She didnt replythere was nothing she could do. He watched her turn and walk away, wondering if he was making a mistake leaving her on the streets. She was one of his best. He thought she would crack if he put her behind a desk, so he had argued with his superiors against it. He hoped he was right.

**********

Catherine knocked and entered Janet Ryans room. Barbara Elliot was sitting close to the bed, her fingers entwined with Janets.

"Hello, Dr. Rawlings," Barbara said tiredly.

"Hello, Barbarahi, Janet. How are you feeling?" Catherine asked.

Janet looked better. The bruises still disfigured her normally attractive face, but the swelling had begun to subside. Both eyes were open now. Their expression was bright.

"Im much better, thanks. Ive been up walking a little, and Im not taking the pain medication." She glanced at her lover fondly. "When can I go home?"

Catherine grinned. "I can see youre feeling better. Id like to keep you a few more days, just for routine observation. How are the flashbacks?"

Janet grimaced. "Im still getting them, especially at night. Just pieces of images from my pastof my brother when I was small." She took a deep, quavering breath. "I never realized it had gone on for so long."

Catherine nodded sympathetically. "They may get worse as you recover from this attack, Janet. I may want to try you on a mild sedativenothing too strong. Lets think about going home in a few days, all right?"

Janet looked at Barbara questioningly.

"I really want Janet at home, Dr. Rawlings. Everyone is nice to us here, but its still so impersonal. But I dont want her to come home until shes ready. Whatever you decide is fine."

Catherine spoke with them a few more moments, and then left to complete her inpatient rounds. When she stepped out into the hall, a neatly dressed young man moved hurriedly to intercept her.

"Dr. Rawlings? Is it true that Janet Ryan witnessed the rape on River Drive earlier this week? Has she been able to describe the assailant?"

Catherine stepped back a pace, nonplussed. "Who are you?" she asked.

"Mark TylerDaily News. What about it, Doctor?Didshe witness the rape?"

Catherine was furious. "Mr. Tyler, you have no business being here. If you want information, I suggest you speak to the police. I have nothing to say to you. And if I find you here again, Ill have security remove you!"

"Oh, come now, Doctor, surely you want this maniac caught," he persisted, blocking her path with his body.

She maneuvered around him, saying, "Indeed, I do, Mr. Tyler. Which is why I have nothing to say to you!"

At last she was able to escape, wondering as she ducked into the stairwell how he had found out about Janet. The police had warned them to keep the circumstances of her admission quiet, and she thought they had succeeded. She should have known there were no secrets in a hospital. The police presence alone, no matter how understated, was enough to start rumors. Her first impulse was to call Rebecca, but then she thought better of it. After all, she hadnt told him anything.

**********

Watts saw Rebecca heading for the stairs directly upon finishing her interview with the officers from IAD. He hurried after her.

"Where you going?" he called just as she reached the door.

She turned, aware that he was right behind her.

"Look, Watts, Im going out. Okay? Now go back to your paperwork."

He grabbed her arm. "Out where?"

Rebecca stared at the beefy hand on her arm and slowly raised her eyes to his. He hastily let his hand drop, but he still stood firmly in her path.

"Watts" she said menacingly, struggling to keep her temper under control.

"Look, Frye -- Im not any happier about this than you are, but thats the way it is. So its a bitch -- theres nothing we can do about it." He waited for some reaction, but Rebecca stared past him at some small spot on the opposite wall. Watts shook a cigarette out of a crumpled pack, lit it, and leaned against the wall, content to stay there all afternoon. A muscle in Rebeccas face twitched.

"Im going over to homicide -- the Zamora case was ours. Maybe I can help," she said reluctantly.

Watts blew a perfect smoke ring, considering her words.

"Homicide can handle the case, Frye. Theyre not going to screw up when its one of our own. Why not let them do their jobs -- weve got plenty on our plates right here."

"I didnt ask for your opinion, Watts," Rebecca said heatedly, shouldering him aside.

"Oh, the hell with it," Watts muttered as he listened to her footsteps echo in the stairwell.

He was right, and Rebecca knew it. Still, she had to see for herself that everything possible was being done to find Jeffs killer. She had to do something!

She finally tracked down the investigating officers, who were painstakingly sweeping the area of the killings for witnesses. Apparently, no one had seen or heard anything.

Rebecca found the two officers in charge of the case standing beside a chalk outline on the small loading dock where she had found Jeff and Ronnie Carmichael. She stared at the spot, envisioning Jeffs body contained within the impersonal white lines. At length she turned to the two men who were regarding her uncomfortably.

"Turn up anything?" Rebecca asked, breaking the silence.

"Not much," the larger of the two replied disgruntledly. They had been questioning vendors and museum workers since first light and had little to show for it. "We assume Cruz met Carmichael sometime around four. This place is still pretty busy then. Nobody would notice two men in a crowd. Most of the people who were here are probably miles away -- tourists."

"Perfect spot for a hit," Rebecca said flatly. Anyone could have approached the two men, flashed some fire power, and walked them down to this isolated dock without attracting attention. Often the easiest crimes to pull off are those carried out in broad daylight. Obviously, this time it had worked.

"What about the people Carmichaels been associating with? He must have gotten onto something a lot heavier than we expected. He made somebody nervous."

"We havent had a chance to go through all his reports. He was pretty sketchy with his sources," the younger detective said. "Theres probably a dozen possibles."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated that they hadnt gotten to Carmichaels notes yet. Her reaction did not go unnoticed.

"Listen, Frye --" the senior officer said tersely, "weve been out here since twoA.M. Well get to the reports. Well roust anybody we have to, even without due cause. Well find out whats behind this."

Rebeccas shoulders sagged slightly. She was tired. She knew these guys had been busting their balls all night trying to get a jump on the case before the slim trail went cold. But this was Jeff, and she wanted more!

"Right," she said, straightening her back and heading toward the narrow stairs that led up to the pier.

"Well keep you informed, Frye," the younger of the two called out. "And well get the bastard."

Chapter Twelve

Rebecca found herself parked in front of University Hospital, wondering what she was doing there. She had driven directly from the pier, never questioning her destination. Now that she was here, she couldnt decide whether to go in or to leave. She wasnt thinking very clearly. The combination of emotional shock and exhaustion had taken its toll. The normally self-possessed, controlled police detective was on the verge of collapse. She knew vaguely she had come because Catherine Rawlings represented the only sane point in her life -- a solidity and haven she sorely needed. Even in the depths of her despair, however, she resisted. She hated herself for needing this womans comfort, and for wanting the solace of her embrace. As much as she detested her own weakness, she feared the need even more. If she let herself feel it, what would she do if she were wrong? What would she do if Catherine Rawlingsdidntwant her.God, whats wrong with me? Im a cop -- this is all part of the job. I cant fall apart just because things are a little rough. Ive got to get myself together!

Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her car window. She looked up to find Catherine standing beside her, studying her quizzically. Rebecca rolled down her window and smiled hesitantly.

"Hi," Rebecca said.

"I saw you as I was going over to the outpatient clinic. What are you doing here?"

"I dont know," Rebecca answered quietly.

Catherine took a close look at her and pulled the drivers door open.

"Move over--Im driving."

Amazingly, Rebecca did as she asked, too tired to protest. Catherine rested one hand protectively on Rebeccas thigh as they drove. Rebecca stared at it, thinking how delicate Catherines long fingers were. She was surprised when Catherine pulled up in front of her brownstone. She allowed Catherine to lead the way up the wide stone stairs and waited silently while Catherine opened the door. The living room was bathed in muted greys and soft maroons as the late afternoon sun streamed through shear drapes.

Catherine slipped out of the light silk jacket she wore and tossed it aside. She turned to Rebecca, who was standing just inside the door, a faintly confused look on her face. Catherine tugged Rebeccas jacket off her arms. She folded it neatly and laid it over the back of a chair. She fumbled slightly with the shoulder harness, but managed to slip it off Rebeccas body. Reaching down, she pulled the pager off Rebeccas belt and placed it with Rebeccas gun on the chair. She kissed her lightly on the lips as she took her hand.