"Too obvious during the daythere wouldnt have been enough people around for cover," she answered tersely, still not looking at him.

"Yeah, but the way I see it"

She turned so fast he collided with her, his bulky form bouncing back a step off her surprisingly hard body.

"Look, Watts," she seethed. "I dont give a rats asswhatyou think. Iknowmy partner. So just keep out of my way, or better yet, get lost."

Watts held both hands up in the air in front of him. "Okay, Frye, okay. Ill just tag along like a good little boy."

Wordlessly, she walked away. If Jeff had met his contact in the late afternoon, there wouldnt have been much activity anywhere except at the museum. They never spent much time at a meet. He hadnt left voluntarily; he would have taken his car. Something went wrong, and it happened here. She tried not to think about what might have happened, focusing on her search.

She walked around the maritime museum, looking for an alley way, or a loading docksome secluded area. She reasoned that no one would have tried to move two men very far in daylight, which meant they would have needed an isolated location nearby. But for what purpose? It was unlikely that anyone would hold two cops hostage, or try to extort information. She didnt want to think about the most likely reasonthat someone was sending them a message to stay clear of Zamora and his bosses.

There was nowhere to hide two men anywhere around the building. She shined her flashlight on the beer and burger stand, closed and shuttered for the night. There was a large green commercial dumpster behind it. Rebecca approached it slowly, sweeping the ground around it with her light. She held her 9mm automatic in the other hand. She illuminated bits of refuse, a soggy cardboard box, a dented milk cratenothing unusual. She looked at the dumpster, a knot of tension burning in her gut. She slipped her weapon into her shoulder holster and pushed the top up. Taking a deep breath, she played her light over its contents. It was half full of crushed boxes, rotting vegetables, and broken bottles. That was all.

"Uh, Frye" Watts said hesitantly from the spot where he had been standing in the shadows.

"What?"

"Theres a shipping platform just north of the marina. Its below ground levelthey used to use it to tie the tugs up to. Cant really see it from the pier unless you know its there."

"Show me."

He led her along the edge of the pier, the water ten feet below them, rolling against the huge wooden pilings and concrete walls. Fifty feet from the marina was a narrow set of stairs barricaded by a length of chain. They would be easy to miss unless you were looking for them. The chains were rusted from years of disuse and exposure. Rebecca could make out moss-covered stone stairs and some kind of platform anchored against the pier, floating on the water. Carefully, she stepped over the chain and started down.

They were lying side by side no apparent sign of a struggle. Both men had been shot once in the back of the head. Rebecca noticed that Jeffs tie was neatly knotted under the button down collar of his light blue oxford shirt. His gun was still in its holster. She reached down and closed his eyes.

Standing at the edge of the dock she looked out across the water at their sister city. The shoreline sparkled in the moonlight. The river churned two feet below her, and the cold wind off the water whipped her light jacket around her. She didnt notice the cold, or that she was shivering. It was so quiet.

"Frye?" Watts called from above. "You find anything?"

"Yes," she answered hollowly.

"You want an ambulance?"

"No."

Chapter Ten

Rebecca drove to a run-down bar where she wasnt likely to meet anyone she knew. It was three in the morning. She had just left Shelly Cruz. There hadnt been any way to make it easy. She had held Jeffs wife, rocking her through the worst of it. Even as she murmured meaningless words of comfort, she felt her own heart grow cold. She couldnt let the pain throughif she did, shed fall apart. She was a coppeople die on the streets every dayneedlessly, senselessly. This time it was her partner, her best friend. Shed handle it like Jeff would have if it had been herlike a cop. But first she needed to forget, just for a little while. Then shed be ready to carry on.

The bar was nearly deserted, as she expected it to be. No one who had anywhere to go, or anyone to go to, was still about. Like her, the few people slumped in the shadowy bar sought no company. The bartender looked up disinterestedly from the girlie magazine lying on the long counter in front of him. Nothing surprised him anymore, not even the appearance of a good-looking woman in a dive like this. Besides, this one didnt look like she wanted anything but a drink, fast.

"Whatll you have?"

"Scotch, doublestraight up."

He poured it neatly, slid it in front of her and moved away. Rebecca stared at the glass for a moment, then reached for it with a steady hand.

**********

Catherine awoke instantly at the first buzz of the doorbell. Her ability to move from deep sleep to instant alertness was ingrained in her from years of medical training. She sat up, glancing at the digital clock beside her bed. It read four fifty-three am. She reached for the pale blue robe that lay across the foot of the bed, swinging her long legs to the floor. She had been naked under the covers. Hastily she tied the sash as she hurried through the living room, snapping on a table lamp as she passed.

As she fumbled with the deadbolt, she asked, "Who is it?"

"Rebecca Frye."

Catherine hesitated with surprise and then hurriedly pulled the door open. Rebecca was slouched against the doorjamb. She looked terrible. She was in the same clothes she had worn the day before, and her usually impeccable suit was grimy and wrinkled. Her face was white, and there was a frightening vacancy in her normally vibrant blue eyes. Her short, thick blond hair was disheveled, as if she had run her hands through it countless times. Catherine grasped her arm and pulled her inside.

"What is it?" she asked, leading Rebecca to the sofa.

Rebecca sank heavily into the plush cushions, her head dropping back wearily. She took a deep shuddering breath, turning her face slightly toward Catherine, who was sitting close beside her.

"My partner, Jeff Cruz, was murdered tonight--him and another cop," she said flatly, her pain-filled eyes not registering Catherines shock. She didnt feel Catherine move closer, nor the protective arm she slipped around her shoulders.

"God, Rebecca, Im so sorry!"

"He was twenty-nine years old. Hed only been married a year. He was a good cop." She thought of the six years that she and Jeff had been partners and knew that no one would ever be able to fill his place in her life.

"He must have been very important to you," Catherine said gently, her hand resting softly on Rebeccas rigid back.

Rebecca shrugged. "We were copshe looked after my skin, and I looked after his." Her voice broke on the next words. "Until today."

So much pain! If only you would let someone share it!Catherine remained still, resisting the urge to gather Rebecca to her and comfort her.Just talk to me; let me help!

Eventually Rebecca began to speak, quietly, as if she were talking to herself.

"He took a chance for me a few years ago. My life was a mess. My lover had left me--she said I was never there for her--and even when I was around, it wasnt enough. She was tired of being a "cops wife." Rebecca laughed bitterly. "She was right. I wasnt taking very good care of her. After that, I drifted in and out of affairs--none of them worked out. My drinking got much worse. I was drinking during the day--on duty--and Jeff knew it. I was a hazard--to him, to myself -- to everyone." She stopped then, and looked at Catherine, expecting to find rejection, or disgust. That was certainly the way she felt about herself. Instead she found the same tender acceptance that welcomed her each time they met.

Taking a grateful breath, she continued, her tone stronger. "He came to me one night after a shift. He said he knew I was drinking on the job--that he didnt want to turn me in, but that he couldnt afford to have a lush for a partner. I was pissed. I told him to turn me in if thats what he wanted--I didnt care anymore."

She laughed softly at the memory. "Jeff is a good head shorter than me, and slim for a guy. He grabbed my jacket and slammed me into the wall. His face was in my face, and he was yelling. `Listen, you stupid fuck-up--youre my partner, and Icare. So your old lady ditched you! Big deal! You think that hasnt happened to a hundred other cops? You think youre special cause youre a dyke? Well, youre not. Youre just a cop, just like the rest of us. So you either get it together fast, or Im through with you! He shook me around a little--he was pretty hot. I just stared at him. Hed never let on he knew about me and Diane. Finally, he just stomped away."

Catherine smiled sadly at the image, thinking what a good man Jeff Cruz must have been.This must be killing her!

"What did you do?" Catherine questioned softly.

"I drove to an AA meeting that night. That was four years ago--we never talked about it again."

"He trusted you, Rebecca--and you didnt let him down." She felt some of the tension in Rebeccas tight muscles dissipate. "Where have you been all night?"

"I told Jeffs wife. Then I went to a bar."

"Did you drink?" Catherine asked evenly.

Rebecca laughed harshly. "I sat there with it in my hand for a long time."