“Let me set something up for later,” he said, “and if you’re not happy with it, we’ll forget the idea.”

“Fine. At this point, I’ll consider any option.” Rebecca looked directly at Sloan. “We need to dig out the leak within the department. That’s going to be on you.”

Sloan’s violet eyes flashed. This was the green light she’d been waiting for. “I need a list of everyone you can think of who might have known about the operation last weekend. Jason and I will need to trace financial records, employment histories, educational background, previous postings—anything that might tie into Zamora or point to some other criminal activity.”

“I know.” Rebecca made her decision. “For starters, there’s Capt. John Henry, commander of the Vice unit. Teri Cummings is the civilian clerk, and she probably handled the paperwork for the warrant. At this stage, I’m unaware of anyone else in the police department who might have known about it directly.”

“Are you suspicious of either one?” Jason’s question was placed mildly, but he knew by its very nature it was inflammatory.

“I wouldn’t have been suspicious of Henry if I hadn’t learned that he had previously been involved in shutting down the investigation into the murder of two cops. If he wasn’t part of the cover-up, he was at least aware of it and let it happen.” Her tone was bitter. “So that puts him high on the list. Cummings I don’t know at all, but it’s hard to believe it would be her.”

“Is there anyone who has access to your field reports or your files or anything that might have had information about what we were doing?” Sloan inquired.

Rebecca started to shake her head no, and then stopped abruptly. “Goddamn it. I was…injured…earlier this year and out of commission for a while. In order to be reinstated, I had to see the department shrink. He could have picked up something from me.”

“Are you still seeing him?” Jason asked directly, no apology in his voice. This wasn’t personal, this was business. Deadly business.

“Yes.” Rebecca gave no explanation, because the reasons didn’t matter. “Why?”

“He could have unrestricted access to any file he asked for,” Jason mused.

“It’s possible, I guess.” Rebecca’s expression was unmistakably skeptical.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” another voice interjected.

Rebecca looked at Mitchell and raised an eyebrow. “Officer?”

If possible, Mitchell sat even straighter. “I may have inadvertently revealed some information about the operation as well. In…uh…counseling.”

“Jesus, kid, you too?” Watts’s tone was disgusted. “Is everybody in the goddamned department getting shrunk?”

“You’re seeing Whitaker, also?” For the first time, Rebecca’s voice held an edge of excitement. Connections were what made a case—small things that seemed inconsequential at first often turned out to be the key that fit the lock that broke it wide open.

“No, ma’am, not Whitaker. Dr. Rawlings.”

Watts sucked in a breath and Rebecca went completely still. The conversation of last night came back to her. She’d been talking to Catherine about Mitchell and Sandy. How much does Catherine know?

“Well, I can guarantee that Catherine is not the source of the leak.” Rebecca’s voice was cool, even, her hands steady as they rested on the tabletop.

“What about her reports, her files?” Sloan stood and walked to the coffeemaker. “She must keep some kind of records. Maybe there’s something in there.”

“That will be difficult to ascertain.” Rebecca drew a long breath and settled herself. “Dr. Rawlings will not discuss her patients in any way.”

Mitchell interjected, “If it would help, I’ll give my permission for her to turn over my records.”

“If that becomes necessary, we may go that route. But let’s hold on that for now.” Rebecca had been down that road with Catherine before. It was not a trip she wanted to take again.

“What about getting me direct access to the police department’s computer system?” Sloan asked.

Rebecca nodded. “I think I can get you in. Dee Flanagan, the CSU chief, is mightily pissed off that someone raided her computer and stole the files of an ongoing investigation. I think she’ll let you tear her system apart.”

“I can work on it there?”

“Sure. If anyone asks, you’re just one of the IT people who came around to upgrade her system. No one will think twice about it.”

“Good enough.”

“We have to assume that whoever went after you, Sloan, knows about all of us.” Rebecca’s expression was serious, but her voice completely calm. “That means heads up for everybody. Make sure you’re not being followed anywhere and if something doesn’t look right, assume that it’s wrong.”

Sloan thought about the fact that Michael would be upstairs, possibly in a few hours. She nodded, her eyes as flat and dark as onyx. “Understood.”

“Mitchell,” Rebecca said as she stood. “I want you here with Jason and Sloan, working up background and tracing down those email addresses. Sloan, I’ll call you as soon as I clear things with the CSU chief, and if you’ve got time, I’ll take you over there to meet her.” She glanced at her watch. “Let’s say we meet back here around five this afternoon. Jason, does that give you enough time to contact your source?”

He nodded. “Plenty of time.”

“Good.” Rebecca squared her shoulders. “Then I think I’d better pay a visit to Dr. Rawlings.”

Ordinarily, any reason to see Catherine was welcome. However, Rebecca had a feeling that this particular visit was going to be much more business than pleasure.

CHAPTER NINE

Mitchell stood in front of a dingy, gray-shingled rowhouse that looked no different than any of the other rundown buildings on the street. It was ten-thirty in the morning, and she had a feeling that no one was going to answer the doorbell in the upstairs rear apartment. Once on the third floor, she walked directly to the one with a painted-over metal numeral three just above eye height and knocked.

“Go away,” a grumpy sounding voice called from within.

Another minute passed and then the door was opened as far as a security chain would allow, and a flashing blue-eyed peered out.

“Hiya, Sandy.”

The door closed in Mitchell’s face, the chain rattled, and the door sprang open again.

Sandy, eyes a bit bleary, looked up and snarled, “Its ten o’clock in the morning, and I’ve only been asleep for two hours. Go away.” She wore only a tiny white tank top that barely reached below the swell of her breasts and a pair of pale pink bikini underwear.

Mitchell tried not to look at the barely covered body, but just the quick glimpse she got before she forced her eyes back to Sandy’s face was enough to make her stomach tighten. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah,” Sandy said with a shrug, turning and crossing the room to the sofa which had been opened into a small daybed. The pale blue cotton sheets which covered it were pulled back, and a single pillow rested in the center.

Mitchell stared at the bed. Then she quickly averted her eyes and looked around the room. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” Sandy perched on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, her chin resting in the palm of one hand. “I’m really glad you like my decorating. Now, do you want to tell me why you woke me up?”

“Do you think you could…uh…put some clothes on?”

“I’ve got clothes on, Dell.” Sandy saw Dell’s eyes flicker down her body, then rapidly fix on some point on the floor between them. She liked the way Dell looked at her. A lot. She grabbed for her jeans and pulled them on.

Mitchell put her hands in her pockets and leaned against the corner of a dresser that stood against one wall. Now that she was there, inside Sandy’s surprisingly warm and cozy apartment, she didn’t know what to say.

“What?” Sandy’s voice was gentle.

Softly, Mitchell said, “I didn’t know you were working for Detective Sgt. Frye.”

“I wasn’t…not before yesterday. Why do you care?” Sandy’s question held no trace of belligerence, only curiosity. She wondered if Dell had any idea how much she wanted to know what put that look of fierce concentration in Dell’s eyes whenever they roamed over her face.

“It’s kind of a dangerous job.”

Sandy leaned back, her legs slightly spread, a challenging expression on her face. “So’s being a cop. You could get hurt, too.”

“There’s a difference and you know it.” Mitchell tried and failed to keep the aggravation form her voice. At least I have a gun. And back-up. Sometimes, anyhow. Without thinking, Mitchell put her fingers around Sandy’s forearm. “You’re totally unprotected.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve done a great job with that so far.”

Sandy jerked her hand away and barely stopped herself from flinging it across Dell’s face. “Get out.”

“Sandy…” Mitchell’s face was white and her eyes huge, the deep blue shadowed with pain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way you think.”

“I know what you mean…that I’m just a who—”

“No.” Mitchell raised her hand slowly. “No.” She brushed a fingertip over the scar on Sandy’s forehead. “This is what I mean. How many more times can you take a beating like this?”

Sandy wanted to pull away, to spew angry words, but she couldn’t. Dell’s touch was so gentle, her expression so tender, her body so near. Dell was trembling. They both were.

“Dell…” Sandy murmured. Heat surged between her thighs, and she gasped as she felt herself grow wet. She stumbled back a step, breaking their tenuous contact.

Mitchell, her hand outstretched, wanted so badly to follow. There was something in Sandy’s voice, a hushed yearning, that made Mitchell’s stomach tighten and her head roar. “Hey…”

Sandy took another step back. “You should go, Dell.”