Неизвестный - 4. Justice In The Shadows

Mitchell stared at the bed. Then she quickly averted her eyes and looked around the room. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” Sandy perched on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, her chin resting in the palm of one hand. “I’m really glad you like my decorating. Now, do you want to tell me why you woke me up?”

“Do you think you could…uh…put some clothes on?”

“I’ve got clothes on, Dell.” Sandy saw Dell’s eyes flicker down her body, then rapidly fix on some point on the floor between them. She liked the way Dell looked at her. A lot. She grabbed for her jeans and pulled them on.

Mitchell put her hands in her pockets and leaned against the corner of a dresser that stood against one wall. Now that she was there, inside Sandy’s surprisingly warm and cozy apartment, she didn’t know what to say.

“What?” Sandy’s voice was gentle.

Softly, Mitchell said, “I didn’t know you were working for Detective Sgt. Frye.”

“I wasn’t…not before yesterday. Why do you care?” Sandy’s question held no trace of belligerence, only curiosity. She wondered if Dell had any idea how much she wanted to know what put that look of fierce concentration in Dell’s eyes whenever they roamed over her face.

“It’s kind of a dangerous job.”

Sandy leaned back, her legs slightly spread, a challenging expression on her face. “So’s being a cop. You could get hurt, too.”

“There’s a difference and you know it.” Mitchell tried and failed to keep the aggravation form her voice. At least I have a gun. And back-up. Sometimes, anyhow. Without thinking, Mitchell put her fingers around Sandy’s forearm. “You’re totally unprotected.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve done a great job with that so far.”

Sandy jerked her hand away and barely stopped herself from flinging it across Dell’s face. “Get out.”

“Sandy…” Mitchell’s face was white and her eyes huge, the deep blue shadowed with pain. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way you think.”

“I know what you mean…that I’m just a who—”

“No.” Mitchell raised her hand slowly. “No.” She brushed a fingertip over the scar on Sandy’s forehead. “This is what I mean. How many more times can you take a beating like this?”

Sandy wanted to pull away, to spew angry words, but she couldn’t. Dell’s touch was so gentle, her expression so tender, her body so near. Dell was trembling. They both were.

“Dell…” Sandy murmured. Heat surged between her thighs, and she gasped as she felt herself grow wet. She stumbled back a step, breaking their tenuous contact.

Mitchell, her hand outstretched, wanted so badly to follow. There was something in Sandy’s voice, a hushed yearning, that made Mitchell’s stomach tighten and her head roar. “Hey…”

Sandy took another step back. “You should go, Dell.”

“Can I come back?” Mitchell didn’t even know why she was asking, but she had to.

Sandy was watching Dell’s mouth, and it was hard to concentrate. Dell had a beautiful mouth. Then Frye’s voice cut through the haze. “A police officer can be suspended, even fired, for fraternizing with a prostitute.”

“Look,” Sandy said as forcefully as she could, searching frantically for the right words to make her go. “Look, I’m Frye’s now, okay? I don’t want anything to mess that up.”

Mitchell straightened as if struck, then reached behind her for the doorknob. “Just watch your back, okay?”

Then she was gone, leaving only the echo of her footsteps in the hall. Sandy listened until she couldn’t hear her at all.

“You be careful, too, rookie,” she whispered. Her fingers rested lightly on the scarred wooden door in a final caress.

At eleven twenty-four, the side door to Catherine’s private office closed behind her last client of the morning. Trying to gather herself for the afternoon ahead, she might actually have fallen asleep if the intercom line on her phone had not rung.

“Detective Frye is here, Doctor. Your next appointment is scheduled at one, so you have a bit of time.”

Suddenly invigorated, Catherine smiled. “Tell her to come in, please.”

When Rebecca came through the door a moment later with a brown paper bag in one hand, Catherine was waiting just inside. She placed a hand on Rebecca’s shoulder and leaned close to give her a kiss on the mouth. “What a nice surprise.”

“I took a chance that I might catch you between sessions. I brought lunch.”

“I knew there was a reason that I loved you.” Catherine reached for Rebecca’s hand and led her to the sofa in front of a low coffee table. “Indian?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wonderful. I’m famished.” Catherine extracted the various containers along with the plastic forks and paper napkins from the bag and spread them out on the table. “Is there another reason besides rescuing me from starvation that you’re here?”

Rebecca hesitated. There were very few things in her life that made her uncomfortable. Being at odds with Catherine was one of them. When they fought, even when they merely couldn’t see eye to eye over some issue, it left her feeling disjointed and strangely hollow inside. “I had a briefing with Sloan and the others this morning. We’ve been formulating a plan of action.”

“Problems?” Catherine continued to eat slowly, suspecting that Rebecca would not have come by in the middle of the day had there not been.

“We’re working on a couple of angles, but one of the critical things that we have to do is find the source of the information leak that led to the attack on Sloan.”

“And you suspect someone within your department.” Catherine could only imagine how difficult it was for Rebecca to investigate her own people.

Rebecca nodded. “How well do know Rand Whitaker?”

“Only casually. We see each other at local psychiatric meetings and now and then at seminars at the University.” Catherine sat back, her hand resting gently on Rebecca’s thigh. “You suspect him? How would he have gotten the information? Surely you didn’t tell him anything?”

“No, but he works in the department. And I was seeing him in an official capacity. It’s possible he could’ve gotten access to almost anything I was involved with.” Rebecca ran a hand through her hair, frustrated once more by her inability to find a solid lead.

“I suppose anything is possible,” Catherine mused, “but I don’t know him well enough to speculate.”

“I didn’t really think that you would, but I had to check.” Rebecca turned until she was facing Catherine fully, their knees slightly touching. She wanted to take Catherine’s hand, but that didn’t feel right considering what she was about to say. “Something else came up this morning as well.”

Oh?” Catherine waited, watching Rebecca’s eyes. Now we’ll get to the reason why you’re here.

“Dellon Mitchell said that she’s been seeing you.”

Catherine remained silent.

Rebecca forged ahead. “Is there anything about the investigation that she might have told you that is accessible to anyone outside this office?”

“It would be better if we discussed this after Officer Mitchell gave me a call,” Catherine said gently. “I don’t feel comfortable discussing this with you until then.”

“Catherine,” Rebecca said, trying to keep exasperation from her voice. “Mitchell already told us she was seeing you for counseling. She knew that I would talk to you when she said it.”

“There are moments when you are quite incapable of appreciating anyone else’s work other than your own.” Catherine stood abruptly and paced back and forth between her desk and the seating area, frown lines furrowed between her brows. Just as precipitously, she stopped and faced Rebecca. “Do you realize how frustrating that is?”