Rebecca arrived at the station just after nineA.M.and was surprised to find Watts already at his desk, nursing a hot cup of coffee and a danish. He looked up when Rebecca sat down across from him with her own caffeine infusion.

His eyes scanned her face, giving no indication that he noticed the dark circles under her eyes or the fatigue lines etched in her finely chiseled features. Nor did he comment on the slight tremor in the long fingers that held the paper cup of coffee.

"Everything okay with the shrink?"

Rebecca looked for some hidden meaning behind his words but was met with his usual blank stare.

"Yes." She turned to the pile of papers on her desk in an effort to avoid conversation.

"I think its about time we went over what we got and figure out where to go from here before this creep bangs another broad."

Rebecca stared at him, astonishment evident on her face. She leaned forward on her elbows, and said softly, "Watts, you are a crude bastard, and I dont give a good goddamn what you think. Im in charge here, and well do things my way."

Watts simply shrugged. "Dont think the Captains as patient as I am. He wants a status report so he can meet with the media this morning."

"Shit, just what we need. More media people nosing around." She looked at Watts and had the feeling they finally agreed on something. "Did the artist get anything out of Baileys description?"

Watts grimaced. "Its pretty general, but Im having copies run off and distributed to all the precincts."

Rebecca was surprised, as she always was, when she discovered that Watts was actually thinking about his work.

She stood abruptly. "Come on, lets get out of here."

Watts raised an eyebrow. "What about the Captain?"

"We cant give him a status report if were not here. And then the media wont have anything to tip our boy off with. Who knows what little tidbit might send him under cover?"

Watts grunted noncommittally, but he rose to his feet to follow her, grabbing a stack of photocopied sketches as he went.

He handed the police sketch to Rebecca as they pulled away from the station. She glanced at it quickly and felt her hopes plummet when she saw how nonspecific the rendering was.

"Just what we need," she sighed. "Everyman."

"Yeah," Watts agreed. "Aint life a bitch."

Rebecca ignored him, her mind sifting through possible courses of action, trying to come up with something they had failed to do.

"Have the homicide boys come up with any assaults or murders of prostitutes that might tie in with this case?"

Watts pulled out his tattered notebook and made an entry. "I dont know. Ill check it out. I suppose we ought to start interviewing all the hookers and find out if anybody knows anything."

"Im working on that. Leave a bunch of those fliers in the back. For what its worth, Ill hand them around."

"Yeah, and tell them about his bag of tricks."

"What did you say?" Rebecca asked quickly.

"You know, his gym bag. Maybe if they cant remember his face, theyll remember the bag."

"Or what he brings in the bag," Rebecca mused. "Watts, all three victims on the drive have been runners, all wearing running shorts. The dead prostitute was found with running shorts that she wasnt wearing when she went upstairs with him. Maybe he needs them to get turned on."

"Yeah, well, Ive heard of weirder stuff, but so what. You want we should put out a bulletin that no broads wear shorts outside the house?"

Rebecca sighed. "No, but at least I can get the word out on the streets. Maybe one of the girls will know something."

Watts grunted. "We dont even know for sure its the same guy. We wont have a DNA match for another week. Could be were chasing our tails for nothing."

"Right now we dont have anything else to chase," Rebecca replied dispiritedly.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rebecca dropped Watts off to follow up on one of their other open cases and tracked down the homicide detectives working on Jeffs murder. They were obviously hassled, but they took the time to fill her in. They had no new leads, but the rumor on the streets was that Jeffs undercover man was getting too close to a major crime lord and that the two men were executed as a warning. A warning to both the police and anyone who might be thinking of providing the police with information.

She thanked them, knowing that they were doing what they could. Her beeper went off as she was leaving the building. She considered not answering it. She didnt want to hear that the Captain was waiting for his status report. Something made her stop and call in.

"Watts wanted us to run you down," the dispatcher said when she identified herself. "Said youd want to know that some doctor received an interesting package this morning. That make any sense to you?"

Rebecca slammed the phone down and was out the door before the dispatcher registered the dial tone at the end of his line. She went lights and sirens all the way across town to the hospital and left the car in the emergency zone outside. She stormed into the lobby and nearly collided with a woman pushing a baby stroller.

"Sorry," she muttered as she pushed her way to the elevator. The ride up to the psychiatric floor seemed to take forever. As soon as the doors opened, she saw Watts leaning against the counter in the nurses station conversing with a woman in white.

"Watts!" she shouted. "Wheres Catherine? Is she all right?"

He intercepted her and turned her away from the curious eyes of the people gathered around. "Yes, shes fine. I took the call because I was in the squad room. When I heard what it was, I figured youd want to know."

"Whatwhatwas?"

"Your doctor friend is pretty smart. Someone sent her a dozen roses -- and since it wasnt her birthday, she thought she should tell you before she opened the card. I guess she figured you didnt send them."

"Damn it, Watts, just tell me where she is, and what the hell is going on."

"Iamtelling you. Im waiting for the lab boys to pick up the flowers now. The card reads, `Thank you for last night. Ill see you soon."

"Jesus Christ." Rebecca turned away, her face grim. "Im going to talk to Catherine. We need to put a guard on her."

"I dont think thats such a great idea," Watts stated flatly. "Might scare him away."

Rebecca rounded on him, her temper finally snapping. "Listen to me, Watts! We arenotusing Catherine Rawlings for bait. You understand me? We are going to cover her like the Pope until this guy is caught."

"Hey, I know how you feel --" Watts began.

"No, youdontknow how I feel, and you neverwillknow how I feel! So drop it. Now." Rebecca could never remember being so frightened. She had been shot at, maced, and ambushed by street punks, but she had never felt the panic that threatened her now. All she knew was that Catherine was being drawn further into a very dangerous game, and she felt powerless to stop it. She set her jaw and took a deep breath. It was time for her to take charge of the situation, and that was exactly what she intended to do. Catherine, as it turned out, had different ideas.

**********

"Rebecca, you must understand. For any number of reasons I cant let you assign me to protective custody. One very important reason is that I may be able to establish a relationship with this man. At the very least, well have some idea of the state of his mind. Please, darling, think of how important that might be!"

Rebecca stood with her back to the room, staring out into the streets below without seeing. Watts had left them at her request once it became clear that Catherine was not willing to be assigned a guard. All of Catherines arguments made sense, and at any other time Rebecca would have accepted the logic of maintaining contact with this unknown psychopath. But she couldnt accept it now.

"Theres a big part of me that knows youre right," she said softly, her voice hollow. "As a cop, if I were a good cop, I should be elated that we have some conduit to this guy --" Her voice trailed off.

Catherine went to her, put her arms around her, leaned her cheek against Rebeccas rigid back. Rebeccas strain and tension were transmitted to her through the unyielding muscles under her hands. Catherine knew the rejection was not of her, but of the weakness that Rebecca perceived in herselfbecauseof Catherine. Rebeccas inner struggle now was one that Catherine knew would need to be fought again and again -- the conflict between Rebeccas need for absolute emotional distance and the disruption of that control caused by her involvement with Catherine. Catherine was determined neither to ignore the problem nor to allow Rebecca to face it alone. The outcome of that battle would determine just how much the two of them could share, and Catherine found that that meant a great deal to her.

"Rebecca, the way you feel right now is perfectly understandable," Catherine began softly. "Youre worried about my safety, and its different than it usually is because you care about me. Were involved with each other, for heavens sake. Weve made love, weve shared something of ourselves. I am not someone you can be objective about."And not someone you must push away to satisfy your sense of duty, I hope.

"I never should have let this happen," Rebecca said, her back still to Catherine. "Its compromising my thinking, and that could mean jeopardizing your safety."

"Well, I, for one, am not sorry that it happened," Catherine persisted. She knew she was taking her own emotional risks by admitting to Rebecca, and to herself, just how important Rebecca had become to her. But one of them had to make the first move to breach the considerable defenses they both had erected around their hearts.

Rebecca turned to her then, and tightened her arms around Catherine, holding her fiercely.

"Neither am I," Rebecca answered, her voice rough with emotion.Im afraid to even think about how much you mean to me. I just dont know what Id do if anything happens to you. Her tension began to lessen in the soft embrace of Catherines arms, and her mind began to clear. Even as she held her, Rebeccas thoughts turned to what she must do to protect her. Where other emotions clouded her judgment, Catherines touch restored clarity. She was continually astonished, and still a little afraid, of the womans effect upon her.

"I dont suppose I could persuade you to have a police officer accompany you around until this is over, could I?" she asked, her lips pressed to Catherines forehead.

"No."

"At least at night, when youre at home?"

"Only if its you."

Rebecca leaned back and gazed down into the face that never failed to move her, memorizing the image -- wisps of grey at the temples, fine bones beneath ivory skin, liquid pools of swirling greens in her eyes.

"Its not in my contract," she whispered, longing to forget everything except the desire to kiss those tender lips and lose herself in Catherines welcoming warmth.

"It could be," Catherine answered, her lips finding Rebeccas.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rebecca slept during the afternoon in an empty on-call room at the hospital and later drove Catherine home. She attached a voice activated recording device to Catherines telephone after they had agreed that Catherine would review the tape and erase any client related calls before turning it over to the police. Once again Rebecca did a security check and arranged for extra patrols to pass through the neighborhood. Finally she felt satisfied that she had done all she could do. The next move was up to him.

"I have to go out for a while," she said. "There are people I need to talk to --people I can only find at night. Will you be all right?"

Catherine nodded, silencing the fear she felt, not for herself, but for the determined woman she had come to care so much for. Every time she saw the gun harnessed against Rebeccas chest, she was reminded of the potential violence Rebecca faced each time she went out into the streets. That fear was something Catherine knew she would never get used to, and that it was the price she must pay for allowing Rebecca into her heart. At this moment, however, she knew that Rebecca needed reassurance that Catherine was safe.

"Can I expect you tonight?" Catherine asked, placing her hand gently on Rebeccas arm.

"Count on it."

**********

Rebecca found Sandy without any difficulty. What surprised her was the lack of any protest when she pulled her car up beside the young prostitute. Sandy crossed the sidewalk quickly and slid in beside her.