"Glass of wine?" she asked.

"Just seltzer and lime, if you have it," Rebecca replied.

Catherine had changed into a loose white cotton blouse over black brushed silk trousers. Rebecca was suddenly aware of what a beautiful woman she was. Her angular face, framed by wavy, richly highlighted auburn hair and accentuated by prominent cheekbones, was just short of perfect. Her wide-set green eyes and generous mouth bestowed a human quality to her beauty that made her even more attractive. Rebecca found herself really appreciating another woman for the first time in months. She realized she was staring when Catherines full lips parted in a soft playful smile.

"No drinking on duty?"

"No drinking for me any time--at least not for the last four years," Rebecca said evenly.Four years, three months, and two days.

Catherine heard the tension in her voice and asked, "Will it bother you if I drink?"

Rebecca smiled then herself. "Most of the world still drinks--and honestly, it rarely bothers me now. It would be harder if you didnt drink because of me."

"Well, then, come into the dining room so I can feed you," Catherine said.

**********

Rebecca pushed back her chair with a sigh. She had forgotten how pleasant it was to sit down at a table and enjoy a meal. And to enjoy the company of a warm, intelligent woman.

"Thank you," she said, "it was wonderful."

Catherine smiled at her, unaccountably pleased by the compliment. She felt almost rewarded by Rebeccas pleasure.

"I take it you dont cook much."

Rebecca shrugged ruefully. "Never did. Its worse when you live alone. I just dont think about eating as something to enjoy any more." She stopped, suddenly embarrassed.Christ, Frye, why dont you tell her all your problems!"At any rate, it was great."

Catherine sensed Rebeccas discomfort. It was apparent that her charming guest felt awkward discussing herself. Catherine was not surprised. She found people in Rebeccas line of work reluctant to reveal intimate details and slow to trust. She wasnt sure if it was the work that made them that way, or if those pre-existing traits were what made them so good at their jobs. It was something that suddenly interested her very much. Rebecca interested her. Catherine wondered what lay beneath that cool, controlled exteriorfor she was certain that there were depths to Rebecca that the woman herself was unaware of. She remembered the barely contained rage in Rebeccas voice when she described the rapists last attack and her passionate declaration to stop him. Oh, yes, there was much more to this woman than she revealed to the world.

Catherine knew intuitively that Rebecca would not confide anything easily, and she sensitively changed the subject. "What do you need to know, Detective?" she asked. She poured the last of the wine into her glass and leaned back, waiting.

"Probably more than you can tell me. Does Janet Ryan have any memory for the last eight hours?"

"Not much. She remembers pulling into a drive-off on the River Drive about five forty-five. There was a regatta and she stopped to watch. She left her car and headed toward the water. The next thing she remembers is waking up in the ICU."

Rebecca frowned. "Does she recall any one else around? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"I dont know. I didnt specifically ask her. She was pretty disoriented, and frightened. I was trying to establish the extent of her amnesia and get her calmed down."

"Of course," Rebecca said tersely. She couldnt expect a psychiatrist to think like a cop. Shed planned to interview the girl in the morning anyhow. "Anything else? Anything at all?"

"Im sorry--her amnesia is total for the time in question."

"And you have no doubt that shes telling the truth?"

"None at all."

"How long will it last?"

"I dont know," Catherine said regretfully. "I wish I did."

Rebecca stood up, her jaw set with determination. "I cant wait for her to remember. The time between attacks is getting shorter. Ive got to find some other way to get to him." She thanked Catherine absently, her mind already planning her next move.

Catherine watched her as she walked to the door, thinking it would be a long time before Rebecca Frye let herself rest again.

Chapter Five

Rebecca let herself into her apartment and tripped over a gym bag she had left lying on the floor several days earlier. The air had the musty, close smell of an unoccupied house. She pushed a window open and stood looking out. The night air held just the hint of a breeze, and she leaned against the window ledge, hoping to wash away the depression that had settled over her the moment she got home. The empty apartment was too clear a reminder of her own empty life, an aching emptiness she tried hard to ignore. Usually she was successful. The demands of her work left her little time for reflection, and when she did have a spare moment, she spent it at the gym, lifting weights until the fatigue in her body blocked out any other thought. The interlude with Catherine Rawlings had unsettled her. The quiet intimacy of the doctors apartment, the shared meal, the soft, but insistent strength she sensed in the woman, touched some chord in Rebecca. She didnt want to think about it, but she couldnt ignore the loneliness she had felt as Catherines door closed gently behind her.

She looked at her watch. ThreeA.M. She was tired, but too restless to sleep. It was one of those times she longed for a drink. Or, as had been the case, more than one. She fought the urge, as she usually did, by turning her mind to the River Drive case. There was something there, she knew, that she just couldnt connect with. Something she had heard, or seen, that would give her a handle on him. Whatever it was, it eluded her now.

Unconsciously her thoughts returned to Catherine Rawlings. Her integrity and compassion were obvious when she spoke of her patients, and her desire to put an end to this mad mans rampage was obvious, too. But it was more than just her intensity that drew Rebeccas attention back to her. Catherine Rawlings had touched some chord in her, some long-buried yearning for the company and solace of a woman. Or had she merely imagined the warmth in the doctors green eyes when she looked at Rebecca, or the welcoming smile as she approached?It doesnt matter, and it sure isnt going to help me solve this case

Rebecca shook off her memories with an irritated shrug. She tossed her jacket on a chair and pulled off her shoulder holster before stretching out on the worn couch. She rarely slept in her bed--the empty space beside her only made sleep more elusive. What she couldnt know as she finally closed her eyes was that across town Catherine Rawlings turned in her sleep and smiled at the image of a tall, blond woman with lonely eyes.

**********

It was not yet seven when Rebecca pulled her red Corvette into the police lot beside the police cruisers and vans. She knew Jeff would be there before her, typing out their report of last nights events. She smiled to herself at the thought of Jeffs face as he labored over the typewriter.

She found him hunched over his rickety metal desk in the tiny vice squad room, slowly two-finger typing a report in triplicate.

"Hi, Reb," he said without glancing up. "Anything from the shrink?"

"About what youd expect," Rebecca answered, shedding her jacket to the back of her chair. "Want some more coffee?"

"Yeah," he said, looking up with a lecherous grin. "Shelly was still awake when I got home last night."

"Nice to know someones making out," she grumbled good-naturedly as she headed for the table at the back of the room. She threaded her way between dilapidated chairs and dented desks haphazardly crowded together, and filled two Styrofoam cups to the brim with the evil looking black liquid that passed as coffee. She carried them at arms length back to the desk that faced Jeffs and pushed a stack of files to one side with her elbow. She settled herself into her chair, steeling herself for the first taste of the bitter brew.

"Ah," she murmured after her first swallow, "nectar of the gods."

"You must still be asleep if you think that swill is good," Jeff said, reaching for his own cup.

She shrugged and reached for the first page of his report. As usual it was neat and complete.

"Nothing new, I take it," she said, skimming the brief review of the latest rape.

Jeff stretched out his legs and pushed his chair back from the cramped table. "I ran a background check on the shrink."

Rebecca looked up in surprise. "Why? Shes not a suspect."

"Yeah, I know--but shes tied in with our only witness to date--and she may be the one to open that particular box for us. It never hurts to have a little leverage."

Rebecca had to agree. If they were going to get anything from Janet Ryan, she suspected they would need Catherine Rawlings help.

"So, what did you find?" she asked, careful not to reveal her interest. Jeff might be her closest friend, but even with him she rarely disclosed anything personal. She certainly wasnt about to tell him of the disturbing effect Catherine Rawlings had had on her.

"Well, it seems the lady is quite a mystery. I talked with a couple of the docs I know, and they all say the same thing. Professionally above reproachmedical degree from University, residency at University Central. From there she accepted a teaching position at the medical school and is now a" he paused to check his notes, "clinical professor of psychiatry."

Rebecca listened intently. She wasnt surprised. It fit with the impeccable professional image she had gotten of Catherine the night before.