A whistle of sound.

Pain streaking through her temple.

Falling.

Darkness.

* * *

Was she dead?

No, Rachel's head was pounding with agony. You shouldn't have to feel pain if you were dead. Unless you were in hell. And this smelled more like a hospital than hell. Though how did she know what hell smelled like? Brimstone was one of the pop u lar descriptions, but she—

"Dr. Kirby? I'm sorry to—"

"Go away." She didn't open her eyes. "Unless you're my doctor and can give me an aspirin for this damn headache."

"I'm Detective Don Finley with Houston PD. I need a few words with you. I promise I won't keep you long."

"Am I dying?"

"No, ma'am. You're only suffering a mild concussion. The shot brushed your temple. You'll be fine."

"Am I in jail?"

"No, you're at Sharpston Medical Center."

"Then go away."

"The medical team said I could question you. I'm sorry, ma'am. If you don't talk to me, I'll only have to come back tomorrow, and the perpetrator will have a better chance of getting away. Five minutes."

He sounded determined, and she wasn't up to arguing with anyone at the moment. She flinched as she opened her eyes to look at him. Forties. Thin, with receding pale brown hair. Cool gray eyes. "Talk."

"You're aware that you were shot by a sniper at the university?"

"No." She tried to remember that last moment of pain, but it was all a blur.

"You don't appear shocked."

"I'll be shocked tomorrow if my headache gets better. Come back then."

"At first we were afraid that we might be having another campus killing spree, but we've changed our mind. We don't believe it was a random shooting. You were the only target. Do you have any idea who would have reason to try to kill you?"

"Not at the moment."

"No enemies? No one hates you enough to kill you?"

"Lots of people hate me enough to kill me. I just didn't think they would. It takes a certain kind of personality actually to commit to violence."

"Give me names of possible suspects."

"Tomorrow will be soon enough." She had a sudden thought. "Wait. Send someone to watch my house. My sister, Allie, and my house keeper, Letty Clark, are alone there."

"You think they're in danger?"

"I don't know. But I don't take chances."

"If you'll cooperate, we'll cooperate."

She studied him. "Don't try to blackmail me. Your job is to guard citizens. Now guard them. You said I was the only target. Simon and Val weren't hurt?"

"Your assistants? No."

Relief poured through her. "Good." She closed her eyes. "Keep an eye on them, too."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to have to replace them if you let them get killed."

"We already have them under surveillance."

"I need to see Simon right away."

"You're not allowed visitors. They made an exception in my case."

"Then go away and tell the doctor I need more meds. I'll call you tomorrow."

She could sense him hesitating. She opened her eyes again. "You're not going to get anything else from me right now. I'm not going to turn you loose on anyone unless I'm sure there's a chance they're guilty."

"It's our job to determine that."

"No, the buck always stops with me, and I've accepted it," she said curtly. "I can't think, much less analyze the situation. You'll get your names when I can."

He frowned. "I'll leave, but I don't want to wait for—"

"Go away or I'll scream and they'll come in and kick you out. I may even throw in a harassment charge."

He stood there staring at her for an instant, then turned on his heel. "You're right. It may take too long right now to go through the list of suspects who might want to kill you."

She had antagonized him she realized vaguely as he left the room. Too bad. He was only doing his job. But she had no time or strength to argue with him now. She had to rest and heal and get back to doing her job.

Someone had tried to kill her. It was a strange and chilling thought. She had tried not to show the shock she was experiencing to that detective. Shock was a form of weakness, and she must never be perceived as weak. She couldn't let her guard down and let that cop see that she was afraid. There was no use whining when she had always known the risks of what she was doing and was prepared to deal with them.

She mustn't let this madness get in the way. Let the police find out who had shot her. It was probably some crackpot who had decided she was the cause of all his problems. She had to live. She had to work. There were too many people depending on her. Allie was depending on her. She would get through this as she had all the other barriers she'd had to leap.

Get over the pain. Heal. Get back to work.

* * *

Tough nut," Gonzalez murmured as Detective Finley came out of Rachel Kirby's room. "She looked like a broken angel lying there until she opened her mouth."

"An angel she's not," Finley said emphatically. "But we need to know what else she could be. Call the president of the university and get a report on Rachel Kirby and her work t here."

"I already called him and made an appointment." He handed him a few sheets of paper. "This is the initial report on her, Simon Monteith, and Val Cho. Nothing about her work at the university, just the bare bones. That last line is interesting. They have top secret government clearance."

"For the work they're doing?"

"Why else? It has to be something to do with that computer in the science lab. From what I've heard, that computer has a capacity that the Pentagon would envy."

"Get me details." He scanned the report, then headed for the waiting room. "Are Simon Monteith and Val Cho still waiting to see her?"

Gonzalez nodded. "They said they'd wait until she was well enough for them to see her. They seem upset. They must be pretty close to her."

"Then it must go only one way," he said sarcastically. "She said the reason she didn't want them shot was because she'd have to replace them. She's a real sweetheart." He was glancing at the scanty info on Rachel Kirby. "Unmarried, parents dead, one sister, Allie, two years younger. Send a car to set up surveillance on the sister." He'd tried to bluff Rachel Kirby, but if there was a chance her family was in danger, it was his job to protect them. And Rachel had known he would do his job. Even in her pain she had been able to see through him, dammit.

And Gonzalez was right, he realized, as he entered the waiting room. The young man and woman who worked with Rachel Kirby seemed genuinely worried. They were both in their twenties, dressed in jeans and sweaters, and were very different in appearance. Simon Monteith was big and muscular with blue eyes and close-cropped sandy hair. Val Cho was obviously of Asian descent, medium height, dark-haired, dark eyes, and strikingly attractive.

"I'm Detective Finley. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"We don't know anything," Val Cho said flatly. "Don't waste your time talking to us. Get out there and find the son of a bitch who shot Rachel."

"Easy," Simon said gently. "He has to follow procedure, Val."

Finley sized up Val for a moment. "A bit defensive, aren't you? Got a problem with authority?"