry. Are you under control down there? I could use a look at the scene. I need to know how this guy thinks."

"Emotionally." Marcus summed up in one word. "As soon as the paramedics get done, Dave's going to own the crime scene. He can arrange a walkthrough."

"I appreciate it."

"Marcus, it's (uinn again. We're flushing these three floors. We've got this hotel wing secure, but this shooter was moving fast."

"You think he might have slipped through."

"We're coming up on fifteen minutes and I haven't been shot at again." "Point well taken. Consider this situation no longer contained." "Got it."

With that simple decision, the response hadjust leaped from the hotel to six blocks around the hotel and all the airports, train stations, and other means of exiting the city.

Marcus dropped off the security net.

Beth and Joshua were wheeled out. The paramedics moved to transfer William to a stretcher.

"William doesn't have much of a chance. He took two hits to the center of the chest," Dave said softly.

They had a witness to a murder who might lose members of her own family; it complicated matters enormously. If William died-it could either strengthen Shari's resolve to help or create enough fear that her memory would become vague. Marcus had been around witness protection long enough to know there was no way to predict how someone would react to such an event. Shari's world right now was her mother, father, and brother. Getting them somewhere safe was critical.

"I'll stay with them at the hospital, work with Shari," Marcus decided. "You've got this crime scene; tear it apart. And let's hope we've got another witness somewhere on this floor, l don't know how much more Shari will be able to give us."

The paramedics headed out with William. Marcus watched them leave, then turned back to Dave. "Talk to Mike down in the command center. We need the full file on Judge Whitmore: Get men digging into his past cases, and find out everything there is to know about who knew he was going to appear on that short list and when they knew it. Then get men working on a profile of William Hanford and his family. They were friends of Carl. The shooter got surprised. I want to rule out any possibility he had them further down on his master plan."

"You've got it, Marcus."

Marcus slapped him on the shoulder, more grateful than he knew how to say that Dave was here. Almost family counted. Six months, he figured, probably less, and Dave and Kate would be engaged.

He picked up one of the extra towels left in the living room to wipe the blood off his hands, pulled his signet ring off to drop it into his pocket until he could clean it. His watchband would need to be soaked to come clean, he recognized with some dispassion.

Officer Tina Young appeared in the suite doorway, and Marcus turned, expecting Shari. The expression on the officer's face had him abandoning his task to cross the room. "She washed up, changed, and then-" The officer stepped aside and pointed to room 966.

Marcus moved to the other hotel room.

Shari was standing by the sink in the bathroom, one hip resting against the marble countertop. She'd changed into jeans and a pink sweater but was still barefoot. She looked painfully young.

The tears were falling unchecked. She wasn't making a sound, but her shoulders were shaking. Her right thumb was rubbing at the remnants of dried blood on her other palm, trying to erase it from the crevices of her hand. She'd washed, but not all the blood had come off.

Even knowing this was inevitable, that the controlled calm during the crisis would give way to the shock, didn't ease the impact seeing it had. Words weren't going to help. Marcus bent and picked up the wet towel she had been using that had dropped to the floor. He slid his hand firmly over the back of her wrist, capturing the offending hand in his, feeling her fluttering pulse under his long fingers. The wet towel had grown cool. He turned on the water faucet, made sure it got no more than moderately warm, and picked up the soap.

It didn't take an expert to know what seeing her brother's blood on her hands was doing to her. He finally got her palm clean. He spread her fingers and washed the faint traces of blood from between them. He could do little about the blood under her nails. Very neat nails with light red polish, two now jaggedly broken.

"The water always stays pink."

"Shari, look at me." He had to repeat it twice before she raised her head. The tears were ending, but behind them was a heavier blackness. "You can't help your family if you fall apart."

He had to stay blunt. She needed a reason to focus and the best thing that could happen would be if this despair could be replaced with anger at the shooter. It would give her the ability to get through the coming hours. She drew in a deep breath as if he'd slapped her. "I'll be okay."

He squeezed her hands, regretting that he couldn't step in and coddle her. He would love to wrap her in cotton right now and deny the world any chance to get close to her and cause her more pain. That wasn't possible. "I'm going to need your help in the next couple hours."

"I'm having trouble with my own name right now."

"The shock will fade," he calmly replied. Her hands were clean now, her fingertips had even begun to wrinkle. He reached for a dry towel and folded her hands in his, drying them. "leady to leave?"

The first stark glimmer of a smile appeared. It was a painful reminder that the lady he had met and found so enjoyable earlier that evening was now gonel her smile was fractured. "Absolutely."

"Good." He held her gaze for several moments, wishing he knew how to read what she was thinking. She was looking at him as if she wanted to ask something but was mute. She turned toward the bedroom and the moment was broken.

Tina had found tennis shoes for her. Shari sat on the side of the bed and pulled them on.

"Joshua was airlifted to the hospital about a minute ago. Your father should be airborne in a couple minutes. Your mom is already on the way and I've got a car downstairs for you."

She nodded.

Tina handed Shari a shopping bag. "The clothes for your mom." "Thanks."

"Come on," Marcus said gently, putting his hand on Shari's back to direct her. He didn't like the fact he was leaving while the hunt for the shooter was still in progress, but he had no choice. In the triad of witness, shooter, and crime scene, they were all critical. He trusted Quinn to handle the shooter, and Dave to handle the crime scene. He would rather have Shari and her family remain his responsibility.

He escorted Shari down the hall to the elevators, keeping his hand under her elbow. She was limping and it looked like she was favoring her knee, not her ankle. He would have to make sure a doctor checked her out when they got to the hospital.

The elevator controls had been overridden so that only the security center could activate them. He asked for the first floor. They were going out a secure entrance on the first floor rather than descend to the lobby where the press could see them. Shari leaned back against the elevator wall as it descended.

Marcus didn't break the ensuing silence. She needed time to collect herself, and he needed time to think. They had contingency plans in place for hospital security, but his first order of business would be to get them strengthened. This shooter had shown no qualms about acting in the midst of heavy security.

The media was going to be a problem as soon as they learned which hospital they should haunt for news. This was not going to be a one day story; he would have to plan security for the duration of the time Joshua and William were in the hospital. And Shari and her mom would eventually need other accommodations-he couldn't risk bringing them back to this hotel; they would need someplace close to the hospital.

"Carl's really dead."

He looked over at Shari, understanding the need to be told what she already knew. "Yes."

"Why did this happen? Why him?"

It was the hardest question to answer about any crime: why. If they caught the shooter and he confessed they would get a definitive answer. Short of that, it would take a long investigation to figure out the motive. "We'll find out."

She rubbed her eyes. "He never knew he was going to make the short list." His gaze sharpened. "You knew?"

"That page during dinner was John passing on the news. Josh and I had ordered a special dinner to the room to celebrate. Carl hadn't eaten much at the banquet. I should have told Carl rather than wait for him to get the official call, but it was going to be a surprise. He needed some good news. And he died never knowing..."

Her voice drifted off. Marcus waited a moment to see if she would say anything else. "Who's John?"

She took a deep breath. "My boss, the governor of Virginia. I need to call him."

The governor of the Commonwealth of Virginia was her boss. This situation, already highly political, would have the extra dimension of the Hanford family being personal friends of Governor Palmer. "I'll get it arranged," he promised. "Shari, did you tell anyone about the page?"

"Joshua knew, and my parents, but we were waiting for Carl to get the official call before we invited his friends to the suite to help us celebrate. Do you think Carl was killed because he was going on the short list?"

There was no sense trying to keep the obvious from her. She would be in the middle of this investigation until its conclusion. "It's possible." The look of pain that crossed her expression was intense, as if that answer wounded her personally. Why? "Do you think you can help me put together a sketch of the shooter?"

"I'll try." She bit her lip. "I only saw him for a few seconds, Marcus. And after that first moment when I realized what I was seeing...it's scattered."

"Do you think your brother saw him?"

She shook her head. "He was off to my right when the connecting door opened. I was still screaming when that bullet hit the door frame, and Josh hit me in that instant. I don't think the shooter moved beyond the doorway." Her eyes closed, and she shivered. "Josh got shot because of me."

"Shari-" He waited until she looked over at him. "Trust me. Josh is glad he was able to reach you in time. As hard as it is for you to see him hurt, just remember, he would feel worse if you were the one hurt." She gave a glimmer of a smile. "A guy thing."

"Yes."

"Are they going to be okay? Josh... and Dad?" "Can you handle the truth?" "No, but I would prefer it."

The job demanded he keep a professional, impersonal distance. There were times that kind of distance didn't fit the circumstances. He reached over and gripped her hand, having found long ago that bad news delivered with a touch sometimes helped lessen the sting. For both of them. "I think you'd better be prepared for the worst," he answered gently. "Josh is hurt, but he's young. I think he'll make it. But your father...it looks bad. He might not make it through surgery."

She had to know that, had to be prepared, and it would be wrong not to warn her. He felt her flinch, saw her jaw work, then she shuttered her expression. "He'll make it. He has to," she whispered fiercely. "I'll help you however I can with information about the shooter, what happened. But can you wait to talk to mom until tomorrow? She's already had enough shock for one day."

"I think so. We're going to make this as easy on all of you as we can; that's a promise."

"Will you be staying with us at the hospital?"

She'd just been shot at and she sounded apologetic for asking if he would be around to help as all the churn hit. He knew his life was going to be chaotic in the next few days as he worked the case, but it was nothing compared to what had just hit hers. She was a witness; her family was hurt; within days any secrets she thought she had would be considered fair game for reporters across the country...she'djust lost her life as she knew it although he didn't think she fully realized that yet.

"I'll be watching out for you throughout this," he replied, determined to do what he could to throw a shield around her from the worst of it. "That's a promise, Shari."

He felt it, those words. It was an O'Malley promise. She wouldn't understand what that meant, didn't need to. It was enough for him to realize the line he had crossed. The shooter had made a fatal mistake. He had shot ajudge with impunity. He had hurt a lady Marcus knew. He had made the case personal. Marcus would put the weight of the O'Malley family behind solving the case, and together they were a group it was unwise to CROSS.

She squeezed his hand. "Thank you."

Marcus looked at their linked hands. Her hand not only fit his but looked right there. I-Ie rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. She was strong like her mom. She'd get through this. With a little help from him. I-Ie squeezed her hand before releasing it. The elevator doors opened. "Stay close."

Kate O'Malley positioned herself beside Quinn by the door of room 1124. It was one of eleven rooms on this floor where they hadn't been able to get an answer on the phone. They had used the registration information to try and track down the guests in the hotel and failed to do so. They had no choice but to assume the room was a threat situation.

They were using fiber optic cameras under the doors to make a first look, then opening and searching the rooms. Kate leaned her head back against the wall. She was at Quinn's elbow on the distinct probability they might open a door and have a gunman with a hostage waiting for them.

Those first seconds would be critical and all hers to deal with.

"What do you think, Kate?"

They had to do these sweeps fast, eliminating rooms; every minute without the gunman found simply spread the threat area. They also had to move with caution. It was the adrenaline draining; the worst kind of search. It didn't help that her gum was getting old. "You're bleeding on the carpet."

Quinn looked and scowled. "A few drops; you would think I was bleeding out the way you keep hassling me. At the price they charge for rooms, the hotel can probably afford to shampoo the carpet."

"Lisa's not here; someone's got to hassle you." Kate rather liked Marcus's partner, and the fact he annoyed her sister Lisa only increased that conclusion. She took another glance at the fiber optic feed. This was a suite of rooms, one of the highest risk entries since they could see only a portion of the rooms. They were at fifty seconds and still no sign of movement. "Open the door."

Quinn popped the lock and they swept into the suite; four men from the SWAT team, Quinn, and Kate following them in. "Clear." "Clear." "Clear!"

The cops were efficient and thorough; all rooms, closets, and other places where someone could conceal himself were methodically checked.

"This is getting old," Kate commented, feeling her heart rate slow down. "Tell me about it," Quinn replied. "Any ideas?"

"Get a structural engineer up here. I'd love to know what other ways there are off these three floors. Air ducts and the like. We're running out of rooms to check."

Quinn nodded. "Worth trying. There should be an engineer in the Belmont room." He made the call down to the security center, requesting the man be found and brought upstairs.

The guest room door was sealed with police tape to show the room had been swept. They moved to the next room on their list and began the careful process of setting up the fiber optic feed.

"A dead judge; two wounded. Want to lay odds we're going to open a door and find our shooter has killed himself?." Quinn asked.

"Doubtful. He acted in the middle of a hotel full of cops. He had a plan to get away. The mere fact he went up instead of down is striking."

"This guy gets away. life is going to get very ugly until he's caught." Kate nodded. She was already bracing for the worst. Marcus had always been there for her when she needed him; it looked like she was going to be returning the favor. A U.S. Marshal having a judge killed- someone was going to have to sit on Marcus and remind him to get some sleep occasionally.

She held up a hand, made a fist, and the officer moving the fiber optic lens held steady. Quinn took a look at the small display and agreed with her. Only two feet wearing blue socks were visible, but someone was lying on the bed. He motioned an officer to dial the room phone again; tate saw no movement. He wasn't moving to answer the ringing phone.

"Room registration?" Quinn asked.

"tevin McCurry. A judge from the seventh circuit," another officer replied.

Quinn looked at her. "Your call."

"Thanks a lot." tate considered the situation for a moment. "We've either got another victim, a very heavy sleeping guest, a hostage, or a dead shooter. The room lights are off. We kill the hall lights, unlock the door, open it a fraction, and we slide the fiber optic camera in high, so we can see the room. In the worst case, we risk getting gunfire back at us." Quinn nodded. "It will work."

Ten minutes later, they were dealing with an irate guest whose hearing aid had been turned off.

She had just gone to bed and her pager was going off. Lisa O'Malley rolled over and squashed it with a forceful hand. Bleary-eyed, she tried to find her shoes. They had been kicked off haphazardly when she collapsed on the bed. Her boss had promised her a weekend off call, but she didn't truly mind, even though it had already been a sixty-hour week. If she slept, she would dream, and thanks to Kevin they had become the kinds of nights she would prefer to forget.

The ER doctor had been a steady date up until six months ago when he'd taken a slap at her profession and she had been stunned to realize he meant it. She had come home, curled up on the couch, and cried, and no guy had done that easily since she was sixteen. She had promised herself to tell Kevin no in the future, but last week he'd caught her at a weak moment and she'd said yes to dinner. It had been a disaster. Would she never learn? He was still a rat.

A squeaking metal wheel broke the silence and she looked across the room at the metal cage with the spinning wheel. Her white mice were awake. "Sor guys. I didn't mean the insult."