"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.
"Barb called at lunchI told her Id be home around seven."
A single tear slipped from between her lashes and dampened her cheek. Rebecca reached for a tissue and pressed it into Janets free hand. She waited a moment, then asked, "What did you do after work?"
"It was beautiful outside. -- I decided to go home on the Drive, even though the traffic is slower" She stopped again, a slight tremor noticeable in her hands.
"I remember," Rebecca said softly, "it was cool, there had been a shower"
"Yes! It had been so sticky all weekend! I stopped -- oh, its all so confusing! I cant remember where I stopped!"
Her anxiety was more pronounced now.
"Thats okay, Janet, youre doing great," Rebecca soothed. "You dont have to get everything straightened out now. Just tell me anything you can remember, even if it doesnt make sense."
Catherine gave Rebecca a startled look but remained silent. Maybe I should take her on rounds with me. Shes better at this than some of my residents . Rebecca continued to surprise, and intrigue, her.
"Thats just it! I cant make sense of what I can remember. There are so many colors!"
"What colors, Janet?" Rebecca asked quickly, writing the word on her pad and circling it.
"I dont know!"
"Do you remember a man? Did you see a man, or a woman and a man?"
"No."
"Did you hear a woman scream?"
"No." She looked at Catherine, her face pale. "Im sorryI cant remember!"
"I believe you. Its all right," Catherine soothed. "Close your eyes for a minute, and tell me anything you seeany image, any picture in your mind at all."
"Just the number"
Rebecca sat up straight in her chair, her face tense. "What number?"
"Ninety-seven."
"Ninety-seven what? Were there letters with the number?"
"I cant rememberplease, I cant remember!"
"Thats all right, Janet," Catherine interrupted. "Youve been wonderful. Well talk again when youre a little stronger."
Rebecca forced down a protest. She knew Janet had seen somethingshe could feel it. She also knew it would be futile to try to prolong the interview. Clearly Catherine felt the young woman had had enough. Rebecca pocketed her notebook and stood up, her anger surfacing as she surveyed the battered, terrorized woman before her. She intended to put an end to this reign of terror.
Chapter Nine
Catherine joined Rebecca in the hall outside Janets room. She didnt miss the hard stillness of Rebeccas face.
"Not much help?" Catherine asked.
Rebecca passed a hand across her face and sighed. "Not much. Theres something there, thoughIm sure of it."
"Im almost positive Janet walked up on the rape," Catherine said as they began to walk. "That might explain Janets extreme reaction, and the symptoms shes displaying now."
"Can you press her on the numberand try to find out more about the colors?"
"Not now," Catherine replied. "Shes blocking because shes not psychologically prepared to cope with what she witnessed."
Rebecca suppressed her impatience. She had no doubt Catherine was right, but she needed this girl to remember! Her powerlessness was eating her up inside.
"Will you let me know when I can talk to her again? I really need her, Catherine."
"I know, Rebeccaof course."
Rebecca stopped in front of the elevator, at a loss for words. She didnt want to say good-bye, and she didnt know how to move forward. The bell rang, announcing that the elevator had arrived. Catherine was so close to her she could smell her subtle perfume. Catherines hand was on her arm, her fingers softly caressing. Her green eyes held Rebeccas with a tenderness she could drown in.
"I want to see you again," Rebecca said hastily, "not about the case. Can I call you?"
Catherine realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out with a soft sigh as the elevator doors slid open. It took all her will power to step back from Rebeccas body when all her desires urged her closer.
"Oh, yes. Ill be waiting."
**********
Rebecca drove back to the station with her thoughts divided between Janets scanty recollections and the exchange with Catherine at the elevator. Catherine touched off a physical response so intense it was actually painful. She was wet again, and throbbing. It was all she could do to keep her mind on the traffic.
Her pager went off just as she pulled into the parking lot. She pushed open the heavy double doors and took the stairs to the third floor two at a time. Leaning over the counter at the intake desk, she called, "Frye, here. Whats up?"
The frazzled dispatcher, sweating profusely in her blue uniform, turned to her from the computer console.
"Jeff Cruz is not responding to his calls. The Captain wants to see you pronto."
Rebecca swore under her breath as she hurried to the glass enclosed office at the end of the hall. She rapped at the door marked "Captain John Henry" in peeling black letters. The black man behind the desk was fiftyish, fit and big. His iron grey hair was cut short, and his demeanor authoritative. The white shirt he wore was stiff with starch,
and his tie was tightly knotted, even in the ninety degree heat.
"Wheres your partner?" he barked without preamble as Rebecca entered his office.
"I dont know," Rebecca said with a worried frown. "He had a meet with Ronnie Carmichael, the undercover guy working the Zamora case. Hes the one we think is running the kiddy porn business in the tenderloin."
"Yeah, I read the file. Where was the meet?"
"They change locations every time. It was just a routine check-in, Captain. Carmichael hadnt come up with much, at least not that we knew about."
Captain Henry didnt comment. Cruz and Frye were his best team, and he gave them a lot of slack to run their own cases. It wasnt unusual for them to be involved with other divisions, particularly narcotics, on cooperative investigations. They werent careless. If Cruz was in trouble, he had walked into something he hadnt expected.
Rebecca was thinking the same thing. Something felt wrong.
"I dont like it, Captain. Somethings gone down. We need to find himfast."
"Weve got an all points out on him and his car. Well get a fix on him soon."
"What about the contactCarmichael?"
Henry fanned his hands out over his desk. "No word. Theyre both out there loose somewhere."
Rebecca turned abruptly and headed toward the door. She had to find Jeff, and she knew him better than anyone. It could take all night for a cruiser to spot his car. She wasnt going to leave him out there alone.
"Frye!" Henry called. "I want you here, coordinating the search, until we have something definite."
"Let Rogers do it," she said, whirling to face him, her jaw set stubbornly.
"I want you on it, Frye." He stared back at her. His expression changed slightly, and he lowered his voice. "Weve got two missing cops already. I dont want you out there alone."
"But Jeff"
"Thats an order, Frye."
She gritted her teeth, and nodded. "Yes, sir."
**********
When Rebecca entered the squad room, the noise level suddenly dropped. Feet shuffled, someone cleared his throat, a few people looked away. Everyone knew what she must be feelingher anger, her helplessnessand none of them quite knew what to say. So they handled it the way they always did, by doing the job, by carrying on. Someone put a lukewarm cup of coffee in her hand.
She sat at her desk, fists clenched in her pockets, and watched the clock. The men from the day shift stayed, even though many of them had been on duty for close to eighteen hours by then. Gina Simmons, a young rookie, came in silently and piled boxes of pizza on the littered coffee table. Rebecca shook her head when someone offered her a slice. They stood around in groups eating, spilling bits of oil and cheese on the floor.
The call finally came in at ten-thirty. A cruiser had spotted Jeffs car on a deserted pier at the waterfront. Rebecca was on her feet and halfway to the door when a hand on her arm restrained her.
"Ill ride with you, Frye."
Rebecca turned toward the stocky man beside her, struggling to control her temper. She had never liked William Watts. He was a lonera cynical, caustic cop who didnt seem to give a damn about his job. She couldnt figure out why he was a cop, and she didnt want to deal with him now.
"Not tonight, Watts," she said tersely, brushing off his hand.
He jerked his head toward the hallway, his face impassive. "Captains orders."
She turned on heel, heading toward the stairs. She didnt have time to waste on this. Watts hurried after her.
Rebecca gunned the MG out of the lot and slapped the red light onto her roof. When the traffic ahead didnt yield fast enough, she veered around them into the oncoming lanes. They were the first to reach the scene. There were cruisers pulled off the four-lane highway at odd angles, and men with dogs were combing the waterfront.
Rebecca climbed out and surveyed the area. Jeffs car was parked under an overpass, the only civilian vehicle in sight. To her right a huge crane stood like a lonely sentinel over the abandoned site of someones waterfront dream. To her left, facing the water, were a cluster of darkened buildingsthe maritime museum, an attached souvenir shop, and a curb-side hotdog stand.
She headed toward the buildings, Watts close behind her. She neither spoke to him nor acknowledged his presence.
"Why not the crane?" he asked, out of breath from the pace Rebecca had set.
"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 ass what you think. I know my 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 sideno 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 kn
ew. 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.
Radclyffe - Justice 01 - Shield Of Justice Page 4