Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

“I know,” Catherine said softly. “Does it still hurt?”

Mitchell took a shaky breath and nodded. “Some. I mean, I know she’s all right. But I still…feel it.”

“Your head knows she’s all right, but your heart will take a little while longer to believe it.”

“I almost didn’t come this afternoon because I didn’t want to let her out of my sight.” Mitchell smiled crookedly. “She’s starting to complain that she’s suffocating.”

Catherine laughed. “Do you think she means it?”

“Probably a little. She’s pretty independent.”

“I noticed. How do you feel about that?”

“Most of the time I think it’s pretty great,” Mitchell conceded.

“But when she insists on getting in the middle of things where she might get hurt, I’m not too keen on it.”

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Justice Served

“And have you talked about it?”

Mitchell grinned. “Uh…maybe more like shouted about it.”

“But you’re handling it?”

“We’re okay. I drive her crazy, but she knows I’m doing it because I love her.”

“Good.” Catherine regarded Mitchell intently for moment. “Is there some other reason, besides not wanting to leave Sandy, that you didn’t want to come today?”

Mitchell looked down at her heavy black motorcycle boots, considering, then shrugged one shoulder. “I thought you might tell me I can’t go back to work.”

“Why did you think I would say that?”

“Because of this morning. I didn’t handle it so well.”

“Oh? I didn’t notice that anything was wrong at the conference.”

Other than the fact that you looked like you’d been through the wringer.

“Was there some kind of procedural problem in the Þ eld?”

Swiftly, Mitchell shook her head in denial. “Not that kind of screwup. I mean, I think I handled everything okay. Followed protocol.

But…”

“But?”

Mitchell sighed heavily. “I pretty much fell apart when I thought it was Sandy. I kind of couldn’t think. Then…well, then I heaved in the gutter.” She grimaced, remembering, still chagrined. “Jesus. I can’t believe I did that.”

“Don’t you think it’s natural for someone to have an extreme reaction when they believe someone they love has been killed?”

“I’m a cop,” Mitchell said immediately. “I’m supposed to be able to handle it.”

“Handle that kind of loss? How?”

“By doing the job. By just…doing what has to be done.”

Catherine struggled to be objective. Mitchell sounded eerily like Rebecca, so certain of what must be done and so very certain she could trade her humanity for her duty over and over without slowly dying.

God, what makes them do this?

Wishing desperately that she understood, Catherine knew with a sinking heart that she might never Þ nd the answer to what made her lover who she was, what made this young woman believe that it was possible to bury that much pain for the good of a…a job. Not a job. The

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job. Suddenly, she realized that she had never asked the right question.

The answer wasn’t to be found in understanding why they did what they did. It was all about how the work was an extension of who they were. “What does being a cop mean to you?”

Mitchell’s brows drew down sharply at the unexpected question.

Taking her time, she formed her answer. “It means taking all the things that are important to me, about who I am and what I believe, and bringing them together in one place. When I’m a cop I’m me, more than any other time in my life except…” She smiled. “Except when Sandy and I are making love.”

“When you’re being a cop and when you’re with the woman you love,” Catherine said quietly. “That’s when you’re you?”

“Yes,” Mitchell replied solemnly.

Catherine considered the idea, considered all she knew of her lover, all she had learned from Dellon and from other police ofÞ cers over the years. She believed it. She still didn’t entirely understand it, but she accepted that the essence of their being, their self-deÞ nition, was intimately shaped by their responsibility, dedication, and pride in being police ofÞ cers. Her responsibility at the moment was determining if this one police ofÞ cer could safely function, regardless of how critical it might be to Mitchell to fulÞ ll her role on the team.

“You seem to like being undercover. Is it stressful?”

“No,” Mitchell admitted. “Not when I’m Mitch. Mitch is…”

Struggling, she met Catherine’s eyes and found only acceptance. “Mitch is me. Part of me, anyways. I just let that part come to the surface, and it’s not work.”

“I’ve wondered,” Catherine said. “Do you have to think about behaving like a man, or…how does that happen for you?”

Mitchell grinned. “It comes pretty easy. It’s not just clothes or the co—other stuff. When I’m Mitch, and people relate to me like I’m a guy, it’s easy to stay in character. Sure, it helps to look the part, to have the right equipment in my jeans, but a lot of it is about how other people see me. Sandy helps a lot.”

“How?” Catherine watched Mitchell’s face come to life, saw the energy return to her eyes, saw her body straighten with renewed strength. She wasn’t entirely certain whether it was the mention of Sandy or Mitch, but something had infused Mitchell with excitement and purpose.

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Justice Served

“She digs Mitch. She makes it work for me. She never lets me forget who I am when I’m him.” Mitchell made a wry face, considering her words. “Did that just make any sense?”

Catherine laughed. “I think so. Having Sandy believe in Mitch, and relate to him with consistency and sincerity, makes it easier for you to project his personality.”

“Yes.” Mitchell grinned. “Having her have the hots for Mitch helps me be him.”

“I think that’s what I just said,” Catherine murmured, and Mitchell laughed.

“I can see that the undercover portion of the assignment is not a problem for you. What about the rest of it?” Catherine asked, suddenly serious. “Are you concerned about the danger?”

“Concerned?” Mitchell pondered the idea. “No. It takes some getting used to, never knowing exactly what’s going to happen, but I feel prepared. Being a cop is just like being a soldier. You train, you know you’re ready, and whatever happens, you deal with it.”

“Speaking of soldiers,” Catherine remarked evenly, “Erica was a bit of a surprise.”

“Yeah, well, she hasn’t been part of my life for quite a while, so I never thought to mention her.”

Catherine made a sound of assent, watching Mitchell’s face.

“Okay,” Mitchell conceded. “I don’t like to talk about her.”

After a moment, Catherine asked, “Has seeing her yesterday changed how you feel at all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s going to be a lot harder to put her out of my mind now.”

“It must take a lot of work to keep your twin out of your mind.”

For the merest instant, Mitchell closed her eyes. Then with a sigh, she said, “It’s impossible. Most of the time I don’t think about her, but then at odd moments, I remember something we did or something she said, or I’ll want to tell her something…and she’s not there.” She took a deep breath and sighed again. “Then it’s really tough.”

“Now…with all that’s going on with this investigation, is probably not the best time to explore your feelings concerning the estrangement with your sister, but at some point, I think you should.”

Slowly, Mitchell nodded. “So…you and I, we could do that?”

“Yes, we could.”

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