The noise from the patrol cars and the SWAT team vehicles were almost deafening as Roan and her rookie partner tried from behind a police vehicle to reason with the man inside the house.

Carlos Reverie had shot his sister and her husband on the lawn of their house in full view of the neighbors. They were unable to get to the victims to determine if they were dead or alive. The copious amount of blood pooling around the male victim's head told Roan he was likely dead. She wasn't as sure about the woman, but she hadn't seen any movement.

The main concern for Roan and her team was the two children Reverie took as hostages. The arrival of a negotiator had Roan breathing a sigh of relief, for talking murderers down really wasn't her forte. She preferred the more direct approach-shoot the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds first and ask questions later.

Three hours later, and with several warning shots from the house preventing anyone from getting close, the negotiation was at a standstill. Reverie wanted a getaway car and fifty thousand dollars and said he'd kill one of the children in the next ten minutes if they didn't do what he asked.

"It's your call, Lieutenant," the SWAT team leader said through his communicator.

Roan pursed her lips. "What do you think, Jill?"

Jill Smith, the negotiator, shook her head. "He's not going to give in. Those kids are the priority. You have no choice, as I see it."

"Let's get the kids out safely." Roan turned to her partner.

"Don't be a hero, Bill. Keep your head down and follow my lead."

The rookie nodded. When they heard a child scream, Roan's partner, Bill Trimble, rushed the house without waiting for further instructions. In slow motion to those watching, a hail of bullets came from the house. The SWAT sharpshooter fired once and killed Carlos Reverie. Two officers hurried the children, who were emotionally traumatized but not hurt, out of the house and shielded them from seeing their parents lying on the lawn.

Detective Bill Trimble lay on the ground with Roan Keating lying over his body-both as still as statues. A woman's voice echoed eerily above the noise of the sirens and the pitiful cries of the two children. "Get those paramedics over here, we have men down."

Echo was annoyed. After waiting two weeks for the detective to call, she'd heard nothing. The only calls she'd received were from her parents who were worried about her after her long weekend with them. She could call the woman and demand information, but she doubted that would get results. She had to do something, but she didn't know what the best approach was for she wasn't family and really had no claim to the case.

To take her mind of her dilemma, she glanced at a four-day-old newspaper on her kitchen bench, and a furrow appeared on her forehead. The headline read, Police detective slain in gun battle. Her heart did a double somersault as she read the story.

One police officer died and another was injured in a hostage situation today.

A man who allegedly killed a husband and wife, then took their children captive held police at bay for three hours. The siege culminated in a shootout before the SWAT team killed the suspect, identified by police as Carlos Reverie.

The names of the officers haven't been released, pending notification of next of kin.

With nerveless fingers, Echo dropped the paper on the coffee table and stood. "Hasn't she called because she's dead or incapacitated?" Echo wondered out loud. She continued milling around her apartment, trying to come up with some sort of plan on what to do next. The ringing of the phone brought her out of her musing. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Ms. Radar, this is Lieutenant Keating..."

"Oh, my G.o.d...I thought you'd been killed or injured in that shootout!"

Roan had a cynical half-smile twisting her lips as she digested the words. "Obviously, it wasn't me. Were you concerned because you thought you'd have no one to help with your friend's investigation?"

Echo gasped at the cold words. "How dare you think like that? I was worried about you! Oh, forget you ever heard from me, Detective! Goodbye." Reacting in a mixture of rage and relief, she slammed the phone on its cradle and knew immediately it was a bad move.

Seconds later, the phone rang again. Echo picked it up cautiously and waited for someone to speak.

"You do that again and I really will forget I ever met you or that you asked for my help," Roan said, forcing her temper from flaring.

Echo heard the underlying anger in the detective's words and wanted to placate her. "I'm sorry...I'm frustrated. Believe me...I don't usually act like a petulant child."

She received a curt reply. "We need to talk. Meet me at the coffee shop across the street from your apartment."

Bemused at the sudden change in tempo of the conversation, Echo bl.u.s.tered, "Now? I'm not dressed. How long do I have?"

"I'm there now. I've ordered coffee, and it will arrive in five minutes."

Echo gritted her teeth. The woman was the most irritating person she'd ever met. "Give me ten."

"Ten it is."

The phone went dead and Echo scrambled to locate the nearest set of clothes. Sweats and a T-shirt would have to do. She pulled them on, and five minutes later, she was heading toward the coffee shop. She had a slight bounce in her step hoping that the detective had some good news for her. To think otherwise was too abhorrent to consider.

Jericho's Cafe was an intimate building themed with cla.s.sical forties-style decor and furniture. The jukebox in the corner contained cla.s.sics from that era along with popular fifties melodies. To treat herself, Echo often ventured there after her Sat.u.r.day jog in the park; it was a decadent luxury.

Arriving there in the middle of the week and at eight p.m. meant that the clientele along with the waiters were probably going to be different. She was right, except for Jerry, the owner, who greeted her with a winning smile when she walked through the door.

"Your usual, Echo? We don't often see you in here in the evening." His genuine appreciation of his customers was one of the reasons people returned. The coffee was much the same as anywhere else in town and probably in some places a lot cheaper.

"Hi, Jerry, yeah, a latte would be great." She looked around for Keating and didn't see her.

"Where are you going to sit?"

Echo frowned. Has she already left? "I'm supposed to be meeting someone." She glanced around and finally spotted Keating in the dark of a rear alcove. "Over there, Jerry." She pointed in the direction.

The man gave a surprised look at her choice of companion but wrote down the table number and pa.s.sed it to the waitress.

Echo, surprised that Keating didn't see her when she arrived, moved toward the table. Except for stirring the beverage in front of her, she was virtually motionless.

"Detective Keating?" Echo was sure she'd surprised her as she saw her body stiffen and turn toward her.

"Ms. Radar...you made it with a minute to spare," Roan said. Inwardly, she chastised herself for letting Echo sneak up on her.

With a soft laugh, Echo smiled and sat opposite Roan. "I'm used to deadlines. Thank you for calling me." Her gaze caught Roan's, and she again saw dark circles etched under her eyes. As she continued to appraise Roan, she noticed that there was a distinct pallor to her skin and a bead of sweat forming above her top lip. Is she sick?

"I said I would. Unfortunately, I can't stay long, so we'll have to make this quick."

Echo nodded as she heard the effort behind every word that Roan said. She recalled that Roan wasn't just a detective, she was a lieutenant, and she usually corrected her. Why didn't she say something now? "Are you ill, Detective Keating? If you are, we can do this another time."

The offer was tempting. "No, we'll do this now."

The waitress brought her coffee, and Echo inclined her head. "Do you want another?"

When Roan shook her head, the waitress left them alone. "You have some news for me?"

Roan took a deep breath and tugged at her collar to pull open another b.u.t.ton. "There are discrepancies that require attention. Before I can look into them, I'll need permission from my superiors, and that isn't going to be easy."

"I don't understand. Surely, they're aware that you've reopened the case file."

Roan drew in another deep breath and felt severely disorientated. She was thankful she was sitting down for she was certain she would have fallen flat on her face. "No, they aren't aware. I took on the preliminary investigation on my own time. Now I need support."

Echo watched her carefully. Even if she didn't admit it, Roan was definitely not well. "What can I do?"

Roan slid a folder across the table. "Take this report to the police chief. He'll have no choice but to reopen the case officially." Roan had to close her eyes as she felt the room spinning and she swallowed deeply in an effort not to throw up.

Echo took the folder and frowned. "Why can't you do that?"

"I need to go." Roan stood and steadied herself by grabbing the edge of the table. Once she felt capable, she began to take painstaking steps toward the entrance. As she did, the TV in the corner of the room blared out a report of the hostage events of earlier that week. With a shake of her head, she saw herself appear on the screen.

Jerry, who was watching the television and the woman who was leaving, did a double take. "Hey, we have a celebrity! Isn't that you on the screen?"

Roan refrained from speaking as she kept on course for the exit.

Echo, bewildered by Roan's sudden departure, arrived at her side in time to catch the last of the report.

The announcer said, "Lieutenant Keating, who was leading the operation to capture the kidnapper and suspected murderer, took a bullet to the chest. They say she's in stable condition."

"Stable? Are you mad? You should be in the hospital!"

Roan felt her whole body sag. Any minute, she would keel over and that wouldn't do. "Leave it, Ms. Radar. Suffice to say, I did what I promised. The rest is up to you." She walked out of the cafe and felt the cool air vent her hot body for a few moments.

Echo looked down at the report in her hand, then quickly paid the bill. "See you Sat.u.r.day, Jerry." She sped out the door almost cannoning into Keating. "Hey, look, I know you think I'm some kind of half-wit, but you don't look well. Let me call you a cab." Roan swiped at the perspiration that was obscuring her view.

"My car is over there." She pointed down the block.

Echo placed a hand on Roan's arm and led her toward the vehicle. She vaguely remembered the car, so it was fortunate for her that there weren't many vehicles at that hour.

"Give me the keys, Detective." Echo held out her hand. Part of her expected a rebuff, but it didn't come. After Roan gave her the keys, Echo unlocked the doors.

Disoriented, Roan knew she should do something, but she needed all her concentration to stay upright, which wasn't easy. Attempting to take control of the situation, she headed toward the driver's side.

"Where are you going? You're in no shape to drive. I'll take you home, or should we go to the hospital?" Echo opened the pa.s.senger side and gently pushed Keating inside.

Seconds later, Echo was seated in the driver's seat and switching on the ignition. "I need to know where you live."

Roan felt a surge of annoyance as Echo continued misuse of her t.i.tle. "I'm a lieutenant, not a detective."

Echo smiled at the correction; the officer she'd originally met was alive and kicking inside there somewhere. "Okay, Lieutenant, please may I have your address and I'll take you home safely?"

Reluctantly, her address tumbled out of Roan's mouth. She didn't have a choice; her body was burning up. The car revved to life, and they headed to Keating's home, which surprisingly was only three blocks from Echo's office.

Chapter Eight.

Echo hadn't initially taken in the meaning of the address Keating had given her. When she pulled up to the brownstone, the palatial street amazed her. She probably didn't make enough in two months to afford the rent. She looked up at the brownstone that Keating had given her as an address, then out to the bay. There was no doubt that the apartments had a view of the bay from the front and of the mountains from the back. Wow! "I think this is it, Lieutenant."

Roan glanced at the building and felt herself nod. Every movement created a sharp pain in her chest. She had been foolish to think she could walk out of the hospital so early and not pay a price. "Yeah, this is the place. You can call a cab and I'll pay. Goodbye." With difficulty, she opened the door and stumbled out of the car.

Echo wasn't going to let Roan dismiss her like that. It was apparent that she probably needed medical attention but was being stubborn as h.e.l.l. She quickly moved beside the officer and instinctively stuck out her arm for support. When Roan didn't brush her help aside, she was pleased. "Have you a key or is there a key code?" Echo asked.

"Key code here and a key inside...can't be too careful," Roan mumbled before she doggedly punched in the code to release the door.

As they entered the building, Echo let out an astonished gasp as they stood in front of a highly polished oak door. Standing with her mouth wide, she watched as Keating unsteadily inserted a key into the lock before it clicked open.

"This isn't an apartment, is it...you don't share with anyone, do you?" With eyes as wide as saucers, Echo gazed around the area. She was certain that the quality furnishings and the portraits on the walls were expensive.

Irritated, Roan said, "I don't share." The words reverberated in the s.p.a.cious hallway. "Thanks for seeing me to my door, Ms. Radar. I need to rest now."

Echo stood open-mouthed at the dismissal. This woman is one tough cookie. Echo watched Keating's unsteady gait. As Roan reached for the wall in what she thought was an attempt to gain balance, Echo let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I'd be a poor human being if I left you here like this. Is there a member of your family or friend that I can contact for you? Perhaps your doctor?"

All Roan wanted was to feel her bed under her body and to close her eyes to stop the fiery pain in her chest. She didn't need Echo's interference. "I have no one. Now please leave."

The quality of the tone behind the words had Echo feeling the first real sympathy for Roan. "You have someone now; you have me." Echo walked toward her and held out her hand. "Please let me help you."

Exhausted, Roan accepted the support in hopes that Echo would leave. Doesn't she ever give up? Her subconscious supplied the answer. No. Aren't I the lucky one? "My room is on the second floor."

Minutes later, after a struggle to get up the stairs, Echo had Keating in her bed. She decided it was best to leave her clothes on except for the outer gear and the polished boots.

"Do you have any meds to take?" Echo glanced around the room. She was surprised to see light pastel shades of green and yellow, which were soothing and easy on the eye. The decor seemed in contrast to what she saw as Roan's normal personality, which bordered on acerbic most of the time.

Roan closed her eyes and pointed automatically to one of two inner doors in the room. "Bathroom cabinet...the brown capsules."

Echo quickly retrieved the bottle with the capsules and was amazed at the size of the bathroom. She could fit hers inside it three times over. Collecting a gla.s.s of water, she checked the details on the bottle, took out two capsules, handed them to the p.r.o.ne woman, and watched as she popped them into her mouth before washing them down with water. "Are you sure I can't call you someone?"

Roan lifted her heavy eyelids and through stinging eyes said, "Yes."

"Okay, I'll leave you then." Echo was reluctant to go but slowly made her way out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Too many scenarios were working their way into Echo's mind as she looked at the three other doors on the landing. Curiosity got the better of her, and she opened one, then the two others. All were bedrooms and clearly furnished for immediate occupation should visitors arrive. Each had a private bathroom and a walk-in wardrobe. Speculation ran riot in Echo's mind, and she wandered up the flight of stairs to the third floor and placed her hands to her lips as she saw the magnificent view from the monster gla.s.s window overlooking the vista of the bay and the mountains.

This was an artist's paradise of the city with casual yet expensive furnishings, which spoke volumes that it was a well- used room...or had been. A large ornate bookcase was on one wall and the entertainment systems on the other. A ten-seat, at least, curving leather sofa was the focus of the room with other chairs scattered around. A large gla.s.s coffee table in perfect proportion to the sofa rested in front.

As Echo wandered around the room, there was a small alcove situated in a rear recess that held a small kitchen. There was a kettle, microwave, mini oven, and refrigerator. She knew she shouldn't, but she opened the refrigerator, remembering that her mom always said it told a lot about a person. Inside there was nothing; it was off. It appeared that no one used the place anymore, but it called to Echo's creative talents.

Echo gave the perfect vista one more longing look, then went down the stairs. As she did, she quietly opened the door to Keating's room and heard the gentle sounds of sleep. She closed the door, intent on leaving, when she heard a guttural moan and reopened the door. Roan was thrashing around, and as Echo stepped farther into the room, she could see blood appearing on the shirt front. "I'd better call 911!"

Echo placed her hand on Keating's forehead; it was hot. Roan was apparently unaware of her presence as she began to babble. "Mich.e.l.le, don't go. Please don't go! You can't leave me all alone..."

Echo listened to the words and felt like she was prying. Then again, hadn't she done just that when she checked out the other rooms? Whoever Mich.e.l.le was, it was apparent she was important to Keating. The gut-wrenching effect it had on her made Echo gasp in astonishment.

Picking up the phone by the bed, Echo called 911.