Mercy

CHAPTER FORTY

Theo had made one more detour before he drove to the hospital. He stopped at a Pak Mail store, made copies of the papers Rosa had given him, and then, using the store phone, he called his superior in Boston and told him what had happened. As he was talking to him, he had one of the store's employees fax the papers to his boss.

Then he called the local FBI branch, got their fax number, and sent copies to their office as well. And because he was tired and feeling a little paranoid, he faxed a set to his home.

By the time he reached the outskirts of St. Claire, the signal on his cell phone was fading. The battery was almost out of juice. He wanted to call Ben and ask him to meet him at the hospital so he could give him copies too, his intent to include the chief in the investigation. Theo decided he would have to wait and call him from the hospital. While he waited at a stoplight, he stacked the papers and put them into the glove compartment.

Now that he felt he had covered all the bases-his boss was going to fax a copy to a friend at the IRS- Theo once again went over the conversation he'd had with Rosa Vincetti. The poor woman was terrified of the police, and based on her past experience, he certainly didn't blame her. They had broken down her door in the middle of the night and, with their guns drawn, had rushed through her home, dragged her son out of his bed, handcuffed him, and taken him away. Ever since that night, Rosa had been living in terror that it would happen again.

"Did Catherine know about your fear of the police?" he'd asked.

"Yes, she did," she'd answered. "I told her everything. We were very close, like sisters. She depended on me."

Then, as Theo was leaving, Rosa told him she kept expecting to read about John's arrest in the papers because Catherine had

told her that the copies she'd made of her husband's secret files would put him in prison for the rest of his life.

"What were you supposed to do with your copies?" he asked.

"I don't know. She told me to keep them in a safe place. I've been praying… and waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"God to tell me what to do," she answered.

After assuring her that the papers were safe with him, he'd thanked her and left.

He was just a couple of blocks away from the hospital when he glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. Nine-fifteen. Time flies when you're having fun, he thought. No wonder his stomach was growling, and he was yawning every other minute. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day. He needed food and caffeine. Maybe after he checked on Michelle and talked to Noah, he could grab something in the hospital cafeteria.

He drove along the hospital drive, noticed there weren't any cars under the canopy outside the emergency entrance, pulled up just beyond the No Parking sign, and parked the car in the slanted slots reserved for police.

A male nurse was coming out of the entrance as Theo was going in. "Hey, buddy, you can't park your car there. You'll get ticketed."

"FBI vehicle," Theo called back.

"Damn," John muttered when he saw Buchanan park his car next to the building and go inside.

Dallas opened the car door. "Call Preston and Monk. Have them meet me in the stairwell, north side. I want to synchronize this just in case Buchanan gives me trouble."

As Dallas slammed the door and took off running, John made the call. After he disconnected, he reached into the backseat and pulled his laptop into the front. Then he opened the glove compartment, got out the other set of keys he'd requested when he'd rented the car, and put the car key in the ignition.

Dallas was only just now beginning to distrust him. John smiled as he thought about that. All of them- even cynical, burned-out Cameron-for all their illegal wheeling and dealing, were naive when it came to understanding John's capabilities. They actually believed that he couldn't get the money without them. What was even more amusing to him was the fact that his worker bees thought he would share the fortune. Ah, trust. What a wonderful weapon.

He leaned back and waited. It was a beautiful sultry night. Maybe it all would work out and he wouldn't have to go to his contingency plan. Preston was acting like a hothead now, though. John was pretty sure Preston wouldn't be able to stop himself from shooting someone. It would go bad then. Maybe all of them would die.

Wouldn't that be a stroke of luck.

Theo was going to take the stairs to the second floor, but as he was crossing the hallway to get to the stairwell door, Elliott Waterson shouted at him.

"Coach? My parents are upstairs."

The teenager was standing inside the elevator, holding the door open. He obviously thought that Theo had come to sit with Cherry and Daryl while John Patrick was in surgery.

Theo joined him. "How are you holding up, Elliott?"

The teenager began to cry. He looked like he'd been through a war. His eyes were swollen, his nose was red, and there was a

sad and haunted look about him.

His head bowed, he whispered, "Did you hear what I did to my little brother?" He began to sob then. "I hurt him, Coach. I hurt

him bad."

"I'm sure it was an accident, Elliott."

Theo knew that Michelle had rushed to the hospital and that the patient was John Patrick, the little boy who wanted him to shoot Lois, but when Michelle's brother had called, he hadn't given any details about the extent of the injury or how it had happened.

Still, Theo knew Elliott would never intentionally hurt his brother. Elliott was a decent kid and came from a loving, close-knit family.

"I know you didn't mean to hurt John Patrick."

"But it's my fault and now he's gonna die."

Elliott nearly knocked Theo over when he threw himself against him. He was sobbing uncontrollably now, his face buried in Theo's shoulder. Elliott was a big, strapping boy who outweighed Theo by at least thirty pounds, but he was still a kid who needed to be comforted.

"Let's go find your mother," Theo suggested.

Barely coherent, Elliott stammered, "I never should have… I didn't mean to…"

Theo's heart ached for him. He put his arm around him and patted. "It's going to be okay." It wasn't a promise; it was a prayer. "You've got to have hope, Elliott."

He realized then that the elevator wasn't moving. He stretched his other arm around the teenager so he could reach the button.

"Tell me what happened."

"Mom told me not to get him the dartboard. She said he was too little and he could cut himself on those sharp darts, but John Patrick really wanted it for his birthday present, so I got it for him anyway. Mom was really mad at me," he stammered. "I should have taken it back… but I didn't. I hung the board with some rope off the big tree in the front yard. I put it down low so John Patrick could use it, and when it started to get dark and he got tired of playing with it and climbed up in the tree like he likes to do, I picked up the darts and I started throwing them. I got back real far, and I was really hurling them."

Theo winced. He knew what was coming. Elliott was too distraught to go on. The elevator doors opened, and Theo pulled him along as he stepped out.

Noah was leaning against the wall feeing the elevators. When he saw Elliott with Theo, he immediately went down the hall to get the boy's parents.

"John Patrick jumped down out of the tree just as I hurled a dart," Elliott sobbed. "I got him in the chest, maybe his heart… I don't know, but he didn't cry. He just looked so surprised. I was screaming 'no' and running to him 'cause I knew what he was going to do. He tried to pull the dart out… but it didn't come out… just the fuzzy end… and he closed his eyes and went down on the ground. He… just… crumbled. I thought he was dead. Daddy saw it happen too. He had just gotten out of the van and was going up the steps. John Patrick's gonna die, isn't he, Coach? I know he is."

Theo didn't know what to say that could possibly console the boy. He cleared his throat and then said decisively, "Come on. Let's go find your mother."

There were signs on the wall directly ahead of him across from the elevator. Surgery was to the left down a long hallway. Noah had gone right, and Theo pulled Elliott along as he turned to follow. Noah stepped out of an open door and moved out of the way as Cherry and Daryl came hurrying toward Theo.

When Elliott saw his mother, he let go of Theo and ran to her. She put her arms around him and hugged him.

"I'm so sorry to hear about John Patrick," Theo said to Daryl.

The father looked as though he had aged ten years since they'd met. "I know, I know."

"He's such a little boy," Cherry cried.

"But he's strong," Daryl told her. "He's going to make it."

"How long has he been in surgery?" Theo asked.

"A half hour now," he answered.

"Any word yet? A progress report?"

Elliott had let go of his mother and was now standing beside her, holding her hand. Cherry looked dazed.

Daryl answered the question. "Dr. Mike sent a nurse in a few minutes ago to tell us it's going well. Did you hear that, Elliott?" he asked. "You had just gone downstairs to look for the minister when that nurse came in. Dr. Mike said that John Patrick's guardian angel was looking out for him because the arrow missed hitting an artery. The nurse was guessing it would be another hour at least before the operation is finished."

"They may have to give my boy a transfusion," Cherry said.

"So we were thinking we ought to go down to the lab and give them some of our blood," Daryl said, "in case John Patrick

needs it."

"They're not going to take your blood, Daryl," Cherry said. "Not with your recent surgery."

"I'm going to ask them all the same."

"I'm going to give my blood too," Elliott said. He stepped away from his mother, straightened, and wiped his eyes with the backs

of his hands.

"Where are your other boys?" Theo asked.

"Down in the cafeteria," Cherry said. "I should check on them. Henry must be getting fretful. It's past his bedtime, and I didn't think to bring his little blanket he likes to hold up against his nose when he sucks Ms thumb." She started crying.

Daryl put his arm around her. "Henry's just fine. The reverend's wife is going to take the little ones home and put them to bed,"

he explained to Theo. "They should be here any minute, so let's get going to the lab, Cherry. I want to get back here before the doctor comes out."

Daryl was agitated. Theo understood the father's need to do something, anything, to help his child. Waiting would have driven Theo crazy, and he couldn't even begin to imagine the anguish John Patrick's parents were going through.

"Maybe one of us ought to stay here," Cherry said as the elevator doors opened.

"I'll be here," Theo said. "I'll page you if anything happens."

Noah had hung back, but as soon as the elevator doors closed, he walked over to Theo. "The mother looks like she's in shock."

"How bad was it? Do you know?"

"It looked bad, but I honestly don't know. It got crazy here. I was watching Mike through the window. She was standing at the sink scrubbing her hands and arms and looking at the X rays another doctor was holding up for her. There were nurses and doctors and technicians rushing back and forth. Everyone seemed to be shouting orders, everyone but Mike. She was as calm

and cool as a summer breeze." His voice was filled with admiration. "She sure knows how to handle herself in a crisis. I guess that's why she became a surgeon."

Theo nodded. "She was that way last night when the bullets were flying all around us."

"Speaking of bullets flying, did you get everything done in New Orleans?"

"Oh, yes," Theo said. "You're not going to believe what I found out."

He then told Noah about the Sowing Club and the millions of dollars tucked away in a Cayman Islands account. When he was finished taking Noah through the steps that had led him to Cameron and Rosa, he added, "I want to get John Russell, but I have a feeling there's more to his crimes than what's in those records. As soon as the detectives pick up Cameron Lynch, I'll talk to him. He'll tell me what I want to know."

"From what Nick's told me about your powers of persuasion, I don't doubt you'll get him to talk. I want to look at those papers."

"I left copies in the glove compartment of your car."

"Was that smart?"

Theo smiled. "Didn't I mention copies went out to my boss, the IRS, the FBI, and my home?"

"No, you didn't mention that. You said the initials next to those transactions were J, C, P, and D. Noah said. "Too bad John

didn't put their full names."

"Maybe Catherine did. Maybe there was an explanation with the papers she sent Michelle."

"John Russell is obviously J, and Cameron Lynch is C. So who are P and D?"

"That's the riddle, and I bet I'll have the answer soon. Detectives Underwood and Basham have a couple of other detectives running all over New Orleans talking to some of John's associates. It won't be long before we have the names."

"Maybe Detective Harris knows who they are. Has she called yet?"

"No."

Noah shook his head. "Guess she isn't a woman of her word. It's been over twelve hours, and didn't she promise to give you a copy of the file then?"

"She'll probably be furious when she finds out I got a copy from Rosa."

"But you're not going to tell her."

"Hell, no," he said. "I'm not sharing information with her. I'm going to let Underwood and Basham make the collars and take the credit."

He heard his name being paged over the speaker, saw the phone on the wall directly across from the elevator, and walked over to answer it. As soon as he identified himself, the operator put him on hold. Two seconds later, Detective Underwood came on the line.

The conversation was very informative. Then Theo said, "Sure, I'll be waiting. Let me know." He hung up and turned to Noah.

"Preston and Dallas."

"Yeah? That was quick."

"One of the detectives got the names from John's ex-girlfriend. A woman named Lindsey. She was trying to get in John's house, said she'd left some clothes. She told him she had met Cameron but never the others. She'd heard John talking on the phone, though, and remembered the names Preston and Dallas because they called often."

"No last names?"

"Not yet. And guess what? Another man called once looking for Dallas. His name was Monk. She remembered the phone call because John was so deferential to him, like he almost was afraid of him."

"Interesting," Noah said. "Did Lindsey ever talk to him or any of the others?"

"No," Theo answered. "She wasn't allowed to answer the phone, said John told her he didn't want people to know he was

shacking up with her so soon after his wife's death. She also told the detective they were supposed to get married, but John

came home a couple of nights ago, told her to pack up and get out. He wasn't nice about it."

"Which is why she's so chatty now?"

"Exactly. I figure they'll have Preston and Dallas under wraps before midnight."

"Could be sooner," Noah said. "How did Detective Underwood find you?"

"I told him I'd be on my cell phone or at The Swan. John Paul or Jake must have told him I was at the hospital."

"So all we have to do is hang tight a little longer. It'll be over soon."

Theo yawned loudly and rubbed the back of his neck. "I need some caffeine."

"There's some coffee in the waiting room."

"Good," he said. "I'm going to check on Michelle first. Can I go inside there?" he asked, tilting his head toward the wide double doors with the sign above stating in bold red letters, "No Admittance."

"Sure you can. I did. You can look through the window and see Mike. She's in the operating room on the left around the corner where it dead ends. Just don't let anyone see you. The nurses tend to shout. I'm going to make a couple of phone calls," he added as he turned and headed down the hallway to the waiting room. "Want me to bring you some coffee?"

"No," Theo answered. "I'll get my own." He had his palm on the door, ready to push, when he suddenly stopped and turned around. "Hey, Noah, you know what's really odd?"

"What's that?"

"The channels Catherine used… sending the files to an unsuspecting relative she'd never met."

"John Paul told me she was an odd duck."

"She was."

"So maybe that's your answer."

"Yeah. Maybe," he said, but he wasn't convinced.

He pushed the door and stepped into the forbidden area, feeling a little like a kid sneaking into an R-rated movie. He half

expected someone to start shouting at him or grab him by the collar and toss him out.

He was inside a wide hallway with several sets of swinging doors and an elevator. Turning into a hall to the left, he went around the corner. There was a gur-ney against the wall where the hallway dead ended, and to the right was the surgical suite Michelle was using.

It was at least twenty degrees colder here. He could hear music as he walked closer, and he recognized the voice. Good old

Willie Nelson, Michelle's favorite. Theo felt a stirring of a memory too elusive to catch hold of. There was something familiar about the smell and the song and the cold. Maybe it was because of his own surgery.

He looked in through the square window and was surprised at how small the room was. It was crowded with people. He counted six, including the guy sitting behind the patient's head checking dials on the machines next to him. He couldn't see John Patrick, a nurse blocked his view, but he got a glimpse of Michelle's forehead when the nurse handed her an instrument and she turned slightly. As he watched her, he could feel the tension easing away. He began to relax, took a deep breath, and realized he was suddenly feeling good because she was dose.

"Man, I do have it bad," he whispered as he turned and walked back through the swinging doors. Was he becoming obsessive about Michelle? No, of course not, but the world did seem a little brighter, and definitely better, when he was with her.

Now, Catherine was the epitome of an obsessive personality. That thought led him right back to the riddle he'd been trying to solve. Rosa had told him that Catherine had wanted to use the files as a threat to control John's behavior while she was alive.

Why hadn't Catherine simply directed her attorney to give the papers to the police after her death? Was she worried that Benchley wouldn't follow through, or had Rosa's distrust of the authorities rubbed off on her?

Theo could understand why Catherine chose Michelle. Catherine knew how smart her cousin was. Every time Jake called her,

he did a lot of boasting, and Catherine, knowing what Michelle had already accomplished In her life, surety knew that her cousin would understand what all the numbers and transactions meant. Catherine might not have thought that Jake would figure it out-his good-old-boy facade fooled a lot of people into believing he wasn't as intelligent as Theo knew he was. Catherine wouldn't have known that about him, but she certainly would have known how persistent he could be, because he never gave up on her. He called her once a month to check on her, refusing to be put off by her cold, indifferent manner. Catherine probably assumed that Jake would make certain Michelle gave the papers her full attention and got them to the right people.

But she'd circumvented the police and given her second copy to Rosa. Now, why would she do that?

The answer was suddenly glaringly obvious. Because she knew that Rosa would never go to the police. And that meant…

"Son of a bitch," he whispered.

He was berating himself for taking so long to figure it out. Sorry, Catherine. I'm dense, okay?

He couldn't wait to tell Noah. Shoving the swinging door open, he ran into the hall, and in his haste, he bumped into one of the supply carts, sending it careening into the opposite wall. A stack of towels fell on his feet as he grabbed the cart to keep it from falling over. Squatting down, he was scooping up the towels in his arms when he heard the bing of the elevator followed by the swooshing sound the doors made when they opened.

Detective Harris stepped out of the alcove that led to the elevator. She turned away from him and headed toward the waiting room.

She wasn't wearing sensible shoes today. She was moving fast, the way most overworked policemen instinctively do because they are always behind, and her heels clicked against the linoleum floor like castanets.

Theo walked forward as he called out to her. "Hey, Detective, are you looking for me?"

She had almost reached the waiting room. Startled, she whirled around as she shoved her hand into her pocket, and then smiled. "Where did you come from?"

Noah stepped into the hall behind Harris as she hurried toward Theo.

"Surgery," he answered. "I'll be right with you. I've just one quick call to make." He turned to the wall phone next to him, picked it up, dialed the operator, and spoke in a low voice. Then he hung up and smiled again.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"I'm a detective. I know how to find people." Then she laughed. "A man at The Swan told me you were here and Admitting told me you were on this floor. It didn't take much investigative work. I'm a little late. It's been more than twelve hours, but I got detained. I did keep my word, though."

"I didn't think you'd show. I'm impressed."

"I've got copies of the papers from that package, which I'm letting you read out of the goodness of my heart," she said. "Just remember, it's my investigation," she added quickly.

"I won't touch it," he promised. "So where are the files on Monk?"

"I guess you didn't believe me when I said I'd spent three years chasing the ghost. I've got two huge cardboard file boxes in the trunk. It's going to take you a couple of weeks to go through all of it."

"You trying to make me sorry I asked for them?"

"Of course." She visibly shivered. "God, it's cold up here. It's like a tomb. So what do you want to do?" she asked. "Transfer the boxes to your car now, or do you want me to drop them off someplace?"

"We could transfer them now. I could start looking through them tonight."

"Whatever you want."

"Did you make any arrests yet?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. The question obviously irritated her. "Not yet," she said sharply. "He got away. He does it to me

every damned time. Vanishes into thin air. We tracked him to a motel in St. Claire. We surrounded it, and then we closed in. His car was there, parked right in front of his door, but he was gone. He had to leave fast, though. He didn't have time to pack his equipment or his clothes before he took off. I'm hoping my people will get lucky this time and find a print. They're working on it now."

"Think I could drive over and take a look?"

"Sure, as along as you don't interfere."

"I already promised I wouldn't."

"Okay," she said. "You can look. It's the St. Claire Motel, on Fourth and Summit."

She pushed the button for the elevator and waited. Looking up, she saw the number four was lit. They waited side by side for several seconds. She punched the button again.

Impatient now, she said, "Let's take the stairs. It's quicker, and I want to get back to New Orleans."

"Hot date?"

"How'd you know?"

"Just a guess. It's gonna be late by the time you drive back."

She glanced up at the numbers again. The light was still on four. "New Orleans doesn't sleep. The Quarter will be buzzing when I get there." Theo stepped away from her as she said, "Let's go."

Turning to take the lead, she suddenly stopped. Noah was standing in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Hello there," he said cheerfully.

"There you are," Theo said. "I'd like to introduce you to Detective Harris. Detective, this is Noah Clayborne," he said as he put his hand on her shoulder. "Noah works for the FBI, but he's also a good friend."

Theo stepped behind her as Noah said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Detective. I was just…"

Theo took another step back. "Hey, Dallas," he said.

She instinctively turned. Even as she did, she realized what had just happened. Her eyes widened and she jerked back, but it was too late. Theo shoved her into the elevator doors, face-first, making it impossible for her to fire the gun he knew she had hidden in her pocket.

Noah stepped forward, forced her arm back and up into an unnatural position, then struck her wrist hard to get her to let go of the weapon. The gun dropped to the floor, and Theo kicked it away.

"Where are your friends?" Theo demanded. He slackened his hold so he could force her to turn around. She took advantage, and cursing, she whirled and tried to slam her knee into Noah's groin.

"Is that nice?" he asked as he dodged the knee. "Where are your friends?" He repeated Theo's question in a much more unfriendly tone.

She wasn't talking. Her lips pinched tight, her jaw clenched, she glared at Noah with loathing.

Theo looked up at the elevator numbers again. Still locked on four. "They're in the stairwells," he said. "They must have blocked the elevator so I'd have to take the steps. They may not know you're here."

"Do they?" Noah asked Dallas. His hand was around her neck, his thumb pressing into her flesh as he held her off the floor against the elevator.

She turned to the left and screamed at the top of her lungs, "Preston!" And then swinging to the right, "Monk! Now!"

Theo's fist silenced her. Her eyes closed instantly, and when Noah let go of her, she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Noah tilted his head toward the hallway and whispered, "Get ready," as he quickly patted Dallas down for weapons. He found the Glock in its holster and removed it. He shoved her onto her back and was about to search for another weapon in an ankle strap under her slacks, when he heard the faint squeak of a door opening. He pointed toward the waiting room, indicating to Theo that that was where the sound had come from.

Theo had heard it. He nodded and took a step closer. Noah found the ankle strap, lifted the gun, and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. He went back to the pockets in her jacket, pulled out four magazines, and stood. He moved quickly, silently to Theo's back. He shoved two of the magazines into Theo's back pockets, then handed him Harris's Glock so that he would have a weapon in each hand. Barrels pointed to the ceiling, they waited, hidden by the recess in front of the elevator doors.

Theo heard the soft click of a door closing. It came from the exit just beyond the waiting room. Monk. Then another click, at the opposite end of the hall by the OR doors. Preston had to be the man at the other end of the hall. Where was John? Was he in the elevator? Or was he in the stairwell?

He strained to hear footsteps. Nothing. Not a sound. Were they waiting for Noah and him to step out into the hall?

His heart was pounding in his ears; his breathing was harsh.

"Ambush," Noah whispered. "Let them come to us."

Theo shook his head. He didn't care that he was trapped. He couldn't wait. Wouldn't. The elevator was still locked on the fourth floor. There were two men waiting to blow them away, but these men wouldn't wait long, and if Michelle or one of the nurses came out to talk to the Watersons, they'd kill her.

"Michelle." He whispered her name. Noah nodded, letting him know he understood.

Theo tucked one of his guns under his arm, reached down, and grabbed one of Dallas's shoes. Then he threw it into the hallway. Preston immediately opened fire. Three shots. Then silence again.

They both heard the wail of sirens getting closer and closer. "Police?" Noah asked.

Theo nodded, letting him know he'd told the operator to call them, then whispered, "Can't wait," because he knew that Preston and Monk and John had also heard the sound. They might think the noise was from an ambulance, but they would still want to move quickly to get the job done. No, they wouldn't wait much longer. Theo took a step toward the hallway. Noah nudged him.

"Back to back," he whispered. "Only way we do it. Move out together. On three?"

Their guns up, they each took a deep breath. Noah turned his back to Theo's and whispered, "One."

Out of the corner of his eye, Theo saw Dallas move. She was swinging up onto her knees. She'd reached the gun Theo had kicked aside and was taking aim at Noah.

Theo fired. The blast shook the elevator doors. The bullet struck Harris in the hollow just below her throat. Eyes wide in disbelief, she fell back. Her eyes closed a second later, and she was dead. Her head dropped to her chest as she slumped against the elevator doors.

Noah barely spared her a glance before continuing his countdown. "Two…" He turned again, his shoulders touching Theo's now.

"Let's do it," Theo whispered.

"Go!"

Theo and Noah rushed into the hallway. Each found his target, homed in, and fired.

Noah winged Monk, but the killer didn't slow down. He got the door open and dove into the stairwell. Noah kept going, running now, safe in the knowledge that Theo was protecting his back just as he was protecting his. When he got to the door, he flattened himself against the wall, reached in, and fired again. Monk was waiting for him. He fired at the same time. His bullet tore a groove in the door as Noah jumped back. A hail of bullets followed until the wall across from the door was riddled with holes, and plaster bits flew out in every direction. The air was gray from plaster dust.

The noise was deafening. The blasts echoed in his ears, but he thought he heard a woman scream. He couldn't be sure. Noah glanced over his shoulder, saw Theo running, his guns firing again and again as the man he was chasing ducked behind the OR doors.

Go to the right. Go right. Away from Michelle. Theo surged forward, through the doors. He dropped to the floor, rolled, praying to God that Preston was trying to get to the exit.

The Glock in his left hand was empty. He couldn't waste time reloading. The doors leading to ICU were swinging. Preston was there, waiting, Theo was certain. He scrambled to get to his feet, saw a blur streak past the window, and knew he had to get around the corner and out of the line of fire.

He made it, but only just barely. A bullet missed his face by an inch. A nurse ran out of the OR, screaming.

"Get back," he shouted as he ejected the empty magazine from the gun, grabbed another one from his back pocket, and snapped

it in place. The nurse disappeared into the OR as he pressed his back against the wall and waited. He could hear Willie singing.

His shoulder rubbed the wall as he edged closer to the corner. He accidentally hit the light switch, and just as the song ended, the hallway went dark. The light spilling through the window of the OR was sufficient for" him to see. Where had Preston gone? Had he already gotten a hostage? Or had he found another way out? He'd have to come this way, wouldn't he?

Where the hell were the police? Never around when you need them, he thought. Come on, Ben. Get your ass in here. Save the day.

You're not getting past me, Preston. No way. Stay inside, Michelle. Don't come out until this is over. He remembered the gurney and moved back until his foot touched it. He hooked his leg around the metal bar and pulled the gurney close to the corner.

Come on. Come on. Make your move.

Michelle had just put in the last stitch and was waiting for that beautiful first cough after the anesthesiologist had removed the tube. The child had come through the surgery like a champion. Barring any complications, John Patrick would be climbing his favorite tree again within a month. Providing, of course, that his mother would let him out of her sight.

"Come on, sweetie. Cough for me," she whispered.

She heard a tiny little groan followed by a dry cough a second later. "Good to go," the anesthesiologist said. He pulled his mask down and grinned. "This is one lucky boy."

"Great job," she told the team.

Suddenly, gunshots rang out in the hallway. Chaos followed. One of the nurses screamed and ran to the door to find out what

was happening, ignoring both Michelle's and Landusky's shouts to come back. Then Michelle heard Theo shout to the woman

to get back.

"It's Theo. Is he hurt?" Michelle demanded.

"I don't know. What in God's name is going on?"

No one had an answer. Their concern was for the patient now. John Patrick was breathing on his own, the sound nice and clear. Landusky quickly helped Michelle roll the table over against the wall by the doors. A nurse moved the IV stand. She put it to the side, and then she and another nurse leaned over the boy to protect him from harm if anyone rushed into the OR firing a weapon. Landusky had the same idea. He stood behind John Patrick's head, cupped his hands on either side of the boy's face, and hunched over him. The others squatted down behind the foot of the table and waited. A technician put her hands over her ears and was silently crying.

Michelle had already grabbed the heavy fire extinguisher, holding it like a baseball bat. She stood to the side of the door but far enough away so that if the shooter slammed the door against the wall, it wouldn't block her. Then she turned the lights off and waited. She wouldn't allow herself to think about Theo. She had only one thought now and that was to keep the gunman out of the OR.

"If anyone fires a gun in here, the whole floor could blow up," Landusky whispered. "The oxygen tanks and the-"

"Shhh," she whispered. She and everyone else in the OR were well aware of the danger.

She pressed forward to listen. What was that soft whirring noise? It sounded like a centrifuge spinning. Oh, God, her Willie Nelson tape was automatically rewinding. When it reached the beginning, it would start playing again. The recorder was on top of a table against the wall on the other side of the doors. A sterile sheet covered it.

She wanted to shout to Theo. She couldn't, of course. Let him be okay. If he's hurt… if he's bleeding while I'm hiding behind this door… Don't. Don't think about it. Where was Noah? Why wasn't he helping Theo? Was he out there too? Theo, where are you?

Theo hunched behind the gurney. He was ready. He sensed rather than heard the man coming, and Theo kicked the gurney with all his might as Preston sprinted around the corner. He was firing into the center of the corridor. The gurney crashed into him, but it didn't slow him down. He easily blocked the gurney with his arm, then threw his weight into it and sent it hurling into Theo, slamming him back against the wall.

Theo went down hard. As Preston was trying to shove the gurney out of his way so he could get a clear shot, Theo rolled under the table and fired. The bullet struck Preston in the left thigh. And that didn't seem to slow him down either. His empty magazine clattered to the floor, and he was snapping another one into the weapon as Theo, roaring like a bear on the attack, lifted the gurney with his shoulder, grabbed it with one hand, and used it as a battering ram, forcing Preston back. Theo shot through the pad falling from the gurney. Preston pivoted and the bullet creased the top of his shoulder.

The bastard didn't even flinch. What the hell was it going to take to bring him down? As Preston was diving around the corner, Theo aimed and fired again. Click. Nothing happened. The magazine was empty. He reached behind him to grab the second one. Noah had shoved into his pocket, loaded it in the gun, then dove as Preston opened fire on him.

One bullet skimmed Theo's forehead. How many bullets did he have left? Theo wondered. If he was lucky, maybe two. Three was pushing it. He felt a flash of searing pain in his arm as he dove again to get out of the line of fire.

The gurney lay on its side. Thank God, he thought as he scrambled to get behind it.

Preston lunged to get Theo in his sights, but Theo lashed out with his foot and nailed him in his knee. And still he didn't go down. He staggered back, firing into the ceiling.

The doors around the corner suddenly exploded. Preston didn't look behind him to see who was coming. He was just a couple of feet away from a darkened room, saw the swinging doors, and knew it was time to get the hell out. He rushed into the OR, hoping there was another way out on the other side.

Preston stopped and squinted into the dark, listening as he edged away from the doors. He turned toward Michelle, the barrel of his gun pointed in her direction.

She could hear him panting. He was too close. Another step and he'd bump into her. She knew she'd have to step t»ack to get a good swing at him. But he'd hear it, she thought.

Why wasn't he moving? Did he know she was there? Just one step forward.

She needed a distraction. Something… anything to get him to turn away from her so she could strike. Willie Nelson came to her rescue. "To all the girls I've loved before…" The instant the song started, Preston whirled around and fired again and again at the tape recorder. Michelle swung the extinguisher, slamming it into his jaw.

"Hit the lights," she shouted as he staggered backward into the hallway. She went after him, struck him again on the side of the head. The second blow seemed to do the trick. He went flying back and landed with a thud against the wall.

Michelle stopped. Theo sprang in front of her as Preston was bringing his gun up. Theo fired and hit him in the abdomen.

He was using his back to push Michelle into the OR and out of danger.

Preston fell to his knees as Noah ran toward him shouting, "Drop the gun."

Preston turned toward Noah and took aim. He never got to pull the trigger. Noah fired. One bullet through the temple. Preston pitched forward facedown on the floor. A pool of black blood rapidly formed a puddle around him.

Michelle nudged Theo forward to get him out of the way of the doors as she called out, "It's clear. Get the patient to recovery."

Theo leaned against the wall, then slowly slid down into a sitting position as Noah squatted next to Preston and lifted the gun from his hand.

Everyone started shouting and talking at once then. Theo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could hear the squeak of the rollers as the nurses pushed John Patrick's bed out and around Preston.

Michelle knelt down beside Theo. She'd peeled her gloves off and was gently probing the cut below his eye.

"I'm too old for this," he muttered.

"You okay?" Noah asked as he reholstered his gun.

"Yes. Did you get the one she called Monk?"

"No."

"No?" he shouted. He was trying to dodge Michelle's hand so he could see Noah.

"I don't know how he did it, but he got away. I know I winged him," Noah said. "All the exits are blocked, and they're making a sweep of each floor, but he's long gone."

"You can't know that."

"A patient up on four was looking out his window and saw a man run across a bed of flowers up the hill. The patient said he was bent over."

"What about John Russell? Any sign of him?" Theo asked.

"No," Noah answered.

"You tore your stitches," Michelle said.

"What?"

She'd whispered the news and it sounded like a scolding. He was looking at Noah, wondering what the white streaks were on his face when she'd interrupted. He finally looked at her face. And when he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, he was astonished. She wasn't so tough after all. Not with him, anyway.

"I didn't do it on purpose, sweetheart."

He tried to wipe a tear from her cheek. She pushed his hand away. "I'm going to have to sew you back together again." She was trembling now like an alcoholic who'd gone too long without a drink. "Look at my hands. They're shaking."

"Then we're gonna wait before you pick up a needle and go to work on me."

"You threw yourself in front of me so he'd shoot you. That was very heroic, you big jerk. You could have been killed."

He wouldn't let her push him away this time. Cupping her face with his hands, he whispered, "I love you too."