"I don't believe you. It's a trick."

"It's not a trick. It's a promise." She lifted a brow. "Call it paying my debt to my sister. Surely you can understand that."

For what seemed like an eternity he stood thinking. "You take off the vest all the way and I'll let the kid go."

Mia peeled the vest from her body, down her arms. She shivered, only a thin T-shirt covering her upper half. "I kept my end. It's your turn."

In one motion he withdrew the knife from Jeremy's neck and pulled a.38 revolver from his back waistband. Mia jerked her eyes from his new weapon to Jeremy who stood shaking. "Go, Jeremy," she said urgently. "Now." Jeremy looked at her, his eyes miserable and her heart cracked in two. "Go, honey. It'll be all right. I promise."

Kates gave the boy a hard shove. "She said go." Jeremy ran.

The front door opened, then slammed.

"We've got the boy, Mia," Spinnelli said in her ear. "Get him to the window."

Mia glanced at her mother, still tied to the chair by the stove. "Let her go, too."

Kates smiled. "She wasn't part of the deal. Besides, she's rude."

"You can't kill a woman because she's rude," Mia snapped. "For God's sake."

"You obviously haven't found Tania Sladerman from the hotel yet. Your mother stays. If you welsh, she's dead. If anything goes wrong, she's my ticket out of here."

"Living room, Mia," Spinnelli hissed. "Now."

Mia started toward Kates, trying to lead him to the window. "So let's get started."

Kates waved his gun. "Sit down. We'll do this my way. Cuff yourself. Both wrists."

She can't do that, Reed thought. She won't. The boy was safe. Now she'd make her move. He cracked open the door. It opened into a walk-in pantry. An open door led to the kitchen. He crept to the door and peered around. Annabelle Mitchell sat with her back to the stove, tied and gagged. Kates stood between the chair and the stove, a pipe wrench in his right hand, a knife in his left, the blade pressed against Annabelle's throat. Her eyes widened when she saw him and he shook his head.

His own eyes widened when he saw the.38 on the stove top. Somewhere along the way Kates had upgraded from the.22 he'd taken from Donna Dougherty's nightstand.

Reed shifted, bringing Mia into view. She sat in a chair, wide-kneed, leaning forward. "I'm wondering just one thing, Kates." Her hands were between her knees, fumbling with her cuffs. Stalling. Good girl. Her backup piece was inside her boot. He should know. He'd taken it off her several times now. She was waiting for the opportunity to get to it.

"Just one?" Kates asked sarcastically. "Hurry up with the cuffs," he added impatiently. "Or the old lady goes."

"I'm trying," Mia snapped back. "My hands are shaking, okay?" She drew a breath. "Yeah," she answered him. "Just one question. The fuses. Why were they so short? I have two theories." She looked up, grimly mocking. "My police shrink says your knife is an extension of your dick. I'm wondering if the short fuses were as well."

Mia was baiting him. Trying to draw him into using the knife on her instead. And even as Reed saw the logic in her strategy, his heart clenched in fear. He set his aim at Kates's chest. The moment he took the knife from Annabelle"s throat, he'd be dead.

Kates's face turned a florid red. "You bitch. I knew you'd lie. Damn you."

"Or," she continued calmly, "my second theory is that the short fuses are really your way of dealing with the person who really killed your brother. You."

"Shut up," Kates hissed. But his eyes flickered wildly. She was close, Reed knew.

"You killed your brother, Andrew," she said. "Every time you set a fire, a little part of you hoped it would take you out, too. Because you're the guilty one. You killed Shane."

"You don't know shit and you're going to die." Without taking his eyes from her, Kates knocked the gas valve right off the pipe. But instead of a steady hiss, there was only a gurgle followed by silence. Count that, asshole, Reed thought with satisfaction.

Stunned, Kates's eyes flicked to the pipe and Mia came to her feet, her backup piece in her hand. And before Reed could open his mouth to warn her, Kates hurled the wrench at Mia's head. She ducked and Kates grabbed the revolver.

Reed fired, the shot thunderous in the silence. Kates's knife clattered to the floor and a millisecond later, so did Kates. Reed rushed forward, his radio in his shaking hand, his fingers fumbling over the controls. He kicked Kates's gun from his hand. "Kates is down. Mitchell's mother is hurt."

Blood flowed from the wound at Annabelle's throat, but it didn't gush. It could be worse. He grabbed a terry towel from the counter and pressed it to Annabelle's throat. "Mia." He twisted to see her and… his hands froze.

"Goddammit, Reed, what the hell are you doing in there?" Spinnelli's furious voice crackled from the radio.

But Reed didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Mia lay on the floor in a heap, her white T-shirt already soaked with blood. Reed somehow made it to her side on his knees, his hands shaking. "Mia. Mia." He lifted her shirt and his pounding heart stopped. "Oh God." There was a huge hole in her side and blood gushed.

Her eyes struggled open, dazed with pain. "Reed. Did you get him?"

He shrugged out of his coat and ripped at his shirt. He had to stop the blood. She'd bleed to death before they got her to the ER.

"I got him, honey. Stay still. Help's on the way."

"Good," she answered. A groan rattled her chest. "It hurts."

Hands shaking, he pressed his shirt to the gaping wound. "I know it does, baby."

She drew a hard breath. "You should have let me keep the dogtags, Solliday."

The front door flew open and EMTs charged in, followed by a swarm of uniforms led by Marc Spinnelli and Murphy. Murphy pulled Reed out of the way as the EMTs lifted Mia to a stretcher. "Her BP's dropping like a rock. Let's go!"

Numb, Reed watched them carry her out the door and into the waiting ambulance.

Another team carried Annabelle Mitchell out after her daughter. She was still alive, but unconscious. Spinnelli knelt next to Kates, pressed fingers to his throat. "He's dead." Spinnelli rose, heavily, his face pale beneath his bushy gray mustache. "One shot to the chest, another to the shoulder. Different guns. Who fired the chest shot?"

"I did. Mia shot him in the shoulder." Reed's knees threatened to give. "He had a knife on Annabelle then pointed the gun at Mia. When he threw the wrench at Mia, she shot him, but her aim was off. Mine wasn't." He leaned over and picked up his coat. "I'm going to the hospital now."

Spinnelli nodded unsteadily. "Murphy, follow the bus to the hospital. Take Solliday with you. I'll finish up here and meet you there."

Monday, December 4, 11:05 a.m.

"Daddy?"

Reed forced his eyes open. Beth hesitated at the edge of the surgery waiting room, one of his shirts in her hands, fear on her face. He made himself stand, even though his stomach rolled and his knees were still weak. "I'm all right, Beth."

She swallowed hard, then flew into his arms. "I know. I know." She was shaking. "I heard about Mia and I thought it could have been you."

Reed kissed the top of her head. "It wasn't." And it shouldn't have been Mia, either. I should have shot the bastard when I had the chance. But that would have risked Annabelle's life as well. Annabelle had been curiously absent from every painful secret Mia had shared. But he'd sensed no hate for her mother. He'd sensed nothing.

"How is she?" Lauren asked from the doorway.

"Still in surgery. We're waiting." He looked around the packed room. Twenty faces were frightened and drawn, nearly all of them for Mia. "We're all waiting."