Rebeccas face softened suddenly, and she bent forward to kiss Catherine. "Thanks. I know its hard being ordered around --"

Catherine stopped her with a gentle hand to her lips. "Nonsense. In these matters, youre the expert and I trust you."

Rebecca reached for Catherines hand, squeezed it quickly, and pulled her to her feet.

"Come lock the door behind me."

"Be careful," Catherine whispered as the door closed firmly. She stood motionless for some moments, listening as Rebeccas footsteps echoed down the empty corridor. The room suddenly felt chilly and she pulled her raincoat from the rack behind the door and threw it around her shoulders. She was worried, and she knew she had good reason to be. Rebecca was in far more danger than she was at the moment. Catherine was only too aware of how quickly reflexes and thought processes could be impaired by fatigue and stress. She fought the anxiety, knowing she could not influence Rebeccas behavior -- that, in fact, Rebecca was behaving in the only way she could under these circumstances. Once again, understanding was small comfort. She sighed deeply, pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders, and resigned herself to wait out the rest of the night on her own therapy couch.

**********

Rebecca slowly cruised the streets of the tenderloin. Even at this hour -- the darkest, loneliest part of the night -- there were people about on the streets. The vagrants were all tucked away in their cubby holes, in doorways or on subway grates, covered with bits of carpet or old clothes, their possessions gathered under their arms for safety. But there were still a few prostitutes huddled in pairs or leaning singly against storefronts, hoping for one more trick before morning. And cars continued to cruise by, the drivers faces were cast in shadow as they surveyed the possibility of a quick antidote to their loneliness. Rebecca circled the six-block area several times until she finally saw her. Standing alone in the archway of an adult bookstore, her long legs bare to mid-thigh despite the cold. Rebecca pulled her car to the curb and rolled the passenger window down. The girl had looked up as the car pulled over, and her look of anticipation quickly turned to dismay as she recognized Rebecca.

"Oh man! Cant you leave me alone? Youre gonna ruin my business!"

"Get in," Rebecca said, pushing the curbside door open.

"Uh-uh. No way. You dont have nothing on me --"

"Do you want to talk to me in here, or should I come out and walk around the streets with you a while?"

"Oh Jesus! I dont need this!" she swore as she quickly crossed the pavement and slid into the small bucket seat.

"Put your seatbelt on," Rebecca said as she pulled away from the curb.

Sandy snorted in disgust. "If you cared so much about my well-being, youd stay the fuck away from me. People down here start thinking Im a snitch, I could get hurt."

"What people?" Rebecca said nonchalantly, her eyes on the road.

"Just people. And, besides, I dont have any tips for you. Nobody knows nothing about no kiddie racket -- or if they do, they arent telling me."

Rebeccas head turned slightly and her eyes met those of the young girl beside her. The eyes that looked back were the eyes of the street, bitter and old.

"Its not about the chicken business."

Sandy looked surprise for an instant, but quickly recovered with an expression of disinterest.

"That so?"

Rebecca nodded. "A hooker was found dead last night. Her body was found at the Old Vic. Young girl, about thirteen."

Sandy feigned indifference. "So? It isnt the first time. She ODd or what?"

Rebecca shook her head. "Looks like the john did it." She looked directly at Sandy as she said, "I dont want it to happen again. I want this guy -- and I need help."

Sandy remained silent, looking down at her hands, unconsciously picking at a broken nail.

"Sometimes ya cant tell, ya know? A guy looks like Mr. Straightsville, and the next thing you know, he wants you to tie him up or let him piss in your mouth. It happens. You try to be careful, but sometimes you just cant tell." Her voice was flat as she spoke, and she didnt raise her head.

"I know. Thats why Im telling you -- be careful. And tell the other girls, too. I cant give you anything on him. I dont have anything."

Sandy raised her head defiantly. "And if you did, you wouldnt tell us any how, would you? Afraid wed scare him off."

Rebecca shrugged. "Probably not," she said, and wondered if it were true. "Try to find out if any of the other girls have noticed anyone particularly strange lately -- probably fairly young, late twenties, maybe likes ass fucking."

"Yeck," Sandy said. "Most girls stay away from that. Depends on how much, you know. Somell do anything for the right price."

"Yeah, well, see if you can turn up anything."

"And if I dont feel like it?"

"You keep testing, dont you? Then, Ill start visiting you every day, out in public, like youre my new sweetheart."

Sandy sighed. "Had to ask."

"Right," Rebecca said as she pulled the car to the curb. "Go home, Sandy. Youre not gonna retire on what youll make the rest of the night."

As she pulled away she watched the girl in her rear view mirror as she slowly wandered off into the cheerless night.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rebecca returned to her apartment shortly before 5A.M. The first thing to greet her besides the stale air of a space left too long undisturbed was a pile of junk mail that had been pushed under her door. She kicked it aside and went straight for the kitchen. She emptied the grounds from the basket of her coffee maker and ran water into the appliance. She found half a pound of espresso in the freezer and measured out enough for four cups. She left the coffee brewing and headed for the bathroom. Her jacket and slacks would have to go to the cleaners. They looked like theyd been slept in, she thought ruefully. She laid her gun on the toilet tank, threw her underwear at the over-flowing hamper and turned on the shower. She stood under the pulsing stream for a long time before she lifted her arms to lather some shampoo into her hair. With her eyes closed against the frothing suds, she recalled random images. The dead girl in the hotel room; Jeff lying so quietly on his side, just a trickle of blood behind his earlike reruns of bad movies. And then she thought of Catherine -- serious when discussing a patient, soothingly gentle when Rebecca came to her exhausted in body and soul, vibrant in the throes of passion.

Rebeccas mind rebelled against reason and caution. Catherine could be in danger from this psycho. Rebecca wanted him, no matter what it cost. She twisted the knobs viciously and stepped from the shower, gasping at the chill in the room. Her face in the mirror above the sink appeared lined with fatigue, but her eyes were clear and hard with determination. He had made a mistake killing that hooker. Rebecca had one tiny thread to grasp now, and she would follow it wherever it led until she could get a bigger piece and then another until all the pieces came together.

"Im coming for you," she whispered into the stillness of the room. "Oh, yes, you fucker, Im coming."

Refreshed from her shower, Rebecca drove quickly through the empty streets, just ahead of the rush hour traffic. The medical center, as always, was alive with activity, and she was forced to circle the block several times before she found a parking space near Catherines office. She hurried through the deserted hallways, anxious to reach Catherine. Her knock was answered immediately. Catherine, looking rumpled and weary, greeted her with a smile.

"You have no business looking so damn good when I know you havent slept all night," Catherine said, relieved to see that Rebecca, although obviously tired, seemed alert and controlled. She reached for Rebeccas hand and pulled her into the room. Impulsively she kissed her, slipping her arms around her waist.

"Im glad youre here," Catherine sighed, not adding that she was also relieved to find her safe.

Rebecca held her gently for a moment, savoring the nearness of her. She felt somehow anchored in Catherines presence, as if there actually were someplace where the world had meaning. Here, in this womans embrace, Rebecca felt at home.

"Are you all right?" Rebecca said at length, not loosening her hold, not wanting the moment to pass.

"Ive had better nights," Catherine said, her head resting on Rebeccas shoulder, "but the morning looks pretty good right now."

Rebecca grinned at the womans resiliency, hugged her briefly and stepped back. "Id better get you home."

Catherine nodded resolutely and moved away to gather her briefcase and papers.

As Rebecca maneuvered her car through the now congested streets, her mind returned to the case. She was desperately trying to weave a tapestry from an assortment of disconnected threads. Somewhere there was a pattern, some detail, she had overlooked or failed to recognize that would begin to make a whole of the scattered pieces. Catherine recognized the distant look in Rebeccas eyes and left her alone with her thoughts. She was startled when Rebeccas voice broke the stillness.

"How is Janet Ryan doing?"

"Physically shes making good progress. She would actually be ready for discharge if it werent for her psychological state. Shes still terrified, and the assault has triggered flashbacks which are difficult for her to deal with now."

"Flashbacks?" Rebecca queried.

"Traumatic events will often provoke memories of similar occurrences in an individuals past," Catherine answered, intentionally avoiding making direct reference to Janets specific case.

"Similar occurrences," Rebecca echoed. "Like rape?"

"Sometimes," Catherine stated.

Rebeccas jaw tightened, a sign Catherine was coming to recognize as Rebeccas response to anger. She waited, knowing that Rebecca would continue when her feelings were once again manageable.

"No wonder Janet cant remember what happened out there," Rebecca said, her voice carefully concealing the rage she felt at the brutality visited on so many women by this maniac. Her fingers tightened on the wheel, the only sign of her inner turmoil. She had to remain objective if she hoped to stop him. She would somehow have to view this as just another case.

"Would she be able to look at a police sketch of a possible suspect?" Rebecca asked.

Catherine considered her answer carefully.

"Im not sure," she answered truthfully. "Janet feels a tremendous responsibility to remember what she saw. That kind of pressure can actually make it more difficult for the amnesia victim to regain their memory for the event. Id like to reserve judgment on that until I can speak with her again. Can you give me until tonight?"

"Do I have a choice?" Rebecca said, her frustration evident.

"Rebecca," Catherine responded cautiously, "your responsibilities and mine dont have to be at odds here. I know you need Janets statement, and believe me, I want to see this man caught as much as you do. I simply cant place her in psychological jeopardy to do that."

"Even if it means another woman is raped and murdered?"

"Even then, Rebecca," Catherine answered quietly.

Rebecca heard the pain in Catherines voice and knew suddenly how agonizing that decision was for Catherine.

"Im sorry," she said, reaching across the seat to grasp Catherines hand.

"Dont be. You have to use everything you can to put an end to this madness. And I have to take care of the people who put their trust in me."

And now those people include me, Rebecca thought.

Rebecca followed Catherine silently to the steps of her building, searching the streets for any sign of someone who seemed out of place. The sidewalks were crowded with people hurrying to work, but no one took particular notice of them.

"Let me have your key," Rebecca said at the top of the steps, her eyes scanning the heavy oak door for signs of tampering. She led the way inside and made a quick search of the rooms, checking the windows and patio as she went. Satisfied that everything was in order, she turned to face Catherine.

"You can go ahead and change; Ill wait."

Catherine smiled at her, appreciating once again the presence of this intense, driven woman in her life, wishing she could somehow reach into that barricaded soul and comfort her. Instead she contented herself with a soft kiss, rewarded by the instant melding of Rebeccas lean body against her own. In this way at least Catherine knew she could reach her, and she accepted sadly that for now that was all she could do.