At last the months of waiting were over and Gabriel's trial began.It would still be weeks, perhaps months, before Catherine was calledto testify, though. Jury selection would take some time, and otherwitnesses were scheduled first. The thought of waiting seemedintolerable. Just knowing the trial had begun was enough to rouse thefears that never went quite dormant. Still, she had little choice.She fought a daily battle to subdue her fears and find some semblanceof peace.

Two weeks into the trial, Catherine woke early and out of sorts.She'd stayed up too late the night before, watching a series ofcomedy movies that at first made her laugh - and later, failed tomake her laugh. She had the tapes in hand as she emerged from herroom, intending to drop them off at the library on her way tobreakfast.

A distantly familiar female voice interrupted her thoughts."Cathy?"

She looked up. Standing on the other side of the wide hallway,arms crossed in a way that seemed almost shy, was Jenny Aronson.Jenny Maxwell.

Videotapes tumbled from her hand to lay scattered at her feet.Catherine stood frozen, staring.

"What," Jenny asked gently, "you can't even say 'hi?'"

"Jenny!" she managed to gasp out, and flew across the hall tothrow her arms around Jenny's shoulders. "I'm so glad to seeyou!"

"Me, too," Jenny agreed, hugging back. "I've been waiting foreverfor you to come out of your room."

Catherine stepped back. "What are you doing here?" shedemanded.

Jenny shrugged, but Catherine thought she detected a flash of painin her friend's dark eyes. "Protective custody," Jenny said, withforced lightness.

"Protective.... Where's Joe?"

To her horror, Jenny's smile crumpled and she began to cry.

Catherine opened her arms and gathered Jenny in. "Come in to myroom," she urged gently. "We can sit down."

Jenny nodded wordlessly and pressed her hands to her face in afutile effort to stop the tears.

Catherine led Jenny to the bed, sank down beside her, and offereda box of tissues. "What happened?" she asked, when Jenny seemed morein control. "Can you tell me?"

Jenny wiped at her eyes with a wad of damp tissues. "Joe's in thehospital," she whispered. "He was shot."

It was Gabriel. Catherine never doubted it. "My God. Is he allright?" Her voice was high with anxiety and guilt.

"He'll be okay," Jenny said. Her face was etched with fear andworry, but the tears had stopped. "They let me stay until he came outof surgery. He was pretty groggy when I saw him, but the doctors sayhe'll make it."

"What happened?"

"We'd gone to dinner," Jenny began. "Afterwards, we were walkingup Fifth, on the park side of the street. It was a nice night, so wewere just strolling along, talking, laughing. And all of a sudden, acar pulled up beside us. Next thing I knew, Joe pushed me down. Hecarries a gun now, and I could see him reaching for it, and they shothim. The men in the car just shot him."

Catherine let out a soft gasp of horror and grasped Jenny's handsin hers.

"Joe fell almost on top of me," Jenny continued. "There was bloodeverywhere and he wasn't moving." She paused and swallowed hard."Then I heard a car door open. I tried to reach into Joe's jacket,get his gun, but he was lying on it, on me, and I couldn't find it.And the man from the car was coming. I could see him, I knew he wasgoing to kill me. Kill Joe, if he wasn't already dead."

Catherine could imagine Jenny's panic and terror.

"I was trying to scramble away, back into the park, into thebushes there. Trying to drag Joe with me." She gave a wry, hurtingsmile. "Not very sensible, but it was all I could think to do. GetJoe's gun, and hide."

"Yes," Catherine agreed softly.

"And then something happened. Cathy, you aren't going to believethis part. The man was coming closer; I could see the gun in hishand, and I couldn't get away. And there was this tremendous roar.Like an animal's. It terrified me even more than the man with the gundid. Must have scared him, too, and I think he saw something, aswell, because the next thing I knew, he was scrambling back to thecar. I heard the door slam and the tires squeal as the car spedaway."

"A roar?" Catherine repeated softly.

"Yes. And then this... this person was there. I don't know wherehe came from, but suddenly he was kneeling beside Joe, pulling Joe'sshirt open so he could see where the blood was coming from. He toreup part of Joe's shirt and made a compress, and showed me how topress on it to control the bleeding. He had on this long black thingwith a hood, so I never saw his face, but his hands..."

"Vincent."

Jenny looked at her in surprise. "Yes. He said that was his name.How could you..."

"Jenny. That was my Vincent."

"Your...? I don't understand."

"Vincent. He's my... he's Nicholas's father."

Jenny's mouth opened in disbelief.

"He prowls the park sometimes, at night, and the sound of gunfirewould have drawn him."

"He saved our lives," Jenny said. "If he hadn't been there, if hehadn't scared the man off..."

"I'm glad he was there," Catherine said fervently. "I'm glad Joe'sgoing to be all right. And I'm ashamed to say it under thecircumstances, but I'm so glad you're here!"

Jenny's eyes were tearing again. "Oh, Cathy, so am I. I've worriedabout you. It's doing me so much good to see you."

"You shouldn't feel that way," Catherine said, withdrawing herhands. "You should hate me."

"Hate you? Why?"

"Because it's my fault. What happened to Joe. If he didn't knowme, if I hadn't come to him when I came back..."

It was Jenny's turn to be the comforter. She caught Catherine'sarm in a fierce, hard grip.

"Don't say that. Don't even think it. Joe was honored that youtrusted him after all you'd been through. He was horrified at thethings that were done to you. And he doesn't forget that he was theone who gave you the black book. You only did what you had to do,Cathy, and so did Joe. He understood the risks. He chose to takethem."

"You, too," Catherine said softly. "I risked you, too. I nevermeant to do that, Jen. But if Vincent hadn't been there, I'd havelost both of you. I couldn't have borne it."

"Yes, you could," Jenny insisted, and gave her a small shake. "I'mhere now, and I'm safe. And Greg Hughs has taken personal charge ofJoe's protection. I talked to him before they brought me here. He'sas safe as they can make him, Cathy. I believe that. You have tobelieve it, too."

"I trust Greg," Catherine admitted. "As much as I trust anybody. Ihope he can keep Joe safe. And you. Where will you be?"

Jenny gave a watery smile and pointed. "Right across thehall."

It was unusual, Arlen admitted when Catherine talked to her later,for someone who was not a direct witness to be protected in thisparticular facility. But the suspicion that the assault on Joe wasconnected to Catherine's upcoming testimony against Gabriel Vandt wasstrong enough that Arlen had decided she'd rather err on the side ofcaution. It had been Arlen's direct order that brought Jennyhere.

For herself, Catherine was comforted to have Jenny ensconced inMalek's old room. It made her feel better to be able to offer supportand sympathy when Jenny worried about Joe. In turn, Jenny was notonly company, but a welcome distraction, as well.

"Tell me about your boyfriend," Jenny said one evening. She waslying on Catherine's bed toying with a pretzel she had no apparentintent of eating.

"Boyfriend?" Catherine asked, from her place on the floor. "That'san odd word."

"It is not." Jenny sat up, feigning indignation. "It's a perfectlygood word." She was in good spirits. This afternoon, Joe's conditionhad been upgraded to 'good' and she'd gotten to speak with him on thephone.

"I mean it's an odd word to apply to Vincent," Catherineclarified. She glanced at Jenny. "We are talking about Vincent,aren't we?"

Jenny flopped onto her stomach and leaned over the edge of thebed, leering. "Unless you have other boyfriends you haven't told meabout."

Catherine laughed. "No. Just Vincent."

"Just Vincent," Jenny repeated. "And he's not your boyfriend. Sowhat is he, then?"

Catherine leaned back against the bed and pondered. "Goodquestion."

"Lover? Paramour? Beau?" Jenny prompted.

"Beau. I like the sound of that one." She thought about it. "Idon't know, Jen. He's all of those things - and none of them. If youknow what I mean."

"I don't. Explain, please."

Catherine sighed. "I'm not sure I can put it into words. He lovesme. More than anyone ever has, before. He cares about what's best forme, even when it hurts."

"Hurts you, or hurts him?" Jenny asked.

"Either. Both. He's always been willing to let me go, let me dothe things I have to do. Even when he thinks I might not come back tohim. Like me being here. He pushed me, Jen. I didn't want to come.Didn't want to face what I had to do. But he knew, before I did, thatstaying away, staying safe... would have destroyed me."

"He's good for you," Jenny said thoughtfully.

"He's wonderful for me," Catherine said fervently. "He brings outthe best part of me."

"And you love him," Jenny said softly.

"With all my heart."

"And you'll go back to him? When all this is over?"

"Yes. I couldn't go anywhere else. Not now. Not ever again."

"I'm glad for you, Cath," Jenny offered. "I hope I can meet himone day. Nicholas too."

"I want you to," Catherine answered. "I hope you can. Only..."

"Only what?" Jenny asked gently. "His hands?"

Catherine shook her head. "No. Or at least, that's not all ofit."

"What, then? Cathy, I heard him roar. I mean, I know it was him.It must have been, unless he had a lion or something back in thebushes."

She laughed, softly, sadly. "No lion. It was Vincent youheard."

"So I know he's different."

"Different, yes. But if you met him, you would see how beautifulhe really is. I know you would."

"What, then?"

Catherine's voice dropped. "When I testify," she said. "I'll haveto go to the courthouse. If they're going to make another attempt atme, that's when they'll do it."

"In transit? While you're vulnerable?"

Catherine nodded. "It wouldn't take much. A sniper on a nearbyrooftop... A bomb..."

Jenny rolled off the bed and came to sit beside her. One slim armcircled Catherine's bowed shoulders. "Don't think like that, Cathy,"she said fiercely. "Nothing's going to happen to you. Arlen Millerwill see to that."

"She'll try," Catherine acknowledged. "But I know there's only somuch she can do."

"You'll be fine. You'll go, you'll testify, and then it'll be allover. You can go home, then, Cathy. To Vincent, and to Nicholas."

But even that bright prospect wasn't enough to lift the mantle ofdread. "But before any of that happens, I have to go into thatcourtroom," she whispered. "I have to face him."

Other milestones marked the wait. Joe was released from thehospital, but refused to be placed in a protective facility. Jennyfretted over that, but he'd been assigned a guard, and assured her hewas careful.

Catherine's nerves wouldn't allow her to read or watch TV.Mornings she didn't go to the gym were spent with Jenny, but restlessenergy wouldn't let her sit still for long. She passed hours pacingaimlessly through the halls.

Twice, as she roamed the hallways, she saw Moreno near theelevators, heavily escorted on his way to or from the courthouse. Insuit and tie instead of his prisoner's jumpsuit, he looked capableand self assured, like the man she remembered from the D.A.'s office.The man who had cold-bloodedly given her into Gabriel's hands. Shealtered course when she saw him, avoiding even the chance of ameeting.

Morris didn't offer to let her onto the roof again, and she didn'task. Twice would have been pressing her luck. She didn't even spendmuch time at her window for fear a sniper might take a chance on alucky shot piercing the heavy-duty glass. But once or twice shelingered there long enough to see a shadow across the way, marringthe roofline of the gray building. And each time she saw it, it gaveher strength.

At last the waiting came to an end. Catherine slept badly thenight before she was to testify and rose early to spend forty-fiveminutes on the treadmill, trying to burn off some of the adrenalinethat made her heart pound so unnaturally in her chest. She onlynibbled at the breakfast Jenny brought; she was too wrought up tohave any appetite. She showered and dressed carefully in a dusky rosesuit. It was a good choice, she decided, examining her reflectionwith a prosecutor's eye. The color and style made her look small andfragile, both attributes that would draw sympathy from the jury. Shebrushed her hair and left it loose, aware she looked more vulnerablethat way.

"You look good, Cathy," Jenny said, from her accustomed place onthe bed. "Serene."

"I don't feel serene."

"Nerves," Jenny diagnosed. "You'll be fine."

But it wasn't nerves, Catherine knew. Not much, anyway. Sheglanced at her desk chair, and the dark object draped over the back.Arlen had sent it up, with instructions to wear it over her clothingon the way to and from the courthouse. It was a policeman's bodyarmor. What laymen called a bulletproof vest.

Catherine tried and failed to muster a smile for her friend'sbenefit. "They'll be here any minute."

"Knock 'em dead," Jenny said. And winced. "Sorry."

Catherine tried to summon a scowl at the unfortunate choice ofwords, and failed utterly. When she laughed, so did Jenny.

"Jeez," Jenny said at last, gasping. "I can't believe I saidthat."

"I can't believe you said it either," Catherine answered, "butbetter them than me."

That set them off again, and they were still giggling when theexpected knock sounded on the door. Jenny got up to answer it.

Kelly Freemont stood to one side of the opening. Beside her,looking pale and thin but grinning widely, was Joe Maxwell.

Jenny let out a little gasp and flew into his arms. By unspokenmutual consent, Kelly and Catherine looked away during what wassurely a heartfelt reunion, but after a moment, Joe came into theroom with an arm around Jenny's shoulders.

"Hi, kiddo," he said fondly to Catherine.

"Hi, Joe."

He grinned and held out his free arm. She glanced at Jenny, thenwent and put her arms around him. She remembered what Jenny had toldher about his wounds, though, and tried not to squeeze too hard."It's good to see you," she said. "But why are you here?"

He had an arm around each of them now, and looked as if he enjoyedit. He gave Jenny a little squeeze. "Partly to see my best girl," hesaid, and Jenny smiled. Her eyes held a radiance that had beenmissing before.

The look Joe turned on Catherine was suddenly solemn. "And partlybecause of you."

"Me?" The tension that had been dispelled by laughter and reunionreturned full force.

"You don't think I'd let you go to that courthouse by yourself, doyou?"

She was so grateful, she wanted to cry. But... "Oh, Joe, youcan't. It's too dangerous."

"I know all about the danger," he said evenly. "I spent threeweeks in the hospital, remember? I'm not letting you do this alone,Radcliffe. Don't even bother to argue with me."

She would have, though, if Jenny hadn't spoken up. "He's right,Cathy. Let him go with you."

Catherine freed herself from Joe's arm and looked at her twodearest friends. Joe looked angrily implacable. Jenny looked scaredbut determined. Catherine had no will to fight either of them, letalone the two put together.

"All right," she conceded wearily, and smiled. "It'll be good tohave a friend along."

"You'd better finish getting ready," Kelly said, eyeingCatherine's stockinged feet. "There's a car waiting downstairs."

Catherine nodded and looked for the high-heeled pumps she'd pulledfrom the closet this morning. She found them beside the bed andslipped them on. They felt awkward on her feet after years of wearingrunning shoes or casual flats.

Jenny helped her fasten the clumsy bulletproof vest over herblouse and pull her jacket on over it. "Be careful, Cathy."

"I'll try." She glanced at Joe, who had watched the entireprocedure grimly, but without comment. "If you're going to hang outwith me, you should probably have one of these, too."

He tapped his side. "I do. Didn't you feel it when you huggedme?"

She smiled just a little. "I thought your ribs were taped, orsomething."

"Well," he admitted, "that, too." He looked at Jenny. "I'll seeyou tonight," he said. "When I bring Cathy back."

Jenny nodded. "I'll be waiting," she promised. "For both ofyou."

Jenny didn't accompany them out. Catherine's nerves stretchedtight again as she accompanied Joe and Kelly to the wide hallwaywhere the elevator and guard station were. They were waiting for theelevator when Catherine heard voices approaching behind her. Sheturned, and froze.

John Moreno, clad once more in prisoner's blue, rounded thecorner, accompanied by a guard.

"Cathy," he said. "I want to talk to you."

Catherine took a step back and bumped into Joe, who hoveredprotectively. "I have nothing to say to you," she all but hissed.

"Please, Cathy. In a few minutes, they're taking me off to beginserving my sentence."

"Good."

He flinched. "I deserve that."

"And worse," Joe said harshly.

Moreno absorbed the abuse stolidly. "I know."

Catherine could hear the sigh as the elevator doors slid openbehind her. She wanted to get on the elevator and leave Morenobehind, but couldn't bring herself to ignore the abject pleading inhis eyes. "What?" It was more demand than question.

"I want to apologize. For all I did to you. When he said he wantedyou... it was horrible."

For an instant she was back in that bleak, featureless room,waiting without hope for an inevitable end. "Worse for me," sheanswered. Her voice was flat and toneless.

"I know," he said, and now there was no mistaking the misery inhis voice. "I just... I couldn't think what else to do. I didn't knowhow to help you. I was in so deep by then and I knew he'd have mekilled... it was almost a relief when Joe had the charges broughtagainst me." He made a small pleading gesture with his hands. "WhatI've done to you is unforgivable... but I want to ask yourforgiveness."

"What?" That was Joe, pushing himself past her, all righteousindignation. "You take nearly five years of her life, she almost diesbecause of you, and you want her to forgive you?" His voice rose onthe last word and for a moment Catherine thought he might try to hitMoreno.

None of the watching guards moved to interfere.

She put a hand on his arm to restrain him. "Joe. It's all right.Please."

Reluctantly he stepped back, but she could feel him taut andhostile beside her, ready to do battle on her behalf.

She studied Moreno with a critical eye. The trial had taken itstoll on him. What hair he had left was graying fast, and there werenew lines around his mouth. His eyes looked hollow and bruised.

She could understand fear of Gabriel. He'd had the power, evenwhen he didn't know where to find her, to affect the way she lived.Even now the thought of facing him quickened the beat of her heartand made her throat dry and her palms wet. What might she have doneif he had offered to harness that fear in exchange for a favor? Whatmight she have done to protect Nicholas? Moreno had a family, sheremembered. A wife, and a son who'd been in high school when she waswith the D.A. And his remorse, now, looked genuine.

She worried at her lower lip and reached back with her hand,seeking the reassurance of Joe's presence. He gave her fingers acomforting squeeze.

Moreno's shoulders slumped and he began to turn away.

Catherine had to try twice to force the word past her dry lips."John."

He turned.

"I understand what you did. Why you did it."

He nodded briefly, but his hunted eyes still searched hers.

She couldn't say the words unless she meant them, but there was somuch to forgive. The kidnapping. The days afterwards, with the drugsthat made her sick. The terror for her baby, for what the drugs mightdo to the tiny new life inside her. The long months of imprisonmentwhen she'd nearly lost hope. The years of running.

Vincent.

She thought of him suddenly, of the compassion always present inhis blue eyes. Vincent could do it, she thought. But can I?

And then, as if thought of Vincent opened a door to a source deepinside, came the feeling she needed to give voice to what Morenowanted to hear. She wasn't angry with him any more. She no longerhated him. "It's all right," she said softly. "I forgive you."

Relief and gratitude flooded his face. "Thank you."

She stepped onto the elevator, and Joe pushed the button to takethem down.

They changed elevators on the thirty-fifth floor; the new one tookthem to a basement parking garage, where a car waited. Catherine washustled inside; the moment the door closed behind her and Joe, thecar careened out of the garage and onto the street.

Her heart thudded against her ribs with such force that shethought Joe must surely hear the sound. He didn't seem to notice,though, staring out the darkened window at the streets beyond.

A man in the front passenger seat twisted around to face them."I'm Agent Mulgrew," he said brusquely. "When we reach thecourthouse, Miss Chandler, we'll pull up to a side entrance. I'll getout first. I want you to follow as soon as I signal you and headstraight for the door. Keep your head down and don't stop foranything. Do you understand me?"

"What about Joe?" Her voice trembled.

"Don't worry about me, Cathy," Joe answered. "I'll be right behindyou."

"Here we go," said Mulgrew as the car turned a final corner andeased toward the curb. "Be ready." He launched himself from the carand poised a moment, surveying the sidewalk.

Catherine peered past Joe at the passersby. "Seems crowded forthis time of morning," she said nervously.

"Some of them are FBI," Joe informed her. "Security. Keeping aneye on the rest." He waved at the imposing structure of the federalcourthouse. "Whole place is crawling with them. Uh-oh," he said, asMulgrew gave a terse wave. "We're on."

He threw open the door and slid out to stand by the trunk,shielding her with his body. Catherine froze for an instant in theopening. Any of the people moving along the sidewalk between her andthe courthouse door could be planning to kill her. Any of them.

She took a deep breath. "I love you, Vincent," she whisperedsoftly, and plunged forward. Joe's hand at her elbow steadied her anda moment later they were through the door.

The illusion of safety didn't last long. The courtroom hallwayswere even more crowded than the sidewalk.

Agent Mulgrew came up on her other side. "This way."

She followed him through a doorway and into another, narrowerpassage where a uniformed bailiff waited.

"Here she is," Mulgrew said. "We'll be back for her when hertestimony's through."

"Right." The bailiff nodded, and gestured to Catherine and Joe tofollow him. He kept to the narrow back corridor, avoiding the crowdedmain hallways, and took them to a small witness room. "You can waithere until they call you," he said.

"All the comforts of home," Joe tried to joke, pointing at acoffee machine. "Want some?"

Catherine's nerves were already drawn to the breaking point.Caffeine would be a big mistake. She shook her head.

Joe shrugged and poured himself a styrofoam cupful. "Made it, huh,Radcliffe?" he asked.

She made a helpless little motion. "To the courthouse, maybe."

He raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She paced raggedly from one end of the waiting room to the other."I don't know, Joe. I've been a witness before. I've tried big cases.So why should I be so scared to do this?"

"Nerves," he suggested, just as Jenny had earlier.

"Terror," she countered. Bantering with Joe eased the pressure inher chest and throat.

"You're not really that scared, are you, Radcliffe?" he askedsoftly.

"Pretty scared," she admitted. "All I want is to be away fromhere. Away from him. Far, far away, so he can never touch me again."She gave a small, bitter laugh. "Except that I know there is no suchplace. He can find me wherever I am, haunt my dreams no matter whereI go. No place is safe from him, Joe. No place."

"That's why you've got to do this, Cathy. So there will be safeplaces. For you and me and Jenny and even Nicholas."

She looked at him, and nodded. "I know, Joe. But I'm still sofrightened."

The door swung open and the bailiff beckoned. It was time.

Panic seized her and for an instant she couldn't move. She forcedherself to take one small step, and another. In the doorway, shelooked back at Joe, who produced a grin and gave her a thumbs-up thatwas meant to be encouraging.

The door closed between them, and she was alone except for thesilent bailiff. Who, she thought with sudden terror, could be one ofthem. He never looked back, though. Instead, he patiently escortedher through a narrow, private hallway, his pace attuned to herhalting one, and opened a wide, heavy door.

Beyond the opening, she could hear the murmur of dozens of voices,the rustle of feet and papers and clothing. Heart pounding, shebraced herself and stepped through.