riveted on the circled 'x' inked in red over her chest. 'If he targeted me while I was on the stage, why --?'
'Turn it over,' Cam said gently.
Blair did, and read in chillingly familiar block print on the back, IT COULD HAVE BEEN YOU. She caught her breath, and her hand trembled. 'This is what was in the envelope that Marcy was trying to give me, isn't it?
'Yes,' Cam responded. 'Agent Ryan believes that you were never the intended target yesterday. He didn't mean to kill you at all. He simply wanted to send you the message that hecould have if he'd wanted to.'
Blair stared at Cam, a horrible realization dawning upon her. 'And the rifle shot outside my building? Was I the target then - or was it you all the time?'
Cam looked uncomfortable, but she wouldn't lie to her. 'That's unclear. It's impossible to reconstruct the scene exactly, because we don't have adequate video documentation. I didn't realize there evenwas a reconstruction until this afternoon. The FBI had confiscated all of the tapes and none of us had ever seen them. You can't tell from the camera angle the precise sequence of events when the shot was fired. Even with digital remastering and time sequencing, it's unclear whether the trajectory line was toward you or me, because we were so close together, and there aren't good sightlines on the video. I just can't say for sure.'
'Are you telling me you spent all afternoon watching a videotape of yourself being shot?' Blair asked incredulously.
'Well, notall afternoon,' Cam said, trying to defuse the anger she heard brewing in Blair's voice. It hadn't been that difficult after she had seen it the first time and recognized how quickly everyone had responded, and how well protected Blair had actually been. It relieved a great deal of her anxiety about Blair's vulnerability.
Blair stood quickly, wrapping her arms around herself. Although the night air was still hot and humid, she was chilled. She tried but could not comprehend what it would take to sit there and watch something like that.
Cam stood and went to her side. 'Blair, it's all right.'
'No, it isn't,' Blair snapped, unable to contain the storm of emotions buffeting her. 'It most certainly is not all right. It's bad enough knowing that you might have been killed trying to protect me. It's worse thinking that you might have been killed just to get my attention.'
She turned so suddenly in Cam's direction that their bodies touched briefly. Cam took a half step back, uncharacteristically startled, as Blair's fiery gaze locked onto hers.
'Now do you understand why I don't want you on my detail?' Blair demanded. 'Can't you understand that I don't want to lose you?'
'Blair,' Cam said, desperately wanting to reassure her. 'We'll get him. I promise. We have thousands of feet of video from the park, and hundreds of still shots. We have Marcy Coleman's description of the person who handed her the envelope. Lindsey Ryan's profile is running through every database in the country right now. The ATF bomb squad is constructing a profile from the bomb remnants. Every hour that passes we have a better idea of how to find him.'
'And until you do, you're in danger,' Blair argued, her chest tight with panic. 'You or Stark or Mac or Savard or someone whose name I don't even know might die.'
Cam took her hand, uncaring that Grant would see them. 'Every single one of us is well-trained and we're all aware of the danger. Nothing is going to happen.'
'You can't know that.'
'You're right, I can't,' Cam said, her voice rising with a combination of frustration and sympathy. 'But I don't intend to walk away. I know how to do this job, and I have more reason than anyone else to do it right.' She clasped Blair's other hand and stared intently into her troubled blue eyes. 'Damn it, Blair, I love you.'
'If you did, Cameron, you'd leave me alone,' Blair protested, pulling her hands free of Cam's grip. Then she turned and climbed hurriedly up the slope past Grant and disappeared into the house, leaving Cam staring after her.
When Cam walked back into the house it was just after eight p.m., and Patrick Doyle was piling folders into a large battered briefcase, obviously preparing to leave. He glanced at her as she entered the living room.
'My team says that Egret's building is secure. I told her she could go home any time she's ready,' he said casually.
'What part of the fact that you don't have any say in her security don't you understand, Doyle?' Cam said, for the first time not bothering to hide her irritation. She'd had a hell of an afternoon, and her recent exchange with Blair had left her nerves raw. 'You don't have a say in where she goes or when she goes or how she gets there. You don't have anything at all to do with her movement or her security.'
'Just trying to help you out,' Doyle replied smoothly, feigning surprise. 'Since you're down a man, I thought I'd give you a hand with her.'
She moved a step closer to him, a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. 'I don't need your help with her, Doyle. All I need is for you to keep me apprised of any intelligence regarding Loverboy. That's it. That's all. Is that too much for you to comprehend?'
Mac walked into the room just in time to hear Cam's last remark, and the edge in her voice surprised him. He had never seen her give even the slightest hint of losing control. Anyone who didn't know her probably wouldn't notice anything amiss now, but he saw that her hands were clenched tightly by her sides and there was something just a little dangerous in her eyes. Savard must have thought the same thing because she was watching both Doyle and the Commander carefully as she stepped cautiously nearer.
Doyle closed the clasp on his briefcase and reached for his suit jacket, which he had left lying over the back of a nearby chair. Almost as an afterthought, he added, 'Everyone wants us to catch this guy.' He paused and grinned at Cam, a taunting grin completely without humor. 'But you know, it's hard to catch fish if they don't bite, and they almost never bite if there's nothing on the hook.'
