Maura knew she had only one chance. The chance to let him come so close that she could ram the blade into his eye, ear, or neck. She was aware that her strength wasn't yet fully restored, her arms still weakened.

Humming, he came across the room in his green scrubs. Then he stood over her, frowning. She tightened her fist, squeezed the scalpel in her hand. Had she not rolled back to the right place with the gurney? Had she shifted the cart with the instruments, trying to push herself off the wall, too much? In the complete darkness, it had been impossible to see exactly how things had stood before.

He was close, but not close enough. Yet he obviously sensed that something was wrong. The right hand. He saw that it wasn't strapped down. Sweat was collecting on her forehead, even here, in this freezing room. Then he reached for her arm, lifted it up, and dropped it dully onto the steel. She tried to drop it as if paralyzed, only the scalpel she wouldn't let go. Don't letting go. No matter what, don't let go. He seemed satisfied and turned to the wheeled cart behind him.

Inwardly, she sighed with relief. Closer, come a little closer with your IV. Just a little bit more.

But suddenly he brutally grabbed her hand, slamming it against the table, forcing her fingers apart. No. No. Don't let go! She clenched her fist tighter, felt the blade cutting into her flesh, into tendon and muscle. But she didn't let go. Not until he had unclenched the last finger. He smiled, a smug smile, he had seen through her. Foiled her plan. Tears rolled down her face in what seemed like final desperation.

Closer, come closer, you son of a bitch. I've got another ace up my sleeve. A parting gift before you lay me to rest forever. With any luck, I'll make it on the first try. Because otherwise, it's over for good.

His smug face, inches above hers. The cuff and syringe in his hand.

"Go to hell!" screamed Maura. She spat the words in his ear. The scalpel was tucked under her left hand, the arm cuff just loose over her wrist. With all the strength she could muster, she lashed out and rammed the blade into his neck. Blood spurted as if from a fountain. His gaze, which had just fixed her triumphantly, widened in shock.

He staggered backward, bumping into the trolley and torpedoing it against the wall. Surgical instruments flew clattering to the floor. Holding his neck with one hand, he tried to reach for her with the other, pupils now rigid with shock, but he crashed into the wall.

There was blood everywhere. She must have hit the carotid artery. The whole scrubs were turning red. He was still staring at her, but now his face was grim. His words were choked, he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

Maura rolled off the table and slammed hard into the floor. A searing pain shot through her side, and she felt a bone break. She still couldn't move her legs properly. The Haloperidol had rendered them useless for now; they felt like balloons from which the air had escaped. Maura crawled across the floor and dragged herself up to the black door. She reached up and felt for the doorknob above her head, not taking her eyes off Chambers for a second. She was in severe pain in her side and could barely breathe.

The blood from his neck wound poured over the black floor, looking like it had been freshly painted. She tried to scream for help, but all she could produce was a gasp. Then he made a gurgling sound, and she saw his hand move, trying to reach for something.

Maura needed to get out, needed help. When she turned the doorknob, nothing happened. Now she remembered the rattle of the key again. He had locked them both in.

The key. That damned key! It was in his jacket over the chair. Right next to where he was leaning against the wall, his fingers moving on the floor like a crab. His eyes were open, but he didn't blink, and except for his groping fingers, he looked dead. He was probably in shock, and his organs were gradually ceasing to function. She crawled through the growing pool of blood over to the chair. The jacket hung over the back of the chair. The pain in her chest was becoming more and more unbearable. With each movement, she found it harder to breathe. Without taking her eyes off him, she tugged the jacket down and rummaged through the pockets in panic. There was blood everywhere, and it was still quite warm. Chest pocket, nothing, inside pocket, nothing. Left side pocket, bingo.

The jingle of a bunch of keys. Maura pulled it out and dragged herself across the floor again. Her legs slowly began to tingle, but she still had no strength.

Suddenly, in a flash, he grabbed her ankle with one hand and dragged her back. She screamed, trying to shake him off, but she just couldn't move her legs. When she turned around, she saw that he was no longer pressing his other hand against her neck. Instead, he was holding up the syringe.

"No! No!" she screamed, "Oh God, no!" Her hands slipping on the slippery floor, she couldn't get away from him. Unstoppable, he pulled her through the blood in his direction. There it was, the syringe with the clear liquid, poison beading from the sharp needle tip. He already had his finger on the plunger, ready to ram it into her flesh in the next moment. He aimed at her thigh as he pulled her closer and closer. Such an amount of Mivacurium chloride without the dilution of the infusion would kill her instantly. Panicked, Maura searched for a foothold but found nothing to cling to. The needle came closer and closer, was only a few handbreadths away from her leg. Although he must have felt that he was dying, there was now a look of triumph on his face. Probably because he thought they were now going to their deaths together.

Then Maura's hand found something cold and metallic on the floor. The scissors. She grabbed it, threw herself at him with all her might. As she did so, she lunged and rammed the scissors into his chest.

She had been faster. His grip went slack, the hand let go of her ankle and slid to the floor. The syringe fell too, rolling through the blood and stopping against the wall. His gaze went rigid. Only the triumphant expression remained.

Maura dragged herself back to the door, groping for the knob above her. She pulled herself up by it and found the lock. But her hand was covered with blood, and she slipped off, hitting the floor hard with her chin. Violent pain shot through her head like a shock wave, and she suddenly went black.

No. Don't. Stay awake. Just don't pass out! No way!

She shook her booming head to clear it, then pulled herself up by the doorknob once more. Her fingers found the lock. The bunch of keys jingled as she shakily tried to find the right key. The pain in the gaping cut on her right hand was frantic; she could hardly use her fingers. Finally, she put the right key in the lock; it clicked. She turned the key, pulled the door open a crack, then let herself slide back to the floor. She managed to get the door open inward, and finally, she dropped into a dark carpeted hallway. The ticking of a grandfather clock could be heard.

Where was she? Where the hell was she here? Did he have more surprises in store for her?

She looked once more into the black room. He still sat still and motionless against the wall, his gaze blank and lifeless. She dragged herself down the hallway, searching for a phone. Around her, it was gloomy, almost as black as the room she had just left behind. No windows, no light.

A phone. The police can trace the call. They'll find out where I am. Probably at his house, wherever that may be.

She could barely breathe now. The air seemed heavy, the pain numbing. Not now. Don't pass out, Maura!

After a few yards, she reached the top of a wooden staircase. She held on to the railing and let herself slide down the steps. At the bottom, she landed on cool tiles. Here it was a little brighter, there were windows. Outside was night. The streetlights cast yellow light through the closed wooden shutters. At the end of the blue and yellow hallway was a beautiful old desk and on it the landline, next to the photos of Estelle and her family.

Now Maura knew where she was, where she had been all along. And then she lay crying in the dark, on the Mexican tiles of the pretty house on Almeria Road, in the comforting surroundings of her psychiatrist's office, waiting for the police to arrive.

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"Counselor, you are one lucky woman. This place looks like something out of a bad horror movie. Blood everywhere," Korsak said as he rumbled into her room. He obviously hadn't been out of his clothes for days. In one hand he carried a basket of flowers, in the other a tray of donuts. "The flowers are from the boys. Even Bowman, the old miser, added some. And the donuts are from me."

"Lucky woman?" Maura screwed up her face. "You get me that lottery ticket, Vince. I don't think I'm up to that yet." Breathing hurt. Talking was even worse. "Thank you so much. They are beautiful."

"You look like shit, but at least you're alive. Which is more than I can say for Dr. Strangelove. I just came from his office. Nice hole you left in his chest, Counselor. And that one in the neck. I hope I remember that in time before the next time I want to eat my breakfast in your office. What does the doctor say? Do we get you back, or do I have to find a new DA who lets me do statements over the phone?"

Maura smiled a little at Korsak's words.

"Three broken ribs. A severed tendon on the right hand. Concussion and Pneumothorax. But she's going to be okay," said Jane, who was sitting in a chair by the bedside where she had been keeping watch all night since Maura was brought to the hospital.

"I'll put the flowers here, next to the forty thousand roses. I wonder who they came from?" Korsak laughed and gave Jane a meaningful look. "You look like shit, too, Jane. But you have no excuse." Then he turned back to Maura, his face taking on a gentle expression. She saw the concern hiding behind the otherwise rough shell. "I'm glad you're getting back on your feet. I would have missed you, Counselor. You gave us all quite a scare there."

"What did you find -" She swallowed, trying to finish the sentence.

"Not speaking. It hurts just listening to you." Korsak's grumpy tone was somehow comforting. "There honestly wasn't much to find. Dr. Strange's death chamber was a full-blown OR, especially in terms of instruments and bodily fluids. But that's about it. We couldn't find the heart you want to have seen. The crystal bucket is clean. No body in the office or the apartment we're tearing apart. Everything's as clean as a whistle. No fingerprints, no blood, except of course the doctor's, that's everywhere and on everything. He was totally drained when we found him. If there was anyone else's blood up there, we certainly won't find it now. North Boston police are investigating the club where the student disappeared, but it's mostly tourists this time of year, and no one has recognized him yet."

"I'm afraid we won't find anything, Maura," Jane said gently.

"What, do you think I imagined it all?"

Jane fell silent. It all made sense now. Too much sense. Chambers had the police connection. As a police adviser, he had had access to all the information. You just had to know where to look. For every action, there was a reaction. And if you pursued a theory too intensely, too openly, the reaction could be fatal. She preferred not to go too far. Some things were better left untouched. Finally, she said, "No. I think he wanted you to believe what you saw. I think he was obsessed with you. Maybe he was a copycat. That's really what everything points to."

Korsak nodded. "I'm sure we have the real lunatic behind bars. This one wasn't quite ready yet. Gee, I've got to go, I've got to keep Bowman awake at Chambers' house. We picked him up from a bachelor party. Right when that dancer was about to sit on his lap. Now he's crying to us that he's exhausted. I'll call you guys later and tell you what we found." At the door, he turned again. "It's good to have you back, Maura!"

The door closed behind him, and the two women were alone again.

Jane stood up and rested her forehead against Maura's, reaching for the blonde's hand. "You'll be better soon. Everything will be fine." The lawyer heard the relief in Jane's voice. And also the fear.

"What else did he do?" Maura sobbed, unable to continue.

"There's nothing that indicates that -," Jane whispered. She knew what Maura meant. According to the medical examinations, the blonde hadn't been raped.

Maura nodded, fighting the tears that ran down her cheeks, and squeezed Jane's hand even tighter.

Jane had come into the practice, and Maura had been there, right above the detective, in the spider's web, but Jane hadn't found her. She had left again, and almost the unthinkable had happened. Again.

"It's going to be okay this time, Maura. I promise you that." Jane took her hand and kissed it. With the other, he stroked Maura's face. Jane's voice sounded rough. "And I'll keep my promises."