by Gerri Hill
Rick shrugged. “Okay. I’ll go with it. Now what? We look for really clean guys?”
Jake laughed. “I know. It means shit. Anyway, the lieutenant wants Simpson and Salazar in with us.”
“Okay, good. And we need to go check out Sandra Poole’s daughter. Lydia Stanford. She works for Mountain West Real Estate.”
“Let’s send Gina out there. She’s better at that than we are. I’d really like to go over the Shelly Burke case.”
“Fine with me.” Rick pushed his chair back. “Let me get them. Might as well all be on the same page.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nicole glanced to the west, staring at the mountains as they were silhouetted against the setting sun. She was leaving work much earlier than normal, but Catherine had practically pushed her out of the office. Which was fine. Tomorrow, group sessions would start, and her days would again become shorter. But is that necessarily good? Since her return from the mountains, she’d welcomed the extended hours. It left little time to think.
Like now.
She pulled her eyes from the sunset, focusing instead on the highway. She hated times like this, when images of Jake crept in.
“Forget her,” she said out loud, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She wished she could forget the whole episode, but it stayed with her, vivid images coming to her time and again. Images of her and a stranger doing incredibly intimate things to one another.
Well, she had to get over it, and perhaps dinner tonight was just what she needed. Debra Fisher was someone she’d known and admired for several years. The fact that she was now single added a new dimension to their friendship. But really, Debra was only a friend. Nicole had never entertained her being anything other than that. Attractive? Sure. In fact, she was glamorous. She’d never been out in public with Debra and had known her to never be less than impeccably dressed. Which caused Nicole to glance at her own clothing. She hadn’t been up to hose and pumps this morning and had settled on slacks and loafers. And no doubt Debra would be in one of her power suits.
“I really hate attorneys,” she murmured. Then why go out with her? Well, because she couldn’t very well turn down a dinner date from one of the most powerful lesbians in the city. Catherine had nearly fainted when she told her. Debra Fisher was rumored to be running for mayor. The fact was, no matter how attractive Debra was or how powerful, she still was just a friend who stirred zero romantic interest in Nicole.
She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Debra was not unlike the women she normally went out with. Business women, doctors, lawyers—Nicole knew them all. She felt like she’d dated half of them. All just like her, semi-closeted professional women, putting on a straight face in public. And Nicole frankly was sick of it. She envied those women who had the courage to announce to the world that they were gay. And a handful of women in their own circle had done just that, despite protests from their friends. Nicole knew that the protests were mostly based on fear. Fear that they would out them all.
Nicole pushed her thoughts aside when she saw the black Mercedes, and she pulled her more modest Lexus next to it and parked. Debra flashed a charming smile, and Nicole matched it.
“Good to see you again, Nicole. It’s been ages.”
Nicole leaned forward, accepting the quick hug from the other woman, noting her perfect makeup and hair, and just the barest scent of a very expensive perfume.
“Hello, Debra. You look as beautiful as ever.”
“Thank you.” She looked at Nicole’s slacks. “Did you have casual day at the office?”
Nicole laughed, ignoring the little voice in her head that urged her to tell Debra the truth. That she hated dressing the part, day after day. But instead, “Sort of. It was a slow day and I thought I’d take advantage of it.”
“I wish I could have slow days. Especially now, I doubt I’ll have a moment to myself. That’s why I chose this restaurant. Quiet, out of the way. I’m sure we won’t be recognized.”
“Recognized? Who are we hiding from?”
Debra stared. “Haven’t you heard? I’m announcing my candidacy tomorrow.”
“No. Just rumors, really.” Nicole squeezed her arm. “Congratulations. You must be very excited.”
“Yes, of course I am. I think I have a legitimate shot. That’s what my team tells me, anyway.” She held the door open for Nicole, then ushered her in with a warm hand at her back. Nicole rolled her eyes. Sometimes it just didn’t work when lesbians tried to play it straight. “Two, please,” Debra said. “Booth in the back, if you have it.”
“Yes ma’am, of course. Follow me.”
“Have you been here before?” Debra asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Best authentic Italian in the city. You’ll love it.”
“Ladies, will you need a wine list?”
Nicole took her seat opposite Debra, deferring the question to her. “I think we would like a bottle of pinot grigio. Give us your best.”
“Of course. I will bring it right out.”
Debra leaned back, smiling. “They make a wonderful pesto. I’ll have him bring some out with the bread.”
“Sure. That would be lovely.”
“You’re probably wondering why I invited you to dinner.”
“Well, I know you and Ashley…”
“Yes, it was messy. But, I knew I had to do it. I couldn’t very well have a roommate, now could I? How would that look to voters?”
Nicole leaned forward. “You broke up with Ashley because you’re running for mayor?”
“Yes, of course. It cost me a small fortune, but I did it.” At Nicole’s blank stare, Debra shook her head. “And don’t turn into Dr. Westbrook, please. I’ve already discussed it with Dorothy. She agreed with my decision.”
“I didn’t realize that your relationship with Ashley was simply one of convenience, I guess. I thought you genuinely cared for one another.”
“Of course I cared about her. But she knew of my political aspirations. It was just a matter of time.”
“I see.” Nicole paused as their bottle of wine was delivered, allowing Debra to taste and nod her approval. When they were alone again, Nicole continued. “If you’re concerned about your political future, why are you here with me?”
“There’s nothing suspicious about you, Nicole. We’re just old friends. You have a thriving practice, you’re well respected in your field. There’s no reason we can’t have dinner.”
“And Ashley was what? A liability?”
“I hate that word, but yes.”
“She’s a teacher.”
“She’s a high school coach. How much more stereotypical could you get?”
At one time, Nicole had the utmost respect for Debra Fisher. She was one of the best young assistant DAs in the city. She could mold the jury with just a smile and make witnesses crumble with the arch of an eyebrow. Yes, she was going places. And now Nicole wanted no part of it.
“She was in love with you,” Nicole said quietly. “Debra, you can’t just discard people to suit you. You knew she was a coach at the beginning. Why did you let it go so far?”
Debra flashed her trademark smile. “Because she was young and fabulous in bed, of course. But I didn’t come here to talk about Ashley. I wanted to talk about you.” She poured more wine into Nicole’s glass. “You seem to be perpetually single. I need to be single, as well. At least for the time being. Of course, there will be occasions where I’ll need a male escort, but I’m sure I can find someone to fill that role. But, since you’re not seeing anyone…”
“Wait a minute,” Nicole said, interrupting her. “You’re not suggesting that I… that we,” Nicole said, motioning between them.
“It’ll just be sex, Nicole. I don’t expect anything else. But I can’t very well date, now can I?”
“With me?” Nicole asked, eyes wide.
“Of course with you. As I said, you’re single. It’s perfect. It would just be a physical relationship for both of us. No strings attached.”
<
br /> Nicole was absolutely speechless.
“Is that a yes?”
“Are you out of your mind?” she hissed.
Debra seemed taken aback, and Nicole realized that she didn’t really know this woman at all. All these years that they had known each other, it was simply an act. A show. She felt like she was sitting with a stranger.
“Nicole, I thought you’d be receptive to this.”
“Why in the world would you think that?” Nicole moved her wineglass out of the way and folded her hands together. “First of all, I’m not the least bit attracted to you.” At Debra’s startled look, Nicole shrugged. “Sorry, but I’m not. And secondly, I’m not really into sex for the sake of sex.” She shrugged again. “Call me old-fashioned.”
It was Debra’s turn to stare. “You’re not attracted to me?”
Nicole shook her head. “No. What gave you the idea that I was?”
“Well, nothing. I just assumed…”
Ah. Of course. Debra wasn’t used to being turned down. Well, Nicole could muster up a little sympathy. She would stay and at least finish their dinner, even though what she really wanted was to run. And fast. And part of her wanted to run from herself. Not into sex for the sake of sex? Old-fashioned? Jesus, had it even been two months since… Jake?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jake nodded, the phone cradled to her ear as she threw a pencil at Rick. “I understand it’s confidential. We’d still like to come by. It’s very important.”
“What?” Rick said as he rubbed his cheek where the pencil had hit.
“We can be there within the hour.” Jake nodded. “Thanks.” She hung up the phone, grinning. “Found our link. All three spent time at the Women’s Crisis Center. She’s got files on all of them.”
“Okay. Good job. Maybe we’ve got a rogue counselor or something,” Rick said.
“I’m pretty sure the counselors are all women, Rick,” she said, standing and shoving her chair away. “I’ll let the lieutenant know.”
“Meet you outside.”
Jake nodded, walking quickly to the lieutenant’s door. It was opened, and she knocked on the frame once before entering.
He looked up, his graying hair shining under the fluorescents. Lieutenant Gregory was barely fifty, long ago divorced and never remarried. He seldom spoke of a private life, and Jake guessed that he had none. Yes, he was by the book, as Rick had said, but he wasn’t afraid to give his detectives some slack. Working Special Victims was not an easy assignment, and Jake had seen more horror than she cared to remember. But, never fail, Lieutenant Gregory was right there, backing them up. He was the consum-mate professional and very seldom bent the rules. It had taken him and Jake awhile to get used to each other. Jake bent the rules as far as they would go.
“McCoy. What you got?”
“Women’s Crisis Center. All three of our victims had contact with them.”
“And you’re checking it out?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Simpson? Salazar?”
“They’re checking out Sandra Poole’s last boyfriend. They got some information from the daughter.”
“Okay. Keep me posted. I’ve got a meeting with Captain Zeller at three o’clock. He’ll want an update.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jake?”
Jake turned back. “Yeah?”
“You know I hate that ‘yes sir’ shit.”
Jake grinned. “Yes, sir. I know.”
She walked quickly through the squad room, barely acknowledging the smiles and nods that were flashed her way. For once, her leg felt strong, and she practically jogged down the hall. Rick was waiting in their drab Ford, revving the engine just a bit as she slammed the door.
“Damn glad you’re back, Jake.”
“Why’s that? The lieutenant wouldn’t let you drive?”
“He’s a control freak, what can I say?”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Jefferson Street.”
“I know where it is,” Rick said as he sped away, squealing the tires just a bit.
“I swear, you’re like a kid sometimes.”
“But you missed me, right?”
“Yeah, I missed you.” Jake settled back in the seat, watching her partner’s profile. His day-old stubble was dark on his skin, a nice contrast to his blond hair. Handsome. Damn, but he was. And he knew it.
“What?”
“Nothing. Can’t I look at you?”
“You’re wondering about me and Michelle, aren’t you?”
Jake shrugged. “Yeah.” Actually, she’d forgotten.
“Well, we still haven’t talked, so don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worrying about it. As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.” She shoved both hands against the dash as he slammed on the brakes at a light, barely avoiding a rear-end collision. “And I’m driving on the way back. Jesus!“
He was quiet for a moment, then looked at Jake. “I actually tried to talk to her, you know. But it was like she knew what was coming and changed the subject, so I let it drop.”
Jake didn’t have any advice for him. She certainly wasn’t an expert on relationships, stable or failed.
“Do you want your marriage to last, Rick?”
The light turned green and he drove on, a serious look on his face. Jake wondered what thoughts he was sorting through.
“This sounds awful, Jake, but no. We’re like two strangers when we’re alone. When other people are around, it’s better because we put on this show, you know. But when it’s just us, I think, what the hell am I doing here?”
“Then the next time you try to talk to her, don’t let it drop. It’s not fair to her, Ricky. She may think your marriage is great.”
“No. No, she doesn’t. I can see it in her eyes when we talk. Neither one of us is the least bit interested in what the other has to say.”
“Then do it and get it over with before she ends up pregnant or something.”
“That would involve sex, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh, Rick. Jesus, you’re not even having sex?”
He shrugged. “It’s been awhile.”
She pointed ahead. “Jefferson’s the next block.”
“Got it.”
“Marriage counselor?”
“What for? That’d mean I’d want it to work out.”
“Made up your mind, huh?”
“Yeah. When I’m living with a beautiful woman, and I don’t want to make love to her, it’s time to get out.”
He pulled into the parking lot of the crisis center, looking for a spot to park. “Damn. You think it’s always this busy?”
“Over there. A visitor’s spot. And I wonder if these are employees or victims? I know they have a shelter, but I doubt it’s here.” She got out of the car, her leg a little stiff. It was always stiff when she sat for long periods.
“You weren’t limping this morning,” Rick noted.
“No. It’s much better. It’s just from riding. It’ll loosen up.”
“You think it’s going to be permanent?”
“I don’t know, Rick. If it is, I’ll have a hell of a time passing the physical.”
He nodded, then held the door open for her. “I’ll let you do the talking. They’re probably not real fond of men around here,” he whispered.
Jake smiled and nudged him with her elbow, hearing his quiet chuckle. At the front desk, they both showed their badges. “I’m Detective McCoy. This is Detective Chase. I spoke on the phone earlier with Patrice Kane.”
“Yes. She said you’d be stopping by.” The young woman stood and motioned for them to follow. “I’ll show you to her office.”
They followed her down a long corridor, passing a room with twenty cubicles, Jake guessed. “Excuse me.”
The woman stopped and turned around. “Yes?”
“The room there. Is that the crisis line?”
“Yes. We have counselors working the phones twenty-four hours a day.”
“On average
, how many calls do you get a day?”
The woman smiled but shook her head. “Perhaps Ms. Kane should answer your questions.”
Jake and Rick looked at each other, then continued on. The office they stopped in front of was small, barely room for the two visitors’ chairs. Most of the available space was taken up with file cabinets.
“Ms. Kane? The detectives are here.”
A woman, probably Jake’s age, looked up and nodded, motion-ing for them to come in. “Please close the door, Connie.”
Jake reached out and shook the woman’s hand, noting her firm handshake and the quiet acknowledgment in her eyes. Jake nodded. “I’m Jake McCoy. We spoke earlier.”
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Chase.” The woman’s handshake with Rick was much briefer.
“Thanks for taking the time to see us, Ms. Kane. Your parking lot was overflowing. You must be extremely busy,” he said.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Jake sat down and pulled out her pad and pen. “What services do you offer on site?”
“We offer counseling sessions here. Legal advice. Referrals to federal and state agencies for monetary assistance. Of course, the crisis line.”
“Is the shelter located here?”
“No. But it’s close. Only three blocks down.”
“Your counselors? Are they all female or do you have any male counselors?”
“Here, all female. Although we do have a few psychologists who we refer clients to.”
“Any of them male?”
“One, yes. There is the rare occasion where an abused woman feels more comfortable talking to a man about it. But it is rare.”
“If you have counselors here on staff, why do you refer out?” Rick asked.
Patrice Kane smiled and motioned around her office. “We are a nonprofit organization. The counselors we have here are volunteers, mostly medical students and the occasional practicing therapist who donates their time. Some of our clients need more professional help than we can provide. However, therapy is expensive and most of the women we see here cannot afford it. So, we have arrangements with a few psychologists in the area who will work with us, charging much less than normal. We help pay the fee.”