Radclyffe - Justice 01 - Shield Of Justice

by Shield Of Justice (lit)

  "Perfect spot for a hit," Rebecca said flatly. Anyone could have approached the two men, flashed some fire power, and walked them down to this isolated dock without attracting attention. Often the easiest crimes to pull off are those carried out in broad daylight. Obviously, this time it had worked.

  "What about the people Carmichaels been associating with? He must have gotten onto something a lot heavier than we expected. He made somebody nervous."

  "We havent had a chance to go through all his reports. He was pretty sketchy with his sources," the younger detective said. "Theres probably a dozen possibles."

  Rebecca raised an eyebrow, clearly irritated that they hadnt gotten to Carmichaels notes yet. Her reaction did not go unnoticed.

  "Listen, Frye --" the senior officer said tersely, "weve been out here since two A.M . Well get to the reports. Well roust anybody we have to, even without due cause. Well find out whats behind this."

  Rebeccas shoulders sagged slightly. She was tired. She knew these guys had been busting their balls all night trying to get a jump on the case before the slim trail went cold. But this was Jeff, and she wanted more!

  "Right," she said, straightening her back and heading toward the narrow stairs that led up to the pier.

  "Well keep you informed, Frye," the younger of the two called out. "And well get the bastard."

  Chapter Twelve

  Rebecca found herself parked in front of University Hospital, wondering what she was doing there. She had driven directly from the pier, never questioning her destination. Now that she was here, she couldnt decide whether to go in or to leave. She wasnt thinking very clearly. The combination of emotional shock and exhaustion had taken its toll. The normally self-possessed, controlled police detective was on the verge of collapse. She knew vaguely she had come because Catherine Rawlings represented the only sane point in her life -- a solidity and haven she sorely needed. Even in the depths of her despair, however, she resisted. She hated herself for needing this womans comfort, and for wanting the solace of her embrace. As much as she detested her own weakness, she feared the need even more. If she let herself feel it, what would she do if she were wrong? What would she do if Catherine Rawlings didnt want her. God, whats wrong with me? Im a cop -- this is all part of the job. I cant fall apart just because things are a little rough. Ive got to get myself together!

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on her car window. She looked up to find Catherine standing beside her, studying her quizzically. Rebecca rolled down her window and smiled hesitantly.

  "Hi," Rebecca said.

  "I saw you as I was going over to the outpatient clinic. What are you doing here?"

  "I dont know," Rebecca answered quietly.

  Catherine took a close look at her and pulled the drivers door open.

  "Move over -- Im driving."

  Amazingly, Rebecca did as she asked, too tired to protest. Catherine rested one hand protectively on Rebeccas thigh as they drove. Rebecca stared at it, thinking how delicate Catherines long fingers were. She was surprised when Catherine pulled up in front of her brownstone. She allowed Catherine to lead the way up the wide stone stairs and waited silently while Catherine opened the door. The living room was bathed in muted greys and soft maroons as the late afternoon sun streamed through shear drapes.

  Catherine slipped out of the light silk jacket she wore and tossed it aside. She turned to Rebecca, who was standing just inside the door, a faintly confused look on her face. Catherine tugged Rebeccas jacket off her arms. She folded it neatly and laid it over the back of a chair. She fumbled slightly with the shoulder harness, but managed to slip it off Rebeccas body. Reaching down, she pulled the pager off Rebeccas belt and placed it with Rebeccas gun on the chair. She kissed her lightly on the lips as she took her hand.

  "Youre off duty now, Detective Frye," she whispered as she led Rebecca into her bedroom.

  The sheets were cool against Rebeccas skin. She felt Catherine unbuttoning her shirt, and loosening her trousers. She roused herself enough to help remove the rest of her clothes. When Catherine lay down beside her, Rebecca pressed her face against the lush fullness of her breasts, sighing.

  "God, you feel good," Rebecca murmured. She moved just enough to nuzzle a nipple with her lips.

  Catherine laughed softly and wrapped her arms around Rebeccas strong back.

  "Theres plenty of time for that -- youre going to get some sleep now. Doctors orders."

  Catherine stroked the tight muscles beneath her fingers, feeling them gradually relax as Rebeccas breathing shifted to the steady cadence of sleep. Catherine closed her eyes with contentment, satisfied to have Rebecca safe in her arms.

  **********

  It was dark when Rebecca opened her eyes, uncertain for an instant in the still room. Then she felt Catherine beside her. Catherines arm lay across Rebeccas breasts, softly encircling her body. Rebecca lay motionless, savoring the sensation of Catherines skin against hers, memorizing the image of Catherine in repose. As her fingers began a slow exploration of Catherines body, Catherine pressed closer, murmuring softly in half-sleep. Rebecca gasped sharply as Catherine slipped one leg between hers and rolled over onto her with a throaty laugh

  "Hello, darling," Catherine whispered, bracing herself above the length of Rebeccas firm body as she teasingly rocked against her pelvis. She was rewarded by Rebeccas groan of pleasure. A cry caught in her throat when Rebeccas hands found her breasts. She continued her rhythmic motion until they were both wet, their damp pubic hair tangling together. Suddenly she straddled Rebeccas body, entwining her fingers in the wet curls between Rebeccas legs, tugging gently, pulling the thick hood back to expose Rebeccas erect clitoris. Rebecca groaned as the skin tightened around the shaft. She reached between Catherines legs.

  Catherine thought she would come when Rebeccas hand slid into her, completing the circle, but she managed to hold back the tidal wave of surging heat, wanting to prolong their union. They moved in perfect synchrony, stroking the fires of their passion, trembling on the edge of consummation, until at last Rebecca groaned, "Oh Icanthold it" Catherine exulted as Rebecca arched against her, and the sight of her beautiful lovers orgasm pushed her beyond her limits. She convulsed with the force of her own release, collapsing into Rebeccas waiting arms.

  **********

  When Rebecca stirred again it was after midnight. She attempted to extricate herself from Catherines embrace without disturbing her.

  "Im awake," Catherine said softly in the darkness, stroking the length of Rebeccas long form. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

  "I know how beautiful you make me feel," came the soft reply.

  "Where are you going?" Catherine asked, knowing instinctively that after such intimacy, Rebecca would withdraw. She wondered when, if ever, Rebecca would begin to trust what was growing between them.

  "Its late -- there are things I should have done earlier," Rebecca replied evasively. She was as content in Catherines arms as she had ever been, but as her strength returned, so did the pull of the streets. How could she explain her restless need to immerse herself in the pulsing, other-world of the night. It was her domain, the reminder of who and what she was.

  Catherine sat up, saddened at the distance between them. Her body still throbbed with the aftermath of their lovemaking, and she wanted only to hold Rebecca until the morning. She would not have that tonight, perhaps not any night. It was a possibility she was not ready to face. Rebecca moved her too deeply, aroused desires too powerful, to think about turning back. Her heart, her soul, had been marked forever by the searing intensity of Rebeccas presence.

  "What will you do?" she asked quietly.

  Rebecca swung her legs over the side of the bed, instantly aware of the absence of Catherines touch. "Check with homicide about Jeff -- talk with some sources who might know something. Cruise through the tenderloin . Ive got contacts there."

  Catherine tried to absorb the realities of Rebeccas life, wondering if she would ever tr
uly be able to understand it. Who but another cop could appreciate the soul-numbing inhumanity that was an everyday occurrence in the world Rebecca inhabited. She would try, and she was determined not to allow Rebecca to shut her out.

  Catherine started to rise. "Let me get you some coffee."

  Rebecca restrained her, pushing her gently down. "I dont want you to get up. I want you to stay here, so I can think of you like this until I see you again."

  Catherine wrapped her arms around Rebeccas neck, kissing her tenderly. "All right," she replied huskily.

  She lay in the dark, listening to Rebecca move about in the other room. She didnt sleep again until long after the outer door clicked shut.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rebecca cruised slowly through the tenderloin, that part of town frequented by prostitutes and the men who sought their company, drug dealers, street people, and others society had cast out or forgotten. The prostitutes in their crotch high skirts and revealing tops leaned against buildings or strolled languidly through the litter-strewn streets. Many she recognized by sight, more than a few by name. Arresting them was not her goal -- they were no more criminals than the hungry who stole for food. When citizens of the surrounding gentrified areas complained that the undesirable activity was encroaching on their neighborhoods, the cops would round up some of the girls, knowing full well they would be back on the streets in hours. All the participants knew it was a futile gesture. Rebecca chose instead to keep an eye out for new faces, especially the very young, hoping to get to a few before the streets became a way of life. Occasionally she succeeded.

  She pulled over in front of a bar which sported a flashing neon sign reading, `GirlsLive Nude Girls. She wondered absently if anyone besides her found that sign absurd. It wasnt the bar she was interested in, but the thin blond woman in front of it. She was about five-five, heavily made up, with an expanse of leg showing that left little to the imagination. Her hair was bleached, in a punk cut, and she kept one eye on the cars cruising by as she talked with several other women. When she saw Rebecca climb out of her car, her face twisted into a frown.

  "Hiya, Sandy," Rebecca said softly as she approached. The others in the group began to drift quickly away.

  "Jesus, Frye," the girl hissed, looking quickly over her shoulder. "What are you trying to do to me? Ill be poison to every john on the street tonight!"

  "So you can get a good nights sleep then," Rebecca said, turning so her back was to the bar, keeping a watchful eye on the street. She was alone, and it was no secret she was a cop. "I need to talk to you."

  "Is that all?" Sandy said with contempt. Shed had too much experience with cops who wanted more than just information to trust any of them.

  Rebecca met her angry gaze evenly. "Thats all right now."

  "I dont have much choice, do I?"

  "No, you dont."

  "Can we talk inside? Youre killing my business out here."

  Rebecca nodded and followed the girl into the dark bar, taking a table well away from the small platform where a woman did a tired bump and grind for the few patrons. Sandy signaled for a drink. Rebecca put a twenty on the table.

  "So, what do you need, `Officer," Sandy asked in a bored voice.

  "Two cops were killed the day before yesterday. What do you hear about it?"

  Sandy sipped her drink and regarded Rebecca coolly. She didnt actually dislike the big cop; in fact, Rebecca was one of the few cops who didnt harass the working girls. Shed even let Sandy out of the police van one night after a raid rather than bring her downtown for the empty charade of booking. Still, Sandy didnt want her to get the idea she was some kind of stoolie. And it didnt help her reputation any to appear too chummy with the cops. There was something different about the tall, blond detective tonight, though. She seemed almost human, like she had feelings. Youre losing it, girl -- cops with feelings!

  "Theres nothing going down that Ive heard," she said finally, which was pretty much true. Theyd all heard about it, of course. Usually when something like that happened it brought the whole force down on them, like they were the source of all the citys problems. Maybe this cop was just the first of many.

  "What about the chicken trade? Any new faces in town?"

  Sandy snorted in disgust. She hated the child procurers and pornographers as much as she hated the pushers. Like most of her friends, she stayed clear of them.

  "Since that big bust six months ago, its been quiet. I heard there might be a new house open somewhere in a very ritzy location, but it isnt down here."

  "Whos running it?" Rebecca asked nonchalantly, hiding her surprise at the information. She had been instrumental in cleaning out half a dozen establishments supplying children for all types of amusement in the city-wide crackdown Sandy referred to. If they were up and running again, there had to be big money behind it. Could that have been what Carmichael was on to?

  "No one knows, and thats the truth. Theres more than a few people whod like to find out."

  "Yeah," Rebecca muttered. "Where theres kids, theres money." She looked at the young woman before her, already cynical and hardened against life. There was nothing Rebecca could do to change her future, but maybe she could make a difference with a few of the really young ones. She pushed back her chair, leaving another twenty with the change on the table. "Thanks, Sandy. Keep your ears open -- Ill be back."

  "Hey, Frye," Sandy called. "Who were the cops who got it?"

  "Just cops."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rebecca was still in the car as the sun came up. She stopped at an all-night diner for breakfast before a quick detour to her apartment to shower and change clothes. The traffic was light, and her mind wandered, returning unbidden to memories of the previous night. Just recalling the sound of Catherines voice brought heat to her blood. Images of Catherine, wanton and passionate, threatened to unhinge her. Being with Catherine was at once the most comfortable and exciting experience shed ever had. It was more than she had ever dreamed, and easily the most frightening. Rebecca was relieved when the station house appeared, and she pulled into the lot on squealing tires. Work was just what she needed to put Catherine Rawlings in perspective.

  It was too early for the day shift to arrive, and she walked unnoticed through the quiet halls. When she pushed open the ready room door she was astonished to see Watts at his desk with a half-eaten pizza in front of him. She wasnt certain, but she thought he was wearing the same suit as the day before. He was the only one in the room.

  He glanced her way, grunting a greeting as he reached for another slice of the now congealed pizza.

  "I was just going to call you, Frye," he said around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

  "Whats so important at five-thirty in the morning?" Rebecca commented, not really caring what Watts had to say. She couldnt stand to see him sitting in Jeffs chair. She noticed a stack of folders beside the desk -- their open case files. Could Watts actually be working?

  "Thought you might like to read the morning paper," he said, tossing the early bird edition onto her desk. He went back to eating, munching the cold crust, his face expressionless.

  "What the hell!" Rebecca exploded as she glanced at the headlines. "Riverside Rape Witness Found!" She stared at him in astonishment, and he shook his head grimly.

  "Read it. Its very interesting."

  She began to read aloud, her voice tight and angry. "Sources reveal that a witness to the brutal rape of a college student on the River Drive last week may have been found." What followed was a sensationalized review of the previous two assaults, but it was the last paragraph which caused Rebecca to clench her fists in frustration. "Dr. Catherine Rawlings, a noted psychiatrist at University declined comment, but unnamed sources confirm her involvement with a patient who witnessed the most recent attack. The patients name has not yet been released, nor has a description of the assailant been made public." The article finished with an indictment of the police for failing to keep the public informed.

  "Jesu
s Christ," Rebecca cursed, tossing the paper aside. "I cant believe the asshole put Catherines name in the paper! He might as well have put Janet Ryans in, too. Well need to tighten security down there today. Catherine didnt want us to put a guard on the girl, but well have to now."

  This kind of media reporting only made their jobs more difficult. It engendered public distrust, and in this case could very well endanger the investigation. It might prompt the rapist to change his pattern, or stop temporarily, leaving them in the void. He might move to another city altogether. It was even possible he might try to silence Janet Ryan, now that he knew where she was.

  "Looks like somebody talked," Watts remarked with disgust. "Probably the shrink."

  "It wasnt her," Rebecca stated flatly, knowing that Catherine would never endanger Janet Ryan.

  "She knows almost as much as we do," Watts continued unperturbed, fingering the reports in front of him. "Shes been present every time youve talked to the Ryan kid"

  "I told you, Watts -- it wasnt her. Now let it drop!" Rebecca barked. Her patience was exhausted, and she felt fatigue settle around her like a cloak. "Go find the little twerp from the Daily and shake it out of him after morning report," she said, slowly standing up. "Im going home."

  Watts wasnt convinced, but he knew better than to provoke her further. He didnt ask her anything else.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Catherine finished her second cup of coffee and glanced up at the cafeteria clock. It was 7:15. Residents and students were beginning to gather in tired clumps to discuss the nights events and the days demands over breakfast. She was one of the few staff present at such an hour. The real business of the hospital wouldnt begin until the outpatient clinics began at 8:30. Catherine had come early for one specific reason -- to intercept Hazel Holcomb before the Chief of Psychiatrys busy schedule made her inaccessible for the day. Catherine saw the familiar figure moving through the coffee line at precisely 7:30, carrying a coffee and danish as she had each morning for the fifteen years that Catherine had known her. She was nearing sixty, and her age showed only in the grey of her hair and a slight thickening of her body. Her brisk step and quick piercing gaze were as youthful as ever.