"So--whats the mystery?"

"No personal info available--lives alone, apparently always has. Everyone is happy to tell you about her professional accomplishments, but nobody will say squat about the rest of her life."

"Maybe there isnt anything to say," Rebecca countered, just a hint of irritation in her voice. "Some women are pretty consumed by their work, you know."

Jeff looked at her thoughtfully, thinking if anyone should know about that, it was his solitary partner.

"Yeah--well, that may be. But I did dig up something interesting. Her private practice--she specializes in rape and incest cases. Shes even done some work with us on that kind of thing."

Rebecca whistled, thinking of Janet Ryan and her amnesia.

"And thats not all," Jeff continued, "a lot of her private patients are dyk--uh, lesbians."

Rebecca slowly raised her eyes to his. He looked away.

"Might be useful information," she said nonchalantly. She felt anything but nonchalant, her mind racing with questions about Catherine Rawlings. She forced herself to consider the information Jeff had gathered.

"Maybe I should have another talk with Dr. Rawlings."

"Thought you might want to," Jeff replied dryly.

**********

Catherine was nearly finished with morning rounds when her pager went off. She excused herself and left the group of residents and students discussing the latest drug therapy for depression. She picked up a wall phone and dialed the extension registered on her beeper.

"Dr. Rawlings," she said as the call was picked up.

"Rebecca Frye, Doctor. I wonder if we could talk?"

Catherine glanced at her watch. She had an outpatient clinic to supervise in an hour. "Im in-between right now. How about joining me in the cafeteria?"

"Fine."

"Its on the second floor."

"Ill find it," Rebecca replied.

Catherine picked up a chefs salad and seltzer and glanced around the cafeteria. She saw Rebecca at once, looking slightly out of place in her grey jacket and black trousers amidst a sea of white coats. She made her way across the room to join her at a small table near the windows.

Rebecca watched her approach, thinking she looked at home in her knee-length white lab coat. The coat did nothing to detract from her trim figure. Rebecca tried not to notice the shapely legs or the hint of full breasts under the pale green suit she wore. Rebecca waited until Catherine was seated before speaking.

"I have a few more questions, Doctor."

"I gathered that, Detective Frye," Catherine commented dryly, studying Rebeccas face. She was glad to see that the circles under her clear blue eyes had diminished and some of the tension had left her face. She was also simply glad to see her.

"Is it true that you specialize in rape and incest cases?"

Catherine was a little taken aback--not with the directness of Rebeccas approach, she expected that of the forthright detective, but with the rapidity with which she gathered information. She had known that this, among other things, might come up. She just hadnt expected it so soon.

"Not exactly specialize--but it is a particular interest of mine."

"Dont give me double talk, Doctor. Im not the enemy," Rebecca said quietly.

Catherine sighed and pushed aside her unwanted salad. She met Rebeccas penetrating gaze.

"Yes, its true that the majority of my practice involves sexual abuse survivors."

"Why didnt you tell me this last night?"

Catherine looked genuinely surprised. "I didnt think it was relevant."

"You didnt think it wasrelevant?" Rebecca asked incredulously. "We finally have a witness, wehope, to a brutal rapeaseriesof rapes we cant get a single lead on, and our only witness suddenly has amnesia. You happen to be an expert in such crimes, and you didnt think it wasrelevant." Rebecca didnt raise her voice, but her anger was evident.God, save me from dealing with civilians!

"Detective Frye, I am not an expert on thecrimes. I am an expert, if you will, on theeffectsof the crimes. Thats a very big difference."

"And what about Janet Ryan--is she a victim of the crime?"

"Dont ask me questions you know I cant answer," Catherine said quietly, her eyes holding Rebeccas.

Rebecca sighed slightly. "I have to try."

Catherine leaned forward, her face intent. "Rebecca, I will do anything I possibly can to assist in this case, but I cannot, and Iwillnot, disclose client confidences. Please try to understand."

The use of her first name did not escape Rebecca. She tried to ignore the quickening of her heartbeat, reminding herself she was in the middle of a hospital cafeteria, and in the middle of an investigation.

"I do understand. I appreciate your desire to protect your patients, and I respect you for it. Im just grasping at straws here. I cant get a handle on this guy, and its driving me nuts!"

It was an uncharacteristic outburst for her. Catherines heart filled with compassion as she watched the torment play across Rebeccas fine features. In that moment she felt every shred of Rebeccas frustration and helplessness.

"Im seeing Janet at three this afternoon. She requested that I take over from Ray Bauer. Perhaps shell remember more."

Catherines caring showed in her voice, and Rebecca met her gaze gratefully. For an instant the room retreated from view as she surrendered to the understanding and comfort in those green eyes. It felt like a caress. She flushed and looked away.

"Id like a report either way."

Catherine accepted Rebeccas withdrawal reluctantly, acutely aware of the fleeting connection and the equally sudden distance between them. She pushed her chair back, replying formally, "Of course. You can call me around six tonight. I should be done here by then."

"Fine," Rebecca replied. Impulsively she added, "Why dont I pick you up--we can talk over dinner. And you wont have to cook."

Catherine nodded with pleasure. She would like nothing better than spending more time with this intriguing woman.

Chapter Six

Rebecca pulled into the No Parking zone in front of University Central Hospital at five forty-five pm. She took out the notes she had made at the crime scene that afternoon. She and Cruz had decided to do another walk-through of the area, hoping to find something that might have been overlooked by the lab crew. The assault had occurred in a copse of trees bordering the water on River Drive. A narrow path separated the trees from the road fifty yards away. The ground between was a thicket of low shrubs and grass. Although the park was frequented day and night by bicyclists and runners, this section of the trail was unpaved and poorly maintained, which tended to discourage all but the most serious joggers. The isolated location was similar to that of the previous two rapes. The most recent victim had been found by a middle-aged man chasing his errant golden retriever. It was probably a coincidence that saved her life. Trampled shrubbery suggested she had struggled. That was the only difference from the first two incidents, in which there was little sign of resistance. Jeff theorized that their assailant knocked them unconscious before pulling them off the trail and assaulting them. The evidence supported that, but Rebecca found it hard to believe that the women hadnt been warned of his approach. Even if he had been well-hidden, he would have had to reveal himself to get close enough to subdue them. No weapon had been found, and the injuries sustained by the victims only indicated that some kind of blunt object had been used. The details of the crime continued to elude them.

Rebecca had surveyed the scene, distancing herself from the mental images she constructed of the events. If she allowed herself to hear their cries, feel their fear, experience their helplessness, her own anger and revulsion would paralyze her--she would never be able to do her job. It was a lesson she had learned early in her career, and the emotional detachment came naturally to her now. The price she paid was the gradual, almost unnoticeable, inability to bridge that emotional chasm in the rest of her life. The very people she wanted to reach most found her cold and uncaring. Her frustration, and theirs, led finally to an isolation she almost welcomed. Her life was simpler even though her most human needs lay buried and ignored.

"Jeff," she mused, "how about this--our guy waits in the trees until a lone jogger comes along. He pulls her off the trail, knocks her out, then rapes her. He has to go from here up to his car, or maybe he has a bike?"

"Could be--we didnt find a rock, or a club of any kind. He must take the weapon with him. I guess a guy with a baseball bat wouldnt seem that unusual. Still though, youd think someone would have seen something. Its been in all the papers. No one has even come forward with abadtip!"

Rebecca nodded. It was too hard to believe that no one had seen or heard anything--but then, perhaps someone finally had. Which brought them right back to Janet Ryan.

"Did you get a report yet on the tissue under Janet Ryans fingernails?" she asked.

"Due later today," Jeff replied, pushing aside the shrubs that edged up to the water. There was a narrow strip of sand along the river bank and then the bottom fell steeply away. He could make out the shapes of the boathouses a few hundred yards down the river. There was nothing unusual about the place.

Rebecca led the way back to the path. "I bet you find that the tissue type matches the semen analysis we have. Janet Ryan must have seen the rape in progress, or she heard something and went to investigate. My guess is that she tried to fight the guy off. She has scratches on her arms and legs as if she got tangled up in the brush. He probably leaves her for dead, or just panics and runs."