His body began to shake, seized by agonal twitches. Fresh heat splashed her face, her mouth, and she gagged at the taste. I’m drowning in it. With a cry, she pushed against him, and the body, slippery with blood, slid off her.

She scrambled to her feet, and focused on the woman, who was now free of all her restraints. Only then did she see what the woman was gripping in both hands.

A gun. She has the guard’s gun.

The doctor had vanished. Maura was alone with Jane Doe, and as they stared at each other, every detail of the woman’s face stood out with terrible clarity. The tangled black hair, the wild-eyed gaze. The inexorable tightening of the tendons in her arm as she slowly squeezed the grip.

Dear god, she’s going to pull the trigger.

“Please,” whispered Maura. “I only want to help you.”

The sound of running footsteps made the woman’s attention jerk sideways. The door flew open and a nurse stared, openmouthed, at the carnage in the room.

Suddenly Jane Doe sprang out of the bed. It happened so fast that Maura had no time to react. She snapped rigid as the woman grabbed her arm, as the gun barrel bit into her neck. Heart slamming against her ribs, Maura let herself be shoved to the door, cold steel pressed against her flesh. The nurse backed away, too terrified to say a word. Maura was forced out of the room, into the hallway. Where was security? Was anyone calling for help? They kept moving, toward the nurses’ station, the woman’s sweating body pressed close, her panicked breaths roaring in Maura’s ear.

“Watch out! Get out of the way, she’s got a gun!” Maura heard, and she glimpsed the group of interns she’d seen only moments earlier. Not so cocky now in their white coats, they were backing off, wide-eyed. So many witnesses; so many useless people.

Someone help me, goddammit!

Jane Doe and her hostage now moved into full view of the nurses’ station, and the stunned women behind the counter watched their progress, silent as a group of wax figurines. The phone rang, unanswered.

The elevator was straight ahead.

The woman punched the down button. The door slid open, and the woman gave Maura a shove into the elevator, stepped in behind her, and pressed ONE.

Four floors. Will I still be alive when that door opens again?

The woman backed away to the opposite wall. Maura stared back, unflinching. Force her to see who I am. Make her look me in the eye when she pulls the trigger. The elevator was chilly, and Jane Doe was naked under the flimsy hospital gown, but sweat glistened on her face, and her hands trembled around the grip.

“Why are you doing this?” Maura asked. “I never hurt you! Last night, I tried to help you. I’m the one who saved you.”

The woman said nothing. Uttered not a word, not a sound. All Maura heard was her breaths, harsh and rapid with fear.

The elevator bell rang, and the woman’s gaze shot to the door. Frantically Maura tried to remember the layout of the hospital lobby. She recalled an information kiosk near the front door, staffed by a silver-haired volunteer. A gift shop. A bank of telephones.

The door opened. The woman grabbed Maura’s arm and shoved her out of the elevator first. Once again, the gun was at Maura’s jugular. Her throat was dry as ash as she emerged into the lobby. She glanced left, then right, but saw no people, no witnesses. Then she spotted the lone security guard, cowering behind the information kiosk. One look at his white hair, and Maura’s heart sank. This was no rescuer; he was just a scared old guy in a uniform. A guy who was just as likely to shoot the hostage.

Outside, a siren howled, like an approaching banshee.

Maura’s head was snapped back as the woman grabbed her hair, yanking her so close she could feel hot breath against the back of her neck, could smell the woman’s sharp scent of fear. They moved toward the lobby exit, and Maura caught a panicked glimpse of the elderly guard, quaking behind the desk. Saw silver balloons bobbing in the gift shop window, and a telephone receiver, dangling by its cord. Then she was forced out the door, straight into the heat of afternoon.

A Boston PD cruiser screeched to a stop at the curb, and two cops scrambled out, weapons drawn. They froze, their gazes on Maura, who now stood blocking their line of fire.

Another siren screamed closer.

The woman’s breaths were now desperate gasps as she confronted her rapidly narrowing options. No way forward; she yanked Maura backward, dragging her once again into the building, retreating into the lobby.

“Please,” Maura whispered as she was tugged toward the hallway. “There’s no way out! Just put it down. Put the gun down, and we’ll meet them together, okay? We’ll walk over to them, and they won’t hurt you…”

She saw the two cops edge forward step by step, matching their quarry’s pace the whole way. Maura still blocked their line of fire, and they could do nothing but watch, helpless, as the woman retreated up the hall pulling her hostage with her. Maura heard a gasp, and out of the corner of her eye, she spotted shocked bystanders frozen in place.

“Back away, people!” one of the cops yelled. “Everyone get out of the way!”

This is where it ends, thought Maura. I’m cornered with a madwoman who can’t be talked into surrender. She could hear the woman’s breathing accelerating to frantic whimpers, could feel the fear running through the woman’s arm, like a current through high-voltage wires. She felt herself being dragged inexorably toward a bloody conclusion, and she could almost see it through the eyes of the cops who were now inching forward. The blast of the woman’s gun, the gore exploding from the hostage’s head. The inevitable hail of bullets that would finally end it. Until then, the police were stalemated. And Jane Doe, trapped in the jaws of panic, was just as helpless and unable to change the course of events.

I’m the only one who can change things. Now is the time to do it.

Maura took a breath, released it. As the air whooshed from her lungs she let her muscles go slack. Her legs collapsed, and she sagged to the floor.

The woman gave a grunt of surprise, struggling to support Maura. But a limp body is heavy, and already her hostage was sliding to the ground, her human shield collapsing. Suddenly Maura was free, rolling sideways. She wrapped her arms around her head and curled into a ball, waiting for the blast of gunfire. But all she heard was running footsteps and shouts.

“Shit. I can’t get a clean shot!”

“Everyone, move the fuck out of the way!”

A hand grabbed her, shook her. “Lady? Are you okay? Are you okay?”

Trembling, she finally looked up into the face of the cop. She heard radios crackle, and sirens keened like women grieving the dead.

“Come on, you need to move away.” The cop grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. She was shaking so violently she could barely stand, so he slung his arm around her waist and guided her toward the exit. “All of you!” he yelled at the bystanders. “Get out of the building now.”

Maura glanced back. Jane Doe was nowhere to be seen.

“Can you walk?” the cop asked.

Unable to say a word, she merely nodded.

“Then go! We need everyone to evacuate. You don’t want to be in here.”

Not when it’s about to get bloody.

She took a few steps forward. Glanced back one last time, and saw that the cop was already moving down the hallway. A sign pointed to the wing where Jane Doe was about to make her last stand.

Diagnostic Imaging.

Jane Rizzoli startled awake and blinked, momentarily confused, at the ceiling. She had not expected to doze off, but the exam table was surprisingly comfortable, and she was tired; she had not been sleeping well for the past few nights. She looked at the clock on the wall and realized that she’d been left alone for over half an hour. How much longer was she supposed to wait? She let another five minutes go by, her irritation mounting.