"I talked to my father last night before you got here," Blair said quietly. She pulled out a chair and sat down on Cam's left, extending her hand on the tabletop until her fingers just touched the back of Cam's wrist. It wasn't enough, but it was all she could have at the moment. "He told me that he had every confidence in you, and that I should listen to you."


Cam couldn't help but grin. "Why do I think you ignored that last part?"


"Well," Blair laughed softly, "I don't always do everything he tells me." She stroked her fingers lightly over the top of Cam's hand and continued, "But I do agree with him that you are doing everything that can be done. And I'm so sorry for what happened to Agent Finch."


"So am I," Cam said softly, remembering the terrible silence on the end of the line when she informed Jeremy's family that he had been killed. Their stoic response and gracious thanks to her for calling them personally made it all the harder to bear. But that wasn't the worst of it. She looked at Blair, and there was naked torment in her eyes. "You could've been in that car, Blair. Another thirty seconds, and it would have been you."


"I wasn't," Blair whispered urgently, her fingers closing on Cam's arm. "Don't torture yourself."


"I don't know what I would have done," Cam whispered, trying hard not to think about the possibility.


"Don't do this," Blair insisted. "I'm all right, and as long as you're safe, I will be."


Cam smiled, Blair's presence, as always, banishing the nightmare images from her mind. "We seem to be the same situation then, Ms. Powell. Because as long as you're safe, I'm all right, too."


"Finally, we agree on something, Commander," Blair said softly.


For a moment, they simply rested with one another, their hands very lightly touching, but their connection much deeper than physical. Finally, Cam said reluctantly, "I need to finish up the briefing. Do you want to stay?"


"Will you fill me in later?" Blair asked.


"Yes."


"In that case, I think I've had enough of people and procedures for a while. Is there any rule against me going outside?"


"Not as long as you don't mind company," Cam said quietly. "And I'd prefer if you stayed on the grounds, at least for this afternoon."


"You know, I don't even know where we are."


"I'm sorry, I never thought to tell you," Cam apologized. "Croton-on Hudson," she added, naming a small, scenic community on the Hudson River.


Blair pushed her chair back and rose reluctantly. "I'll see you later, then, Commander."


Cam stood and watched her disappear into the other room, then squared her shoulders and followed her. Mac was waiting just outside the door. "Let's get this done, Mac," she said to him. "Bring everyone back in."


"Doyle is trying to make trouble for you," Mac seethed.


"Let him try," Cam said quietly. "We need to focus on Egret's safety, and I think he's got information we need. Let's use him."


Mac looked in the direction that Blair had gone, then asked in a low voice, "Are you going to tell her about the photograph?"


"Yes. She needs to know." She answered him because she liked and respected him. She didn't ask him if he approved, because she didn't require his approval. She also had a feeling that he did not agree, but then the decision wasn't up to him.


*


It was close to sundown when Cam finally finished the briefing and went to find Blair. She found her sitting on the side of a small dock on the edge of the river that ran along the rear of the property. Ellen Grant watched from under a small clump of trees twenty yards away. Otherwise, they were alone.


"Hello," Cam said as she eased down beside her.


Blair smiled softly. "Long meeting, Commander."


"Yes."


"Anything new?"


Cam sighed in frustration. "Not much yet. A lot of conflicting theories about the bomb, but not much hard data. It appears to have been a high order explosive, probably RDX, the current material of choice. Captain Lane says that the limited range of the blast indicates a small charge that could have been detonated with something as innocuous looking as a radio pager. We have no idea how or when it was placed, but the vehicle was serviced three days ago. Doyle has a team at the shop now - interviewing employees, tracking parts that might have been used - looking for anything. Something."


"But surely someone was watching the car while it was worked on?" Blair asked.


"Yes," Cam confirmed, "but Lane said it wouldn't take more than a second to slip something under the carriage with a magnet or even quickbond of some kind. It could have happened while the car was following us along the race route. Jeremy would have had to make multiple stops with people all around."


Blair shivered, but could find no words to express her horror.


"There's something else," Cam said quietly, handing her the small white rectangle she had been carrying in her pocket for hours.


"I don't understand," Blair said, staring at the photograph. It was an image of herself standing on the platform in Sheep Meadow, with Cam visible just behind her, clearly taken the previous day during her speech. Her eyes were 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.