Неизвестный - 3. In Pursuit Of Justice

“It will be fine, Rebecca. It’s nothing like the last time.” When her lover merely nodded curtly, she asked gently, “We’re both tired. Let’s talk about it later.” Again Rebecca nodded silently, and Catherine continued, “What are you going to do now?”

“Drive back to Old City and check in with Watts and Mitchell.” As if anticipating Catherine’s next words, Rebecca added quietly, “Just for a few minutes. Then I’m sending Mitchell home and leaving the follow-up to Watts for the time being. I’ll meet you at your place in less than an hour.”

“All right,” Catherine said. She understood that Rebecca couldn’t rest until she had taken care of these last details. She understood it, and she tried hard to accept it. It wasn’t easy, seeing the deep shadows under her eyes and remembering the pain on her face just hours before. Then again, she doubted that any of them looked fit for public consumption at the moment. “I’m going to be leaving in just a few minutes, too. I just want to check on Michael one more time.”

Rebecca grasped her hand and drew her around the corner into the deserted alcove in front the elevators. Then she pulled her into her arms and kissed her, hard. Finally releasing her, she said fervently, “You were incredible tonight. None of us would’ve gotten through this without you.”

“If things keep up this way,” Catherine said with a shaky laugh, “I’m going to have to take an emergency room medicine residency.”

“It’s not always like this,” Rebecca assured her swiftly.

“So you say,” Catherine said softly, laying her head against Rebecca’s chest, just enjoying the solid comfort of her. “Come home soon. I want to hold you.”

Kissing her forehead, Rebecca held her tightly, refusing to think about anything beyond the moment when they could be together. “Sounds like just what I need.”

She wondered if Catherine had any idea how very true those words were.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

SARAH MARTIN QUIETLY pushed open the door to room 614 and stepped inside. The vertical blinds over the one window had been closed and the room was suffused in the pale yellow light of late afternoon. A steady beep from the monitor above the bed and the faint rasp of breathing were the only sounds. Walking to the figure who slumped in a chair by the bedside, she whispered softly, “Sloan.” When she got no response, she leaned down and gently shook the other woman’s shoulder.

Sloan’s eyes flew open and she straightened with a start. Immediately, she looked toward the bed and then sagged slightly in disappointment. Michael had not regained consciousness since the one brief moment with Catherine nearly twelve hours before. Turning to her companion, she rubbed her face with both hands and said, “What time is it?”

“Three-thirty. Jason is on his way to the office for the briefing.”

“Right,” Sloan rejoined wearily, rising slowly. “Show time.”

Sarah stilled her friend’s motion with a hand on her arm. Quietly, she whispered, “Maybe you should call it off, Sloan.”

“No, we might not get another chance.” Sloan moved to the bedside and ran her fingers lightly over Michael’s cheek. Leaning down, she threaded the fingers of her left hand through her lover’s and murmured close to her ear, “I won’t be long. I love you.” She kissed her fingers, then, gently, her lips.

Then she walked out of the room without looking back. Outside in the hall, she turned to Sarah. “If Jason doesn’t make contact with this guy tonight, he’ll get spooked and suspect we’re on to him. We don’t know how closely he’s in contact with other members of this organization. He might not know anything; he might be a central player. We can’t afford to tip them off at this point.”

“Jason said the same thing,” Sarah said with a sigh, remembering their strained conversation only an hour before. “Look, go home and take a shower. If Jason’s going through with it, I’ll feel better if you’re there with him. I’ll stay with Michael.”

“If she wakes up…” Sloan swallowed hard and continued, “When she wakes up, if I’m not here, tell her I’ll be back soon. Tell her I lo…”

Smiling faintly, Sarah took Sloan’s hand. “Sloan, believe me, Michael knows that. Go get this thing done and come back.”

Sloan nodded, a hard glint in her eyes. “Jason and I will see you in a few hours.”

Catherine and Rebecca dressed silently on opposite sides of Catherine’s bedroom. Catherine pulled on navy cotton chinos and a short-sleeved polo shirt, topping it off with a blue blazer. Rebecca slipped into jeans and a button-down collar shirt, strapped on her shoulder harness, and covered it with a dark blazer of her own. They had slept most of the day and had said very little after rising and showering together.

“Be sure you stay with Clark,” Rebecca said quietly, her back to Catherine. From her gym bag on the floor she pulled two extra magazines for her automatic and slipped one into each of the front pockets of her jacket. “We’ll all be miked, and you should be able to hear everything that’s going on. Even if things get…chaotic…stay in the car. Don’t come forward until I personally call for you.”

“How likely is this to turn into some kind of standoff?” Catherine asked, registering Rebecca’s anxiety for her but considering it unfounded. Of much greater concern to her was the possibility that Rebecca would be in the middle of a firefight. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re in no condition—”

“We have no reason to believe that this guy will resort to violence,” Rebecca said immediately, facing her now. “I just want to be prepared for any contingency. On the off chance something does heat up, I don’t want you at risk.”

“If someone has to go through a door,” Catherine said persistently, “let it be Watts. Not you. Not this time.”

Rebecca looked past Catherine out the bedroom window, struggling to find some balance between who she knew herself to be and who she would need to be if she were to keep Catherine in her life. “If we need to go through the door, I’ll let Watts go through first today, but I can’t promise you that I won’t be right behind him.” She met Catherine’s eyes. “That’s the best I can do.”

“All right.”

Rebecca’s piercing gaze intensified. “And what about you? Am I going to have to worry about you while I’m trying to control the scene?”

“I’ll stay with Clark until I’m needed. I promise.”

They both moved at once and met each other in the middle of the room. Simultaneously, each slipped her arms around the other’s waist, pressing together for a fierce kiss. A minute became two until finally each drew back a fraction with a regretful smile.

“Time to roll,” Rebecca said softly, gently releasing her.

Mitchell ran through her mental checklist. Automatic loaded. Back-up .32 in her right ankle holster. Extra ammo in the right front pocket of her jeans. Badge in the opposite front pocket. Cuffs in her left rear pocket where she could reach them while holding her gun on a suspect with her dominant right hand. She stopped by the front door of her apartment and snagged her black leather jacket off the clothes tree. She was in jeans, sneakers, and a short-sleeved football jersey. She couldn’t think of anything else she needed—or needed to do. Fleetingly, she thought about making a phone call, but then thought better of it. It seemed like there should be someone, but there never really had been. Her family had never understood her reasons for wanting West Point, and had understood even less her reasons for leaving. Of course, it hadn’t helped that she couldn’t tell them why she resigned, because she would have been betraying secrets that were not hers to reveal. Now she was a cop, something else that no one in her family of business executives and investment brokers could fathom. The only person she could think of, in fact the only person she really wanted to call, was someone who considered the police her enemy. In the end, as it had always been, she was alone. She stepped through her door and went down the two flights of stairs out onto the sidewalk. A car was idling at the curb and she slid into the front seat.