Rebecca turned to her, stunned by her honesty, her pulse racing at Catherines words. She grinned, unable to hide the lightness in her heart.

"Catherine, there isnothingabout you that makes me uncomfortable."

Catherine grinned back as she slipped from the car. "That, Detective Frye, is very good news!" She was still smiling as she watched Rebecca drive out of sight.

Chapter Eight

At seven forty-five the next morning, Rebecca walked into the squad room to face a routine day. She had a court appearance at noon to give evidence in a racketeering trial. She planned to spend the morning finishing reports on cases headed for the dead filescold trails abandoned after fruitless weeks of searching for witnesses who were willing to appear in court. She hated to abandon cases she knew she could get convictions on, but too often people refused to cooperate, either from fear of exposure or retaliation. It was another frustrating part of working vice she had learned to live with.

Jeff joined her a few minutes later, carrying a cardboard cup of coffee precariously by the rim. He scowled at the mountain of paper work piled on his desk, muttering, "I cant face this today."

"Give me some," Rebecca said amiably, reaching out a hand. "Im almost done here."

Jeff raised an eyebrow and took a good look at his partner. She was dressed as usual in well-fitting linen trousers and a tailored cotton shirt, but something about her was different. There was an aura of freshness and energy about her that he hadnt noticed in months.

"Something happen?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Rebecca said absently, tossing a finished folder to one side.

"You look like something good happened. Something break on the River Drive case?"

Rebecca blushed. After dropping Catherine off the night before, shed found herself more restless than usual. Her normal antidotes hadnt seemed to work. Shed driven around, stopped at the gym for a late workout, even contemplated cleaning her apartment. Finally she stripped down to a tank top and pulled on a pair of loose boxers, deciding to attempt sleep. She stretched out on the bed, something she hadnt done since her lover left. Amazingly, it wasnt the case she thought about, but Catherine. The astonishing warmth in her eyes, the gentle tone of her voice, her quick laughter. Rebecca remembered too the light scent of her perfume and the outline of her breasts against the silk blouse she had worn. Without intending it, Rebecca found herself imagining the soft weight of Catherines breasts in her palm, the nipples stiffening under her fingers, and the heat of Catherines skin under her lips. She brushed her hand under the thin cotton of her shirt, gasping at the quick contraction of her nipples. She squeezed them lightly, her legs parting as she began to swell. She continued to stroke her breasts and belly, teasing herself, as she trailed one hand up her inner thigh, slipping her fingers under the edge of the loose shorts. She was breathing faster, no longer thinking, concentrating on the increasing pressure between her legs. She remembered moaning softly as she spread her wetness over her hard clit, circling it, pressing the shaft from side to side, feeling it become impossibly larger. Her legs twisted in the sheets as she clenched her teeth, denying herself as long as she could. When the distention became almost painful, she bore down harder with her fingertips, working her twitching clit back and forth roughly, pushing herself to the edge. She was whimpering as she tugged at the engorged base, arching her back as every muscle tensed for the explosion. She shouted when it hit, grabbing herself with her whole hand, squeezing out the last spasm as she jack-knifed on the bed from the force of the orgasm.

Something had happened all right, but she wasnt about to tell Jeff that she woke, still wet from the night before, with Catherine Rawlings on her mind. She didnt want to admit to herself just how good it felt to be with her. She knew only too well how devastating it could be to need a woman, only to find barriers in her own soul she couldnt surmount.

"Nothing new. Im going to interview Janet Ryan this afternoon though. If Catherine gives us the green light."

Jeff didnt miss the first name reference, but he let it pass. They were as close as two partners could be, and he considered Rebecca his friend, but he knew better than to ask for details. He respected the distance Rebecca demanded in their relationship.

"Sounds good to me. Want me along?" he asked.

Rebecca thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. "Not this time. She might talk easier to me alone. Then again, she might not talk at all."

Jeff loosened his tie a fraction of an inch, which was his only concession to the stifling heat in the room. "I agreethe two of us could put her off. Ive got a meet with our contact guy on the Zamora undercover deal anyhow. Lets hope you get something from the girl."

**********

Rebecca stepped off the elevator onto the inpatient psychiatry floor shortly after fourP.M. Catherine was leaning against the counter at the nurses station, studying a chart. Rebecca observed her unaware, noting the easy way she stood, her figure-hugging skirt outlining shapely legs. Even the slight frown of concentration couldnt diminish the delicate allure of her features. Rebecca knew what she was feeling as she looked at Catherine Rawlings, and it frightened her. She didntwantto be stirred by her, but she was, physically and emotionally. To make matters worse, she was in the middle of the ugliest case shed ever been involved in. The last thing she needed was a personal complication. Rebecca was still standing there, awash with conflicting reactions when Catherine looked up.

"Hi," Catherine called, as she pushed the chart aside. She didnt try to hide her obvious pleasure at seeing Rebecca. Catherine surveyed Rebeccas tall figure with appreciation and smiled a welcome.

Rebecca forced herself to ignore the warmth spreading through her body at the sound of Catherines voice.Its probably all in my mind, she chided herself, but it was hard to overlook the tension between them. She deliberately kept her face impassive as she approached.

Catherine waited where she was, sensing something of Rebeccas uncertainty. Detective Sergeant Rebecca Frye might know exactly who she was in the world, but it was plain to Catherine that the woman behind the badge was much less certain of what she wanted, or needed. Catherine was struggling to control her growing attraction to Rebecca, but every time she saw her, her desire intensified.Go slowly.She doesnt trust you yetor herself.

"Ive just finished speaking with Janet," Catherine said as Rebecca joined her.

"Good. Does she know Im coming?" Rebecca asked, her attention now focused on the task before her.

"YesI thought it best to prepare her."

"How is she?"

Catherine shrugged, a small frown puckering the fine skin between her elegant brows. "Shes still quite disoriented, and badly shaken. She knows there are things she cant remember, and the dread of what they might be is terrifying. She wants to remember and is scared to death at the same time. Shes very frightened, Rebecca."

Rebecca recognized the cautionary tone in Catherines voice and responded defensively. "Im not going to interrogate her, Catherine." She immediately regretted her flash of temper when she saw the surprise in Catherines eyes.God, Im too sensitive around her. She placed her hand on Catherines arm, leaning toward her slightly.

"Im sorry. I just want to find out how much she can remember. I wont push her, I promise."

Catherine covered Rebeccas hand lightly with her own, very conscious of the pressure of Rebeccas fingers. Even that innocent touch sent her pulse racing.

"I trust you, Rebecca. If I didnt, I wouldnt let you see her." She pressed Rebeccas hand again and stepped away. "Come on, Ill take you to her."

**********

Janet lay propped up on several pillows. The blinds were drawn against the afternoon sun. The television, perched on the wall opposite the bed, was tuned to a TV talk show. The hostess raced up and down the aisles, thrusting her microphone at the members of the audience. There was no sound.

The left side of the young womans face was swollen and discolored. Her eye on that side was a mere slit, the lashes caked together with dried blood. Fine black sutures closed a series of lacerations on her forehead. She clutched the covers up to her breasts, despite the July heat. Her hands were covered with scratches. Looking at her, Rebecca thought she had put up a hell of a fight.

Catherine went to the bed and took Janets hand.

"Detective Frye is here, Janet."

Janets head nodded slightly. "Please stay with me."

"Of course," Catherine said, pulling a chair up to the left side of the bed.

Rebecca dragged a similar worn plastic chair to the opposite side and sat down, opening her notebook as she did so. She leaned forward so Janet could see her face.

"Janet, Im Rebecca Frye.Im a police officer. Im trying to find out what happened the night you were injured." She watched Janet carefully, looking for any unspoken reactions to her questions. "Can you tell me what you did that day- -Tuesday-- three days ago?"

Janet glanced at Catherine, who nodded encouragement. Then she began to speak in a slow halting whisper. "I was late for workI missed the train. So, I drove to work."

"Where is that?" Rebecca asked.

"Compton BuildingIm a data programmer." She halted uncertainly, her grip on Catherines hand tightening.

"Go on," Rebecca urged.