"Rebecca Frye is the detective in charge of the rape investigation. Shes very good with Janet. Shes frustrated, of course, because she doesnt have much to go on. But, shes allowed me to handle Janet my own way."

"Sounds unusual for the police," Hazel noted dryly. It had not been her experience that the police were particularly sensitive about how they elicited information.

"Rebeccaisunusual. Shes a police officer, down to her last cell, but shes also a sensitive, tender woman. I dont think thats been easy for her." As Catherine spoke, she remembered the exhausted woman who had sought comfort in her arms just a few hours before, and her body warmed to the memory. Hazel knew Catherine too well not to notice.

"How serious is this -- with this police woman?" Hazel asked pointedly.

Catherine met Hazels gaze evenly, but her eyes betrayed her uncertainty. She sighed deeply and shook her head.

"Oh, Hazel. I wish I could answer that. I hardly know her, really, and yet, my feelings for her are so strong! Shes hardened by her work and emotionally barricaded because of it; but shes also hiding her fear and her tenderness and her caring just to maintain her balance." Catherine spread her hands in a rare gesture of helplessness. "Im afraid Im quite taken with her."

Hazel wasnt all that surprised. She was probably the person who knew Catherine best, and she had watched her hold herself apart from potential relationships -- unsatisfied by casual encounters, not given to sexual liaisons, searching, seeking some deeper connection and being continually disappointed. She knew it had been some years since Catherine had even seriously dated anyone, and that her detachment had grown out of her disillusionment with love. For all of Catherines training and knowledge of life, she remained, at her core, a true romantic. And she remained a woman, Hazel feared, who might never find the soul partner she so desired.

"Well --" Hazel said finally, "I think I can understand your dilemma better now." She raised a hand to halt Catherines quick reply. "Oh, I do not for an instant doubt your professional judgment, or your ability to protect your patient. But ones head is hardly clear when one is falling in love."

Catherine blushed fully and looked down at her hands. "Do you think Im foolish?" she asked softly.

Hazel reached across the table, touching Catherines hand gently. "Not a bit," she replied. "Its normal and healthy -- and about time."

"It may turn into a disaster," Catherine went on, voicing her fear for the first time. "Shes afraid, I feel, of being hurt. Im not sure shes even capable of knowing her feelings for me, or for anything."

"Shes not alone in that, Katie," Hazel said sadly, "but, shes touched you in a way no one has in years, and I doubt that she could have done that if she were truly irrevocably lost to her feelings. Trust to time -- and try to take care of yourself."

Catherine smiled her gratitude and straightened her shoulders. Pushing back from the table she stated, "Ive got to make rounds."

They accompanied each other in friendly silence, strengthened as always by their encounter.



Chapter Sixteen

Rebecca pulled into the hospital parking lot just before 11A.M.and took the now familiar route to the psychiatry wing. She needed information from Catherine, and she was trying unsuccessfully to segregate her personal feelings from her professional obligations. She couldnt deny the quickening of her heart beat, or the slight inner excitement that stirred just from the anticipation of seeing Catherine. Even though she was bone tired and still reeling from the shock of Jeffs death, the memory of Catherines body beside hers charged the very air around her. She stepped off the elevator into the hushed hall of the inpatient ward and tried to assume a professional demeanor.

A woman was bent over a stack of metal folding charts behind the white counter of the nurses station, busily cross-checking medication cards. She looked up and smiled when she heard Rebecca approach.

"Im sorry," she said, "visiting hours arent until one oclock."

Rebecca pulled the slim black leather folder from her pocket and displayed her identification.

"Im looking for Dr. Rawlings," she explained. "Is she around?"

The attractive dark-haired woman, whose name tag identified her as Ruth Murdock, R.N., checked her watch and replied, "She should be finishing with the residents in a few minutes. Theres a conference room just down the hall. Do you want to wait for her there?"

Rebecca nodded. "Thats fine. Ill find it," she added, motioning the nurse to stay seated.

There was little of interest in the conference room, and Rebecca let her mind wander back over the events of the last week, hoping to turn up some detail that might provide direction to her investigation. There was something that kept nagging at her -- something she had seen or heard which might be significant, and she couldnt quite bring it into focus. That feeling was not unfamiliar. She had an idea that all good investigators experienced it -- the swirling impressions which finally consolidated into an image, bringing the greater picture into sudden relief.

The tantalizing "clue" which was often the key to a puzzle whose separate pieces quickly fell into place. She was familiar enough with the process to know that it couldnt be rushed. Eventually, her unconscious mind would work that tiny fragment free and allow it to float to the surface.Then, she hoped, she would begin to close the gap between herself and the man she sought.

The door opened and Catherine walked in. "You dont look like a woman whos been up half the night," Catherine said as she seated herself at the small conference table. The warmth in her smile and the intimacy in her eyes reached out to Rebecca like a caress.

Rebecca felt her cheeks flush despite her resolve to remain detached, and she looked away for a moment.

"It isnt about last night," Rebecca began, her tone stiffer than she had intended.

Catherine studied her intently, replying quietly. "An official visit, then?"

"I need to know about the reporter you spoke with."

"The reporter?" Catherine said blankly.

"Have you seen the paper?"

"No."

"There was an article today revealing the fact that we had a witness to the rape," Rebecca said, unable to hide the anger in her voice.

"Oh, god," Catherine said. "Of course! There was a young man here yesterday, asking questions" She stopped and looked at Rebecca, her eyes filled with concern. "You think I told him?"

"Did you?"

"No, but he seemed to know that the police were involved with Janets case. I assure you, Rebecca, I told him nothing."

Rebecca quickly reached for Catherines hand and squeezed it briefly. "I believe you. Can you think of anyone who might have talked to him?"

Catherines face revealed her frustration. "A dozen people. A hospital is the least private place in the world. Everyone is eager for a story, and every bit of human drama is meal for the gossip mill. It could have been anyone!"

Rebecca nodded. "I was afraid of that. Theres not much we can do about it now, but, it makes it even more important that we learn what Janet saw. Can you help me with this?"

Catherine was quiet for a moment, sorting through her thoughts. The sight of Rebeccas drawn and tired face was wrenching. She wanted so much to be able to offer some relief. But she had a deeper obligation, in this case even greater than her growing affection for the woman before her.

"Rebecca, Ill do all I can. Im seeing Janet and Barbara tonight. If I learn anything at all, Ill tell you immediately."

"I may need to have Janet interviewed by the police psychiatrist, Catherine," Rebecca said quietly. She saw Catherines body tense, and she feared she had offended her. She didnt want that -- professionally or personally. "He may be able to recognize something you dont."

"Of course," Catherine responded formally. "Im not a forensic psychiatrist."

Rebecca shook her head impatiently, "Im not suggesting youre not competent, Catherine! But, he is trained in criminal investigation."

"May I be present at the interview?" Catherine asked.

Rebecca thought quickly. "I dont see why not -- it might make it easier for Janet."

"I dont like it, Rebecca, but I can see that you have to do this."

"Thank you," Rebecca said softly, realizing in that moment how frightened she had been. She couldnt tolerate the thought of Catherine angry at her. "Theres something else I need from you," she continued.

Catherine couldnt suppress a chuckle. The woman was certainly relentless! "Theres more?"

"What do you know about serial rapists? This doesnt seem to fit with what Im used to seeing."

Catherine nodded. "This type of patterned, serial rapist is unusual. Most rapes occur between acquaintances, or in particular settings -- groups, or gang rapes, in bars or at parties. And, of course, the repeat rape of young children by adult sexual abusers, generally family members. The type of rape were dealing with here is a sociopathic activity, a crime perpetrated out of some deep-rooted psychopathology."

"Such as?"

"Oh, any number of things. Low self-esteem, attributed, often incorrectly, to powerful female figures -- a domineering mother, a failed relationship with a woman -- anger at feelings of impotence or lack of control -- inability to direct events around him. The rapist often feels like a victim of social or personal injustices and translates that into anger against women. It is rarely purely sexually motivated, but, of course, sex is equated with power, especially in our culture. So, the rapes represent an attempt to control events, to gain superiority over the perceived persecutor."