So she could hang up. She pushed herself to her knees next to Mrs. Kasselbaum's inert form. "Mrs. Kasselbaum." The tears were coming now as she realized she didn't even know the old woman's first name. She grasped a thin, scrawny shoulder and shook. "Mrs. Kasselbaum, please."

The other neighbor knelt down beside her and pulled her hand from the old woman. "Don't touch her," he said, panic in his own voice. "Wait for the paramedics. They're on their way." His name was Stan. His wife was Terri and they had a new baby named Bella. She knew all of this yet didn't know the first name of the old woman who might be dead because she cared too much.

Sobbing now, Jenna fell back against Mrs. Kasselbaum's closed door, reached for her own phone, and called the only other number in her brain.

"Steven, please, come."

Monday, October 10,1:43 A.M.

Steven rushed up the steps of her apartment unit, flashing his badge as the paramedics were carrying a gurney down. He looked down at the gray face of Mrs. Kasselbaum, still in her hair curlers, then up at the paramedic's face. He shrugged. '"Fifty-fifty," he said. "She's eighty-two."

"Where are you taking her?" Steven asked, knowing Jenna would want to know.

"Wake. Gotta go.'" They pushed past him and out the front door of the apartment building where a frightened, confused crowd of neighbors had gathered next to the flashing lights of the ambulance.

Steven took the rest of the stairs three at a time and stopped short at Jenna's threshold.

Two uniformed police stood back near her dining-room table where a chair lay on its side. The remnants of her dinner still sat on the table and Steven recognized one of his own plates. He looked down at his feet to where one of the dogs lay still. Then over to her sliding-glass door where a fist-sized circle had been cut neatly in the glass.

Jenna was lying on the sofa, a paramedic kneeling on the floor next to her. Her face was white in stark contrast to the black of her hair. She had a bandage at her throat.

Unholy rage started deep and boiled over. Sonofabitch. Coming into her home. Hurting her.

He swallowed hard, staring at her face, at the bandage on her throat. Someone had hurt her.

But she was alive. And she'd called him.

He crossed over the threshold only to be stopped by the uniforms. He flashed his badge.

One of the uniforms frowned his confusion. "Not your jurisdiction, Special Agent Thatcher," he said politely.

Steven clamped a lid on his temper. "She's my jurisdiction," he said through clenched teeth. "She's mine."

The uniforms looked at one another, then stepped back without another word.

He dropped to his knees next to the paramedic. "Jenna."

Her eyes opened and in them he saw shock and tears and guilt. Her lips trembled and she blinked, sending tears down her white face. "I'm so sorry, Steven. I should have listened to you."

The paramedic looked at him sharply. "She's in shock, but she'll be okay."

From behind him one of the uniforms said, "She's said that a couple of times. That she's sorry and should have listened to you. What does she mean?"

Steven reached for her hand, ignored the suspicion in their innuendo. "She's been having trouble from some kids at the school where she teaches. A couple days ago, they cut the brakes on her car. I was afraid for her to be alone. Al Pullman, Investigative Division, has all the details."

"She's also asked about Jim and Jean-Luc," the paramedic added, packing up his things. "We assumed they were the dogs."

Steven looked over at the dog lying by the front door, then at the uniforms standing behind him. "Yeah. Are they alive?"

"Barely," Uniform One said. "I'd suspect poison for that one. The one in the back tangled with her attacker. He's cut up pretty bad, but breathing."

Steven's mind flashed back to the clearing, to Pal and old Bud Clary. To what seemed like a day a hundred years ago. "I'll call a vet, but don't touch them. We'll want Forensics to check them for evidence." He'd no sooner punched Kent's number into his cell phone when the man himself appeared in Jenna's doorway with a woman Steven recognized as Kent's "lady-vet" at his side.

"Pullman called me," Kent said, "after Nancy called him, after you called her. Nancy told him you'd want me to check the scene and the dogs. Wendy was with me and offered to come along."

Steven chose not to comment on the fact that Wendy the "lady-vet" just happened to be with him in the middle of the night. "Thanks, Kent. Wendy, the dog in the back was stabbed."

She nodded. "Understood. I have a digital camera in my bag. We'll get pictures before I stitch him up."

Jenna struggled to sit up, pushing aside the well-meaning hands of the paramedic. "Jim's there by the door. Jean-Luc's in the back. Please help them. They saved my life."

Steven swallowed. And for that the dogs got beefsteak for the rest of their days. If they lived.

Wendy smiled at Jenna. "You worry about yourself. I'll worry about your boys."

Steven turned his attention back to Jenna, noticing the smears of blood on her worn Duke T-shirt. "Any other wounds?" he asked the paramedic.

The paramedic shook his head and snapped his case closed. "Only her throat. The blood on her shirt appears to be her own."

"We found bloody handprints on the carpet where she crawled from the bedroom," said Uniform Two.

Steven's gut seethed, picturing her scared and hurt and crawling through her own house like a wounded animal. For that alone, whoever did this to her would pay.

Kent reappeared, a question on his face. "Jenna, was there a blanket on your bed?"

She stared up at him dully and for a minute Steven didn't think she could answer. Then she licked her lips, chewed on her lower lip. "He pulled it off me. Onto the floor."

Steven's eyes flicked to the paramedic in a panic. "Did he-"

The paramedic shook his head. "She says no and I didn't see anything to the contrary."

"He started to," Jenna said unevenly. "He… touched me. He was wearing gloves. Then he stopped and opened a case." She paused and her eyes focused. "It sounded just like yours," she said, pointing to the paramedic's case. "The way you seated the buckle, then snapped it closed. Except he was opening his. Then Jean-Luc was there. They fought and he screamed. Then Jean-Luc…" She winced and looked away.

"If he can be saved, Wendy's the one who can do it," Kent said matter-of-factly and Jenna looked up at him, gratitude in her eyes.

"Thank you."

"There's no blanket there now, Steven," Kent said, dropping his voice. "I think the dog may have gotten him good enough to draw blood. He probably used the blanket to stem the flow. Wendy's checking the dog's teeth."

Unbelievably Steven felt his lips curve. "You'll be paying royalties to Law and Order before all this is over."

Kent grasped his shoulder and squeezed. "She's okay, Steven." He looked over at the paramedic who was now standing, watching with interest. "Does she need to go to the hospital?"

"No. I closed the wound and gave her an antibiotic injec-tion. She should have it looked at by her doctor, but she can do that tomorrow morning."

Kent looked back at Steven. "Then take her home and have a drink to settle your nerves. Get some sleep. We can manage without you for one morning meeting."

Steven squeezed Jenna's hand. "I'll pack you a bag."

Monday, October 10, 8:00 A.M.

His team frowned when ne came in the next morning. They started talking at once, his boss leading the pack. "We thought you'd be staying home today, Steven," Lennie said reproachfully.

"What the hell are you doing here, Steven?" Sandra demanded.