Radclyffe - Justice 01 - Shield Of Justice

by Shield Of Justice (lit)

  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 a bad tip!"

  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."

  "Could have gone down like that," Jeff agreed. "That makes Ryan one gutsy lady, or a crazy one. Most people would have run for help, dont you think?"

  Rebecca shrugged. "Who knows--maybe she didnt even think about it. She sees whats happening and just reacts."

  "Then we really need to know what Janet Ryan saw," Jeff said with finality.

  **********

  When Catherine spied Rebecca waiting in the car across the street, frowning over her notes, she felt a welcoming surge of pleasure. The convertible top was down and Rebecca looked attractively windblown. She had shed her jacket in the car, and the thin leather strap that circled her shoulders, holding her holster against her side, was obvious. Catherine had no particular fondness for firearms, and the sight of the gun under Rebeccas arm reminded her forcefully of the kind of life Rebecca led. Her response was a mixture of admiration and fear. She was drawn to Rebeccas strength, but it was the hint of vulnerability within that truly captivated her. The complexity of the contrasts made Rebecca all the more appealing.

  She approached the passenger side slowly, reminding herself that Rebecca was here on business. Still, she couldnt quite dismiss the excitement Rebeccas presence stirred in her.

  "Hi," she said.

  Rebecca looked up, and in a rare unguarded moment welcomed Catherine with a blazing smile. "Hi."

  Lord, shes stunning For a moment Catherine stood motionless, transfixed.

  Rebecca leaned over to push the passenger door open. "Youre very prompt."

  Catherine laughed as she settled into the contoured leather seats. "Dont be fooled. It doesnt happen often." She waited until Rebecca maneuvered into the dense traffic crowding the road in front of the hospital before speaking.

  "Have you made any progress with the case?" Catherine asked.

  "Not much," Rebecca replied, frowning. "I have a hunch your patient interrupted him, possibly physically intervened. That means she saw him. She might give us a description--" She gave Catherine a questioning, hopeful look.

  Catherine shook her head. "Not yet. Shes heavily sedated and has only slim recall of last nights events. It could be a few days--perhaps a week."

  "Can I speak to her?"

  "She spoke with the officer who brought her to the hospital."

  "I know that," Rebecca responded. "But that was just a preliminary. I need to go over things in detail, and I know what to ask."

  Catherine thought about Janets fragile emotional state and tried not to consider her ever increasing desire to assist Rebecca Frye. Janet must remain her primary concern.

  "I have an hour scheduled with her tomorrow afternoon. If shes ready, Ill let you know. Id like to be present when you question her. Do you mind?"

  "Not at all," Rebecca said quickly. "In fact, Id prefer it."

  "Well, then--it seems we dont have much to discuss over dinner," Catherine remarked with regret. She realized then just how much she had been looking forward to this time with Rebecca.

  "I still want to take you to dinner," Rebecca replied, turning her eyes from the road to glance at Catherine expectantly. She didnt want to think about what it meant, she only knew she didnt want to say good night to Catherine Rawlings quite so soon.

  "Good," Catherine answered softly. "I was hoping youd say that."

  Chapter Seven

  Rebecca drove to a small restaurant on the mainline known for its excellent food and quiet intimate decor. The owner greeted Rebecca by name and seated them personally at a secluded table that offered them a view of the sweeping lawns and luxurious gardens. He left them to ponder the eclectic selections artistically displayed on fine parchment menus.

  "Do you come here often?" Catherine asked, curious about the special service they were receiving. They had been seated immediately despite several parties waiting before them.

  Rebecca shrugged uncomfortably. "Not for a long time. But whenever I do, Anthony insists on waiting on me himself."

  Shes embarrassed , Catherine thought. She waited, knowing there was more.

  "I found his daughter for him a few years ago," Rebecca continued in a low voice, remembering the run down rooming house and the frightened young girls inside. When she looked at Catherine, she couldnt quite disguise the pain of the memory. After so many girls in so many squalid squats, the sorrow had become a dark ache in her eyes. "She was fifteen years old, working on her back for a pimp who had promised her the excitement a girl her age longs for. What he gave her was a needle in the arm and a beating if she didnt earn enough." She didnt know how to describe the rest of ithow she felt when she found Anthonys youngest daughter strung out on smack and turning tricks for twenty dollars a pop. Her anger so intense that she almost forgot she was a cop. Her overwhelming need to stop the waste and the abuse. If Jeff hadnt interceded, she would have beaten the young pimp with her bare hands. She was grateful Jeff stopped her, but the rage still seethed, fueled by the daily destruction of lives and dreams she witnessed everywhere around her. She remained silent, alone with her anguish.

  Rebecca didnt know that the feelings she had forgotten how to share were clearly displayed in the sweeping planes of her face and the ever changing depths of her dark blue eyes. Catherine, so sensitive to the sounds of silence, caught glimpses of Rebeccas secret tears. She ached for Rebeccas pain, and she stood in awe of the strength it required to face such horrors every day.

  "To him it must seem like lifes greatest gift-- the return of his child. Hes trying to thank you without making you uncomfortable," Catherine said softly. Rebecca winced, and Catherine continued lightly. "Youll just have to bear it. I dont imagine hes going to stop."

  Rebecca heard the gentle mocking in Catherines voice and caught the glimmer of a smile on her full lips. The knot of anger in her chest began to loosen, and she felt herself relaxing. She broke into a grin that brought a flash of brilliance to her eyes and a youthful energy to her face.

  "If thats your pr
ofessional opinion."

  "It is," Catherine responded, rewarded by the light in Rebeccas eyes. Shes so beautiful Never could she remember being moved so deeply by anyone, and the force of her response was a little frightening. I hardly know herwhy do I feel like Ive been waiting for her?

  Rebecca startled her from her reverie with the words, "Then its my professional opinion that we should enjoy dinner and have no more talk of business."

  Catherine agreed happily, and after following Rebeccas suggestion to try the house special, settled back contentedly with a glass of wine. Over the course of the delicious meal she found herself telling Rebecca about her life. Rebecca learned that Catherine was the only child of a college professor and his wife, also a psychiatrist. She was close to her parents, but saw them only rarely. They were both still active in their professions and otherwise involved with joint pursuits. Catherine had grown up in a loving and supportive environment, but her parents had always maintained an emotional closeness with each other that sometimes made Catherine feel excluded. As a result, although this was something she didnt share with Rebecca, Catherine was reserved in her own personal life. Unconsciously she was searching for the same depth of commitment she had observed between her parents. Rebecca was a good listener, and she watched Catherine intently as she talked. Somehow she knew that these were things Catherine rarely spoke of.

  "What do you do for entertainment?" Rebecca asked at one point.

  "I love to read and take long bike rides. Im a sucker for old movies, too," Catherine answered. "How about you?"

  Rebecca laughed. "Im afraid Im one of those obsessive workers. When Im not working, Im working out."

  "How did you decide on law enforcement?"

  "I didnt decide. I was born into it, like a lot of cops. My father was a beat cop for forty years, just like his father. I always knew I would be a cop, too. I took a slight detour and went to college first, but there was never any question I would be a street cop."

  Rebeccas pride and satisfaction were evident in her voice. Catherine thought she looked more relaxed than she had ever seen her, and she was glad. Rebeccas charm and quick humor surfaced as she grew more comfortable. Catherine found her even more enchanting as the evening passed.

  They lingered long after the other diners had gone and only left when neither of them could hide her weariness. They drove in companionable silence through the now quiet streets. For the first time in weeks, Rebecca didnt think about work. When she pulled up in front of Catherines brownstone, she realized suddenly that she didnt want the evening to end.

  "Catherine, I" Rebecca stopped, unused to putting her feelings into words. She wanted to tell her how wonderful the evening had been, and how much she wanted to see her again. Old habits, old fears, held her back. When are you going to learn, Frye. What in hell do you have to offer a woman like this?

  Catherines eyes were warm and welcoming as she gazed at Rebecca, waiting for her to go on. Rebecca flushed and looked away, her jaw tightening. She sensed Catherine waiting, but still painful disappointments haunted her, holding her a silent hostage.

  Catherine touched her arm gently, speaking instinctively, without her usual restraint. "Rebecca, I am a lesbian. If you didnt already know that, Im sure you would soon. I also find you incredibly attractive. Regardless of how you feel about meor women in generalthat fact remains. However, I can assure you that I have no intention of doing anything to make you uncomfortable."

  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 is nothing about 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 four P.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 didnt want to 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.