utside on the street, McCord tossed the car keys to Sam and slid into the passenger seat. He was on the radio, calling the surveillance car assigned to Leigh Manning, when Sam started the engine and turned on their emergency light and siren.

"Where are you?" McCord asked when the surveillance officer answered his radio call.

"Outside Manning's apartment building, Lieutenant. She got home a little before five, hung around in the lobby talking to a teenage girl for a little while; then she went upstairs."

"Do you know who Jane Sebring is? "

"The movie star who did the nude scene in that—"

"Yes, right," McCord interrupted. "Has she gone into Manning's building since Mrs. Manning went upstairs?"

"No, and I'd have seen her. I've got a good line of vision right to the front doors."

"If you see Sebring, pick her up. She's A and D." The surveillance officer took the warning seriously but was also delighted. "I'll have to frisk her twice, then—you know, once to see if she's armed, and once to see if she's dangerous."

"Just keep your eyes open," McCord warned shortly.

"Speaking of that, there's a guy who keeps showing up in a cab wherever Mrs. Manning goes. He's hanging around the building right now with a bouquet of flowers."

"Pick him up. She had a stalker; maybe this is the guy. More importantly, stay close to Leigh Manning if she goes anywhere."

"Yes, sir. But she's not going anywhere tonight—at least, not with her maniac chauffeur at the wheel."

"Why is that?"

"Because they towed her limo away a little while ago."

Sam felt the same tremor of alarm that tightened McCord's jaw at the news of the limo being towed away, however, she couldn't spare him more than a glance when he put the radio down. Traffic was thick and vehicles were moving aside to let hers through, but she was squeezing swiftly through tight spaces with scarcely an inch to spare on either side.

"I'm going to have Shrader and Womack meet us there," McCord said, reaching for his cell phone.

It rang in his hand as he pulled it out of his jacket pocket, and he turned up the volume so he could hear above the wailing siren. Michael Valente's deep, tense voice vibrated with enough angry force to carry to Sam's ears. "Solomon just called me and said you were at the theater looking for Sebring and trying to phone Leigh. She's not answering my calls, either. What's happening?"

McCord drew in a long breath, hesitating. "Where are you?"

"Answer my fucking question. What's happening?"

"We're on our way to Mrs. Manning's apartment right now," McCord explained in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. "Sheila Winters was shot this afternoon in her office. We think Jane Sebring killed her and Manning, too. We're trying to find her. She knows Solomon fired her because Mrs. Manning wouldn't work with her, and Sebring was—very overwrought."

"Jesus Christ!" Valente exploded, correctly translating "overwrought" to crazed and probably violent. "I'm on my way to Leigh's right now. Where are you?"

McCord told him, and Valente said, "I'm closer, I'll be there before you are."

"You can't move through traffic as quickly as we're doing, but if you get there first, wait for us in the lobby!" McCord warned him.

Valente didn't bother to reply. "O'Hara is with her and he's armed—" he said, grasping at hope.

"The limo was towed away a little while ago," McCord said tightly. "I repeat—do not go up to that apartment until we get there." He took the phone away from his ear after a moment and began punching in Shrader's number. "Valente hung up on me," he told Sam.

Sam nodded, slammed down on the accelerator, and then hit the brake, cutting diagonally across an intersection and skidding around the corner in a perfectly executed maneuver that drew a grim laugh from McCord, who was waiting for Shrader to answer his call.

"Where are you?" he asked Shrader, and then he filled him in on what was happening. When McCord disconnected the call, he said, "Shrader and Womack will be about ten minutes behind us."