Chapter Twenty-Three

Rebecca dropped Watts off to follow up on one of their other open cases and tracked down the homicide detectives working on Jeff’s murder. They were obviously hassled, but they took the time to fill her in. They had no new leads, but the rumor on the streets was that Jeff’s undercover man was getting too close to a major crime lord and that the two men were executed as a warning. A warning to both the police and anyone who might be thinking of providing the police with information.

She thanked them, knowing that they were doing what they could. Her beeper went off as she was leaving the building. She considered not answering it. She didn’t want to hear that the Captain was waiting for his status report. Something made her stop and call in.

"Watts wanted us to run you down," the dispatcher said when she identified herself. "Said you’d want to know that some doctor received an interesting package this morning. That make any sense to you?"

Rebecca slammed the phone down and was out the door before the dispatcher registered the dial tone at the end of his line. She went lights and sirens all the way across town to the hospital and left the car in the emergency zone outside. She stormed into the lobby and nearly collided with a woman pushing a baby stroller.

"Sorry," she muttered as she pushed her way to the elevator. The ride up to the psychiatric floor seemed to take forever. As soon as the doors opened, she saw Watts leaning against the counter in the nurses station conversing with a woman in white.

"Watts!" she shouted. "Where’s Catherine? Is she all right?"

He intercepted her and turned her away from the curious eyes of the people gathered around. "Yes, she’s fine. I took the call because I was in the squad room. When I heard what it was, I figured you’d want to know."

"What what was?"

"Your doctor friend is pretty smart. Someone sent her a dozen roses -- and since it wasn’t her birthday, she thought she should tell you before she opened the card. I guess she figured you didn’t send them."

"Damn it, Watts, just tell me where she is, and what the hell is going on."

"I am telling you. I’m waiting for the lab boys to pick up the flowers now. The card reads, `Thank you for last night. Ill see you soon."

"Jesus Christ." Rebecca turned away, her face grim. "I’m going to talk to Catherine. We need to put a guard on her."

"I don’t think that’s such a great idea," Watts stated flatly. "Might scare him away."

Rebecca rounded on him, her temper finally snapping. "Listen to me, Watts! We are not using Catherine Rawlings for bait. You understand me? We are going to cover her like the Pope until this guy is caught."

"Hey, I know how you feel --" Watts began.

"No, you don’t know how I feel, and you never will know how I feel! So drop it. Now." Rebecca could never remember being so frightened. She had been shot at, maced, and ambushed by street punks, but she had never felt the panic that threatened her now. All she knew was that Catherine was being drawn further into a very dangerous game, and she felt powerless to stop it. She set her jaw and took a deep breath. It was time for her to take charge of the situation, and that was exactly what she intended to do. Catherine, as it turned out, had different ideas.

"Rebecca, you must understand. For any number of reasons I cant let you assign me to protective custody. One very important reason is that I may be able to establish a relationship with this man. At the very least, well have some idea of the state of his mind. Please, darling, think of how important that might be!"

Rebecca stood with her back to the room, staring out into the streets below without seeing. Watts had left them at her request once it became clear that Catherine was not willing to be assigned a guard. All of Catherine’s arguments made sense, and at any other time Rebecca would have accepted the logic of maintaining contact with this unknown psychopath. But she couldn’t accept it now.

"There’s a big part of me that knows you’re right," she said softly, her voice hollow. "As a cop, if I were a good cop, I should be elated that we have some conduit to this guy --" Her voice trailed off.

Catherine went to her, put her arms around her, leaned her cheek against Rebecca’s rigid back. Rebecca’s strain and tension were transmitted to her through the unyielding muscles under her hands. Catherine knew the rejection was not of her, but of the weakness that Rebecca perceived in herself because of Catherine. Rebecca’s inner struggle now was one that Catherine knew would need to be fought again and again -- the conflict between Rebecca’s need for absolute emotional distance and the disruption of that control caused by her involvement with Catherine. Catherine was determined neither to ignore the problem nor to allow Rebecca to face it alone. The outcome of that battle would determine just how much the two of them could share, and Catherine found that that meant a great deal to her.

"Rebecca, the way you feel right now is perfectly understandable," Catherine began softly. "You’re worried about my safety, and its different than it usually is because you care about me. Were involved with each other, for heavens sake. We’ve made love, we’ve shared something of ourselves. I am not someone you can be objective about." And not someone you must push away to satisfy your sense of duty, I hope.

"I never should have let this happen," Rebecca said, her back still to Catherine. "Its compromising my thinking, and that could mean jeopardizing your safety."

"Well, I, for one, am not sorry that it happened," Catherine persisted. She knew she was taking her own emotional risks by admitting to Rebecca, and to herself, just how important Rebecca had become to her. But one of them had to make the first move to breach the considerable defenses they both had erected around their hearts.

Rebecca turned to her then, and tightened her arms around Catherine, holding her fiercely.

"Neither am I," Rebecca answered, her voice rough with emotion. I’m afraid to even think about how much you mean to me. I just don’t know what Id do if anything happens to you. Her tension began to lessen in the soft embrace of Catherine’s arms, and her mind began to clear. Even as she held her, Rebecca’s thoughts turned to what she must do to protect her. Where other emotions clouded her judgment, Catherine’s touch restored clarity. She was continually astonished, and still a little afraid, of the woman’s effect upon her.

"I don’t suppose I could persuade you to have a police officer accompany you around until this is over, could I?" she asked, her lips pressed to Catherine’s forehead.

"No."

"At least at night, when you’re at home?"

"Only if its you."

Rebecca leaned back and gazed down into the face that never failed to move her, memorizing the image -- wisps of grey at the temples, fine bones beneath ivory skin, liquid pools of swirling greens in her eyes.

"Its not in my contract," she whispered, longing to forget everything except the desire to kiss those tender lips and lose herself in Catherine’s welcoming warmth.

"It could be," Catherine answered, her lips finding Rebecca’s.

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