Неизвестный - 3. In Pursuit Of Justice

“I know,” Catherine said quietly. If she and Rebecca were to have any future together, she would have to accept the fact that every time Rebecca walked out the door, it might be for the last time. She would have to learn to say goodbye, and she wasn’t at all sure that she could.

CHAPTER TWO

CATHERINE WATCHED REBECCA pack with a sense of loss. It had taken her by surprise when after breakfast that morning Rebecca had announced that it was time for her to move back to her own apartment, before “the super rents it out from under me.” That excuse was so thin Catherine could practically see it hanging in the air between them like a curtain of smoke. The news shouldn’t have been unanticipated, because in the last week the detective had improved dramatically; nevertheless, Catherine’s first response had been one of disappointment. It was an occupational hazard to ask herself why, especially when she was elated to see her recovering so quickly, and as she leaned against the dresser watching Rebecca carefully fold jeans and T-shirts into a duffle, she struggled for perspective.

Too many conflicting emotions, that’s all it is. Things will settle down in a week or two. As soon as I get used to the fact that she’s all right, I won’t feel as if my world is teetering on the brink of disaster . She jumped as the sound of the bag’s zipper rasping closed cut sharply through the silence, a knife severing ties with heartless finality. “I’ll miss you.”

Surprised, Rebecca looked up, a crease between her brows. “I’m not planning on going anywhere. But I can’t stay here any longer.”

Why not? But Catherine knew why not. Her heart might not, but her head did. Too soon. We’ve spent most of our time together in crisis mode, and that kind of intensity can push things too quickly. We need time to know one another better. There are far too many secrets still to tell .

“I don’t want us to end up practically living together by accident,” Rebecca continued, placing her bag by the bedroom door. You might discover you’ve made a mistake. You might decide I’m not relationship material, just like the others did when they spent enough time with me. She slipped on a dark gray blended silk blazer and automatically reached under the left side to adjust her shoulder holster. Of course it wasn’t there, and wouldn’t be until she was no longer on medical leave and had re-qualified on the range. Some rule from the City Council about preventing impaired police officers from having access to service weapons. Impaired. Its absence was a constant reminder that she was not herself. At least they hadn’t taken her shield. The weight of the slim leather case in the inner pocket was some comfort; small comfort perhaps, but a reassurance that she would be whole again. And soon. Today I start getting my life back. “Especially not because you were taking care of me.”

“I was hardly taking care of you. You barely tolerated me cooking dinner every night without trying to do the dishes before you could even stand upright. I don’t consider grocery shopping and a few loads of laundry a hardship. Skilled nursing it was not.” Smiling to herself, Catherine thought about the two weeks she had taken off to spend with Rebecca after her discharge form the hospital and realized that they were two of the most relaxing weeks she’d had in months. Vacations had become a rarity for her between trying to juggle private practice with her university teaching responsibilities. They’d watched a dozen movies on DVD, discovered that they shared a passion for screwball comedies, and managed to actually complete the Sunday Times crossword puzzle together—a first time for them both. Solitary and private by nature, she had never shared that much of her life with anyone before, other than her parents, and that had been far in the past. It had been surprisingly easy. “Besides, I liked it.”

“So did I,” Rebecca said softly, quickly crossing the bedroom to her side. She lifted Catherine’s chin in her palm, searching her eyes. “I like a whole lot of things about being with you—having dinner with you, unwinding with you, and especially being there when you wake up.” She blew out a breath, searching for the words to explain that she didn’t want to build a relationship on the foundation of her own weakness. Finally she said, “When things are back to normal, I’ll feel like I deserve you.”

“What makes you think you don’t already?” Catherine asked, knowing even as she spoke the words that Rebecca would only feel worthwhile if she were also a cop. “There isn’t some test you have to pass with me, Rebecca. You don’t have to qualify at anything to be cared about.”

“I’m no good to anyone like this,” Rebecca said in frustration. “I can barely carry my own suitcase!” Unconsciously, she’d taken a step back, putting distance between them. You’ve only seen me when I was hurting, or hurt. First Jeff’s death and then this. I need to be able to give you something. I want to feel like I deserve you, whether you think it matters or not.

“It hasn’t even been six weeks. You just need a little more time.”

“Yeah, well,” she said as she reached for her duffle, “it’s time for me to get back to doing what I should be doing.”

“Meaning what, Rebecca?” Catherine asked, her voice rising sharply. “Putting yourself in the line of fire before you’re even healed from the last gunshot wound?”

“What?” Rebecca stopped dead, staring at her, completely perplexed. “You don’t think what happened is normal, do you? It’s a one in a million thing. Most police officers never even have to draw their weapons in the line of duty their entire careers.”

“I don’t care if it’s one in a million when it’s you,” Catherine replied softly, unable to keep the tears from her voice. “You’re the only one I care about.”

Rebecca’s frustration at her own sense of helplessness disappeared in the face of Catherine’s clear distress. “Hey,” she said gently, walking quickly to her side and slipping her arms around her waist. “Are we fighting?”

“No,” Catherine sighed, leaning her cheek against Rebecca’s chest. “We’re obsessing.”

“Uh-uh…cops don’t obsess. We just act.” There was a playful tone in her voice, but on some very basic level she meant it. What she did, she did by instinct and reflex. Part of it was training and part of it was just her. When you stopped to think, you got yourself—or someone else—killed. Unfortunately, it probably wasn’t the best approach to relationships, but it had never mattered so much before. “Cops don’t go in too much for self-analysis. Nothing worse than second guessing yourself out on the street.”

Catherine snorted. “Don’t think I haven’t heard that before—from every cop I’ve ever talked to.”

“Well then, see? It must be true.”

“Detective?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up.” And then Catherine kissed her, forgetting for the moment that her detective was still healing, and forgetting that she was worried about her safety, and even forgetting that she was angry, so angry, at her for risking her life with no thought to how Catherine would survive the loss. She kissed her hard, enjoying the feel of those familiar arms tightening around her, thighs pressing close, hands claiming flesh. She kissed her until her own breath fled and her trembling legs threatened to desert her. “Much better,” she finally murmured.

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner,” Rebecca said, her voice low and throaty. Another minute of that and she could forget the gym, because she wouldn’t be able to walk.

“Yes.”

As the door closed behind her, Catherine listened to her footsteps fade to silence. A silence so deep she thought she might drown in it.