"Damn it, Cam," Blair seethed, keeping her voice low, aware that there were others nearby. "Don't do this to me."


"I have things I need to take care of," Cam continued urgently, taking her hand. "I have two people upstairs in the operating room, Blair. I have families to contact, supervisors to inform. I have my agents to see to. Ihave to be here."


As much as she didn't want to, Blair let go of Cam's hand. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Will you promise me that if you start to feel ill you'll let the doctors look at you? Promise me that."


"I will," Cam said, her expression grateful. "I swear, Blair."


Blair nodded, relenting because that was the best she could get at the moment. And she knew that Cam would not lie to her. "And the minute that you hear about them you'll get some rest?"


"Agreed," Cam said with a faint smile. "Will you let Mac take you home?"


"I'd like to stay until there's some word."


Cam heard the true caring in her voice. She looked around, relieved to see her team nearby. "Of course. I'll have Fielding find a room where you can wait. I'll tell you the second I hear."


"Thank you," Blair said softly. "Take good care of yourself, Commander."


"I will," Cam murmured, losing herself for just an instant in her eyes. "I'm glad that you're here, you know."


"That's a good thing," Blair whispered, "because nothing could have kept me away."




Chapter Forty

Nine hours later, Cam walked into the command center and regarded the remains of her team. Most of them had never gone home but instead had voluntarily taken turns rotating between there and the hospital. As she expected, Stark was among them. The young agent appeared pale and shaky and she had that haunted look in her eyes that Cam knew would linger a long time.


"The conference room," she said as she walked through.


A few minutes later, she stood at the head of the table, as she had so many times before, and looked at each of them in turn. Finally, she said quietly, "We got him. Nice job, everybody."


Then she opened the cover of a thick file folder and tossed it into the center of the table, a color photograph of a male in uniform clipped to the first page. "State Trooper James Raymond Harker. Ten years ago he was detached toGovernor Powell's security detail."


For a moment there was stunned silence, then Stark muttered vehemently, "Bastard."


"I can't believe it," Mac said, obviously distressed. He glanced at the picture then passed the file to the person next to him. "Why weren't we onto this? Background checks should have turned up something."


"This information stays in this room," Cam said quietly. She had to work at keeping her own anger in check as she continued, "Apparently, the FBI task force ran background checks soon after Egret alerted them that she was receiving email from Loverboy. They cleared everyone who had ever had anything to do with her security."


Mac interrupted with a derisive laugh. "Sure - they checked all ofus out."


Cam nodded grimly. "Unfortunately, there appears to have been a breakdown in their internal communications, and the security officers assigned to Egret when her father was the governor were never checked. Harker, AKA Loverboy, was one of them."


Fielding raised his head sharply. "Does that mean this nutcase was shadowing her for over 10 years?"


"Lindsey Ryan says it's possible," Cam said, struggling to keep the loathing from her voice. The fact that he would have killed Blair was only part of what made it so abhorrent. Cam was sickened by the very idea that this psychopath had probably watched Blair from the time she was teenager. Worst of all, she knew Blair would never be completely free from idle curiosity and might someday become the object of someone else's obsession. She shoved the thought away. She had to get through this, and then maybe she could lie down and the pounding in her head would stop. "Whatever happened, the FBI will clean up their own mess."


"Yeah, right," Mac snarled. "Except we've had to pay the price for their foul up. First you, then Jeremy, and now Grant."


"Update on the injured," Cam continued, ignoring Mac's remark although privately she agreed with him. From what she had heard from Stewart Carlisle, SAC Doyle was getting all the credit for the takedown. She didn't begrudge the FBI that, because Savard had been the one to stop him. This was not about who got the glory, but about the fact that Blair was no longer in danger, at least for the moment. For that, she would always be grateful to Renee Savard. The fact that Doyle had nearly gotten Ellen Grant killed was another issue, and she would not soon forget that.


Her mind was wandering. She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. "Grant is awake and says for none of you to touch her desk. Said she'll know if there's a pencil missing." Cam smiled faintly. "She'll be discharged in five to six days and back on duty in six weeks if the next CAT scan is clear. "


She glanced at Stark once, quickly, and then continued quietly, "Renee Savard is still unconscious in the intensive care unit, but the surgeons are optimistic. She lost a lot of blood, but apparently no critical structures in her shoulder were involved. In the absence of any unforeseen complications, they're predicting a full recovery."


She looked at the people gathered around the table and said, "We owe her. She stepped up for us and even after she was hit, she managed to get this guy. No one is exactly sure yet what happened, but he was probably carrying another explosive device that he either hadn't had time to dispose of or that he was planning on planting somewhere else. The ATF commander tells me that the shockwaves from a bullet impacting anywhere near a high-order explosive can trigger it. She hit him, and his own bomb took him out. We're waiting for forensics to give us the final ID, but Harker was missing after the action and everything else fits. When we ran our own background check, it turns out that he had applied to the Secret Service before he joined the troopers and had been denied for psychological reasons. I guess the state system never turned up that information with a computer check of his application. Not surprising, since none of our systems are interfaced."


Now came the hard part. "I looked at the tapes from the explosion in Central Park. Harker was the trooper standing next to Jeremy's car. He probably placed the device right there."


The silence was heavy with sorrow and fury.


"He's also the one who pulled me away from the car that day. I don't know why."


Lindsey had told her that it might be something as simple as the fact that Harker didn't want anything or anyone to alter his plan - that he needed to be the one to determine who should live, and who should die - and when.


Mac slid Harker's file back to her, and Cam closed it with a sense of finality. "Egret is due to leave for San Francisco in a little over a week. She's staying with Diane Bleeker for a few days until some of the publicity dies down. I'll review her plans with you when I know them. Mac, would you set up the shifts please."


"Right," he said quietly.


She knew they needed to mourn Jeremy's loss. She also knew what else they needed. "I want everyone except the current shift to go home and get some rest. If there's news from the hospital, I'll see that you're notified. I need you all back here by tomorrow, and I need you to be sharp. We still have a job to do."


As the others in the room stood to leave, she added, "Stark, a moment please."


Cam waited until the room had cleared, and then she closed the door. Turning to Stark, she said, "Take a couple days leave time, Stark. You look like hell."


"I'm fine, Commander," Stark replied quickly, stiffening as her eyes flashed with anger. "I'll be ready to take the evening shift."


Cam smiled faintly and rested a hip against the corner of the table. She looked away for a second, and when she returned her gaze to Stark, she let the sadness show. "What happened out there is hard for everyone, Stark. Having friends and colleagues in danger, seeing them injured - it affects us all." She paused, not needing the memory to feel the terrible sense of helplessness, the horrible hopelessness. She'd never forget it. "It's much harder when it's someone you care about. I know."


Stark stared at her in surprise. Maybe it was the sympathy in Cam's voice or the shared sorrow that finally undid her, but she sat quickly and covered her face with her hands, hiding the tears that she couldn't hold back any longer. It took her a few minutes to get hold of herself, and then she sank back in the chair and said, "I'm sorry. I think I'm just tired. I know she's going to be all right, but I can't stop thinking about the way she looked lying on that stretcher."


"Savard is tough, and she's going to be fine."


"She sure kicked some ass, didn't she?" Stark said with a grin, her spirits bolstered by the certainty in Cam's voice.


"That she did," Cam agreed.


Stark rose wearily and said, "Thank you, Commander. I think I will request a few days personal time, just so I can - you know - visit the hospital and stuff."


Cam smiled. "A very good idea, Agent."


Cam waited until the room had cleared, and then she made her way slowly downstairs. She flagged down a cab and gave him the Upper East Side address. She was asleep before he pulled away from the curb.



Epilogue

"Well," Diane Bleeker said as she stood in the open doorway, "I've waited a long time to see you at my door, Commander."


Cam grinned tiredly. "Sorry."


"Don't be," Diane said with a laugh. "Some things are definitely worth waiting for."


Cam glanced at several suitcases standing by the door. "Going somewhere?"


"Just a three-day weekend," Diane said nonchalantly. Then she raised an eyebrow, a speculative look on her face. "A spur of the moment kind of thing."


"Thank you." Cam knew that Diane was leaving to give her and Blair a little time alone. "I appreciate it."


Diane ran her fingers lightly down Cam's arm, lingering just a moment on her hand. "Oh, believe me, Commander, anything I can do to help."


"You might want to take your hands off her, Diane," Blair said softly from behind them. "I'm terribly short of patience at the moment."


Diane turned to smile at her old friend. "When did you lose your sense of humor, Blair?"


Blair looked past Diane to Cam, who still stood waiting at the door, rumpled and pale and just about the best looking thing she had ever seen. She ached to get her hands on her, her arms around her, her skin on her skin. Blair's voice was low, throaty with emotion, when she murmured, "I think it was along about the second time my stalker tried to kill her."


Diane stepped aside, because she had watched Blair pace and worry and stare out the window for the last few hours, restlessly waiting. She could never remember seeing her so undone, and so clearly suffering. "Well then, since that's the way it is, I'll make myself scarce."


Blair touched Diane's shoulder briefly in thanks as her friend grasped her suitcases and left, but her eyes never moved from Cam's face. When they were alone, she came slowly forward and took Cam's hand. "Come with me."


Cam was too tired to question or protest. The dizziness had abated, but the headache persisted and probably would for days. Mostly, she was weary. There had been too much violence and injury and loss, and she was worn down by it, body and soul. All she really wanted was to lie down next to Blair and close her eyes.


Blair led her through the apartment and into the bathroom, closing the door. She turned and began unbuttoning Cam's shirt. Cam lifted her hands to help, but Blair brushed her fingers away gently. "No. Let me."


Tenderly, Blair undressed her, being careful to ease the clothing off the patches of bruises and abrasions covering her back. She tried not to think of what had put them there, but she couldn't help imagining Cam flung to the ground, rocks and debris raining down on her during the blast.