Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

Nail this down tight. We’ve got Mr. McBride, our other computer consultant, and Detective Mitchell working on additional evidence tying Beecher to the pornography operation. Watts and I have been tailing him, but we could use some extra help on that.”

“Done. I’ll assign twenty-four-hour coverage.”

“We’ll need photos,” Clark said, his tone calm and even again.

For the Þ rst time, Henry looked annoyed. “We do know how to run surveillance in Philadelphia, Agent Clark.”

Clark merely smiled. “Of course.”

“What else have you got cooking, Lieutenant?” Henry asked.

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Rebecca lifted her shoulder. “We’re exploring a number of avenues, sir.”

A ß icker of amusement crossed Henry’s face and was quickly gone. “Then I’ll expect you to keep me apprised of your progress along those lines.”

“Of course,” Rebecca replied. With a nod to Clark, she moved toward the door, Sloan and Watts close behind. Once outside, with the door Þ rmly closed behind them, she muttered, “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’ll be in the ESU,” Sloan snapped and strode away.

Watts looked after her and grunted. “She’s gonna snap Clark in two someday.”

“We need to see she doesn’t,” Rebecca said quietly.

“Us and whose army?”

“She’ll hold,” Rebecca said, hoping that she was right.

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Justice Served

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

You look like you’re walking more easily,” Catherine observed as Mitchell crossed the room to her customary seat in the chair opposite Catherine’s desk. “How’s the leg doing?”

“It’s Þ ne. Almost good as new.”

Even had she not been trained to hear the unspoken words and decipher the subtle signals that people telegraphed without meaning to, Catherine would have been hard-pressed to miss Mitchell’s distress.

The normally strong planes of her face were hollow and drawn, her vibrant deep blue eyes shadowed and dull. Even the timbre of her voice rang with pain.

“You’ll be seeing Dr. Torveau for another evaluation tomorrow?”

Mitchell nodded, almost too weary to speak. She drew a breath and forced herself to deal with the one issue that really mattered. “I need the paperwork Þ lled out for the lieutenant. About my duty status.”

“Yes, I know.” Catherine pushed her chair back a few inches from her desk and crossed her legs, relaxed but attentive. With a gentle smile, she asked, “I take it you’re ready to return?”

“DeÞ nitely. I’m going stir-crazy.”

“But you’ve been keeping busy, correct? Working with Jason?”

Again, Mitchell signaled assent with a twitch of her shoulder.

“Dellon,” Catherine said quietly. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Mitchell considered her options, which were few—that is, in addition to the truth. Denial, lying, or evasion. She contemplated those choices. Perhaps if it had been the Þ rst time she’d been in this situation with Catherine Rawlings, she wouldn’t even have hesitated.

She would have said “nothing.” Things had changed, and she hadn’t even noticed. It was harder for her to keep what bothered her inside.

It was harder for her to keep people on the outside. Part of that was a

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result of the support she had gotten the Þ rst time she’d been forced into therapy with Catherine. Despite her initial discomfort and anger at her powerlessness, she’d found understanding and an unexpected surcease from pain when she’d shared her feelings.

And then there was Sandy.

Sandy, who had managed to step over, circumnavigate, or simply crash through every barrier she’d imposed, with a single sharp word or tender glance. Last night—last night all she’d wanted was for Sandy to keep touching her, because with Sandy inside her, there was no room for anything else. Mitchell took a shuddering breath.

“I was forced to resign my commission in the Army.”

Although the revelation was completely unexpected, Catherine’s expression indicated only compassionate interest and none of her surprise. “Forced. So it wasn’t voluntary?”

“In theory, I had a choice. It was simple—take an honorable discharge or be court-martialed.” Mitchell laughed hollowly and shook her head. “Some choice.”

“What were the circumstances?”

Mitchell rubbed her face vigorously with both hands and then dropped her arms back to the armrests, her Þ ngers limp. “I assaulted a superior ofÞ cer.”

“Male or female?”

“A man.”

“Assaulted how?”

“I punched him. Hard enough to put him in the hospital overnight.”

“Tell me how that came about.” Catherine had seen Mitchell with Rebecca and knew how deeply ingrained her respect for hierarchical authority was. Whatever had prompted her to break rank in such an excessive fashion must have been extreme.

“He was trying to…he forced himself…on a woman.”

“You stopped a rape?” Catherine asked incredulously. “And for that, you were threatened with court-martial?”

“It wasn’t a rape…yet. He was just…” Mitchell swallowed, the memory still so clear. Her stomach churned with rage and revulsion, just as it had that night. “He was just touching her.” He had his hands on her breasts, his mouth on her neck. He was pressing himself into her.

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“Against her will?”

Mitchell nodded.

“Then I don’t…I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” Catherine said intently. “Why were you at fault?”

“She was my lover.”

Oh, Dellon. Catherine rose and walked around the desk to the chair beside Mitchell’s. She did not touch her, but angled in the seat so that she could look directly into Mitchell’s face. “Tell me about her.”

v

Laughing, Michael stepped out of the elevator, her arms Þ lled with packages. Sandy followed close behind, saying, “I can’t believe the look on her face when you told her I was your girlfriend.”

“Well,” Michael said, still irritated by the saleswoman’s superior attitude, “she was so clearly trying to eavesdrop on our conversation, I just thought I’d help her out.”

“You were great…” Sandy trailed off as she noticed the woman standing across the room by the windows. “Hey, Sloan.”

“Hi, Sandy.”

Surprised, Michael deposited the spoils of their trip on the sofa and went to her lover. “Darling? I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon.”

Sloan smiled and kissed Michael’s cheek. “Missed you last night.”

Michael brushed her Þ ngers through Sloan’s hair, studying her lover’s eyes. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“A few hours.”

From across the room, Sandy called, “I’m gonna unpack these and then take off for a while. I have some errands to run for Dell.”

“Don’t put them where she might see them,” Michael said. “Use the closet down the hall.”

Sandy grinned. “Gotcha.”

Once alone, Michael twined her arms around Sloan’s waist and settled against her. “Tired?”

“No.” Sloan smoothed her hands up and down Michael’s back, loving the feel of silk sliding over even softer skin, reveling in the warmth beneath her Þ ngertips. When she’d left Henry’s ofÞ ce and gone back to the ESU, she’d thought she’d be able to work. Thought the

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work would quench the anger, as it had so often in the past, but this time was different. She couldn’t concentrate. All she’d been able to think about had been Michael—almost dying, and the horrible void that had Þ lled her heart and mind for those few terrible hours. Unconsciously, she tightened her hold on the woman in her arms.