"It could be other law enforcement, it could be military, even paramilitary," Phoebe said. "But everything points to cop to me. Gary Cooper-sheriff. He doesn't lose, not Grace Kelly or his honor. That's the way it was supposed to be. But on what could symbolize a wedding day, the day Angela Brentine was reclaiming her independence, taking the next step toward becoming her lover's wife, she's killed in a gun battle. Killed by the bad guys, sure, but also-in the subject's mind-because I stood by-the townspeople-and didn't take action, or didn't allow action to be taken. Guilt by cowardice is part of the theme of the movie."

"You were neither guilty nor cowardly," Dave said.

"To him, I'm both. And he's obsessed about this for three years.

Plenty of time to work it all out. Lancelot not only cuckolded the allpowerful king, but was Guinevere's champion. He saved her when

Arthur could or would not. This guy sees himself as the hero, more importantly, Angela's hero. And he can't accept the failure, or the fate.

There has to be blame. I'm to blame.

"Next, the grave where he killed Roy. Jocelyn Ambucean was a young bride-to-be. She died days before her wedding, drowned in the river during a storm. She was, it's said, running away to Tybee Island and her lover rather than go through with the marriage arranged by her father. He likes the symbols-angel watching the grave-Angela-the grave of a woman running toward true love, the pink roses. He likes giving me clues. He wants, at the end of it, for me to know why. I have to know why for it to matter enough."

"I'll get the names for you."

"Joshua Brentine. He's not going to want to admit his wife was cheating on him. It's insulting and demeaning. His pride is worth a lot more to him than the lives of two strangers, or anyone else who might be a target."

"Admitting isn't the same as confirming." Dave cocked his head. "If he believes you already know."

She smiled. "No, it's not, thank you for reminding me. I believe I can make him think I have more than I do."

"I'll call down, see how long it'll take to get the information you need."

"Thank you. I'm just going to call home while you do that, let them know I might be late."

She stepped out, had barely pulled out her phone when Dave stuck his head out of his office door. "Computers are down in Human Resources. New system, apparently. Could take a few hours."

"Well, Jesus, aren't there paper files?"

"And going through those doing a search like this would probably take longer than waiting for technology to flip back on. Go on home, see your family, get some dinner. They're going to let me know as soon as they're back up."

"All right, all right. Why don't you come on with me? Have some of that dinner, too?"

It was tempting, but she looked exhausted. "Rain check. I'm going to grab a little time at home myself with a beer and the ball game. If you're right on this, it's going to break for us, and break quick. Go recharge a little."

The minute he stepped outside, Dave cursed himself for not tapping Phoebe for a ride home. Even with only three blocks to go, he'd be lucky to get home on foot before the storm hit.

Hell, while he was at it, he might as well curse himself for not taking her up on the dinner invitation. He wanted to see how Ava was holding up for himself. Wanted to see...

Lousy timing, again, he reminded himself. She, all of them, were in the middle of a crisis.

She'd been engaged the first time he met her. He'd had absolutely no business falling in love with her. None. But he had. Hadn't done anything about it, he reminded himself as he hunched his shoulders against the wind. Stayed the family friend. Good old Dave.

Talked himself out of believing he was in love with her, after she'd been married a few years, had a baby. Yeah, he'd talked himself out of it, and gotten married himself.

And Ava got divorced.

Lousy timing, right down the line. With a healthy portion of guilt on his part. Because no matter how much he told himself he'd wanted to make his marriage work, no matter now much he told himself he'd tried his best, he knew there'd always been Ava.

Now, just when he was beginning to think, to hope, maybe, just maybe, she and everyone in MacNamara House were in crisis. What choice did he have but to stay the family friend? Good old Dave, who was heading home to his empty house to nuke a HungryMan.

Cue violins.

The wind whipped along, sending tree limbs bending and swaying as he clipped down the sidewalk, annoyed with his own self-pity. If he'd bothered to pay attention, he could have changed out of his suit into his sweats at least. Then he could've jogged the distance home while he was wallowing.

Lightning slashed through the sky before he'd crossed the first block, and thunder rolled threateningly in its wake.

He quickened his pace at the next pitchfork of lightning, and de cided he might make it home after all without getting electrocuted or drenched.

And at least the wind was cooling things off. The entire day had been oppressive with that heavy, waiting heat.

He could see his house now, imagined shedding the suit, popping the top on that cold beer.

He swung onto his little walkway, bounded toward his door. He heard the quick toot-toot, glanced back. He fixed a smile on his face when he spotted the spiffy red sports car zip toward the curb. Maggie Grant, twice divorced, wanting to flirt. She embarrassed him a bit at the best of times, but just now, he wanted to get in, shut down and take an hour for himself.

He sent her a cheery wave and kept going.

She tooted again-beep-beep-beep, more insistently. Dave stuck the key in his lock, turned it as he gave her another wave. "Yoo-hoo! David! I'm so glad to see you. I need the help of a big, strong man."

Ten more seconds, Dave thought. Ten more and he'd have been inside, out of her reach.

"Ah, my phone's ringing, Maggie. Let me-"

"It'll only take a minute or two. I've got all these bags. I don't know what I was thinking. The rain's going to start pelting any second. Would you be a hero and give me a hand getting all this inside?" She popped the trunk, sent him a melting smile. "Please?"

"Sure." Sap, sucker, stoop, he berated himself. "No problem."

"It's going to be a wild one." She shook back her hair. "Kind of night you want to be cozied up with a friend and a nice glass of wine." Now he was going to have to avoid the wine, and the friendship, Dave thought as he stepped back down to the walk. The first fat drops of rain pelted down. The wind slapped, shoved, and he cursed as he heard his unlocked door slam open. For one second he hesitated: finish the damn good deed, dash back and shut the door. Even as he pivoted to do the latter, he spotted the man standing across the street.

Blue ball cap, sunglasses, windbreaker. Then the world exploded.

Phoebe didn't know how to feel when she saw Duncan's car outside her house. One part of her was relieved-now she knew where he was, and that he was safe. The other part was just plain pissed that he'd been so uncooperative that morning.

Then she stepped inside, out of the fury of the storm, and heard her daughter's delighted laughter. It was hard to keep a good mad on when she heard her daughter happy.

Then she walked to the parlor and saw Carly, Carter and Duncan sprawled on the floor playing Monopoly. It looked like Carly was slaughtering both men.

"I can't have landed on you again," Duncan complained. "These dice are loaded. This is b u l l... malarkey."

"You were going to say the's word."

He smiled thinly at Carly. "What's word?"

"Bullsh-"

"Carly Anne MacNamara!"

Carly stifled a giggle, then looked over innocently. "Hi, Mama. I'm beating the pants off Uncle Carter and Duncan."

"So I see. Where's everyone else?"

"The women are in the kitchen, where they belong." Carter sent her a toothy smile. "Get on back there, woman, and make us a snack."

"Oh, what kind of snack would you like?" She walked over, set down her bag. "Just let me"-she rapped her hand at the side of Carter's head-"see if that knocked any sense into you. And nobody's going to be snacking on anything this close to dinner. For which, I assume, you plan to stay," she said to Duncan.

"An invitation has been issued and accepted. Going to smack me upside the head, too?"

The glint in those dusky eyes warned her he still had a bit of a mad on himself. Well, fine. "We'll see how the evening goes. I assume, too, you got all those oh-so-important things done on your schedule today."

"I did. How about you?"

"Inroads."

"Why are you mad at Duncan, Mama?"

"That may involve quite a list. So for now, I'm going to run upstairs and change. Carly, after you're finished trouncing these two, why don't you see if you can help set the table? That means the men will be clearing and seeing to the dishes."

"What part of KP does she get?" Duncan asked Carly.

"I'll be... answering my phone," Phoebe said as it rang in her bag. She pulled it out. "Phoebe MacNamara."

Her color simply vanished, as if a light had been switched off in her face. Duncan was already getting to his feet when she got out the next shaky words.

"What happened? How... " She turned to walk out of the parlor. "How bad is he? No. No. Where? I'm on my way."

She had her game face on, Duncan noted, when she turned back. But there was fear lurking in her eyes. "I have to go."

"But you just got home."

"I know. I'm sorry, baby." She leaned down to give Carly a hard hug. "I'm sorry. Would you run on back and tell Gran not to wait dinner for me? I'll be back soon as I can."

"Did somebody get hurt?"

"Uncle Dave had an accident, so I need to go check on him. Right away."

Tears swam into Carly's wide eyes. "Is he hurt really bad?"

"I hope not, and they got him right to the doctors so they can take good care of him. But I have to go, baby. I'll call as soon as I can. Run tell Gran I'll call soon as I can. Carter," she said as Carly dashed off. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry about us. Car accident?"

"No." She gripped his arms. "Stay inside. Please. Make sure everyone stays inside. I'll call."

"I'll take you."

She didn't argue with Duncan, simply ran to the front door and through. "They took him to Memorial. He rigged Dave's front door. The son of a bitch rigged the front door on Dave's house. That's what they think. They don't know..."

"We'll find out."

"He's alive." Phoebe closed her eyes as Duncan whipped the Porsche into the street. "He's alive." She turned her phone over and over in her hands as if she were afraid it would ring and tell her otherwise. "He had to get inside the house if the door was rigged. He had to get inside Dave's house."

"He's not going to get inside MacNamara House, Phoebe."

"He doesn't want to." Fear, grief, guilt stirred an uneasy mix inside her. "It's not going to be like that. If he'd wanted to get in there, he wouldn't have put me on alert. He's got something else in mind. But he wants me wounded. He wants me hurting when it comes down to what he's got in mind. And oh God, Duncan, I am."

She burst through the emergency room doors, her badge already in her hand. She held it up to the first nurse she saw. "David McVee."

"You need to check with-"

"No. You check. Now."

"Lieutenant."

She spun around and bulleted toward Sykes. "Where is he? What's his status?"

"They're working on him. Can't get much out of them, but I talked to the paramedics who brought him in. Broken arm, some burns, lacerations. Head trauma-there're some worries there. And there could be internal injuries. I was still in the house when the call came in. I followed the ambulance in."

"I want two guards here in the ER. Two guards wherever they take him."

"Already done." Sykes nodded when Duncan came up behind Phoebe. "Lieutenant, there was a witness. A neighbor. She was shaken up some, got a few cuts. They're stitching her up."

"I want to see her the minute she's out. Detective... Bull, I need someone I can trust over at Dave's, talking to the bomb team, the CS people. I know you don't want to leave him." She reached out, squeezed his hand. "I promise I'll contact you the minute there's anything to do. But I need someone I can trust on that scene."

"Okay. Okay." Sykes scrubbed his hands over his worried face. "You let him know I'm around. Cops all over the place in here, so you let him know we're all around."

"I will. Thank you."

"Why don't you sit down?" Duncan said when Sykes headed out.

"I don't think I can. I'm good at waiting, but I need to know... something. I just need to know." Her hand vised on Duncan's arm when she saw the gurney and the medical team.

She lunged forward. There were cuts and burns on his face, a gash at his left temple. And blood on the sheet that covered him.

"How is he? Where are you taking him?"

"You family?"

"Yes."

The young doctor continued to move at double time toward the elevators. "He's going into surgery. He's bleeding inside. Somebody'll let you know as soon as he's out."

Phoebe signaled the two uniformed officers. "They go where he goes. You wait outside the OR. I'll be there as soon as I talk to the witness." She stood back and watched them push the man who'd been her father most of her life into the elevator.

"It's the best trauma center in the city." Duncan laid his hands on her shoulders. "One of the best in the state. He couldn't do better."

"No. I wish I could fall apart. I wish I could just fall apart until they come to tell me... We should've put cops on his house. Anyone who knows me knows what Dave is for me, what he is to me."

"Take a minute." Gently, Duncan turned her into his arms. "You can fall apart for a minute."

She let herself cling, let herself shake. He was holding her, good, solid arms around her. "I'm so scared. I don't know what to do I'm so scared."

"Just hold onto me until you figure it out."

"Don't go anywhere, okay?" She gripped him tighter. "Will you stay with me?"

"Of course I will. Phoebe." He put a hand under her chin to lift her face to his. "I'll be right here."

She sighed, and laid her head on his shoulder. It was such a comfort, she realized, to have someone else be strong. To have someone else be the one who was right there.

"I thought I forgot how to need somebody to stay." She eased back. "Lucky for me I remembered when the somebody can be counted on." She spotted Maggie coming out of a treatment room. "That's Dave's neighbor." Phoebe blew out a long breath. "All right. Here we go." She took two steps forward. "Maggie?"

At the sound of her name, Maggie jolted, looked over. Then, bursting into tears, all but fell into Phoebe's arms. "All right now. Hush now." Even as Phoebe looked around for somewhere marginally private, Duncan had a hand on her shoulder to steer her and her charge toward some chairs.

"Y'all sit right here," he told Phoebe. "I'll go hunt up some coffee."

"Good, that'd be good. Maggie, I need you to stop crying. I need you to stop." Firmly, Phoebe pulled back to take Maggie by both shoulders. "I need you to stop and talk to me."

"David. I think he must be dead. Oh God!"

"Well, he's not. They took him up to surgery. They're taking care of him. Don't you start going hysterical on me again. I mean it. I need you to take some good, deep breaths. In and out. You do what I say, you hear? In and out. That's right. That's better. Now, you tell me what happened. Right from the beginning."

"I don't know. " Tears still streamed as Maggie fluttered her hands. "I swear I don't know."

"You tell me what you do know. You were with Dave, at his house?"

"No. Yes. I mean to say I'd been out with a friend-you met my friend Delly when David had that barbecue last summer? We went out for lunch, and a little shopping spree. I'd just pulled up at home, right before the storm, and I saw David."

She covered her face with her hands, but Phoebe yanked them ruthlessly away. "I know you're upset, but you're going to keep talking, keep telling me. Where was Dave when you saw him?"

"Going up the walk to his front door. I beeped the horn, and he waved. I thought how he could help me carry my shopping bags in, so I beeped again, and got out right quick to hail him. It was thundering, and he was already unlocking his front door. But he turned around. He's such a sweetheart."

Fighting for patience, Phoebe stuffed a wad of tissues in Maggie's hands. "He didn't go in the house?"

"He... He was coming back to help me. His door blew open.

That's right, I remember how his door blew open. That wind came up so strong, and I guess he'd started to open the door before he turned back to help me. Then, oh my God, Phoebe, the door just exploded." After mopping her face with them, Maggie twisted the damp tissues into ropes. "I don't know exactly, I swear to God, I just don't. I fell-it was like being shoved. I fell down. My knees got all scraped up, and my arm-" She held out her arm to show the bandage. "Five stitches. But David... David."

"Here you go, Phoebe." Duncan came back with coffee. "Ma'am? I thought you might like some coffee."

"Oh, isn't that nice." Instinctively Maggie pushed at her hair. "Thank you so much. My goodness, I must look a fright."

"You look just fine," Duncan assured her as he set little tubs of cream and some sugar packets on the table between the chairs. "I didn't know how you like your coffee."

"Plenty sweet," Maggie said. "Oh, and you got the pink kind, too. Are you with the police?"

"No, ma'am. I'm just a friend. I'll leave you to talk to Phoebe."

"Oh. Oh, could you stay? I can't help myself, I just feel more secure in times of crisis when there's a man around."

"Maggie, this is Duncan. Duncan, why don't you sit down? Now,

Maggie, how long was it from the time the door blew open until the explosion?" "Oh goodness, I'm not sure. A few seconds. Maybe five? Ah, he stopped. Yes, that's right, David stopped and looked back when the door slammed open, and I think he started to go back and close it. I think he'd just started to take a step or two back toward the house when... Oh my God, Phoebe. If he'd gotten back-"

"He didn't. You calling him out to your car to help you saved his life. You think about that, Maggie. You called him away from that door, so he's upstairs getting fixed up."

"Oh my." Her face ran the gamut. Shock, horror, relief, pride. "I didn't even think of that. I've been so mixed up and scared."

"You said you were out this afternoon. Did you notice anything, anyone, before you left?"

"No. I meant to leave at noon, but I was running a little late, so I didn't leave till about quarter after. And that Delly, she gives me such grief for being late, so I was in a rush. I can't say I was paying attention, so I don't think I'd have noticed anything."

"How about during the morning?"

"I was inside all morning. I was on the phone with my mama awhile, which is why I was running late. That woman can talk. Then I dashed out and drove on out to the mall. I was barely late, but Delly gave me grief nonetheless."

With a long-suffering sigh over that, Maggie sipped her coffee. "Maybe you looked out the window while you were talking to your mother," Phoebe suggested, "or saw an unfamiliar car or someone you didn't recognize when you dashed out to go to lunch."

"I don't guess I saw a soul around the neighborhood this morningone of those hot, oppressive days where nobody likes to walk around much. Oh, except for the UPS man."

Reaching out, Phoebe clamped her hand on Maggie's wrist. "Where did you see the UPS man, Maggie?"

"Just coming down the street."

"In his truck?"

"Ah, no. Did I see his truck? I just don't remember. I was in such a rush. I barely took a minute to wave at him and call out to ask if he had a package for me."

"I imagine you see the UPS man several times a week around the neighborhood."

"I suppose I do. This wasn't the usual one, though; this one was younger and cuter, so I yelled out my name, too, when I asked if he had something for me. He said no, ma'am. Not today. Then I just jumped in my car and lit out."

"What did he look like, Maggie?"

"Well, he had dark hair and one of those scruffy little beards. Good legs. Strong-looking. I do tend to notice attractive young men," she added with a smile for Duncan.

"How tall?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure. Maybe five-ten? Not as tall as Duncan here. Had a build on him. The regular UPS man, and he's a sweetheart, but he's on the plump side. This one looked like muscle."

"How old?"

"Goodness, I didn't get a good, close look." Maggie patted her hair as if it might help her think. "Thirty-five? Maybe a little more."

"Would you recognize him if you saw him again?"

"I'm not sure. He was wearing sunglasses. Well, my God, Phoebe, do you think he had anything to do with what happened to David?" Her hand slapped to her heart. "Why, he could've killed me on the street! I was only a dozen feet away."

"I don't know, but I'm going to want you to work with a police artist. I'm going to have an officer take you into the station house, and the police artist will meet you there. You sit here with Duncan while I take care of this."

Maggie sat blinking while Phoebe sprang up and hurried away.

"Well, sweet baby Jesus. I sure wish you had some bourbon to go with this coffee."

"Next time," Duncan promised, "I'll bring a flask."

Once she'd arranged for the police artist and Maggie's transportation, Phoebe rode up to the surgical waiting area with Duncan. "There were no new carriers on that route today," she told him. "And no deliveries on that block until after two this afternoon. She saw him, she spoke to him. But he wasn't worried about that."

"A guy can grow a beard or shave it off." Thoughtfully, Duncan rubbed his own chin. "Changes his look."

"We've got a good artist. He'll reconstruct both ways. He had to know we'd get a witness. If not Maggie, someone else on the block could easily have seen him. He's smart enough to know that, but he's not that worried about it."

She walked straight to the nurses' station when she got off the elevator. She showed her badge. "I need to know if there's any word on Captain David McVee."

"He's still in surgery."

"I need someone to go in and check, to give me his status. Please."

"I'll see what I can do. If you'd go into the waiting area, we'll let you know."

There were half a dozen cops she recognized already in the waiting area. She made the rounds quickly, then positioned herself in a corner where she could see the door. "I need to make calls," she told Duncan. "You want coffee? You didn't drink any downstairs. I'd ask you if you want some food, but you're going to say no, so I won't."

"I could use a cold drink. Apparently being scared makes everything hot inside me. I could use something cold. And, Duncan," she said before he stepped away. "When I can think straight again, there are a whole bunch of things I have to say to you."

"Would that include any comments or complaints about me not falling in line when so ordered?"

She worked up a smile, widened her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Good." He touched her lips with his. "Then I'd like to hear them. Be right back."

She had to call Sykes first and arrange for the canvass of Dave's neighborhood to add in the fake UPS deliveryman. She wanted, badly, to talk with the bomb squad and crime-scene supervisors herself, and had to remind herself she'd sent Sykes for a reason.

And since she couldn't will a nurse or doctor to come in and tell her everything was going to be just fine, she steadied herself, pulled out every ounce of optimism and made the next call.

"Ava."

"God. Phoebe. Is he-"

"Dave's in surgery, and from everything I know it's going well."

"Surgery! Oh my God, what happened? How did it happen?"

"I can't get into that now, but I want you to know, and to tell everyone, he's being taken care of."

"I want to come down there. I want to see for myself. Carter, we had an awful fight about it. Phoebe, you can't expect me to stay here while Dave's hurt."

"I have to expect it. I'm sorry. He'd expect it, too. He'd insist on it. Ava, I promise you, I promise you, you're the first person I'll call when he's out of surgery. I need you to take care of Mama. I need you to take care of everyone there. I'm depending on you."

"That's an awful thing to say to me." Tears drenched Ava's voice.

"You know I will. But... please, tell him, tell him when you can that I'm-we're-praying for him."

"I will. I'll call you as soon as I know anything more."

Nearly another hour passed before they were given the stingy report that the surgery was going well.

An hour later, Sykes came in to give her a more inclusive one. "Trip wire on the door. Five-second delay."

"He wanted Dave to get inside. Better chance of killing him if he was all the way in." In a futile attempt to relieve the pressure in her head, Phoebe massaged the bridge of her nose. "What did he use?"

"Same as with Roy. Blew out the door, the front windows, part of the damn roof. Turned the living room into the third circle of hell. He'd been three feet closer, we'd be waking him, Lieutenant."

"He's going to have to buy Maggie a truckload of flowers, then deal with her trying to get him naked. How about the canvass?"

"Most of the people on that block work during the day. Got one witness, guy who'd taken off to meet his plumber. He was watching out for him and saw the suspect walking up the street. Description's vague. He didn't really see anything but the UPS uniform. But the time matches Maggie's statement."

He puffed out his cheeks. "Firefighters responded fast, and I'd guess they saved the house. But, well, Jesus, LT, it's a hell of a mess."

"He loves that house," Phoebe added.

"I know a guy," Duncan put in. "He does good work. I could ask him to take a look at it, if that would help."

"It might. One less thing for Dave to worry about." She glanced toward the doorway again. "Yeah, it might help. Do we know how he got in?"

"How it looks is the back side window was forced open. He gained entry that way. Back door was unlocked, so he likely left through that, and didn't bother to lock it on the way out. That-"

He got to his feet an instant after Phoebe. It had to be one of the doctors, she thought. He had that weighty look about him.

She stepped forward. It wouldn't be rank that had her taking the lead. Every cop in the room knew it was personal.

"Dave McVee," she said. "I'm Phoebe MacNamara."

They'd stopped the bleeding, and saved his spleen. He'd suffered a bruised kidney, a broken arm, two cracked ribs and a concussion as well as lacerations and burns.

But his heart was strong. The doctor had told her his heart was strong, but she already knew that.

She sat in the chair beside his bed, waiting. And remembered how he'd sat with her, so long ago, while she'd waited for her mother. "They tried to kick me out," she told him while he slept. "They don't know who they're dealing with. I'm not leaving until you wake up and say my name. Once you do, I'll know for sure you're okay. Got a lot of cop blood being drawn downstairs. They're lining up to give a pint since you got greedy and took so many transfusions. Maggie got a look at him-you're sunk there, darling. You owe her so big."

She picked up his hand, pressed her lips to his fingers. "We all owe her so big. I'm having them fax me over the composites. And we're going to hunt this son of a bitch down like a sick dog. I swear it." She took a hitching breath. "That's nonnegotiable. I need you to wake up, Dave." She pressed his fingers to her cheek. "I need you to wake up and say my name."

It was another half hour before she felt him stir, those fingers moving in hers. She popped up to touch his face.

"Dave. Can you open your eyes? It's Phoebe. Wake up now and open your eyes." When his lids fluttered she told herself to push the call button for a nurse. But she wanted a moment. "Dave, there you are. It's

Phoebe."

"I know." His voice was thin and slurred, like an old drunk's. "I heard you. What the hell?"

"You're all right." She brushed at his hair, watching his eyes slowly focus. "You were hurt, but you're all right. In the hospital. Got some bumps and bruises, so you lie still. I'm going to call the nurse."

"Wait. What... it was raining. Was it raining?"

"Hell of a storm."

"What happened?"

"He rigged your front door. He got in your house, Dave. I'm so sorry."

"Door blew open." He closed his eyes a moment, a line of pain and concentration digging between his brows. "I remember, the door blew open."

"You were being the good neighbor, going down to help Maggie with some bags. So you're okay. Not every good deed gets punished after all. You're going to be fine."

"I saw him."

"You... what?"

"I saw him." His fingers tried to tighten on hers. "Across the street. Door blew open, and I stopped, and I saw him across the street."

"Maggie saw him earlier, so we've got a couple of composites. We'll-"

"I know him. You were right. Smart girl. Always were a smart girl."

"Dave, Dave." She sharpened her voice to keep him with her. "He's a cop? You're saying he's a cop?"

"SWAT. Was SWAT. Burned out? Transferred? Don't know. Can't think back. Walker? No, no, Walken. Had a beer with him once, retirement party. Beer at the bar, talked about the ball game. Walken.

Walken," he said again, and looked into Phoebe's eyes. "Go."

She dashed to the door, called for a nurse. "He's awake, and he's starting to hurt. You." She jabbed a finger at the guard on the door. "You don't move from this spot, you hear? I don't care if there's an earthquake, a rain of frogs or the Second Coming, you don't budge until your relief arrives. And nobody gets inside that room you don't check their ID and go in with them."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Duncan." My God, she thought, it was something to have a man who didn't leave. "I bet that Porsche can really move."

"Damn right."

"You're about to put that to the test. I've got a name," she said, and rushed for the elevator with Duncan beside her.