Once outside, Rebecca turned to Watts where he was attempting to light a cigarette. His match kept blowing out.

"That was a nice piece of work with Bailey, Watts," she said. His questioning had been sharp, and they had worked well together.

His cigarette finally caught, and he took a deep drag. He didnt acknowledge her remark as he started toward the car.

"Guess well have to start questioning all the hookers down here," he remarked, pulling open the door to his battered green Dodge sedan. "See if theres a john around who likes girls in gym shorts."

Rebecca nodded, her thoughts in tune with his. It could just be a coincidence, but it was the only lead they had. It was certainly better than cooling their heels waiting for their rapist to strike again.

"Ive got some contacts here --let me chase this a while," she replied.

Watts shrugged. "Suits me. Im going to grab some lunch."

He didnt invite her along, and Rebecca didnt suggest they go together. She agreed to meet him at the station later to see what Bailey and the police artist would put together. Maybe, finally, they had a break.

Chapter Eighteen

It was after eight, and Catherine was exhausted. She had spent the afternoon at her office, seeing private patients. She loved her work, but there were times when it took all of her effort to stay connected and focused during a session. She was a good therapist, and she was almost always present for her clients. On days like today, she was glad to see the last client leave.

As she pushed the stack of patient files into her brief case, the phone rang. She stared at it, wishing she could ignore it. Her receptionist had left. The switchboard would pick it up in a few more rings. Then it occurred to Catherine that it might be Rebecca, and she snatched the phone up.

"Hello," she said, a hopeful anticipation in her voice.

"Dr. Rawlings?" a soft male voice inquired.

"Yes," Catherine replied, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice.

"Is she feeling better now?" the voice continued.

Catherine frowned, annoyed and confused. "Im sorry -- who is this? I dont know to whom youre referring."

"You know her, Dr. Rawlings," he said in a husky tone. "The girl who saw me in the park. The one who watched me fucking that other one."

Catherine took a slow deep breath and kept her voice steady, despite the sudden racing of her heart.

"Im glad you called," Catherine said. "What shall I call you?"

There was a soft chuckle through the line. "You know I cant tell you that. Theyre looking for me, you know. But theyre too stupid to find me."

"Why is that?"

"They have no imagination." Another soft laugh. "Do you, Dr. Rawlings?"

"I think so," she answered.

"Can you imagine lying on the ground, your face in the grass, with a big hard cock up your ass?"

He might have been asking her if she would like to take a stroll in the park. His tone was casual, almost distant.

"Is that what youre imagining right now?" she asked him.

"I wont tell youthat, Doctor," he responded, an edge in his voice for the first time. "I cant tell anybody -- but youll see, wont you? The next time I do it, youll see."

"What are you going to do?" Catherine questioned.

The click of the line being disconnected was the only response.

"Damn," Catherine muttered as she sagged against her desk. She started to tremble slightly and realized how shaken she was by the call. Part of her professional mind was fascinated, but, personally, she was repulsed by the soft, cool voice which reached out to her like an unwanted caress. There was only one voice she wanted to hear right now.

Chapter Nineteen

"Hey, Frye," the night sergeant called across the squad room. "Theres a call for you."

Rebecca frowned and gestured "no" with her hand. She and Watts were expecting Bailey to finish with the police artist any second, and she was eager to get a look at her suspects face.

The desk sergeant shrugged. "The lady says its an emergency."

Rebecca, annoyed, crossed the nearly deserted room and reached for the receiver.

"Frye," she announced tersely.

"This is Catherine, Rebecca. I wouldnt have called, but --"

"Nonsense," Rebecca interrupted immediately, detecting a difference in Catherines usually calm voice. "What is it?"

"Your suspect -- the rapist -- just called me. At least, I think it was him," Catherine replied, her voice curiously flat. She felt somewhat detached from everything at the moment.

Rebecca caught her breath, filled with a sudden anger. This nameless, faceless man had gone too far. He had touched someone who meant a great deal to Rebecca.

"Where are you?"

"At my office."

"I want you to lock your office door, move away from the window, and wait for me. Donotopen the door for anyone. Ill be there in ten minutes."

"Im fine, Rebecca," Catherine said, some of her usual control evident in her tone.

"I know that. Just do as I say."

"Of course I will."

Rebecca hurried across the room for her jacket and was intercepted by Watts as she headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, stepping nonchalantly between her and the exit.

Rebecca stared at him while trying to make a decision. She knew she should tell him about a possible contact from the suspect, but she wanted to see Catherine alone, to be sure she was all right. She remained wordless, and he watched her, no expression on his face.

Taking a deep breath, she replied, "We may have a phone contact from our boy. He may have just called Catherine Rawlings. Im going there now."

Watts raised both eyebrows and whistled softly. "Things are heating up, arent they? Guess Id better tag along."

Rebecca knew she couldnt prevent him from accompanying her, as much as she wanted to go alone. Damn the job sometimes!

"Lets go then," she said resolutely, consumed with the need to reach Catherine.

When she knocked on the office door, calling to Catherine, she unconsciously held her breath until she heard the lock being turned. The door swung open and Catherine stepped forward, looking pale but composed. She stopped short when she saw Watts behind Rebecca, her eyes meeting Rebeccas.

"Thank you for coming, Detective," she said quietly.

Rebecca wanted to enfold her in her arms, aching to touch her just for a moment. Instead, she nodded slightly and followed Catherine into the waiting room. She introduced Watts and suggested they sit so Catherine could tell her story.

Catherine relayed in detail the brief conversation. Her memory was excellent, honed from years of retaining an entire hours session with clients. Rebecca and Watts each took notes.

Rebecca stiffened when Catherine clinically stated the callers sexual intimations. She felt a rage she rarely experienced despite all her encounters with brutality and perversions. This time it was Catherine who was threatened. When Catherine finished, Rebecca was wordless, struggling with her emotions.

She started slightly as Watts asked, "Did you recognize the voice, Doctor?" Rebecca had forgotten he was there.

Catherine shook her head, a look of faint surprise on her face. "No," she said, "of course not."

Watts gave a non-committal shrug. "Never know. Could be someone you knowor maybe someone you treated?"

Catherine regarded the blank face of the man seated beside Rebecca contemplatively. She sensed a clever mind behind the facade of apparent disinterest. Her curiosity was piqued, and she wondered where his train of thought was leading. Without consciously realizing it, she slipped into her professional mind set and began to view the events objectively, as if they had happened to someone else.

"I would recognize the voice, Im sure of that. He was casual, and yet, so intimate." She didnt notice Rebeccas slight flinch at her choice of words. Watts gave no sign of noticing it either.

"Hes trying to make contact. He wants someone to share his experience with," she mused aloud.

"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked, trying to keep her voice even.Goddamn him to hell for involving Catherine in this.

She didnt want to interrupt Catherines assessment of what had occurred by allowing her own reactions to interfere. She forced down the rage that threatened her objectivity, and she tried to view Catherine as the critical component she had become in this case. Nevertheless, she was aware of a faint nausea that made it difficult for her to swallow. Watts glanced at her nonchalantly, giving no sign he had noticed the strain in her voice or the rigid way she held her body.

"Hes pleased with himself," Catherine said, her eyes turning toward Rebecca. Her gaze was slightly unfocused as her thoughts continued to form. "Hes performed an important act, you see, and hes established himself, done something powerful -- won a little victory. And he wants to be sure someone appreciates this."

"So why call you?" Watts said.

Catherine shrugged. "I dont know"

"Catherine," Rebecca began urgently, "this is very important. Are you sure he isnt a patient -- someone you know?"

Catherine shook her head. "I dont treat many men. Im certain I would know."

"How about pulling your files on all the men youve seen -- say in the last five years," Watts said. "Maybe we can find something there that jogs your memory."

Catherine straightened in her chair with a start.

"Absolutely not, Detective. Its out of the question."

"Look, Doc," Watts suddenly interrupted. "This guy picksyou-- you of all the people in the city -- to have a little talk with. He calls you to share a few `intimate details of his latest fuck. Now I gotta think thats not a coincidence. Like maybe hes got a little thing for you or something?"

"Back off, Watts," Rebecca ordered, fighting to control her temper. Wattss crude interrogation of Catherine incensed her, and had Catherine not been present, she would have told him to shut his fat fucking mouth. As it was, it was all she could do to keep her hands off him. "If Dr. Rawlings says hes not a patient, then he isnt."

Watts settled back in his chair apparently unperturbed. "Yeah, if you say so."

"Ill review all my files, Detective," Catherine offered. "If theres anything there at all I think may be relevant, Ill look into it."

"Absolutely not!" Rebecca exploded. "You are not to pursue any contact with anyone you think may be involved with this case! For gods sake, Catherine, this man is a psych -- hes already killed two women, and a third may die!"

"Oh, I dont know, Frye," Watts mused softly. "Might not be a bad idea. Maybe the doc can come up with something for us. We aint got shit now."

"Leave it alone, Watts," Rebecca said, cold fury in her voice. She looked at Catherine, her blue eyes dark with a mixture of anger and a fear she couldnt quite hide.

"Promise me, Catherine," she said urgently, not caring that Watts was sitting beside her.

Catherine despaired at the anguish in Rebeccas eyes, and she hated the conflict her involvement had created for Rebecca. The last thing she wanted was to make Rebeccas already overwhelmingly difficult job any harder. "Yes, of course," she answered quickly. She was rewarded by the slight easing of Rebeccas stiff shoulders.

"Well need to put a tap on your phone," Rebecca said, her mind beginning to function again. "Ill put a man in your office, too."

Catherine sighed deeply, hating the words she had to say. "I cant let you do that, Rebecca."

Rebecca looked up from her notebook, astonishment flooding her face. Watts looked almost amused.

"What?" Rebecca exploded.

"I cant have my line monitored. Its an invasion of my patients privacy. And a man lurking about in my waiting room would be too unsettling for some of my clients. I just cant allow it," Catherine said as gently as possible.

"Catherine," Rebecca began, her tone dark with exasperation.Thiswas too much. She couldnt deal with this professional bullshit any longer -- not when it put Catherine at risk. Confidentiality was one thing, but this was carrying it too damn far. Not only did she need to protect Catherine, but she had to have access to this guy if he called again. Before she could continue, Watts interrupted.

"How bout this, Doc," he suggested. "We put a tape recorder on your phone, and if our boy calls, you record it. And well have somebody watching your office from a car on the street?"