Shield of Justice, page 17
Sandy looked at the woman beside her, surprised by the vehemence in her voice and the stony set to her features. “Yeah, well, thanks,” was all she said. Too many years on the streets had taught her not to trust what looked like kindness, because there was always a price attached. But she would remember the look on the tall detective’s face, a look that made her feel a little safer.
*
When Rebecca knocked on Catherine’s door a little after midnight, Watts answered. He stepped out onto the small front landing before she could say anything, pulling the door closed behind him.
“She’s all right,” he said quickly, noting the alarm on Rebecca’s face. “Our boy phoned again. She called it in, and I came over. Figured you’d rather have me here than someone she doesn’t know. I was just about to page you, but I wanted to see what the story was first.”
Rebecca took a deep breath and nodded, relief and anger warring with her emotions. “What did he say this time?”
Watts shrugged, his hand on the doorknob. “This dame…excuse me, this doctor…is one cool cookie. She insisted on clearing the tape of unrelated messages before she’d let me hear it. She should be ready for us now.”
“Thanks, Watts,” she said as she pushed by him and stepped inside.
Catherine was seated in front of a small desk at the far corner of the living room with the tape recorder by her right hand. She was staring out the window and seemed lost in thought.
“Catherine,” Rebecca murmured softly.
She turned at the sound of her name, and a faint smile flickered across her elegant features. “I’m glad you’re back.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when he phoned,” Rebecca began, drawing close but keeping her hands by her sides, fisted tightly. God, I want to touch her.
Catherine silenced her with a quick wave of her hand. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Shall we go over this?”
Watts had shuffled in behind Rebecca and was sitting on the couch across the room, his notebook on his knee. Rebecca walked past the seated woman to the window and looked out into the night sky. She didn’t want Catherine to see her face when she heard this. She didn’t trust herself enough.
“Go ahead,” Rebecca said gruffly. She tried to prepare herself, trying to forget that it was Catherine this psycho had chosen to call. She needed to focus; she needed to find some clue to his identity, and now she had his voice—his words—to help her. Still, her stomach clenched when she first heard Catherine’s voice on the tape.
Catherine: Hello?
Male Voice: I’m so glad I found you home, Dr. Rawlings.
Catherine: I’m sorry. Who’s calling, please?
Male Voice:You know me, Doctor. Did you get my flowers this morning?
Catherine: Yes. Why did you send them?
Rebecca listened to his voice, smooth and soft and seductive. Unconsciously, she opened and closed her fists, her eyes narrowing as she tried to ignore his intimate tone. She was surprised at Catherine’s calm responses and then realized she shouldn’t be. As a doctor, she was an expert in the art of interrogation, too—not the aggressive interrogation that Rebecca was used to doing, but the gentle subtle questioning that caused hidden motivations and long-buried secrets to surface. They couldn’t have picked a better contact person in this situation, and that was something she was not happy to consider.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said sharply, angry at herself as her concentration wandered. “Could you play that back again?”
Catherine glanced at her, concerned by the brittle tone in her voice and anxious for her loss of focus. She knew that the detective must be struggling for detachment, but she could not help her find it. “Yes, just a minute,” she said steadily, rewinding the tape.
Male Voice: You know me, Doctor. Did you get my flowers this morning?
Catherine: Yes. Why did you send them?
Male Voice: Because I wanted to show you how special you are to me.
Catherine: Why is that? We haven’t met, have we?
Male Voice: I know that you can appreciate the things I’ve accomplished. I know you’ll understand.
Catherine: What will I understand? What have you done?
Male Voice: You know…with the girls. When I fucked them. I was…good with them. They’d never had it so good before. I took a long time with them, too. Do you know how that feels, Dr. Rawlings…to be fucked for a long time? I could show you. I know that you would enjoy it.
Catherine: Tell me about the girls. How did you pick them? Were they special, too?
Male Voice: It’s not hard. They’re everywhere, waiting for me. They’re waiting for me to show them how good it can be. Sometimes they don’t know it, so I just wait for them to come to me.
Catherine: Where do you wait?
Male Voice: They think they know where…the police. But they don’t know anything. The next time it will be very special. I am powerful…my cock is powerful. Maybe next time you’d like to feel it, Dr. Rawlings. Would you like to feel my power inside you…would you?
Catherine: How will I recognize you?
Male Voice: You’ll know, Doctor. It won’t be long.
“Jesus Christ,” Watts breathed as the tape clicked off. “What a fucking nutcase.”
“Not exactly a clinical diagnosis, Detective, but fairly accurate,” Catherine replied grimly. Rebecca had not spoken, and Catherine wanted desperately to go to her. She could see from across the room that Rebecca’s spine was rigid and the hand that rested against the window frame was closed into a fist so tightly her fingers were white.
Drawing a slow, deep breath, the psychiatrist forced herself to think objectively. “He’s delusional, but not fragmenting yet. He was still careful not to reveal too much to me, but the very fact that he contacted me at all suggests that he’s lost any sense of vulnerability. He doesn’t think anyone can detect him or stop him. His hold on reality is slipping, which means he will become less and less predictable.”
“And more and more dangerous,” Watts commented in disgust. “Damn, I hate the friggin’ loonies.”
At last, Rebecca turned, keeping her gaze on Watts. “Did we get a trace?”
“Nope.” Watts shook his head. “Just under the wire. He’s smart, this one.”
“Yes.” Her face a careful blank, but her voice vibrating with tension, Rebecca continued harshly, “Double the patrols through the neighborhood. I’ve got the prostitutes alerted if he goes after one of them. Put a man on the street across from Catherine’s office and one on the psych floor in the hospital, too…preferably a woman at the nurses’ station.”
“Rebecca—” Catherine protested.
“Do it, Watts.” She finally turned to Catherine, her eyes simmering with repressed anger and the revulsion she had felt as she listened to that quiet, disembodied voice on the tape. “He’s changed his MO, Catherine—he’s got a specific target now. You. This is where he’ll come.”
She could envision his hands on Catherine’s skin, forcing her down, violating her. She would not give this madman any opportunity to harm her. Not Catherine. His words were violation enough. Nothing, not even Catherine’s professional responsibilities, would change her mind. If Catherine hated her for it, that’s the way it would have to be. “Sooner or later he’ll come after you, Catherine.” And when he does, I’ll kill the bastard.
Watts heaved himself to his feet. “Right. I’ll meet you at the hospital in the morning.”
Catherine stared at Rebecca as Watts lumbered out. “Why the hospital?” she asked quietly.
“I’ll need to see Janet Ryan in the morning,” Rebecca said flatly. She still had not met Catherine’s eyes. She was afraid if she did she would lose what little control she had left. She was shaking—with rage, with apprehension, with a sense of powerlessness that nearly drove her crazy—and she hoped that Catherine could not see it. It would not help either of them to acknowledge just how far they were from stopping this guy.
“I want to be there when you question her,” Catherine said quietly.
“All right.”
“Is there no other way?”
“No. It’s not a random victim any longer, Catherine. It’s you he wants now.”
Catherine looked into Rebecca’s determined face and knew the decision was made. She held out her hand. “Is there time for you to hold me?”
Rebecca was across the room in an instant, gathering her close. “All night.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rebecca awakened with Catherine enfolded in her arms, the sky beyond the bedroom window just beginning to lighten with the dawn. Catherine’s head rested on her shoulder—her flesh warm beneath Rebecca’s hands, her breath a soft whisper against Rebecca’s skin, her heartbeat a steady, soothing rhythm against Rebecca’s chest. She moved her lips to the soft skin at the base of Catherine’s throat and lightly explored the sleeping woman’s body. With trembling fingers, she traced the curve of breasts, followed the arch of hip, and smoothed the slope of firm thigh, marveling at the wonder that was Catherine.
Catherine’s back arched and she moaned softly. She brought one leg over Rebecca’s hips, pressing even closer, whispering urgently, “Do you know what you’re doing to me? I’m on fire.”
Rebecca smiled as she shifted, fitting the length of her body over Catherine’s. “I hadn’t meant that—not just then—but I do now.” She kissed her, the hunger sudden, aching to fill the places left long untended in her heart, and in her soul, with the touch of a woman. This woman.
She was rewarded with a soft groan from Catherine, and her body tightened with an urgency that left her breathless. Her head grew light, every nerve in her body ignited, and fire streaked downward into a single pounding point between her legs. “Ah, God…”
Slipping a hand between them, Rebecca then pressed low over Catherine’s stomach, wanting to be inside her, but Catherine was quicker and found her first—stroking through her wetness, teasing her until she was fully distended, stiff and throbbing. Rebecca closed her eyes tightly, willing herself not to come, and caught one swollen nipple lightly between her teeth, groaning in satisfaction at Catherine’s swift gasp of pleasure. She tried to concentrate on the heat and softness of scented skin and not the building pressure as Catherine rolled her clitoris rhythmically between her fingers.
“You’re so hard,” Catherine murmured, her voice husky and deep. “I love the way you feel.”
“Go slow, go slow,” Rebecca begged. Moaning now, barely able to think, she clutched Catherine’s shoulders, her hips thrusting against Catherine’s hand. Not yet, not yet, not yet, she chanted silently, gritting her teeth, each second a sweet agony.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Catherine breathed, feeling a fluttering beneath her fingers as Rebecca’s orgasm began.
“Uhh…” Rebecca exhaled, shuddering, as Catherine pressed harder along her length. She tried but couldn’t hold back any longer. The spasms started beneath those relentless, knowing fingers and twisted inward, the force causing her to jerk in Catherine’s arms. When she cried out her release, again and again, she didn’t feel the tears that followed swiftly upon the joy.
Catherine gentled her with tender caresses, holding her securely as she trembled. “It’s all right, Rebecca. There’s nothing to be afraid of here.”
Rebecca lay in her arms, her heart pounding with hope and terror, yearning desperately for that to be true.
*
Catherine stood silently as Rebecca prepared to leave, feeling the distance grow between them and wanting very badly to prevent it. The woman across the bedroom from her did not seem like the lover who had cried in her arms just hours ago; yet, Catherine reminded herself, she was. What they shared in private was precious to her, because it was a side of herself that Rebecca kept hidden from the world. Her secret side—the vulnerable, all too human side—disappeared when she buckled on her holster and clipped her detective’s shield onto her jacket. But it was there, Catherine knew, inside her still. As formidable and aloof as Rebecca appeared now, gathering herself for battle, Catherine admired and respected the tough street cop with a will of iron and a core of steel. My tender warrior with the fragile heart.
“How are you feeling?” Catherine asked. They had had so little time to talk in the tumultuous days since they met, and so much had happened to both of them. She wished that for just a few hours they could stop time.
Rebecca looked up to find Catherine regarding her with a look both tender and passionate, and she blushed slightly, pleased by the appreciative look on Catherine’s face and embarrassed by the scrutiny. Nevertheless, she liked being the focus of Catherine’s attention. “I’m all right. Last night…it helped.”
“I’m glad,” Catherine said softly, gathering her things as well.
Rebecca cleared her throat. “I know it will be difficult for you to have me around all day, but I just can’t take any chances. As you said, he’s becoming unpredictable, and there’s no way to anticipate his behavior. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be concerned about intruding,” Catherine replied, kissing Rebecca quickly as she reached for her briefcase. “I can think of much worse things than having you around all day. And I do know that you’re doing what needs to be done. I appreciate it.”
*
Janet Ryan was sitting in a chair by the window when Catherine and Rebecca entered. The bruises on her face were fading, but she still appeared fragile physically. She smiled a greeting at Catherine and looked hesitantly at Rebecca, who pulled up a worn armchair and sat beside her.
“Do you remember me, Janet? I’m Detective Sergeant Frye. I spoke with you before.” When Janet nodded, Rebecca continued, “I have more questions to ask you. I want you to tell me again everything you did on the day of the assault. Everything you can remember, even if it doesn’t seem at all important. Start with when you woke up.”
“I overslept,” Janet began uncertainly. “I usually run in the morning and then take the train to work…but I was late. I was rushed that morning, so I decided to drive. I remember working…nothing unusual happened. I took River Drive home. The sun was still out…there were boats on the river. It seemed so peaceful I decided to stop. I parked…and walked down toward the water.” She stopped suddenly, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her pale face.
Rebecca tried not to appear anxious. Janet was speaking in a low monotone, and her eyes were slightly unfocused. Her memory for the events surrounding the rape was clearly improving. Rebecca desperately needed for her to remember, but she was afraid to push too hard.
“You’re doing wonderfully, Janet,” Catherine said softly from where she stood just to the right of Janet Ryan’s chair. “Tell us about walking down to the water.”
“It was so quiet; I could barely hear the cars on the road. There was no one around and then…I heard something—a scream…” Once again, she stopped abruptly. This time she was visibly agitated. Her hands trembled and her breath came in quick gasps. Catherine reached out and lightly rested her hand on Janet’s arm.
“You’re all right, Janet. You are safe here with us. Can you tell me what is frightening you?”
“There was a man…he was doing something to the woman on the ground. He was…hurting her…but she wasn’t moving. I ran toward him, screaming at him to stop!” Janet looked wildly about the room, her gaze finally fixing on Catherine’s face. “Oh, Dr. Rawlings! I can’t remember! I just can’t remember any more.”
“That’s all right, Janet. You’ve done beautifully. Really. I’ll speak with you again this afternoon. I think we’ll be able to talk about you going home, all right?”
Janet nodded gratefully and softly murmured goodbye as Catherine and Rebecca left the room.
“That’s as much as you’re going to get for today. She is remembering, but it will take more time.”
Rebecca ran a hand through her hair, clearly frustrated. “What about trying hypnosis or drugs?”
“It’s possible that either method might help spark further recollections, but I’m concerned that forcing the issue will be harmful to her in the long run. Her memory will return when her mind is healed enough to deal with what she experienced.”
“Is that doctor talk for no?” Rebecca asked, but there was no edge in her voice.
“You’re learning, Detective,” Catherine laughed. “Was it helpful for you at all?”
“She’s consistent, but I need the details.” Rebecca shrugged in exasperation. “I can’t help feeling that there’s something there, and I’m just not getting it. Three times this guy rapes and murders a woman in a fairly well populated area of the park, and no one sees him coming or going. He’s like the invisible man.”
The sound of Catherine’s name over the loudspeaker interrupted them. Rebecca was reviewing her notes from her first interrogation of Janet Ryan when Catherine motioned urgently for her to pick up the extension line.
“I’m so glad I found you in, Dr. Rawlings.”
Rebecca recoiled slightly when she recognized the same smooth voice from the tape of the previous night. She swore under her breath in utter frustration. She couldn’t believe how easily this guy could get to Catherine, despite all her efforts to prevent it. All her training, all that she was, seemed inadequate to protect her own lover from invasion. She forced herself to remain silent and listen.
“Why are you calling?” Catherine asked, her eyes on Rebecca. “What do you need?”
“I must see you.”
“All right,” she answered quickly, ignoring the violent negative gestures from Rebecca. “Come here to the hospital. I’ll see you this evening.”
Soft laughter. “Oh, Dr. Rawlings…you know I can’t do that. Besides, I want this meeting to be private and romantic. I want you to meet me tonight. I’ll tell you where later.”
