by Gerri Hill
Jake nodded. “Okay. We’re just trying to understand how it works here. The three women I asked you about, can you tell me how they came here? Did they call the crisis line or what?”
Patrice leaned forward. “You’re very close to that line, Detective.”
“They’re dead, Ms. Kane. What confidence would you be breaking?”
She picked up three folders on her desks and straightened the papers inside. “I pulled their files, Detective. I don’t really remember them. I see hundreds of women come through here.”
“I understand.”
“Two of them, Helen Thornton and Sandra Poole, called our crisis line. We were not able to convince them to get out of their situations. You’d be surprised at how many women think it’s their fault that they are being battered. But after the attacks that sent them both to hospitals, they came for counseling. We referred them both to Dr. Westbrook. That was nearly three years ago.”
“Westbrook? Male or female?” Rick asked.
“She’s an expert on family violence. We’re very lucky that she’s willing to accept our clients.”
“What about Shelly Burke?” Jake asked.
“There’s no record of her calling the crisis line. She was referred to us by a doctor in the emergency room. Her boyfriend decided she was being argumentative when she refused to have sex with him and his son. This was eighteen months ago. Shelly was also referred to Dr. Westbrook.”
Jake and Rick looked at each other, eyebrows raised.
“How many women do you refer to this Dr. Westbrook?” Jake asked.
Patrice shrugged. “It’s hard to say. We may go months without referring anyone, then in a span of a few weeks, we may send five.”
“I’m just assuming here, but you refer women who have been more brutally beaten to her? Since you said she’s an expert on family violence.”
“Basically, yes. The resources that we have here are sometimes limited. Victims of extreme domestic violence require more than we can offer. Dr. Westbrook has had great success with these women.”
Jake nodded. “I don’t suppose we could get a copy of their files?”
Patrice laughed. “No, Detective, you can’t.”
Jake grinned and met the other woman’s eyes. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.” She was rewarded with a slight blush from Patrice Kane. She stood, again offering her hand. Patrice’s grip was much softer than before. “We really appreciate you taking the time to see us. You’ve been a big help.”
“My pleasure.”
Jake raised an eyebrow teasingly, ashamed at herself for flirting, but she couldn’t resist.
“Thank you, Ms. Kane,” Rick said politely. Patrice only nodded, her eyes were still on Jake.
At the door, Jake turned back around. “By the way, this Dr. Westbrook, where could we find her?”
“Her office is downtown. Ask Connie to give you the number.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime, Detective.”
“Well, I’ll try not to be a nuisance,” Jake promised. Rick gave an exaggerated cough as they walked away.
“Good Lord, could you be any more obvious?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You were flirting with her to get information,” Rick accused. “That’s disgusting.”
“Like I haven’t seen you do it.”
“She’s not even gay,” he whispered.
“Of course she is.” Jake stopped at the front desk and smiled. “Hello again, Connie. Ms. Kane said that you would give us the address and phone number for Dr. Westbrook.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Catherine glanced up as the door opened, expecting to see Carol Hulsey, for once early for her appointment. Instead, a hand-some blond man entered and smiled at her, and a tall, dark-haired woman met her eyes. For some reason, she wasn’t able to look away from those dark eyes.
“May… may I help you?” she asked.
The dark-haired woman smiled and walked closer, nodding. “We’d like to see Dr. Westbrook,” she said, holding up her police badge. “I’m Detective McCoy.”
“I’m sorry, but she’s with a patient.” Catherine watched as the woman flicked her wrist, glancing at her watch.
“Five more minutes?”
Catherine glanced at the clock on her desk and nodded. “Yes. About.”
“We’ll wait.”
“But… she has another appointment. I can try to schedule you in sometime later this afternoon or perhaps tomorrow,” Catherine suggested.
“It won’t take but a second,” she said. “Just a couple of questions.”
The door to an inner office opened, and a young woman walked out, smiling at Catherine.
“See you next week, dear,” Catherine said as she passed.
Jake stood. “Do you mind?” she said, pointing at the phone. “Or should we just go in?”
“No, no,” Catherine said quickly, picking up the phone. A few seconds later she nodded. “Dr. Westbrook? There are a couple of police… people here. They’d like a word.”
A slight smile touched Jake’s face as the woman frowned.
“No, I don’t. They didn’t say,” Catherine said, looking quickly at Jake. “Very well.”
Jake pointed to the door. “In there?”
“Yes. You have five minutes.”
Jake looked at Rick. “Five minutes, buddy.”
“Just my speed.”
“I know it is,” Jake said as she knocked once and opened the door.
———
Nicole sighed, trying not to be irritated by the interruption. She glanced up, first seeing a nice-looking young man with blond hair who flashed her a charming smile. Behind him, a tall, slender woman with short dark hair. Disbelief crossed Nicole’s face as her eyes collided with Jake’s.
“Dr. Westbrook, I’m Detective Chase, this is Detective McCoy. Patrice Kane at the Women’s Crisis Center directed us your way. We just have a few questions.”
Nicole knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it. Those dark eyes held her captive. She felt her hands clutch the top of her desk, and she wondered foolishly if her mouth was hanging open.
“Dr. Westbrook?” Rick looked from one woman to the other, eyebrows raised. “Jake? You okay?”
“Yeah,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving Nicole’s.
Rick stared. “You two know each other?”
Jake slowly shook her head. “No, no. We don’t know each other.”
Nicole came to her senses, finally pulling her eyes away. Surely to God Jake hadn’t forgotten her? Not when she could barely get through a night without remembering every touch of the other woman, every kiss.
“I’m sorry,” Nicole finally said, rising. “You looked like some-one I… know.” She extended her hand to Detective Chase, then to Jake, managing a light squeeze before pulling it away. Jake’s hands were as soft, as strong as she remembered. “Please, sit down. What can I do for you?”
Rick looked at Jake, expecting her to take the lead, but Jake remained silent, her eyes darting around the room, landing time and again on the therapist. Maybe she’s just nervous, he guessed. Jake had never been comfortable seeing a therapist. He turned his full attention to Dr. Westbrook.
“We’re investigating three murders. Three women who were referred to you by the Women’s Crisis Center.” He flipped open his notes. “Helen Thornton, Sandra Poole, and Shelly Burke.”
Nicole sat back in her chair, shocked. She knew about Sandra Poole, of course. But the others?
“I read about Sandra Poole in the paper. I had no idea about the others.”
“They were all patients of yours?” Jake asked.
“Yes, the names are familiar, although it’s been years. Shelly Burke, I saw her up until a few months ago. Six at the most.”
“Dr. Westbrook, we really need to take a look at their files,” Rick said.
Nicole shook her head. “You know I can’t do that.”
Jake leaned forwa
rd. “Why not? Three of your patients are dead.”
Nicole rested her elbows on her desk. “I’m sure you’ve heard of doctor-patient confidentiality, Detective McCoy.”
Jake smiled, holding Nicole’s eyes captive. “Of course. I read up on it today, in fact. If you have cause to believe that your patient… or the general public, is in danger, you’re free to reveal aspects of your sessions without violating your patient’s privileges.”
Nicole smiled, too. “And what medical journal did you read that in?”
Jake looked away. “I forget.”
Nicole laughed. “I never would have pictured you as an Internet surfer.”
Rick coughed, wondering at the conversation that was taking place without him. “Excuse me, but Dr. Westbrook, three of your former patients have been murdered. It’s not a coincidence.”
“And you’d like me to turn over my files to you? Privileged, private information about my patients?”
Jake stood up suddenly, pacing across the room. “Rick, give us a second, would you?”
“What?”
She motioned to the door. He raised his eyebrows. She shrugged.
“Okay.” He stood. “I’ll go… interrogate the secretary.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, Jake turned and faced Nicole, a slow smile forming on her face.
“Guess you didn’t get lost on the way out of the mountains, eh?”
Nicole took a deep breath, trying not to let that smile affect her. “I managed, thank you.”
Jake walked closer again, finally sitting down across from Nicole. “So, Dr. Nicole Westbrook. Small world.”
Nicole nearly laughed. Jake was a… cop. Not a hired killer, but a goddamn cop. Jesus. Nicole met her eyes. “You’re still not getting my files,” she said quietly.
“I could get a court order.”
“You could try.”
“Their lives may be in danger.”
Nicole leaned forward. “Why would someone want to kill old patients of mine? It’s got to be coincidence.”
Jake grinned. “I don’t like that word. Nothing is ever a coincidence.”
“I won’t violate their privacy.”
Jake stood up, leaning over the desk. “Nicole, how are you going to feel if another one gets killed?”
“And how will it help you if you have the files of all my patients? There are hundreds, Detective. Are you going to watch them all?”
Jake shoved her hands into the pockets of her slacks, knowing she couldn’t make Nicole give up the files. She shook her head. “Can you at least give us some background on the three women who’ve been murdered?”
Part of Nicole wanted to tell this… this detective to get the hell out of her office. But, Jake’s voice was not threatening, only pleading. So, against her better judgment, she decided to help. “I’ll give you their files if you promise me the information will never be made public, as in a trial, and that it will only be used in the investigation of this case.”
Jake nodded. “I promise,” she said softly. “You have my word.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and Nicole felt herself drifting back, reliving once again the hours spent in this woman’s arms. Her glance dropped to Jake’s mouth, and, she would swear, she could still taste those lips. She swallowed with difficulty, finally pulling her eyes away.
“I’ll… I’ll have Catherine print out the files for you.”
Jake nodded, then looked around the room. “Never would have guessed this is what you did for a living.” She stared at Nicole, taking in the neat suit and skirt. She smiled. “You looked more comfortable in jeans.”
Nicole straightened up. “And I never would have guessed you were a cop. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t recall you asking.”
No, Nicole hadn’t bothered to ask a thing. She was too busy… drowning in this woman. Jesus, a small world indeed.
“I have another appointment, Detective.” Nicole motioned to the door. “If you don’t mind.”
Jake nodded. “Thanks for seeing us. And for the files,” she added.
Nicole nodded and walked Jake to the door. The other detective and Catherine looked at them as they walked out.
“Catherine, please print out the files that they want.” She looked around. “Is Carol not here?”
“Yes. She went to the ladies room.”
“Just send her in when she’s ready.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Nicole turned to go back into her office, but hesitated. She felt Jake’s eyes on her, God, just like she’d felt them in the mountains. She looked back, eyes colliding with Jake’s for a brief moment, then she made herself walk into her office and close the door firmly behind her. She leaned against it, noting her racing pulse. Wouldn’t you know it? The one time she gets wild and does some-thing totally out of character, it comes back to haunt her. What were the chances that she would run into Jake again?
And try as she may, she could not force herself to concen-trate on Carol Hulsey’s monologue. She nodded when the other women paused, but her thoughts were completely on a dark-haired woman… who was a cop, for God’s sake!
———
“How did you talk the files out of her?”
Jake shrugged.
“Come on. Don’t tell me she’s gay, too, and you sweet-talked her?”
“I didn’t say she was gay, but maybe I did sweet-talk her.”
“I don’t know how you do it. Damn, Jake, you have better luck with the ladies than I do.”
“You think so?”
“Well, you have your moments. But the way she was looking at you… you sure you didn’t know her?”
Jake shook her head. “No. But we got the files. Let’s see where they take us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As soon as Carol Hulsey left her office, Catherine was there to replace her, standing in front of her desk with hands on hips.
“What?” Nicole asked.
“I have been with you more years than I can count, and you have never, ever given out copies of files before.”
“It’s a murder investigation, Catherine.” Nicole leaned back and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “And it was… her.”
“Her? Her who?”
Nicole sighed. “Jake.”
“Jake? That was your Jake?” Catherine sat down heavily in one of the visitors’ chairs. “Oh my God! That cutie was your Jake?”
Nicole smiled. “She’s not my Jake.”
“She’s cute as hell. Not butch, really. A dyke, yeah.”
Nicole sat up. “Will you stop?”
Catherine laughed. “Not your type, that’s for sure.”
Nicole bristled. “And what is my type, Catherine?”
“Debra Fisher, for one.”
“Please don’t bring that up again. I’m sorry I ever told you about her… proposition.”
“I’m sorry. But isn’t it ironic? You let your hair down for once and have sex with a stranger, and she ends up being a cop that needs your help.”
Nicole gave a sarcastic smile. “Ironic, yes. But still, Catherine, three of my patients are dead. I passed it off as coincidence, but could it really be?”
“Well, what did your cop say?”
“She doesn’t think it’s a coincidence.”
Catherine shrugged. “Shelly Burke. I remember her. It makes it more real. I don’t remember the other two.”
“Sadly, I really don’t either. There have been so many women come through here.”
“You think there’s really a connection?”
“God, I hope not.”
———
Jake walked quickly behind Cheyenne, giving the dog as much leash as she could. She knew Cheyenne hated the leash, but she couldn’t take a chance in the park. As much as she trusted Cheyenne to obey her, she couldn’t account for another dog run-ning up to them. But her leg felt good. It was getting stronger every day. It was just the moments of inactivity that stiffened i
t. Once she worked the kinks out, she was fine. Sort of.
As Cheyenne sniffed around a juniper, Jake let her thoughts drift back to Nicole. Damn, but she’d been shocked speechless when she’d seen her. Never would she have suspected that the Nicole she’d spent time with in the hot springs was a goddamn therapist. First of all, she never thought she’d run into her again. Not that it was unwelcome. She had nothing but fond memories of that day… and night. But she suspected that Nicole would just as soon forget the whole thing. She looked as shocked as Jake.
“Pumps and a business suit,” she murmured disgustedly, shaking her head. The Nicole she remembered was too comfortable in jeans and hiking boots to bother with dress clothes. But, apparently not. She’d seen it with her own eyes, and she was having a hard time reconciling the two Nicoles. One who seemed to be completely at home in the mountains and this one. This professional one that looked stiff, confined, sad nearly.
And now that she knew who Nicole was and where she was, would she attempt to see her again? She doubted the Nicole she saw today would be eager to see her. The eyes were the same but the rest… no. It wasn’t the same woman.
Jake sighed. It didn’t matter. Nicole was a part of a murder investigation. And that was a line Jake never crossed.
———
Nicole paced across her living room, wineglass held lightly in one hand. The robe she’d donned after her shower hung loosely around her, and she tightened the belt again.
I can’t believe it was her.
“Well, believe it.”
And she didn’t even act like she knew me. A cop, for God’s sake! Wouldn’t Dorothy have a field day with this?
Nicole stopped. She didn’t know why she was so upset by it. She should be glad Jake was a cop. My God, she’d thought she was a hired killer or something.
Then she frowned. But the dream was so… so real, so painful. She wondered what that was all about? And the professional side of her wondered if Jake had sought counseling.
Doesn’t matter. It wasn’t likely they’d run into each other again, unless Jake had some other police business. They traveled in different circles. But still, Nicole wondered why she hadn’t run into Jake before, at court, if nothing else. She shrugged. Maybe they had. And maybe she just hadn’t noticed her because Jake wasn’t her type.