Radclyffe - Justice 01 - Shield Of Justice

by Shield Of Justice (lit)

  "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 I care . 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."

  "What stopped you?"

  Rebecca met Catherines gaze, her defenses shattered. "I thought about you."

  Catherines fingertips stroked Rebeccas cheek, pushing the hair back from her forehead. She hadnt meant to touch her, but her own heart was breaking in the face of Rebeccas anguish. As she leaned slowly forward, she whispered, "Im so glad you did."

  At the touch of Catherines hand, the fiber of Rebeccas resistance snapped like a straw in the wind. The tenderness pierced her armor like the pain could not, clouding her awareness until there was no reality except the hazy green of Catherines eyes, the heady aroma of her scent. She needed the surcease of Catherines body more than she needed air to breath. Rebecca sought her lips, bruising them unintentionally with the force of her kiss. She plundered her mouth with her urgency to lose herself in Catherines flesh. Pushing Catherine back against the couch, Rebeccas hands fumbled with the sash of her robe, her tongue demanding entrance. She groaned as Catherines tongue met hers with the same intensity. Rebecca pulled away only to press her lips to the rich ripeness of full breasts, leaving Catherine gasping. Catherine cried out, holding Rebeccas face to her, forcing her nipple into Rebeccas seeking mouth. Rebecca, her long-buried passion unleashed, was burning, the very breath in her lungs evaporating from the heat. She knew only the yielding warmth of Catherines flesh, the rightness of Catherines embrace. She was beyond conscious thought, aching with the force of the blood rushing through her pelvis, thrusting against Catherine with a rhythm she could not control. Catherines arms were around her, pulling her close, urging her to let go. Rebecca moaned, consumed by the agonizing pleasure of Catherines body beneath hers, her clit ready to burst. Her hunger, her need, triggered an explosion as her hips pumped in a frenzy of excitement. She heard Catherine murmuring her name even as she began to convulse against her, crying out with the wrenching spasms that overpowered her. Head flung back, arms rigid, she arched above Catherine, groaning with each internal pulsation, gasping for breath, until finally she collapsed into Catherines arms. Through a haze she felt the gentle caresses of Catherines fingers in her hair, her cheek pressed to Catherines breast. She drifted in Catherines strong embrace, savoring a peace she had long forgotten.

  Chapter Eleven

  The sun streaming through the bay windows woke her. As consciousness returned, so did a flood of emotions. The pain of Jeffs death twisted like a knife in her heart, an unrelenting ache she would carry with her for a long time. The sight of her jacket neatly folded over the arm of the easy chair jolted her with memories of the night before. Her face burned with a conflicting mixture of dismay and renewed desire. She remembered her loss of control with embarrassment. God, what must Catherine think of her? Even as she struggled with the thought, she yearned for Catherines touch. She wanted her so powerfully it left her shaking. She wasnt sure she had the courage to face her. What if Catherine had only responded out of kindness? Rebecca hadnt given her much choice, after all. Y ou must have been out of your mind, Frye! Christ, you came all over her like a kid on his first date!

  She pushed herself reluctantly to a sitting position, noticing her shoes and belt beside the sofa. God, where is my gun? She looked about frantically, relaxing slightly when she saw the shoulder holster hanging on the knob of the closet door. She couldnt believe she hadnt noticed Catherine removing that. It was like a part of her. She looked up to find Catherine in the doorway, watching her, a faint smile on her lips. She looked more beautiful than Rebecca remembered. Her wavy hair shown with reddish highlights, and her graceful figure was accentuated by the folds of the silk dressing gown she wore. The look of desire in Catherines eyes sent a bolt of arousal directly between her legs. She was wet instantly.

  "Catherine, I--" she began tentatively, searching for words.

  "Shh--" Catherine commanded as she drew near, her smile deepening. Rebecca stared up at her, captivated by the power of her gaze. Catherine leaned down, curling the fingers of one hand in Rebeccas hair. Catherine kissed her, a deep, probing, demanding kiss that left them both gasping. When she pulled her head back, she said teasingly, "Does that answer any questions for you?"

  Rebecca took a long, shuddering breath. "Im sorry about last nightI mean, the way Ithe way it" I didnt mean to come like that. I couldnt stop it, you made me so crazy.

  "Dont be sorry. You were beautiful, and believe me, I have never enjoyed anything more. Being wanted that much is very exciting. Dont you know how much Ive been wanting you ?"

  Rebecca rose and pulled Catherine into her arms, trembling. She kissed her mouth, the soft skin of her eyelids, the sm
ooth slope of her neck. She felt Catherines pulse quicken under her lips as their bodies yearned for closer contact. Catherines hands were under Rebeccas shirt, cupping her breasts, stroking the firm planes of her abdomen. Rebecca hissed in a breath as Catherines fingers found her nipples, twisting them lightly. Rebecca reached under the hem of Catherines gown and found the smooth flesh of her thighs. She slipped upward, into the waiting wetness, finding Catherines clitoris, distended and sensitive. She stroked her, sliding the slick bundle between her fingers.

  "Oh, god, Rebecca!" Catherine cried, clinging to her, her legs weak. "Thats so good!"

  Just as Rebecca began to pull her down onto the sofa, the beeper in the pocket of her jacket went off. She stiffened at the sound.

  Catherine leaned back in Rebeccas arms, her face flushed, her green eyes cloudy with passion. "Oh my god, tell me it isnt true."

  "I have to answer that," Rebecca said huskily, her hands moving to Catherines hips, still caressing her. "Im sorry."

  "Its not your fault," Catherine murmured, pressing her forehead hard against Rebeccas shoulder, trying desperately to steady herself. Shaking still, she stepped back reluctantly. "Go. Answer it. Ill get us some coffee."

  When Catherine returned with two steaming mugs, Rebecca was standing with her back to the room, looking out onto the street. Catherine knew that the last twenty-four hours had shaken Rebecca to the core, and now she was a part of that. She wanted her with a consuming desire she had never known before, but she also knew that Rebeccas emotional state was precarious. Too many demands right now could destroy her. Catherine was determined to let Rebecca come to her in her own time. She wanted her, but most of all she wanted her to survive.

  "What is it?" she asked, handing Rebecca one of the cups.

  "Internal Affairs. They need me to go over our cases with them, to see if we can turn up anything on Jeffs killing."

  "Today?" Catherine asked, wondering what kind of people would put Rebecca through that less than twelve hours after her partners death.

  Rebecca laughed grimly. "Try two hours ago." She set her cup down on the window ledge and turned to Catherine. "I wish I could staybeing with you is so good." She stopped, afraid to go on, afraid to let herself admit what she felt.

  "You can always come back, Rebecca. Ill be here, and I want you to come back. Whenever you can, whenever you want."

  Rebecca nodded. "I will." She straightened her clothes and strapped on her holster. As she pulled her jacket on at the door, she turned to face Catherine one last time. "Thank you for last nightall of it."

  Come back soon, Rebeccaand safely , Catherine thought as the door closed behind her.

  **********

  An hour later, freshly showered, in a crisp white shirt and navy suit, Rebecca entered the squad room. Men looked at her and nodded as they went about the business of the day in a subdued fashion. She walked to her desk impassively and stared at the figure across from her.

  "What the hell are you doing in Cruzs chair?" she said, her voice like granite.

  Watts looked at the expression on her face and then glanced around the squad room for support. No one offered any.

  "Just getting acquainted with the caseload. The Captain told me you and I are going to be partnered up."

  She stared down at him coldly, then turned on her heel and stalked away. By the time she reached Captain Henrys door she was boiling. She pushed the door open without knocking and stormed toward his desk.

  "What do you mean by telling Watts we were going to work together?" she demanded, not even registering the amazed look on Henrys face. "Hes a lazy sleaze, and I wont have him for a partner!"

  Henry rose in one fluid motion, his arms braced on the desk as he leaned toward her.

  "Frye, you get the hell out of my office! If I tell you to work with Joey the Clown, you do it! And you smile about it, too!" He bit off each word, his face a thundercloud of anger.

  She met his angry gaze evenly, her fists clenched at her sides.

  "Listen, Captain" she began, trying unsuccessfully to lower her voice.

  "No, you listen! You just lost your partner. Its toughI appreciate thatbut youve still got a dozen open files, including the River Drive thing. You cant do it alone, and Watts is available. If hes an asshole, learn to live with it. I dont care how you do it, just do it!"

  "Whats he got? Friends in high places?" she asked, her blue eyes dark with scorn.

  Henrys neck muscles tightened, and a flush rose to darken his features. His voice was deadly cold as he spoke. "Im going to pretend I didnt hear that, Fryejust this oncebecause Cruz was a good cop. IAD wants to see you. Take care of that, and then get back to work."

  She didnt replythere was nothing she could do. He watched her turn and walk away, wondering if he was making a mistake leaving her on the streets. She was one of his best. He thought she would crack if he put her behind a desk, so he had argued with his superiors against it. He hoped he was right.

  **********

  Catherine knocked and entered Janet Ryans room. Barbara Elliot was sitting close to the bed, her fingers entwined with Janets.

  "Hello, Dr. Rawlings," Barbara said tiredly.

  "Hello, Barbarahi, Janet. How are you feeling?" Catherine asked.

  Janet looked better. The bruises still disfigured her normally attractive face, but the swelling had begun to subside. Both eyes were open now. Their expression was bright.

  "Im much better, thanks. Ive been up walking a little, and Im not taking the pain medication." She glanced at her lover fondly. "When can I go home?"

  Catherine grinned. "I can see youre feeling better. Id like to keep you a few more days, just for routine observation. How are the flashbacks?"

  Janet grimaced. "Im still getting them, especially at night. Just pieces of images from my pastof my brother when I was small." She took a deep, quavering breath. "I never realized it had gone on for so long."

  Catherine nodded sympathetically. "They may get worse as you recover from this attack, Janet. I may want to try you on a mild sedativenothing too strong. Lets think about going home in a few days, all right?"

  Janet looked at Barbara questioningly.

  "I really want Janet at home, Dr. Rawlings. Everyone is nice to us here, but its still so impersonal. But I dont want her to come home until shes ready. Whatever you decide is fine."

  Catherine spoke with them a few more moments, and then left to complete her inpatient rounds. When she stepped out into the hall, a neatly dressed young man moved hurriedly to intercept her.

  "Dr. Rawlings? Is it true that Janet Ryan witnessed the rape on River Drive earlier this week? Has she been able to describe the assailant?"

  Catherine stepped back a pace, nonplussed. "Who are you?" she asked.

  "Mark TylerDaily News. What about it, Doctor? Did she witness the rape?"

  Catherine was furious. "Mr. Tyler, you have no business being here. If you want information, I suggest you speak to the police. I have nothing to say to you. And if I find you here again, Ill have security remove you!"

  "Oh, come now, Doctor, surely you want this maniac caught," he persisted, blocking her path with his body.

  She maneuvered around him, saying, "Indeed, I do, Mr. Tyler. Which is why I have nothing to say to you!"

  At last she was able to escape, wondering as she ducked into the stairwell how he had found out about Janet. The police had warned them to keep the circumstances of her admission quiet, and she thought they had succeeded. She should have known there were no secrets in a hospital. The police presence alone, no matter how understated, was enough to start rumors. Her first impulse was to call Rebecca, but then she thought better of it. After all, she hadnt told him anything.

  **********

  Watts saw Rebecca heading for the stairs directly upon finishing her interview with the officers from IAD. He hurried after her.

  "Where you going?" he called just as she reached the door.

  She turned, aware that he was right behind her.r />
  "Look, Watts, Im going out. Okay? Now go back to your paperwork."

  He grabbed her arm. "Out where?"

  Rebecca stared at the beefy hand on her arm and slowly raised her eyes to his. He hastily let his hand drop, but he still stood firmly in her path.

  "Watts" she said menacingly, struggling to keep her temper under control.

  "Look, Frye -- Im not any happier about this than you are, but thats the way it is. So its a bitch -- theres nothing we can do about it." He waited for some reaction, but Rebecca stared past him at some small spot on the opposite wall. Watts shook a cigarette out of a crumpled pack, lit it, and leaned against the wall, content to stay there all afternoon. A muscle in Rebeccas face twitched.

  "Im going over to homicide -- the Zamora case was ours. Maybe I can help," she said reluctantly.

  Watts blew a perfect smoke ring, considering her words.

  "Homicide can handle the case, Frye. Theyre not going to screw up when its one of our own. Why not let them do their jobs -- weve got plenty on our plates right here."

  "I didnt ask for your opinion, Watts," Rebecca said heatedly, shouldering him aside.

  "Oh, the hell with it," Watts muttered as he listened to her footsteps echo in the stairwell.

  He was right, and Rebecca knew it. Still, she had to see for herself that everything possible was being done to find Jeffs killer. She had to do something!

  She finally tracked down the investigating officers, who were painstakingly sweeping the area of the killings for witnesses. Apparently, no one had seen or heard anything.

  Rebecca found the two officers in charge of the case standing beside a chalk outline on the small loading dock where she had found Jeff and Ronnie Carmichael. She stared at the spot, envisioning Jeffs body contained within the impersonal white lines. At length she turned to the two men who were regarding her uncomfortably.

  "Turn up anything?" Rebecca asked, breaking the silence.

  "Not much," the larger of the two replied disgruntledly. They had been questioning vendors and museum workers since first light and had little to show for it. "We assume Cruz met Carmichael sometime around four. This place is still pretty busy then. Nobody would notice two men in a crowd. Most of the people who were here are probably miles away -- tourists."